MIMI has all straight lines

Our grandma Mimi's birthday is at the end of April. 

A great amount of thought was put into what would be written on her card.  There was quite a day of storytelling that followed, largely from the backseat of my car with a waterbottle in one hand and a Rapunzel doll in the other. 

When I asked her if she wanted to sign the back of the card, she initially told me yes. 

So I wrote out her name for her and prepared to help her write it.  She's getting quite proficient at it these days.

Then, she told me that since the card was for Mimi, she wanted to write her name.  And also because "it has all straight lines."

You know what?

 

MIMI does have all straight lines.  You know what else?  Smart girls are so totally awesome.  Get down with your straight lines, kid.  And don't ever - ever - stop writing.

Dear Olympics: You'll be seeing us in 2028.

Because, for reals: we're going.  Olympics, here we come.  Why, you ask?  Because someone...

...had her first gymnastics class today. (And completely rocked it, I might add.  You know it must be true if it comes from her mother.)

 

That right there is the face of determination.

 

I didn't take any pictures in the gym, but it was sooooooo-ooo much fun to watch.  She was a bit nervous going in.  We talked to God and told Him all about her fears.  It was, after all, her first big-girl class completely independent of her momma. 

 

The first ten minutes were a little dicey as she tried to take it all in.  She didn't shy away and she wasn't afraid to leave me, but she also didn't participate at all.  Instead, she just looked around and watched as the other kids stretched; a move that absolutely typifies her personality to a tee.  She is not a joiner.  She is not one who jumps right in.  She has to test the water, evaluate, and decide it's okay to go forward.  I adore that about her, by the way.  I may have prayed {often} for exactly that quality while she was in my belly.

 

Once the whole concept passed though, she blossomed.  She summersaulted.  She walked on the balance beam.  She hung on the rings.  She jumped on the trampoline.  She hopped on one foot.  She totally stuck the landing. 

 

It was pretty impressive for her first time.  And this kid of mine cannot wait to go back. 

 



Love that girl.

Despite our brown thumb, we saved the yard.

You all remember the "great" American Dream, right?  (Or is it the great "American Dream"?  I can't seem to get those straight...)  Perfect husband, high-heeled wife, 2.5 kids, white picket fence.  You know the one.

When we bought our house, we were a little short on the white picket fence scenario.  (Not to mention, we had a screaming baby, tempermental two-year-old, and a slightly insane, sick and sleep-deprived momma.  At least I'm clear on where the air quotes go in "American Dream.") 

In fact, what we had was this:

And we were thrilled, don't get me wrong.  We love our house.  And the slow process that has been getting it into a condition where it actually looks like we love our house?  We're getting there.

In the fall, it looked like this:

We dressed it up a bit.  Notice the flowers and pumpkins?  How obvious is it that I was trying to distract from the fact that the yard was mostly dead and the flower bed full of weeds?  Anybody?

Even as spring came to a close, that front yard still looked more like cows lived on it than people thanks to the giant holes in the "lawn" (aha!  This time I'm sure those air quotations belong there).

But we think we've really got something special here in our home.  It may not look like it from the outside.  Yet.

I do believe we're familiar with the terms elbow grease and weekend warriors at our house.

So, as the summer begins, here's what we're working with after nine months of residency:

 

Not too shabby, eh?  Kinda looks like, you know, people live here!

Materials used for this transformation:
1 storm door, installed by hubby and FIL
Aeration and seed (and also: aeration and seed for good measure)
4 rolls of sod
3 bags red mulch
2 packs (4 lights total) solar LED walkway lights
4 flagstones (left over from our first backyard transformation at the old house)
American flag
2 pots with miscellaneous flowers

And if I sound like I'm bragging, it's because I am.  Because the back yard is completely full of weeds and can't be salvaged, so I have to celebrate where I can.

I may not love the seven-gazillionty projects we have left to do and still in progress, but I can tell you this: I could not love our home any more.  It fills my soul to the brim with happy to think that we get to spend our tomorrows here. 

White picket fence need not apply.

Nine.

Three fourths of a year.  As long out as in.  Nine months sure sneaks up on you when you're the mother of a baby.  It's also a reminder that the big 0-1 mark is right around the corner.

My little guy at nine months:

*Isn't enamoured with baby food any longer.  Loooooves to feed himself if he's given the opportunity, and can officially eat an entire animal cracker.  On his own.  With only minimal freaking out from the momma.

*Foods tried this month include: egg white, pork, animal cracker, french fry, potato salad, jello, banana pieces, avocado pieces, guacamole, tortilla, zucchini and mushroom.  Can you tell he's starting to eat what we're eating?

*Still does the army crawl, but nothing is off-limits anymore.  He's also jumped the single step from the living room into the entry, and made his way back down.  The first time was pretty cautious, the second he just barrelled off the ledge.  I don't think we're in Kansas anymore with this one.

 

 

 

*Wears exclusively 12 month clothing (and really, has since sometime during month 7 with only a few exceptions).  I'm pretty sure he's going to be in 18 months by his birthday.  {gulp.} 

*Diapers have been let out to the fullest possible extent since roughly 6 or 7 months.  I can't remember when I took the plunge, but it's been a while.

*Is getting to be so responsive.  I absolutely adore the little personality that's emerging.  For the first time, I can watch him really mentally process the world around him, and trying to be obedient.  It's kind of amazing.  I ask him to stop, and he does.  I ask him to be gentle (since he's prone to smacking me.  Hard.), and he will.  He bit me last night (the first time, thank goodness) and I yelped "OUCH!"  He cried, but I don't think it was because I scared him.  He kept touching and touching my face, and his cry wasn't his typical "I'm upset" cry.  I swear, it was like he felt bad for hurting mom.  I'm predicting it now: this boy of ours has one sweet little heart (and a great big personality!). 

*Does the SOBIG!! in response to, "how big is Logan?" {love.}

*Sleep.  You guys?  We're getting some.  He takes two 1.5-2 hour naps during the day and sleeps from 6:30 or 7 to 4 a.m.  He then nurses and goes immediately back to sleep until about 6.  Can I get a hallelujah?

*Has the world's best blue eyes.  When people meet him for the first time, I always hear two things: "...is he... really big?" and "He has the most beautiful eyes!"  (And yes.  He is really big.  Thanks for noticing.)

*Has an awesome mohawk.  And by awesome, I mean way more hair than Sister ever had.  It's possible that he may need a haircut before he turns three.  Rock on. (LMS still hasn't had to sit in the big chair.)

*Pretends to be part of the WWE on the changing table.  Spins and squirms and rolls and grabs.  I'm kind of exhausted from trying to wrestle him into his diapers and clothes. 

*Fits so well into our little family.  He is absolutely adored by Big Sis, and the feeling is completely mutual.  It still takes my breath away sometimes - we are blessed beyond words or imagining.  I love that little sweet boy more than I can say.

 

Happy 9 month birthday, my beautiful boy.

Adventures in swimming: A naked story

"Leah, go grab your swimsuit so that we can go to the pool."

Standing in the kitchen, I have an armful of towels that I'm wrestling into a bag that's proving to be too small.  Casey is bagging animal crackers, popcorn, sandwiches and other snacks so that we can venture down the street to the pool, which has been open all of about 3.5 seconds.  I'm so excited that I can hardly stand it: we live two blocks down from our neighborhood pool, and it might be my dream come true.

I can hear her upstairs.  I'm sure there will be some sort of pile when I walk up there, but before I have to, her little fleet fly down the stairs and she makes her appearance in the kitchen: thoroughly proud of herself, sunglasses on, Dad's flip-flop in one hand and swimsuit in the other.

And completely buck nekkid.

She grins and giggles, obviously pleased with the reaction her antics have attracted.

And then, drops everything and bolts -

running around and around the island.

There is also a crazy song and dance that goes along with her merriment

about how excited she is to go swimming.

Nekkid running aside, she might be her momma's girl.  Can you tell?

She's a little rocket.  She can't be stopped.

Until...

...she spots the animal crackers sitting on the counter, and realizes that would be a really delightful nekkid treat.

It's going to be a good summer. 

Word Wars part deux

I think that this sweet child of mine may outspeak his hyperverbal sister.

It makes sense: even though I talked to Leah a lot when she was a baby, this time around there is someone to actually answer back, which basically means that he's hearing twice as much language. 

His little babblings are becoming more and more pronounced, and take on the form of many more consonants than Sister's did.  Around 9 months, she had mastered her G's, B's, and of course said her first word.

Logan, on the other hand, has mastered the G's and B's, but also lesser-spoken P's, K's, S's, occassionally L's, and most recently, the M's.

As in: MAMA.

It's so awesome.  I love being Mama.

On throwing in the towel and knowing when to quit

Today was my last day of teaching.

I had a tough time packing up my classroom.  We all know that I'm pretty sentimental to begin with, and if walls could talk, they'd tell you many of my happy memories. 

I adore teaching.  I love the faces.  I love their stories.  I love the laughter and random moments.  I love watching them change between August and May, transforming from children into semi-adults literally before my eyes.  I {usually} don't even mind the sassy-pants and defiance that happens with teenagers. 

Why?  Because in exchange, I get the priviledge and opportunity to impact lives.  To literally change the course of someone's future.

It sounds hyped up.  Clearly, there are those who will sleep through my class (and probably every class, for that matter).  There are those with whom I will clash, and they will miss much of what I'm saying because we simply don't jive.  But much, much more often, I am a small cog in the giant wheel of who these children will someday become.  And it is humbling, amazing, and totally awesome.

And I'm throwing in the towel.

It got me thinking about why I got into teaching in the first place.  It has a lot to do with this lady:

She was my 5th and 6th grade teacher, and her influence on my life can't be overstated.   (Sidenote: she also officiated my wedding, if that tells you anything about how very, very important she has been to me over the years.)

It's hard to leave this job behind.  It isn't just a job where I go in everyday, sit at a desk and push papers around.  Being a teacher means something, and being part of this crazy profession and the 600 crazy middle schoolers who have passed through my classroom has meant something.  For a few years, I got to be a part of something incredible. 

There are only two things in this wide world that could make me give up that awesome job, in exchange for the best teaching job of all: motherhood.