Jane. All Day. Every Day.

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So this happened. I actually took real pictures. With a real camera. It’s been, well, years. I forgot how much I enjoyed it.

This weekend was packed to the gills. A veritable girlpalooza, if you will. There was the Cinderella movie. There was a visit with Meme. There was a birthday party and petting zoo. But best of all there was sun, and her cheerful face, and dancing in front of my old college dorm.

The sun is back. And so is my camera.

Also another reminder, I’m republishing from my old blog. I realize this is probably going to be a little confusing, but I haven’t figured out another way to do it. So thanks for being patient when bundles of “March 2013” history pops up out of nowhere.

And I have to admit, going back and resurrecting old posts has been cathartic. For the past year I couldn’t even think about going back to the old words, and old pictures. It was too much and overwhelming. But now, I’m glad to have the opportunity. I’m glad to have all the pictures of Jane, and old house projects, and baby stories where she apparently told me “no” a lot. It was my life. And parts of it were good. I want to remember those parts.

 

*So all those retroactive posts flooding your inbox? Er, whoops. My SINCEREST apologies. Any future blog re-posting is on hiatus until I can figure out a different way to do it. Again, so sorry ladies!!!

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6 Comments

  1. Janet says:

    As we move forward it is important to acknowledge that there were good times. The not so good memories will eventually fade and you will be left with an almost surreal version of the “before”. Surreal because you will not be the same person that actually experienced those moments.
    Happy almost Spring to you and Jane.

    Like

  2. Bridget says:

    I only wish I could get my one just turned 4 year old to wear anything that is cute. The other, loves cute and loves mud, not a good combination.

    Like

  3. Kim says:

    You do need to remember the good parts. And you also need to help Jane know that you and her dad weren’t always divorced. And it wasn’t always bad. I was told this in a therapy session to help my daughters realize that I really didn’t marry the monster their dad became.

    Like

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