Fuller Life

Some years matter more than most; we can tell ourselves that each day is the best day of our lives. Every day matters, and every day that matters contributes to a month that matters and year that matters. But really, some years matter more than most. The year we're born. The year we lose that first tooth and learn to ride a bicycle. Third grade multiplication tables. Sixth grade graduation. Senior year.  The year we finally ended that first love relationship. Marriage. Babies.

1995 mattered more than most. I graduated high school and started college. I found my way to the Gap and bought my first outfit without my resident stylist along (moms are great that way). Oklahoma City was forever changed one beautiful spring morning, and we lost faith in a sports icon later that fall. Some years matter more than most. I said goodbye to my hometown (for at least four days a week anyway) and hello to college dorms. I learned to parallel park. I grew up and outgrew TGIF on ABC. Or maybe TGIF outgrew me. We closed the door on that San Francisco townhouse; waved goodbye to Danny Tanner's red convertible; and tuned that dial to hear Forever one last time.

Ladies, it finally happened. Uncle Jesse is back. Have mercy.

 Over 20 years later, the blue couch remains; so do the bad jokes, even worse laugh track, and corny hugs; and Uncle Jesse's back. Gigi is a fan. Fuller House has it all--childhood stars, cornball plots, and enough nonsense to hold a four-year old girl's interest for three hours. 

I'm behind. Shamefully behind. Maybe it has something to do with Fuller House. Maybe not. It has been five years since I let more than a month go by without updating this family scrapbook. 

Maybe it's just a fuller life.  

Evenings are dedicated to bouncing

and endless games of soccer.

We skied. 

And watched skijoring. Have you heard of this? People (crazy people) ski as they're pulled by horses running at a full gallop. It is the single most dangerous thing I've ever seen. And it's amazing. 

She took to the slopes surprisingly well. 

He took to the lodge and hot chocolate, not so surprisingly well. 

Valentine's Day happened. 

Cookies that you paint! Brilliant!

We tea partied. And I'm ever so grateful for good friends in a sea of mean girls.

Gigi set the table. 

And Dad brought home his Valentine's red dream car. 

They dressed up.

And I learned to French braid a crown.

Her Daddy bought her first roses; her beaus will have a lot to live up to someday.

Because her Daddy sets the bar pretty high and spoils his girls pretty rotten.

The ladies found a compromise for date night at a local tea shop. 

And, the boy finally got a haircut; he feels pretty good about it. 

But not quite as good as when he earned his Magic Treehouse series. Mom drives a tough bargain and got a clean van, refrigerator, and yard out of the deal. 

Some years matter more than most. In the big scheme of life, I guess we won't really know how much this year matters until it's long since gone. For now, I'll take this fuller life, and maybe one more episode of Fuller House before bedtime.