no words. just cuteness.

london, baby

Wow, it's already March and I never shared my dad's gift for Christmas this year. Or rather, my sister's gift to my dad.  She gave him a trip to London. (And you thought I was an overachiever making a quilt. Who's the suck up now?) Anyway Kristin had me photoshop some pictures for him to open in a photo album on Christmas morning in lieu of an actual plane ticket.

Here was the story that he read first:

Once upon a time....

Little Jimmy grew up in America and had a wife and three kids there. He was silly and thought that nothing existed outside of America. 

But then one of his daughters went off and lived in Switzerland. And then his wife visited her. And then another of his daughters and her husband went over and visited this far off land. 

Little Jimmy's parents had been abroad. And his brothers had been abroad. And his friends and his neighbors and his accountant and his electrician and his nieces and nephews had all been abroad. We don't want to embarrass little Jimmy, but even his 9 month old granddaughter had been to Europe. 

Kristin felt so sorry for little Jimmy having never seen Europe that she figured the least we could do was create some fake memories for little Jimmy to cherish of his pretend trip abroad.

And this is what she imagined he did on that trip...

She looked at the pictures and realized what a fabulous time he would have on a REAL vacation to Europe. SO WHAT IS A DAUGHTER TO DO??

SEND LITTLE JIMMY TO LONDON, BABY! 

Pretty cleaver, huh.

The Dog and Now The Kid

Before Annie was born, it was just me, John and the dog. And before John, it was just me and Griffin. I'd say I know this dog pretty darn well. Many a night he slept in bed next to me - before John stole his spot. 

As the years passed, I watched something odd happen. Suddenly, Griffin wouldn't necessarily come when I called him. John says it's because I would annoy him and get him all wound up when he came. Anyway, over time it became obvious that while Griffin would hop up on the bed when I called him most of the time, he wouldn't do it all the time. And when John called him up any time, he would come every time. 

I'd call and I'd call and I'd call and that lazy lump would just stay curled up in the corner. I'd raise my voice, quicken it, deepen it, sing his name. And he wouldn't move. Then John would barely utter the first syllable of his name and suddenly a tail was wagging in our faces. That dog had no loyalty. So that was the year I lost my first kiddo to daddy.  

But Annie was my girl. And she loved her mama. I know that I know that kid better than anyone else. Pops included.

Here's the thing. I've noticed lately that on occasion John will be holding Annie and I'll squeeze her chubby little thighs to make her laugh. And what do you know but that John starts tickling her belly at the very same moment. And Annie explodes with laughter. Everything's fine, right? Wrong. 

It dawned on me last week that I don't have that special touch anymore. Daddy does. Because when I tickle her she only sometimes giggles and when daddy tickles her she always giggles. So when I reach for her thigh, John comes in for the kill on her belly and I'm the fool standing there thinking its me causing the joy.  John knows what's up. He pities me! It's like when your little toddler wants to push the doorbell but isn't strong enough so you press his finger in to ring it and then clap his hands and tell him what a good job he just did.

I haven't told him yet that I'm on to him. So, when he reads this post, he'll know the jig's up. I'm no longer the fool. He can stop feeling bad for me and my failure to get laughs. I guess both our kiddos have swung to John's side. So what's a mom to do but get out her camera and at least record the moments?

Sun + Daughter

We just got back from the beach. And it was glorious. And, too short.

Annie basked in the sun. All week. She dug in the sand. She ran toward the ocean. Straight for the waves. Fearless. Blonde hair got blonder. Wobbly legs pittered and pattered along the waterline.

Man, I love that kid! And that dad!

...More pictures to come soon.

smile, you're on camera

I've mentioned this before but I really can't say enough about how bad I am at finishing projects. I am the queen of starting. QUEEN, I tell you! I will gladly pull out all your canned goods to organize your pantry but sadly that last jar of spaghetti sauce will never make its way back in.


A few weeks ago my parents swapped babies with me and John. We gave them our little baby and they gave us their 330 pound baby. 

Fair trade? Jury is still out...

So while they were vacationing in Colorado and letting Annie spend time with Aunt Kristin and Uncle Jesse, I hung out with my brother Ryan and sat on their dining room floor sorting through 35 years of photographs. And let's be real, it will be another 35 years before anyone finishes. 

Given the number of pictures that were thrown into 7 or 8 tubs covered in dust, I feel like real progress was made. 10 photo albums were filled. 

I doubt if that's even half in the end. Boo. I truly did sit on my behind and organize pictures for hours on end. In case you have any desire to beat out some photo books yourself, here was my method. 

I "inventoried" the whole shebang. It took me a solid 8 hours. I put them into 8 piles. Pictures of my brother; my sister; me; us together as siblings (i.e. group shots from vacations and christmas cards); friends of the family; extended family (aunts, uncles, thanksgiving dinners...); Colorado/Florida vacations; and my parents. 

They were BIG piles. I would show you a picture but my iPhone definitely erased all my photos from the month when I cancelled a syncing with iTunes because I was in a hurry. Love you, Apple. You're the bomb. Dot com.

So anyway, I took masking tape and made labels over my parents' long wet bar to sort the kids' pictures. Birth; toddler; k-3ish; 4-8; high school; college; adult; very recent.

That took another good 3 hours per kid but I went one at a time. Breathe.

THEN, I took the birth pile and started laying them out on the big dining room table. I cheated using outfits and anytime I saw two pictures where Ryan had the same clothes on, I assumed they were from the same roll of film and stacked them.  

And the reunions began! Photographs from the same roll that hadn't been next to each other in 30 years found their way back together again! I threw out duplicates and near duplicates unless I was too sentimental (i.e. first day of life pictures - that's kind of a big deal). 

Then came the final ordering. I picked up the stack or single picture where the kid looked the youngest and started filing the proceeding pictures behind it as best as I could guess with chronology. I'd end up with a thick pile to start sliding into the album. Then, on to toddler years, etc.

(By the way, I zestfully threw away all those strips of negatives that my mom had hoarded for decades. She's lying if she tells you she was ever going to accomplish finding a particular picture from that tangle. It filled a whole trash bag and it was well with my soul.)

In the end, I managed to finish our wedding, a siblings album and  each of the three kids. To my MAJOR dismay, I thought I had finished my own books only to find a folder of pictures that my mom had presorted ten years ago when she intended to organize pictures. So I had to do a lot of shuffling and page adding. No fun.

But I took a break one morning to go to Oceans of Fun with these cool kids:

Poor Ryan. That beam of sunlight did him no favors in this picture. Be gentle, sun. No need to highlight his bowl full of jelly. I could have cropped it out, but would have lost my chin. What to do?

Though the mountain of photos left on the floor when they came back from vacation was far from encouraging, my picture sorting mission (though not finished) was progress.

Here are a few favs discovered along the way...

Yeah, that's right. Fist pumps were cool even then.

You are not a Mueller grandkid unless you've ridden that minibike. First sign of Annie walking and we're going for a ride!

But I'm saving the best for last.

Who would have thought that this camera loving kid:

Would be an even better model 25 years later?

Ladies, he's single and ready to mingle.

But, alas. There is one picture that trumps it all. Sorry, Kristin. It's just too good not to blast across the internet.

And with that, my friends, farewell.

snapping around KC

It's amazing how many afternoons we waste inside of our apartment because we lack the motivation to just walk out our door and down the stairs. So on Tuesday when I told John that I needed to find some high resolution photographs of Kansas City on the Internet to blow up for our building's hallways, he convinced me to make an outing of it and take the pictures myself.

 If only I knew more about my camera.

 But he was inspired, so we headed to the River Market. 

I know I was supposed to take pictures of the city line, but look how adorable my family is. I swear, this kid is going to get whatever she wants in life because we are both too weak to ever say no. She melts us.

What you can't see is the couple in the background who ought to have booked a hotel room. They probably imagined they'd found a quiet, unknown lookout spot to get it on, but no, not with my child around. She is what you call extroverted. We've told her it's rude to stare, but she won't listen. She'd just shove a huge piece of watermelon into her mouth and then wave at them insistently.

"bye, bye" she'd say and then point at them with her little finger and scream "daddy!" No, Annie that strange man with lipstick smeared on his face is not your daddy. 

After our watermelon picnic overlooking the old airport was over we started scouting other places to photograph.

This is the stunning sculpture in the Filling Station's yard. 

But, alas. Then came laziness. Getting a one year old out of car for five minute stints and then putting her back into her carseat - rinse and repeat four times - is exactly what I think of as a real bad idea. 

 Thus the remainder of the photographs taken from the open window of a moving car...

I always wondered how photographers took great shots with the sun piercing through. And what do you know? I manage to take one at 40 mph with a single snap of the camera. 

Could I ever go back and get another like it? Absolutely not. That is called luck.

And this face is called perfection...

-kylie