It’s Labor Day Weekend. All we did was go to the beach and then swing in the Red Coats. Since we missed Fourth of July in Grand Haven, the people who run the Twitter and Instagram accounts were wondering what happened to our annual parade. Well we are just so swing obsessed, this is all we could give them:
The hubs and I made the journey to Iowa for him to meet baby Kenley. We ate delicious fish tacos and visited with the fam. And now Kenley has nothing but love for her Uncle Danny.
Ok. Remember a while ago I posted about things to come…so one of the things was, obviously, the birth of my niece. The other is the announcement that I am working with Emily Alt Photography as the bookkeeper and creative consultant! I just really dig everything Emily and her husband are doing and want to be apart of it, even if I can’t go out on the road in the airstream (or can I?)
In case you did not know, Emily and Ian have quit their day jobs to pursue photography full-time and have serious plans to travel the country with their dog(s?) and cameras. On Day 321, we said goodbye to them as they packed up their Northside condo and moved to Michigan in search of adventures in airstreams, photography and self-employment. They just announced an AMAZING offer in some seriously RAD cities, so if you are planning on getting married in or looking to elope to Minneapolis, Austin, Asheville, Beaufort, New Orleans, Santa Fe, or Traverse City, check this out. Now. Like immediately. The rest of this post is not as important as you reading about the Pop Up Rolling Elopements.
And in case you don’t subscribe to her emails (why wouldn’t you? they are full of great offers!) here is the announcement that went out about my involvement: “Hey! I’m Sarah and I’m super jazzed to be working with my talented friends, Emily and Ian. As they venture out on the road, I’ll be keeping the books in Chicago and writing blog posts about anything from urban DIY photo art to utopian societies to pescetarianism. Theater, a husband, and a mini-goldendoodle named Elphaba occupy much of my time, yet I like to think of myself as an amateur photographer, musician and traveler. Even though I am a native Iowan and current Illinoisan, the northwest mitten state has stolen my heart. I enjoy long walks on her peaceful Lake Michigan beaches, hikes to the top of Empire Bluffs and drives through The Narrows–obviously the most beautiful place on Earth.” (Ridiculous I know, but also true).
For real, I am sad to see my friends leave Chicago but so so happy for their success, inspired by their bravery and awed by their art!
The second day of Baby Jameson’s life. Her name was announced to the world. Kenley Sarah Jameson.
I can’t even put into words how happy I am that she has my name as her middle name. It was also Britt’s grandmother’s name and is, in fact, the only name in both families. So it is very special. I can’t even. Love.
It was amazing to spend the day feeling so adult and seeing my sister as such an adult and then spend part of the evening, just me and my parents, watching fireworks on a blanket on the golf course with them and feeling like a little kid again.
I can’t catch up with the roadtrip posts until I get the pics off my camera which I can’t do until I charge my battery which I can’t do until I remember to bring the charger in from the car because you know I am not making a special trip out to the car (up and down two flights of stairs) just for a camera charger. And I was going to wait on this and the next post until after I finished the roadtrip but I. Just. Cannot. Wait. Anymore.
The morning after the hubs and I return from our roadtrip, I get a text that says something like, “your sis is going to the hospital but don’t get all hyped up. Baby probably isn’t coming today.” (Remember my sister is pregnant but this is August 9. She’s not due until the 18). One hour later. A phone call, “you might want to come if you’re coming. This baby will be born by 5pm.” Frantic packing. Giving of shot. Emailing work. Calling weekend visitors.
I get in the car. Another text that says something like “baby coming sooner than thought. She’s dilated to 7!” I race–speed–to Iowa City. Normally a 4 plus hour drive from Chicago, I get there in 3.5 including a stop. (Stupid bladder). I pass my father on 80 and, after that moment of, “oh hey that’s my dad,” I leave him in my dust.
As I’m driving, I get a call from one of my sister’s friends. She says that while they wait, they are making baby guesses-height, weight, name, etc. and do I want to participate? She is in the process of taking my guesses and I hear my mom come in to the waiting room where these girls are and say, “she is about to start pushing!” At that moment, I really put the pedal to the medal. Iowa City. Mercy Hospital. Park. (Did I lock the doors? Doesn’t matter!) Run into info desk bewildering nice ladies, “how do I get to labor and delivery?” They look at me like, “you’re not in labor” and send me on my way. Hallways. Elevator. I make it to the waiting room. They take me to my sister’s door/curtain. Her husband and my mom are inside and I am denied access. Too far along in the process. One hour later, Baby J is born. I become an aunt for the first time in my family (I’m an aunt to two lovely gents-who probably would not like to be called lovely or gents-on the hubs’ side). My parents are grandparents. My sister is a mom.
I get to go in first with my dad (who made it despite his slow driving). I meet baby who had no name yet. I make sure my sis is ok. I cry a little and then take my first, of what I’m sure will be many many thousands, picture of my niece.
And I don’t Instagram it right away because the couple hasn’t even announced her yet (and won’t for almost 24 hours. They also don’t name her for almost 24 hours. Torture to new aunts and grandmas). I also hold her for the first time and tell her I love her for the first time. And hear her fart super loud for the first time. Which breaks the spell in the best possible way. My sister is a mom. But she and I can still giggle about a fart, especially when it comes out of such a tiny human.
year of fun 