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Grandpa Lamb was a pilot for the Nebraska Air Guard.

We thoroughly enjoyed Memorial Day weekend, partly for the chance to spend an entire extra day with Jack but also to reminisce about some important memories.  I reflected on the great tradition of military service in my family, from my brother, father-in-law, grandfather and several great uncles who fought, were wounded and died in WWII.  My entire family used to place flowers on the graves of our relatives while listening to my grandmother tell her rendition of the stories.  It wasn’t a day, however, to only remember those who had served in the armed forces but to be grateful for all of our ancestors who preceded us.  We are each a culmination of our predecessors.


On Saturday, we took a trip down to San Antonio and strolled around for a few hours.  We looked at the Alamo but by the line wrapped around the block, we knew we weren’t going to be able to stand in the scorching sun with two little children for as long as it would have taken to wait our turn to enter.


We marched down to the river walk and enjoyed everything from gaping at the adorable ducklings paddling after their parents to leaving nose-smudge marks on several chocolateries.  Claire eventually fell asleep in the stroller so we knew our time was growing short.


Had the girls (and Jack for that matter) not been groggy and ready for a nap, I would have paid to to have the gorgeous dapple grey Percheron I spotted taxi us back to the car.


Carrying a small child while pregnant is a lot like carrying a brass sousaphone.  We were all red in the face by the time we made it back to the car–climbing into it was like willingly subjecting ourselves to heat box torture.

Sunday was full of church and resting but Monday, we ventured out again.  We went to the park and let the girls run in the splash pad before heading up Jacob’s Ladder.  After being redone in the early 1900’s, it’s really more a staircase of steep, gigantic steps.  My legs are still burning.
We spent the evening at a friend’s house, barbecuing, swimming and watching their fat hens scratch around.  It was wonderful to be in the country again and though we each received a few nips from the stealthy mosquitoes, we also glimpsed a few fireflies and were serenaded by the cicadas.  All in all, it was a superb weekend of remembering those who went before us and being grateful for what we have now.


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True stories of raising children, remodeling, braving the elements and plotting out life, all while living on a humble acreage in central Indiana.

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