Magic Butterfly Fairy Princesses

What a wonderful Easter we had yesterday. We started the day with opening the front door just to see if the Easter Bunny had come, and what do you know?! He left two baskets on the driveway, one for each girl. 

After eating warm, buttery pancakes topped with fresh strawberries and maple syrup, we figured it was warm and (barely) dry enough to have our 3rd annual Easter Egg Hung in the backyard, instead of in the house. I dressed the girls in their special dresses and Eliza kept marveling at her "tights! tights!" as she repeated over again, sticking out a leg so we could marvel too. 

Following our egg hunt, it was nearing naptime for Eliza and church time for Anna and Mama. Anna changed into a different dress since it was getting too hot for the long-sleeved one. 

At 2:00, we headed over to the Neals' home for a special meal and another Easter Egg Hunt!  The girls were devoured by the granddaughters and loved every minute of it. 

Finally Anna let me take a picture of her!

This was the closest I could get to a posed photo of the girls together.

I love Easter for the weather, the flowers, the blooming forsythia in my front yard, the rejoicing community at church, and the pastels in the Easter dresses. It was so lovely to be included in our neighbor's family celebration. We are grateful. We are blessed.

When I think of the different mothers I look up to, one of the images I envision is a woman leaning over a sewing machine, her hands feeding soft fabric through the small opening between the needle and bobbin, creating something beautiful for her children.  I can see the love these mothers have for their children, overflowing and spilling out of their bodies, morphed into a beautiful quilt or a special blanket. I browse through crafty blogs and see pictures upon pictures of homemade toys, appliqued cloth books, an adorable pillowcase dress, and knit sweaters perfect for keeping a little body warm during the winter.

I have wanted to make things for my darling girls, things that they may keep one day in a special box, things that show them, over and over again, how crazy about them their mother is.  To my excitement, I found a sewing class at a nearby "institute" and for 10 weeks, spent time learning how to use a sewing machine. The main project I worked on was a bag, and I made it for Anna in coordinating colors to match her room.  It's a special "bedtime bag," as it has a compartment for her pajamas and one for her nightly book. We hang it on the door-knob so that after bath, she gets her bag and everything she needs is organized.

A day in the life of a mama and her girls. . . 

Visiting the chickens and new chicks at Joanna's

Artwork done by the children at Cloverdale Nursery, on display at a local cafe.  It was the last day of the exhibit and we had to take a look.

A single red shape, by Anna, age 3.10.

We ended up eating there, since Anna convinced me she was absolutely starving and needed a second lunch. Clearly she was hungry as every morsel of her grilled cheese, apple, and pear are gone. 

My toddler, blissed out on mama milk.

Then , a stop at the playground.  I love seeing the girls playing TOGETHER.

Having grown up in New Orleans, I have such colorful childhood memories of springtime. March, my birthday month, meant shorts and t-shirt weather, bright, blooming flowers, and often it meant celebrating Mardi Gras. What fun it was to wear my purple, green, and gold, stuff my face full of King Cake brought daily to class, and wave my arms around, yelling "Throw me something, Mister!" at the nightly parades. 

Springtime in New England is quite different. March is a month meant to be endured. It's still essentially winter,and for sturdy, hardy folks who have enjoyed and then put up with a long, hard winter, March is not our friend.  It is now April, and  we still have snow in our front yard and the winter-jackets and snow pants are not yet put away. There is only a hint of green outside, as the crocuses timidly begin to push their way through the still-frozen soil. And no one has heard of King Cakes.  

This is the reality for my kids. We're cold. We're ready to shed our extra layers and play outside without hats and mittens. We're ready for fresh strawberries and iced tea. We're ready just to enjoy, not to endure. But there is something special about this time of year, something that my Southern friends and family don't get to enjoy. 

Sugaring Season!

At this time of year, the maple sap flows and all of the maple trees are tapped with buckets attached, waiting to catch each precious drop of that succulent nectar. There's nothing like heading out on a Saturday morning and driving to a Sugar Shack, as they are called, for a pancake breakfast. Locals and tourists alike love this tradition, and it may be the reason we New Englanders are able to keep our heads up and see the light at the end of this long tunnel. 

This weekend, we went with our good friends to a local Sugar Shack and had the best breakfast and then enjoyed some post-meal fresh air.

The Little Girls

The Big Girls, peeking into the bucket of sap.

Our gaggle of girls

How big they are getting!

The snow shovels were put away for the season. We had raked the back yard, shoveled up the winter's load of dog poop, and even brought out the riding toys. We felt Spring. All the fallen branches had been picked up and we even had chopped up the remaining chunks of ice in the yard.

And then, on April 1st. . . SNOW!?  It wasn't just a dusting either. Rather, several inches of heavy, wet snow fell for hours Thursday night into Friday. It covered the riding toys, attempted to smother the new green shoots, and almost took our spirits away. But in the morning, Eliza looked out the sliding-glass door in the kitchen and said "Outside, outside!" over and over again with overjoyed excitement. So I pulled on our snow boots, slid the girls into their snow pants, zippered them into their winter jackets, and covered their hands and heads, and we ventured into the yard. 

The snow was absolutely perfect for making snowmen, or snow. . . sculptures, as Anna did. And Eliza spent her time gathering snow balls between her mittened hands. What made the snow even more perfect is that by the afternoon, it had almost all melted. 

This is what happens when you ask a 3-year-old to help a 1-year-old. 

And now, we are ready for Spring.

Then. . . 

 

and now. . .

A scrumptiously chubby Anna at only 10 months fills out every inch of this bathing suit. (I just want to gobble up those fleshy rolls).

My petite princess, at almost 17 months old, will fit into this bathing suit (sized at 12 months) for months to come.