My First "Best Friend"

Nora has a "best friend." A sweet little brunette named Kamryn who can kick a soccer ball, twirl her hair, and suck her thumb at the same time. Because she lives across the street, Nora spends an awful lot of time looking to see if Kamryn's blinds are open so that she knows that she's awake and ready to play. And boy do they play. But they also know how to fight and have their own little 4 year old knock down drag outs. Oh the joys and hardships on the road to friendship.
I think of the many girlfriends I've been blessed to know and how my life has been changed by so many. The friend who was with me the night I first kissed a boy and giggled with me for hours into the night. The friend who could do a lovely french braid and made sure my hair was tightly braided one last time before my first dose of chemotherapy. Another friend (now a pharmacist...big surprise) who helped to administer doses of chemo in my college dorm room and made me feel like it was cool instead of a nuisance. Friends who shared an amazing summer in England who helped me figure out who I was in the days after my remission. The women who helped me navigate graduate school and sat with me for hours learning neuro anatomy. The dear friend who was with me through my first heartbreak who also drove for hours to be by my side in the days after I was put on bed rest with Emilia. All of the women that helped me get to know DC as I set off on my own in a new city and made my days at work interesting and fun. And without one friend I think I may not have survived the dark postpartum days where I cried constantly and felt like I must be the worst mother possible. Then lately the neighbor who has become a constant companion, friend, and confidant. All of the lovely women who have held my hand, listened to a secret, done a favor, taught me to breastfeed, recommended a pediatrician, shared a glass (or bottle) of wine, joined me on a walk, loaned me a dress, or have loved my children. For all of those women I am beyond grateful.
But I also think about the lonely days my girls will face when a girl refuses to sit with them in the cafeteria or a friend tells the secrets they thought were safe. The sadness of outgrowing a friendship and the bitter words that can hurt so much more than the boo boos I fix with my kit of of princess band aids. How I wish I could protect them from the pain I know is coming and that they learn to follow the Golden Rule and protect and cherish the friends around them. I know as they get older their friendships will become more complicated and these talks are on the way. But for now as I watch Nora with Kamryn I marvel at the simple joy of a walk on a summer night with a "best friend."

Welcome Summer

Note blue snow cone residue around Nora's mouth. Ahh the joys of summer. I admit it. I have a secret. I really like living in a planned community. Where every house has a front porch, lawns are manicured, and you're encouraged to get to know your neighbors. Yes, it's not cool and sometimes I miss the girl who was going to live in the big city and travel the world. Which I did on a small scale and then realized I missed living in a place where people wave when they're driving down the street. Now, there are a million things I miss about DC but there are also quite a few that I've gained. We walk home from school in the afternoons, drink glasses of much needed wine with friends while we listen to bands on the village green, borrow Mop and Glow from our best bud as we prepare for ladies' night, evaluate the state of plants and relationships, watch our kids learn to ride a bike, make a friend, and swim the full length of the pool. Make that 3 pools. We're a bit pool happy in the South. I like that my girls have a lot of eyes on them. Eyes that love them, evaluate them, and encourage them to do their best. I like that we celebrate holidays together with our decorated golf carts, silly hats, and pool noodle parades. I like that my husband, who works from home, always knows what's happening on our street just by looking out of his little office window. So now summer is here, Tim is on full neighborhood patrol, and the girls' feet are black at the end of the day. We're still in the honeymoon period here where we haven't driven Tim crazy yet. So welcome to my very uncool world. I'm feeling the love ya'll but don't get me started on those HOA dues...

When Cotton Was King

Long ago, cotton was king of the South. Textile mills governed small towns in a sort of paternalistic society. Mill workers lived in mill housing and had most of their basic necessities taken care of by their employers. A sad by product of this era of capitalism was child labor which was captured on film by the photographer Lewis Hines, a social reformer of his day. This photograph was taken in 1908 and is a photo of my great grandmother Sara "Sadie" Agnes Lenore Barton (Howard). The photograph was in government archives and her face had been unidentified until it was recently posted in the Lancaster News by Joe Manning. Joe is a history buff working on the Lewis Hine Project and is attempting to identify the children in some of Mr. Hines' photos (http://www.morningsonmaplestreet.com/). The photograph of my grandmother was taken when she was 13 in the Lancaster Cotton Mill in Lancaster, SC. My father's father was her only son to survive childhood. I had no idea that she had worked as a child laborer, I just knew as most people in Lancaster did, that their family worked for "Springs." As of a few years ago, all of those looms have fallen silent. Springs Industries is virtually non existent and unemployment in Lancaster has reached 19%. We live in the town next to Lancaster, Fort Mill, the former headquarters of Springs. Fort Mill continues to thrive due to it's proximity to Charlotte. When we decided to move back to SC after years away we chose a wonderful neighborhood full of fabulous amenities for our children. We discovered that the developer is Clear Springs, a subsidiary of the same textile mill company that put my great grandmother to work as a child. As my children so happily skip through our carefully manicured neighborhood my grandmother's face haunts me. And I remember that the pitter patter of all of the feet that are now welcoming summer were once used to climb onto the tops of dangerous looms to fix the machines that couldn't be reached by larger adult hands. And I'm grateful to the grandmother I never knew and the eyes that look out of a photo, eyes that look much like my daughter's.

Millie's Face Painting Masterpiece

One of my favorite people, Kristen, stopped by with a little homemade strawberry ice cream today (made with Springs Farms strawberries that she had picked and then made into a yummy ice cream concoction). It just keeps on rainin' so we sent the kids upstairs to play while I stuffed my face with the goodness (Ms. K claimed to have already had enough..more for me I guess). Here's what happens while grown ups stuff their faces and do a little too much gabbing. Nora and Kristen's daughter Kamryn emerged from upstairs having created their own Disney World face painting station. Art work by the talented Emilia. Nice.

Nothin' Like a Pink Petti

I've recently been a bit obsessed with my new camera lens that was recommended to me by my friend Brooke (Canon 50 mm 1.8 II). It's cheap and takes great portrait shots. Yesterday was a cloudy day so I took the opportunity to take some photos of the girls. They chose their outfits which consisted of pink pettiskirts that their Nana bought and rain boots. Our photo session was in downtown Fort Mill which has an old park area with monuments and a gazebo. A batch of weird concrete sculptures and a giant checkerboard has been added since the last time we were there. Really a wonderful place to take photos. In the pictures the girls look all cheery and sisterly. And they were, for about 15 minutes. After that Emilia decided that she knew how to set up every shot and Nora decided to use a stick to start a sword fight with her sister. Then there was a major meltdown where one kid decided that I had taken more photos of the other. After that I bribed them with ice cream and all was well for another 10 minutes. No one complained about the pettiskirts though. That's one rockin' piece of fashion. So fluffy, soft, and pink, pink, pink. I want my own. Seriously. I think for our next girls night I'll twirl my own petti.