The Wizard

"Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain..." -The Wizard of Oz

I write regularly about my children. What they are like, funny things they say, cute things they do. I love my children. They are my life.
But there is someone often omitted from my everyday ramblings.
The man who taught me about true love. Commitment. Joy. Laughter.
The man who made my dreams come true.
I have one of those husbands that most women think don't exist. He's smart and fun and patient and generous and kind. He loves endlessly. He wants to give his family the world. Truly.
As amazing as he is as a husband, his role as a father is more than I can describe. My words could never do justice to the type of father Will is to his children. Without a doubt, he is their greatest gift in this life.
He works hard. He loves harder.
Will, you are everything I could have dreamed of in a life partner and a better father than I could have imagined. The words seem so measly, but thank you.
Thank you for being our wizard.
Happy Father's Day.

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Anna's First Birthday Pics

Here are a few (ok, a lot) of pictures from Anna's birthday party. We had such a wonderful time. I have to send out a special "thank you" to Charlie and Anna's Mimi and Grandaddy for all of their help! What a memorable weekend it was...


















Anna with her music box from her Aunt Kiki, Uncle Kyle, and cousins Hunter and Drake. She loved the little ballerina that spins around when you open it.


Here she is sporting some sunglasses she got for her birthday. Diva already...


P.S. Mimi-how its it that you were here all weekend and I never got a picture of you with the kids? If you have one, please send it to me!

Dear Anna,

My precious baby girl. This weekend you turned one year old. It hardly seems like 12 months ago that I was carrying you inside me, wondering. Wondering what your little personality would be like. Wondering what kind of addition you would be to our family. Where you would fit.
I could never have dreamed how amazing you would be.
You are smart and beautiful and patient and loving. You watch the world and take everything in. You are a people reader and I often catch you intently watching my face to read my reaction to a situation.
You love to look at books and rock your dolls. And you love to play with your brother's cars, but only the ones he doesn't want you to play with.
You have a knack for doing something you know will upset him, and then playing the pity card when he gets upset.
But you love him fiercely. When you first see him in the morning you flail and kick your arms in excitement. You love to roughhouse with him. You will take a lot, but when you've had enough, you aren't afraid to let it be known. You are feisty.
I love everything about you. I love your smell. I love your chubby little cheeks and your pudgy little toes. I love the two tiny red birthmarks on your belly. I love the way your top lip curls when you smile.
I love the way you crawl, the way you laugh, the way you babble, and the way you lie your head on my shoulder at night after you have finished your bedtime bottle. It's my favorite part of the day.
You complete the family I have always dreamed of, my precious Anna. My daughter, my friend for life.
Happy birthday to my beautiful angel.

School's Out!

My very first baby finished his first year of preschool today. It seems like 20 minutes ago I left a newborn Anna sleeping with her Daddy to drive my sweet boy to his first day. I remember the way his bookbag, packed tight with diapers and wipes, seemed to swallow him as his trudged up the sidewalk holding tightly to my hand. And I remember the way my stomach was doing flip-flops as I waved goodbye and walked away.
He didn't shed a tear.
So much has changed in these past ten months. No more diapers. He talks A LOT, saying things I wasn't even aware he knew. He asks about his friends, sleeps in a big boy bed, and jumps at the chance to go to a playmate's house without me.
He's growing up. Too fast.
But he will always be my baby.

Here he is on the first day, still sporting a pudgy baby face.

And here his is today, all little boy.

Cakes!

Well, I have been somewhat slack on my posting lately, (compared to my usual one-a-day routine) because I have been baking, baking, baking. I have decided to give a little side-cake-business a go and see what comes of it. I love doing it and now that the kids are getting a little older, I have a little more free time on my hands. Here is a practice round of a cake I made for us to eat on Anna's actual birthday, Friday. I'll post the real one as soon as I get it finished!

Summertime and the Livin's Easy

I love the summer. Even in the unbearable heat, there is something about the long, sunny days that brings on a new energy and life to everyday tasks. Picnics, playing in the sprinklers and pool, evenings spent in the cul-de-sac ordering pizza for the neighborhood kids, beach trips, and my mom being around more because school is out. I love it all.

Beat Me, It's Funny!

I've never been a really big fan of being slapped in the back of the head with a pair of shorts, but who am I to judge?

Foreshadow

I got a little glimpse today into what the future will likely hold with a teenage girl in the house.

How Great, The Desire to Climb

I fashioned a make-shift gate out of dining room chairs to keep my little Ozzy-ette off the stairs. It worked for about a week. It currently continues to maintain it's purpose of keeping her off the stairs, but now places her in an entirely different precarious situation...

For Her, I Will Be

I came to my computer tonight ready to post about something entirely different than the soap box I am about to climb upon, but a friend's recent post about a scene she witnessed this weekend struck a chord with me.

Before becoming a stay-at-home-mom, I was a public school teacher. I completed several internships that exposed me to children from "both sides of the tracks". Of all the suffering, struggling, families I came into contact with, one little girl changed not only how I viewed life, but everything and everyone in it.
I stepped into that kindergarten classroom still a student myself. At 18 years old, I had a passion for kids and an energy that I couldn't wait to bring to those 20-something smiling, dirty little faces. I'd always had a way with kids, and I couldn't wait to show it off. I remember walking into the classroom that day, chatting with the teacher, and getting the "run-down" on what I would be doing over the next several weeks. As I took the head of the classroom and began to tell the students about myself, I noticed one student sitting away from all the other kids. As the others giggled and chimed in on what their names were, their favorite colors, or what they had for dinner the night before, she sat alone...absorbed in her own little world. The teacher later told me that she had behavior problems and came from a "poor home". The more I learned about this little girl, the more I realized the teacher wasn't referring to her socioeconomic status.

And "poor" was putting it kindly.

For the next week I watched as she lashed out at other students during play time, sat alone, rocking on her heels during circle time, and literally jumped if you walked too close to her. She never spoke. I sometimes wondered if she could even hear when we spoke to her. Although I felt pity for her, I often became frustrated at her obstinance. This was supposed to be my "thing" and I couldn't make her do anything I asked. Couldn't make her cooperate. Couldn't make her smile.
Then one cold and dry November morning, I entered the classroom just as the students were lining up for Related Arts. I found her at the back of the line, in obvious distress, clawing at her lips. I got onto my knees to talk to her, and noticed her lips were so severely chapped they were peeling. I reached into my pocket, took out my 99 cent chap stick, and rubbed it on her lips.
And that is when everything changed.
Her eyes lit up with a light I had never seen. The most beautiful smile spread across her baby face. She reached out her little hand, clasped onto my own, and didn't let go until we reached our destination.
I spent a lot of time that night wondering what could have sparked her change.
From the moment I was born, someone loved me. Someone held me when I cried. Someone cared for me when I was sick. Someone comforted me when I was scared. Someone held my hand, rubbed my back, and brushed my hair.
Someone gave me chap stick when my lips hurt.
But no one did these things for her.
As time went on, our bond strengthened. My mom also worked at the school, and was able to pull some strings so I could spend more time with her. We eventually contacted the family and I got to do some things with her outside of school. Things I knew no one else took her to do. Like get an ice cream cone.
This beautiful little soul opened my eyes to so many things.
Like what it means to be loved. So many of us naturally take for granted what it means to be loved.
I don't know why her mother abused her. I don't know why no one came to her Christmas program. I can't understand not loving her enough. I just know that she wasn't loved enough.
Maybe no one loved her own mom enough. Maybe drugs had stolen a mother's claim on her child.
But I don't care what the excuse was. Because it wasn't good enough.
As parents, it is our job to love. We all slip up. We all lose our patience. We all say or do things that we regret. But we can never stop loving. Our children are people. Lives. And they learn how to love themselves by the way we love them.
I wanted to take her home with me. At the age of 18, I wanted to put her in my car, drive away, and never let her look back.
The next year I headed off to college and her family eventually moved. I saw her in a grocery store several years later. A very long time in the eyes of a five-year-old. She was riding on the back of the grocery cart when her eyes locked with mine. For a moment, I could see her contemplate before she lept off the cart and ran into my arms.
I will never forget her. She taught me. She inspired me.

For her, I will be the best damn mother I know how to be.