March Inn

Why"March Inn?" March Inn was the name of that magic place where I spent my summers growing up. I have alluded to this place before, and I probably will again. March Inn is no longer standing. The waters of Katrina rendered it unlivable so my children will never know that "March Inn." That makes me sad. In fact it brings me to tears whenever I think about it. I want my children to have their own "March Inn," and I want to capture our lives as they are growing and changing. I invite you to "march inn" to our lives. My hope is that you will catch glimpses of the real world. You will see our creations. You will see our chaos. You will see our affection. You will also see our frustrations, fears, and disappointments. Enjoy your march!

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Crazy Hair

It's 3 a.m.
The house was quiet.
The blahblah's gone.
The diapers soaked.
First things first - new pajamas.
Now for that blahblah.
...not in/on/under/around the pillow.
...not in/on/under/around the sleeping bag.
...not under the twin beds.
...not under the dresser.
...not under the rug.
...not in the bathroom.
...not with Betsy.
Okay really!
In my adult mind, I know that the blahblah can't really disappear but where can it be.
I sat back and thought.  I asked Walker if he went in Mary Frances' room before retiring to his sleeping bag on Stephen's floor*.  He responded with an affirmative.  I asked him to sit tight while I walked to said sister's room.  Sure enough there it was ~ sitting right on the bed.
Five minutes later, I hear a pitter patter on the steps but this time with accompanying screams or tears.  I couldn't resist snapping a photo before tucking him soundly in my bed.

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