Dancing Princesses Avery, Finley and Briar Magee

Sometimes in life you get taken by surprise, as natural milestones blossom like miracles. About three years ago we did a photo shoot for new packaging for our diaper caddies. We had two models in a local mom and her daughter. The baby was as beautiful as we could have hoped for, with twinkling eyes, a radiant smile and toes so edible they made it onto the packaging.

Looking back, I realize that it was a pretty magical convergence of life parallels— a photo shoot for mom and baby, forever capturing the magic of a moment in time and the earliest days of a new product. You might think it’s a stretch to compare a baby and packaging, but little Avery, barely 9 months at the time of the shoot, was coming into her own, beginning to gurgle and kick at the activity around her, while the diaper caddies were beginning to take off, that particular round of packaging was targeted at the goal to reach wider distribution.

Now, three years later, Avery is a pre-schooler, walking home each day with breathless tales of tag on the playground and learning new songs in the classroom. SaraBear diaper caddies have exciting tales of their own, first tentatively crawling into boutiques, then walking into Target Stores throughout the country and now running into Babies “R”Us and Babiesrus.com – the world’s leading baby products retailer and the #1 Baby Registry site in the U.S.

We always knew that things would change, babies would grow up and new frontiers would be explored as a company, but it still takes our breath away.

Our gorgeous little model has grown up so much, with a baby sister taking on her own role in SaraBear photography, but to us the laughter of that 9 month old during a photo shoot one winter will endure like the first caddies crafted in a basement in the Adirondacks of New York.

Read our press release

Avery’s timeless baby face

I hope they’ll be friends forever.

She’s 7 1/2 and nothing is quite good enough, lasts long enough, or is big enough. My Princess Sara…the universe, of course, revolves around her don’t you know? We are players in her innocent game and dancers in her elaborate show. Each day includes power struggles, stomping off, rolling of the beautiful green eyes and at least one door-slamming.

I was reminded of this repeatedly as we enjoyed an afternoon at the County Fair. We had strolled the dusty paths, perused the carney fodder, eaten sinful fair-food and ridden a dozen rides. We watched a show, played some games, and spent all of Dad’s money. And at the end while the sun was setting there we were in the middle of the fairway. Sara with tears in her eyes that she wanted more! Not understanding that one ride-ticket wouldn’t get us anymore she finally yelled in frustration, “But it’s not fair!”

I took a deep breath and looked up. To the left I watched a group of tween boys and girls hanging out. They wore goth-like attire and shared a common and bit creepy deer-in-the-headlight gaze. I just smiled. “Thankfulness” was my only emotion. I reached out for my kid’s hands. Quietly knowing it was time to call “Uncle”, they instinctively reached back out for mine.

As we made our way back to the car the lights and sounds behind us faded away. The moment was mine to savor – the moment where my babies still hold my hand in crowds, they still listen to me and believe in what I have to say. The moment when I know where they are and who they’re with. These moments that I am hanging on to as long as I possibly can.

So Sara I say to you, bring it on! Bring on the whining, complaining, huffing and puffing. It will not daunt me. Being your mother is the most wonderful and fairest thing in the land.

Our most precious assets – Nathaniel and Sara.

Little baby boys. One day, swaddled in innocence and love. He is content and finds peace in nothing more than your arms. The next, you’re making dinner and hear him yelling at the top of his lungs. You gander out your kitchen window, speechless, as he has found peace by blasting holes with his 4-wheeler in the pool inflatables.

*LEGAL DISCLAIMER: In no way, shape or form does SaraBear Company or any authorized person, employee or affiliated person of SaraBear (past, present or future) condone or promote the uses of products seen in this blog post. Never place a baby in a SaraBear diaper caddy. SaraBear Company is not affiliated with Sarah Neal Designs. Melissa takes no responsibility for keeping clothes on her son.

The day, which was forecast for rain, was turning out to be quite pleasant. The sun played hide-n-seek through the high clouds and a pleasant breeze flirted through my windows.

Although Father’s Day, Ben was working. So by late afternoon the kids and I decided to head out to the park.  We hopped in the car and headed to their favorite playground. Wouldn’t you know – two miles down the road it started to rain. We knew the swings and slides would quickly be all wet.

Oh well. In need of a new shower-head for the guest shower I thought it would be a good time to swing into Home Depot and pick it up. Besides, the kids are always game for the Big-Orange-Tractor-Store.

So there we were…walking through the Queensbury Home Depot. As we headed out, into the front aisle came a woman walking with a dog. I wondered why someone would have a dog in the store? Must be one of those “dogs-in-training” I assumed and we kept on by.

But then, as I navigated the kids around the particularly happy pup I recognized her. I haulted the kids and stopped dead in my tracks. “Oh my God Sara, that’s Rachael Ray! It’s really her! She’s with her Mom and that’s her dog!”

Sara and I quickly contemplated what to do. We both got very nervous and decided we couldn’t do it. No way could we walk up and bother her in public. Clearly, she just wants to shop in peace like the rest of us. Nate tugged to show me the John Deere lawn mower he wanted me to buy – so we started to leave.

Then thank goodness my common sense took over. There was no way I was leaving that store without meeting her! And like any honest, quick-thinking parent I would say that my kids really wanted to meet her dog.

So we walked up and said hello. Rachael was 100x’s more beautiful in person. She introduced her dog Isaboo, we passed a few words and we then said thank you and goodbye. Having just sent Rachael one of our SaraBear diaper caddies (our continued forging PSI PR efforts) the opportunity to meet her in person was beyond thrilling.

Back outside, the sun was peaking through the clouds again and the weather had shifted. As I buckled Nate in his car seat I rambled on to Sara about how famous Rachael Ray was. And of course I texted my friend Tina about what had just happened.  I couldn’t believe we had just met Rachael Ray! I was high and giddy.

Although just a brief 30-second exchange, surely it will always be memorable for me. Sara and Nate will hear this story a million times as they grow up. How silly is it that meeting a certain other human being could be so exciting? Not too bad for a rainy day.

(Rachael Ray and her dog Isaboo. Originally from Lake George, NY, Rachael has a home here and her mother still lives in the area)

Melissa with her new nephew, Alexander, enjoying 65 degrees

Hard-core Wii champs, Mark and Sara…tired but not stoppin’.

In addition to the holidays, my baby turned seven…Unbelievable! Like us moms say, “It seems just like yesterday she was a baby, where did the time go?” Now it’s High School Musical, the Jonas Brothers on CD and texting with her Nintendo DS to her friends. Wow.

And The Nater, who has definitely found comfort in his own skin and silly sense of humor, got his Kawasaki 4-Wheeler from Santa (although shown here with his cousin’s super-dooper new bike, thanks Hannah!) and is growing up so fast. He whizzes around the garage on the 4 wheeler like he’s been riding one for years. Must be a boy-thing.

Notice the tough-guy Pooh helmet

The ball has dropped in Times Square and the last of the holiday decorations are packed away. Although my kids love the holidays (I did too when I was little) I must admit it’s not my favorite time of year. Maybe it’s the cold of upstate New York, the frenzy of the parking lots, or the memories of losing my Mom on a cold December day. As I type the numbers 2.0.0.9 the past couple of days, I am very thankful to have a little time now to finally hit the pause button on my life, take a crystal-clear look back at ‘08, reminisce, and breathe a deep, well-deserved breath. We’ll see if I can catch it.

“Wanna go to Hick’s? We can take the kids and pick some apples.”

And the fog clears. A three year old in blue jeans and a hoodie, luminous eyes looking up at you, “We goin’ to pick apples?” followed by a sniff and a swipe at his little button nose with his shirt sleeve. A smile spreads across his face and butterflies alight in your tummy, like a crush, but better.

“Yeah, let’s go pick apples.”

Six and three grab your hands, “Mom, Dad? We love you.”

And so it is that instead of flitting between the laundry room and the kitchen, you find yourself between trees heavy with Macouns and Cortlands, breathing in the scent of your sweet baby’s head as your husband watches you with a smile that brings back early day memories to the soundtrack of your daughter’s laughter.

We were in the elevator this morning on our way to the ABC Kids Showcase. There were only a couple of people in the elevator. One had a badge that read Fit Pregnancy on it. “Oooh,” I thought, I want to talk to him. He was looking at Finley with a huge grin, “Look at all that hair,” he said, “I’m jealous.” We all tittered as he had a very noticeably shaved head.

He leaned in, “Well hello, pretty little one. Hello.” He was beaming and about to reach for her foot when her whole body went tense, her feet kicked out and she shrieked as if in pain. What followed were three minutes of unabated screaming and sobbing and floor after floor of, “Oh, poor thing doesn’t like elevators.” After the second or third comment he said, “No, she just doesn’t like overly friendly bald men.”

There was not soothing her, nor was there any real chance to smooth things over. I ached for the kind stranger and for Fin, both were equally traumatized I am sure. If he’s reading this…

No worries! She shook it off nicely.