If You Love Her, Let Her Go

It was casual.

She sat on the couch for an hour watching Aladdin and when we told her it was time to get ready she decided she wanted to play upstairs instead.

I thought she was wavering.

But she wasn’t.

She came down ten minutes later with her blanket and a tea set. Walked up to me. Smiled. Gave me a hug. And said, “Bye Mommy.” As if that was all that was necessary. She had made up her mind. She was resolute. And she was ready to go.

Not ready to go to Grandmommy’s for a night or to spend the day with her cousin or to go downstairs to her class for five hours.

She was ready to go outside. Get in my parents’ car. And drive twelve hours to my brother’s house in Texas.

Without me.

Sneaking into the Sacred

Every day there is a new revelation of my 4-year-old’s brain. I SERIOUSLY cannot keep up. I try to write the moments down. I try to remember the cute phrases or the deep questions. I try.

But wow.

Occasionally, not as often as I’d like, but occasionally I will wake up early and sit in the big brown recliner with a red cup of coffee and I will read my pink leather Bible that my sweet husband gave me for my 28th birthday. And it is quiet. And still. And glorious.

Occasionally.

And on occasion, I will be in the middle of reading when the little footfalls hit the stairs-

Go Gold: Why I Slept Beside My Child Last Night

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness month.  Two words that should never go together: “Childhood” and “Cancer”.  To honor all those who have fought or who are fighting this battle, I’m sharing a throwback from last October… when one little boy’s story changed my whole world.

Circa October 18th, 2013

Last night after brushing my little girl’s teeth, helping her put on her PJ’s, rocking with her in our chair and reading her a Bible story, I did something a little different.

I crawled in her little toddler bed with her, sang her songs, and lay beside her until she fell peacefully asleep.

If you know me, you know I don’t do this.

It’s a rare occasion when my kiddo gets to share a bed with me.  Let alone during such a critical, routine time such as bedtime.  It’s been this way since she was 5 weeks old and we moved her to her crib. (I confess… I let her sleep on my chest a lot when she was a newborn… C-sections are worth it, right?)

But last night was special.

Freckles, swimming pools, and Spaghetti O’s.

I curled up next to my little girl for her nap today.

She fought to keep her eyes open while I finished a story about baby brothers.  And finally, as I closed the last page she rolled to her side, wrapped her arm around my neck, and fell fast asleep.

I couldn’t help but lay there for a few minutes.  Her warm, soft arm draped heavily around my neck.  Just inches from the brand new freckles on her nose.  All of her smelling of outside, swimming pool, and Spaghetti-O’s.

And as an unusually cool summer breeze blew through the window, all the world was right.

And I had another moment.  A moment of peace.  And joy.  Unspeakable joy.

I wanted to bottle up that smell and hold it tight.  I wanted to memorize every freckle.  And count every breath.

Because these perfect moments of cuddling and reading and resting will give way soon to other moments.  Older moments.  More grown-up moments.

And I will cherish those, too.

But for now, I have these.  And I cling to these.  To get me through the threenage days.  To get me past the testing and the sassing.  To help me endure the exhaustion that motherhood can be sometimes.

Things will change tomorrow.

She’ll add a new word or a new expression.  Her legs will get even longer (if that’s possible) and her face will thin out even more.  Leaving behind every trace of the baby I once held on my forearm.

But today.  In that moment.  She wrapped me in her arm.  And I wrapped her in my heart.

Freckles.  Swimming pools.  And Spaghetti-O’s.

 

 

The Good Ol’ Days – Share the {Blog} Love

As our world is flocking to the cities and the suburbs, it’s no surprise that some of our fondest memories of yesterday were spent in wide open spaces.  (Well… as a Kansas girl that is ALL of my yesterday)  But today, my sweet friend, Lauren (http://adventuresofjackandme.com), is sharing some of her most beloved memories and lessons of a beautiful childhood on her Grandparents’ farm.

The Reality of Raising a Toddler

Please come visit me at the Knoxville Mom’s Blog today (even if you’re not from Knoxville).  I’m inviting you into our home to take a peek at some of my daily drama with the Pickle.  And I’m begging for some advice!

Because let’s face it… we’ve hit the terrible threes and this momma isn’t handling it well.  From tantrums to talking back, I’m learning a lot…

about myself.

It’s been a rough couple of months.  And she’s not even three yet.  What’s a Momma to do?! (click here or on the image to read all about it!)

Three

Last night I started packing the Pickle’s lunch.

We are finally going back to school!  (after an extra long break)

I meticulously selected lunch items that would be healthy, filling and easy to open.  I cleaned out her new Minnie Mouse Back Pack that she got for Christmas and began listing in my head the items that she would need to have in it.  I picked out her clothes and laid them out for this morning.  And in my heart I mourned just a teeny bit..

Because, you see, my girl is moving up to the three-year-old class today.

Christmas Traditions

Some things never change.  Or at least I try hard not to let them.

When I was growing up, we had lots of Christmas traditions that we clung to.  We always picked out our own live Christmas tree.  We decorated the house to the tune of the Beach Boys, Dolly Parton, Kenny Rogers, and the Carpenters.  I was the one who meticulously set out the big nativity.  On the last day of school before Christmas break my mom and I would make cinnamon rolls to take to our bus driver.  And every year we would make and decorate sugar cookies.

Now that we have a sweet Pickle and a flurry of traditions of our own, some of these have been lost.  The live tree, for example (it’s not allowed in our apartment).  I don’t have the Beach Boys Christmas Album (although you could purchase it for me here).  I probably won’t set out the big nativity until the kiddo is in high school because I’m pretty sure the first thing she’ll do is break it.

But sugar cookies?

That we can (and did) do.

What I (don’t) Believe About Santa

Santa is not real.

There.  I said it.

He does not exist.

There is no man in a red suit flying overhead on Christmas Eve taking toys to every good little boy and girl in every country, in every city all over the world.  There are no reindeer.  There is no North Pole.  There aren’t elves or a magic toyshop.  A strange man is not coming into your home and nibbling on cookies and drinking just a gulp of milk.  (Because let’s face it… if a strange man is in your home, he’s probably not there for cookies.  And if he is, he’d probably eat them all…  I would.)

No.  Santa does not exist in the form that we currently create for our children.  It’s true.

With that said, however, I believe with all my heart and all my soul that Santa is real.

25 Days of Christmas: Day 3

The Plan:

Yup.  That’s right.  Following suite PERECTLY with this morning’s post, I didn’t have anything on my list for today.  There is no gift under the tree for today.  No fun activity.  No “new” toy.  No number three to practice.  I saw it all weekend, that glaring empty “3” on my excel spreadsheet and could NOT think of anything amazing to do.  I thought, “I’ll get back to it… I’ll think of something… it’s not until Tuesday.”  Well… here we are.

Empty three.

So I’ll probably just wing it.  Maybe wrap up a bag of instant pancakes and say it’s her Christmas activity for today.

Epic fail?  Or perfect opportunity for Grace?  Oh wait.. it gets better.  I wrote this post too soon…

The Reality:

I was wrong.  Not only did I have a gift marked “3” under the tree, I had a very cute gift marked “3” under the tree and we had a very good time unwrapping it!  What I didn’t have was a saved Excel spreadsheet on my computer.  Apparently my battery had died at some point in my crazy dazy and left my nice list with the old version which, didn’t have a 3.

Nothing bad about this.  We opened a sweet little box of mini-books with Christmas Carols written in them and a handmade jingle bell instrument that I saw here.  We read them all together.  She loved it.  She shook her little bells.  We sang.  It was the sweetest day yet.

What was not sweet was losing my spreadsheet that I had spent most of naptime the previous Saturday tweaking and adjusting and correcting.  Gone.

All I have now are a bunch of presents under the tree that I hope I remember!