Friday, January 25, 2013

Eight is Great...

Anna, you are 8 today.

I remember the night before my scheduled c-section, so excited to have a little girl that I couldn't sleep at all that night. Your little pink and purple clothes were all laid out and and I was so excited to be your mama and do our 'girly' things together, like paint nails and play dress-up and do your hair and go shopping together. 

Sometimes, I feel like I'm failing miserably at being your mama. You are me; you are stubborn and smart and underneath that hard shell is a beautiful soul and lively, enthusiastic spirit. You are my challenging one; the one that shuts down if something is wrong; the one who wants to wear her summer sparkly shoes in the dead of winter; the one that loves so big and has a smile to match; the one that has a contagious laugh and a concerned heart and is loving and kind and has a sensitive soul to match. Sometimes, I have to look inside myself to figure you out; do some soul searching to try to help you, because we are two halves of a whole, and it is difficult sometimes. 

I love you as far as the stars and moon and back. I love you fiercely, and when your heart hurts, so does mine. 

I love that you love to create things; draw and paint and write in your many, many, many notebooks. I love that when I let you pick something out in the store, it's always new pens and notebooks to write; new crafts to create. I love that you think I'm a crafty mom, because I so am not. 

I love you for you and I hope you never change, because you are beautiful, both inside and out. I hope the world doesn't crush your spirit and your enthusiasm and your pure zest for living. 

You can do anything you set your mind to, anything and everything, and you are extraordinary. I need to tell you this more often; I need to tell you that on ordinary days, you make life extraordinary. 

Happy Birthday, sweet girl. 

Thursday, January 17, 2013


Don't cry because it's over, smile because it happened.--Dr. Suess

I cried when the big kids went back to school after Christmas vacation. I love having them home. I don't love the wars that sometimes break out when they're all home, but I love having them all cozy in our nest. I'm not ready for them to fly away; and yet, it's happening little by little. Sports and friends and activities and going in different directions at the same time.

I'm trying to enjoy this season we're in; this very cold winter season; while the kids are big enough to enjoy the outdoor things like sledding and ice skating; but not too big to go and do them by themselves. That's why I love my husband for forcing me out in my many, many layers of clothing; so I can see the pure joy on their faces as they are facing their fears of sledding down the big hill, or making it all the way down on the snowboard for the very first time.

My brave little 6 year old, who proclaimed I'm facing my fears, mama!! We can learn a lot from a little kid, can't we?

Gosh, I love them. But I can't wait until summer.

Monday, January 14, 2013

The Sun Always Rises...

even if we don't see it.

I watched the sun come up today after dropping the three big kids off at school. It was 6 degrees, and my 2 year old had to wear my mittens, because we left in a rush to get to school on time and forgot hers. We made a mad dash to the river trail and I held her in my arms as the fiery ball of red came up and spread it's rays between the trees and through the clouds.

This morning was a complete and utter failure of a morning. Tears and fighting and teasing and explosions and more tears. I couldn't wait to get home and work out and work up a sweat and forget about the failing. Instead, I took a detour and followed the sun and found some silence in the sky and showed a little girl how the sun comes up slowly and quickly all at once. Kind of like growing up. Some days feel like they will never end, and all of a sudden, my baby is almost 3.

I can only hope the kids don't dwell on the failure mornings like I do. I hope that as they hang up their coats in their lockers, and say hi to their friends, it's already a distant memory.

Tomorrow morning, we'll try again. Hopefully we'll succeed with one less explosion and smiles instead of tears.

There is no trace of that beautiful sun anymore. The clouds moved in and it is gray and bleak outside again. But I saw that glorious sun come up; I saw its rays spread out in the sky. I remember what it's like to feel warm, and I remember when we had good mornings.

Thank heaven for tomorrows and sunshine.

*all photos taken with my iphone because i also forgot my 'real' camera along with kate's mittens.
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