Happiness

Isn't this little guy about the cutest thing you've ever seen?

Ryan the Lion is ONE

When I was pregnant with baby Ryan, I was sitting in Emmy's dance class with Jennilyn and we watched as our girls danced to "The Circle of Life."  I hadn't heard the song in years, and as I imagined that little baby Simba being held up for all of the animal kingdom to behold, I couldn't help but cry.  Jennilyn laughed at me - it was an obvious case of pregnancy hormones.

When I went to the hospital a little over a year ago and the nurse felt my bulging, contracting belly and predicted that my baby would be about seven, maybe seven and a half pounds, I immediately figured we'd be adding a third girl to our family.

Imagine my surprise when Matt announced "It's a BOY!" and I was handed a slippery and sweet and unexpectedly BIG bundle of joy, weighing in at 9 lbs. 8 oz.

I'd heard that big babies were great sleepers, but quickly learned that big babies are hungry babies.  He ate constantly.  While still in the hospital, we were debating about names, and when we told my mom that the name "Ryan" means "little king" - my mom said, "well you have to name him Ryan then!" And so we did.

A couple months later, after Matt gave Ryan his name and blessing in church, he must have known how I love things to be a little theatrical, and so when he turned to give the congregation a little glimpse of our baby, all of a sudden he lifted him high over his head - Lion King style - for all to see.  He had no idea of the little emotional outburst I'd experienced a few months prior.

And so it seemed fitting that we celebrate Ryan's first birthday with lions. Aunt Ashley even taught him to growl at the sight of a lion.  When he saw his cake and when he opened up his gift, he let out a roar just as he'd been taught.  What a good little king!

We are so lucky that Grandma Jo Jo makes the most beautiful cakes!

Let me at it!

All of our wild friends!

Born with  manners, Ryan opened the card first

Showing the other lion who is the boss

Emmy and Sophie were sooo excited about Ryan finally joining the world of sugar

party's over

My Little Brother is Married!

We are so happy for Stephen and Amy and had so much fun celebrating with them on their joyous day!

School days are waning

This past Thursday, Matt and I had the chance to go to Emmy's classroom and look through all of the work that she has done this year.  It was amazing to see the progress she has made.  She was proud of her work and we were thrilled to celebrate her success.

I did not feel too emotional when she started Kindergarten.  I felt nervous and anxious for her, but I did not experience one of those my-baby-is-growing-up-too-fast moments.  Now that the end of the year is approaching, I have been hit by these emotions over and over again.  I had to hide my face after leaving her classroom because I did not want her to see me crying.  Kindergarten feels like this magical bubble, especially because we love her teacher so much.  First grade is an unknown.  She'll be at school ALL DAY long.  She'll be on the playground with the big kids.

And speaking of her teacher, I will really miss him.  My entire life, I have had a special love for my teachers.  There were many last days of school when the other kids were celebrating and I was crying over the end of an era with one teacher or another.  There are a few teachers I've kept in touch with other the years.  But it is never the same, because they aren't my teachers anymore.  I no longer have the privilege of enjoying the magic that goes on in their classroom.  New students take my place, the teacher starts over again.  Even now, I sometimes wish I could be read to by Ms. Hudson, sit and write poetry in Mrs. Sexton's 4th grade class, discuss literature in Mr. Polivka's English class, hear Mr. Carr deliver a lecture on Abraham Lincoln, be enlightened by Brother Bradford's perspectives on the scriptures, and play in the orchestra with Mr. West. 

I never knew how I would live vicariously through my children.  I will probably miss Mr. Morris more than Emmy will.  She may smile and say hi to him from across the playground, but she will not be sitting eagerly in the front row, listening to him singing and playing on his guitar every morning.

Things will never be the same, it's true.  But at least I've learned in my small life, that change often brings new people to love and new experiences that become a part of who we are.

My Mother

When I look back on my childhood, I realize that I didn't think too much about my mom.  Of course I loved her, but I did not give a lot of thought to her as a person.  For example, one Mother's Day I gave her a set of perfume from Victoria's Secret.  I was thrilled with my gift.  She acted delighted as well.  Now I know that I couldn't have picked a worse present.  My mother never wears perfume.  When she was pregnant, perfumy smells made her feel nauseous and now she gets a headache around too much perfume.

My conversations with my mom went something like this: "What's for dinner?" "Beef stroganoff again?" "Can Heather eat over?" "Can she sleep over?" "Will you drop us off at the mall if Heather's mom can pick us up?"  

The most I ever wondered about my mom's well-being was when she was driving (probably taking me somewhere) and I had nothing else to think about. I would often ask, "Mom, why are you frowning?"  "I'm not frowning," she'd say.  "Well you look angry," I'd say.  

If she ever actually was angry, or sad, or frustrated, instead of feeling sorry for her, I'd be baffled.  "What's the big deal?" I'd wonder (I was smart enough not to say anything). Forget the fact that on a Sunday morning, my dad had to get to church early. She had probably woken up earlier than her five kids, packed a diaper bag, hunted for lost keys, cleaned up three spills of milk, wrestled my grumpy little sister for the right to do her hair, gave in and let my brother wear wrinkled pants he'd pulled from the bottom of the hamper, and hadn't had a chance to eat breakfast herself.   And she probably had asked us nicely several times to get in the car before yelling that she was leaving and starting up the car in the garage as a final warning that this time, she just might leave without us.  No wonder she was a little frustrated!  And there I was, sitting shotgun (as the oldest, this was my right), and instead of feeling sorry for my mom, or wishing I'd helped her more that morning, I was probably thinking something really self-righteous, like, "When I'm a mom, I will not get mad about stuff like this." Ahh, the wisdom and optimism of youth.  

Thankfully, I was only self-centered 90 percent of the time.  I remember one night I was sleeping over at a friend's house with some other girls.  Their moms were there too, and we were all watching the Miss America pagaent.  Suddenly, I wasn't having fun anymore.  I wanted my mom with me.  I called her and asked her to come, and for some reason she couldn't.  I felt like crying.  I hated to think of her being left out of the fun.  

There were a few other times that I was able to surprise my mom with grand gestures, like cleaning my room or doing the dishes without being asked.  She would be genuinely delighted - proving that she really meant it when she'd say "All I want for Christmas is a clean house."  "But what can we buy you?" we'd want to know - unable to process how a clean house was so great - plus, wasn't out house already pretty clean?

My mom made me practice the piano.  She did my laundry. She taught me how to make the best apple pie in the world.  She cooked eggs for breakfast on days when I had big tests because she believed they were brain food.  She made dinner for our family every single night, and when I came home late after an away game, she always had my dinner waiting for me, wrapped in aluminum foil, warm in the oven.  My mom introduced me to my best friend, Anne of Green Gables.  She sewed a lot of Halloween costumes.  When I'd go to girl's camp, I'd find a bag of Werther's Original in my duffel bag with a little love note. Sometimes my mom would be silly, and she'd make us laugh by teasing my dad.  One night it was pouring rain and she surprised us all by putting on her bathing suit and running around outside.  Only I and my youngest brother, Chris, joined her in the fun.  He was always game for just about anything, and I was old enough to know that this moment with my mom would be one we'd look back on and laugh about forever.  

It is funny how life is, because now I am starting to understand what my mom went through.  My own kids ask me, usually when I'm driving, if I am mad.  (We must have some kind of genetic trait that when we are concentrating we look angry).  I find my blood boiling over things that my teenage self might have deemed as not a "big deal."  I dream of the house staying clean for longer than a couple hours.  Right now, I am typing this in my bed, as I hungrily wait for my sweet kids and husband to bring me breakfast.  Emmy is cuddled up on my right, and she just said, as I probably said when I was her age, "We should have a kid's day!" and then "I can't wait until I'm a mom and I can eat yummy food like this in bed."  (It's worth noting that Sophie said,smiling as if she were giving me a gift, "I dreamed that I ate hot chocolate with you, Mommy.  With marshmallows inside.") 

If you were to talk to my mom right now, she'd tell you just where she failed.  No one is more aware of his or her own imperfections than she is.  She'd be the first to point out just where she thinks she went wrong and all of the things she could have done or wishes she didn't do.  But here's the thing - she made me feel like she was the luckiest mom in the world to have me.  I grew up with the absolute knowledge that I was adored.  And this knowledge is even sweeter now that I have my own kids -  because when I comfort them after a bad dream, or sing to them, when my heart breaks at their disappointments and soars at their joys, I realize that this is how my mom feels about me - even now.  And I love her all the more.  

  

Love this Ensemble!

Happy Birthday to Me!

A few weeks ago, I turned 31. To celebrate, my two girls and I dressed up Fancy Nancy style and went out for parfaits at none other than Baskin Robbins (get it?). You, my dear friends, know me, and so you are probably not surprised that I actually went out in public looking like this. But Emmy is still getting to know her own mother, and asked me if I was embarrassed. (Funny because she actually dictated my outfit and then chose something perfectly normal for herself). I said of course not and walked into the ice cream parlor with head held high.