Daddy/Daughter Dance

A friend texted several weeks ago and said she’d heard of a Daddy/Daughter dance a homeschool co-op in the area was putting together for Valentine’s. If her husband Will (a cop who works the twelve-hour night shift) could get off half the evening, he was going to take their five-year-old daughter. Would Ed and Emry want to go? I’d have to say Ed doesn’t have a huge interest in dancing since his high school years and various proms he took various girlfriends to (yes, “various” on both scores), but as he’s good friends with Will, I figured that was a “yes”. And since Will got half the evening off, they took their daughter’s on a “double date” this evening.

 

I’m not sure Emry knew anything about a “dance”. To her “dance” means going to class and working on her steps and routine for competition in April and performance in May. But if she got to get dressed up and Mama even let her wear a little make-up…well, she was more than game! Plus it was a special outing for just her and Papa. And her friend Autumn would be there. A win anyway you looked at it!

 

Honestly, Ed debated his wardrobe longer than Emry did hers. He decided on the suit, but couldn’t decide on a shirt…and then couldn’t decide to wear a tie or not. But Emry told him he needed to wear a tie, so I told him he needed to do what his date said. In the end, he dressed up more than any date we’ve been on! And they looked quite nice as they departed:

 

Emry and Ed ready for their date.

 

So, while I juggled only two kids until I put Ellyson to bed and spent some time just with Ethan, the two of them had great fun at the dance and both came home very happy after their evening out.

 

Emry and Autumn dancing.

 

Emry having fun.

41

In just the last week there have been two separate occasions when something was brought up and I was reminded that I had not done that or read that in…well, decades. A word that brought me up short as I suddenly realized I have hit an age when I can use that word and it’s the complete truth. It was sobering thought.

 

Last year I turned 40, and for all intents and purposes, I didn’t really feel it. Today I turned 41. And I feel it.

 

Mostly because I live on about five hours a broken sleep a night. Ellyson refuses to sleep through the night 90% of the time. On rare occasions, she’ll cry herself back to sleep. But more often than not, she wakes up Ethan who will then start crying. In order to avoid two crying kids, I get up to comfort her. I’m not sure that’s good mothering or not. Right now I just feel like it’s survival.

 

So, I think I always look tired and worn out. I know I have more grey hairs than a year ago. (After 2020 we all do, right?) And while I try to exercise at least three days a week, it seems to be doing little good as far loosing the last several baby weight pounds. I guess I can vainly comfort myself with the “nine months on, nine months off” mantra. Ellyson’s not nine months yet.

 

But at least Ethan raised my spirits the other day. He got to thinking and talking about when he grows up and has kids. I told him I’d be happy about that because then I could be a grandmother. A puzzling look came to his face as he tried to connect what he knows of his own grandmother to me. Finally he concluded with a nod and disclaimer, “Only when you have lots of grey hair, Mama.”

 

I have a sneaky suspicion I’ll have lots of grey hair before I become a grandmother, but it’s comforting to know I’m not quite there yet.

All in all, turning 41 hasn’t been that bad. Ed and I got to enjoy dinner at a restaurant with no kids. Wow – one really can sit down and eat a whole meal without getting up twenty times, not hearing any complaints, and sharing half your food with someone under four feet tall. And while I didn’t get what I really wanted for my birthday (sleep!!!!!), at least I’m another year closer to yet another mantra: “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Watchwords

Maybe I’m dating myself by using that title to my post. Should I say “catch phrase”? Probably “hashtag”. But to be honest, I don’t use the word “hashtag”…unless I’m being sarcastic.

 

Watchwords, catch phrases, hashtags…they are those one or two word thoughts whose intention is to bring to the listener’s mind an immediate idea. Most of the time the current generation brings them into being. And, 90% of the time, they disappear within a very short period of time, lost to the newest idea being pushed. I mean, really, who remembers #MeToo? That was so #BLM ago.

 

But sometimes a watchword hangs around for a little longer than a few months. Until it becomes so overused it lacks any form of real meaning. I’ve been reminded of a couple of them lately.

 

A couple of Emry and Ethan’s little friends took them sledding a week ago. As 2, 3, 4 and 5-year-olds will do, one of them said something silly, they all thought it ridiculously funny, and now I hear it nearly every day. 

 

“It’s belly button day!” Emry sang one morning, a refrain I was to hear over-and-over again within the next 24 hours. 

 

“What?” Ed asked when he got up later that morning. 

 

“Belly button day!” Ethan shouted gleefully.

 

“Didn’t you know?” I told Ed. “It’s a very inclusive holiday. Every soul on earth is included.”

 

Ed started laughing. And, of course, I meant it very sarcastically for “inclusive” has become one of those watchwords so overused it means nothing and accomplishes the very opposite of it’s intent. Have you noticed that? It just seems like the more inclusive we become, the more exclusive we actually are. Where’s the “S” in LBGTQ for “straight”? And yet they claim into be inclusive…as long as that means we include them while they exclude us.

 

The other word that has been hanging around for a while is “sustainable”. In my line of business (landscape architecture, community planning, etc.), it’s a word I see over a dozen times every day. Nearly everything I write up includes the word sustainable. Because everything we do should be sustainable.And every product we buy should be made from sustainable material. Even though the laptop I’m typing it up on probably won’t last another two years. A community plan is typically revised every ten years. Even the best landscape maintenance plan fails in a drought. Paper that gets printed wrong gets tossed out whether it was sustainably made or not. And windmills cause millions in Texas to loose power. I see that word so often, I skim over it almost as quickly as “the” and “and”. It’s nearly laughable.

 

Now, don’t mistake my sarcasm. I don’t sit around teaching my children to exclude other kids on the playground because of the color of their skin, hair, or shirt. Unless the kid they want to play with is a bully or doing something they shouldn’t, I don’t mind who they play with. And I actively teach my kids that our yard should be neat and trim, their toys should be treated well so they will last, and they should take care of the creatures God created. But not because any of that is “sustainable”. It isn’t, but we’re called to be good stewards of it all the same.

 

Ten years from now, who knows what we’ll be hashtagging. Probably nothing since “hashtag” will be a thing we old people did when cell phones had “apps”. Inclusivity will give way to I shutter to think and we’ll have to rethink sustainable when Miami drops off the face of the earth and sinks into the ocean. (Not a serious loss, by the way.) So let’s just remember that watchwords come and go. The Word remains the same: yesterday, today, and forever.

A Valentine's Day Lesson

Ever since Emry’s first Valentine’s, Ed has got each of the kids a helium balloon to celebrate the day. This year, of course, Ellyson received her first balloon. Since it arrived at a time in her life when just about everything is fair game (she can scoot her way to whatever she pleases and is just starting to crawl a bit), I can’t say she found it anymore interesting than the blocks her siblings were playing with two feet away. You know how it goes: whatever toy the other kid has must be better than your own.

 

The following morning was a Monday. Those can be a little rough as we come off the weekend and must get back on schedule with school, etc. Emry wasn’t too combative as I called her into her room to start her schoolwork, but about a half hour later when I went to retrieve my phone so I could time her math speed test, I realized differently. Ellyson’s balloon was on the floor in the living room. When I picked it up to figure out how it had lost its helium so quickly, it was fairly easy to spot the hole that had been obviously cut in the front of it. And since I know Ethan is merely annoying when angry while Emry can be vindictive…well, I didn’t have to go far to find the culprit. She didn’t even deny it. Although she couldn’t tell me what had made her do it.

 

At first, I was a bit angry. Why in the world would she intentionally put a hole in Ellyson’s balloon? It’s not like Ellyson is of an age that she did something first. But I quickly realized when questioning her that she really didn’t seem to know why she had done it. It wasn’t really pre-meditated as much as she was angry at having to start school, Ellyson’s balloon was in the living room, she knew where her scissors were…and that was that. And that just made me sad. Really, really sad. 

 

Ever since she was an infant, Emry has been very in tune with my emotions. And my being sad is the one thing that will flip her to repentance. When I told her how sad her actions made me, she nearly started to cry. I could have easily left it there, but God granted me one of those rare moments of parental wisdom, so I sat down with her and explained how actions like putting a hole in Ellyson’s balloon can make a lot of people sad. It made me sad. It made Jesus sad. And it made Ellyson sad. (Not really, but that Ellyson no longer had a balloon to play with like Ethan and Emry is sad.) I told Emry that the things we do don’t just affect us, but they can affect lots of people. They can hurt lots of people. And when we do wrong, Jesus is always hurt. 

 

Emry was very sorry for what she had done. She dashed off to make it right. (Which in her world means drawing Ellyson another balloon on paper, cutting it out, and adding a string – all of which she taped to the wall.) When Ellyson got up from her nap, I had to set her near the “balloon” so Emry could show it to her and ask if she liked it. Again, I don’t Ellyson cared one way or the other, but she cooed happily because Emry was paying her attention and that made Emry happy. 

 

It certainly won’t be the last time Emry hurts Ellyson in some way. In the very near future, the tables will turn and Ellyson will hurt Emry. They’re human and they’re sisters. But, hopefully, this Valentine’s lesson will bear fruit….for Emry and for me.

 

Sisters and Balloons

My Third Sister: Sally

I think, perhaps, when you grow up in a family as large as mine there are some siblings you just don’t have as much to do with as others. Maybe because of the age gap…or interests…or personalities. Or you don’t have a lot to do with them at one point but might become close later on…or even grow apart. For while the gap in age seems to close as you get older, interests and personalities don’t change a whole lot. At least, that has been my experience.

 

For one thing, I wasn’t the best oldest sister in the world. I could write a whole blog trying to explain that…but with my sister Sally it seemed to be more age gap and personality that made me set myself apart. She is almost exactly eight years younger than me. The “almost exactly” part was the first rub. Because she was born a day shy of two weeks before my 8^thbirthday, I couldn’t have a party that year. Instead I could only invite one friend to sleep over, a decision that wasn’t made any easier when I hurt the feelings of other friends. So, let’s say I started out a bit resentful which never translates into a good relationship.

 

For me, Sally was just difficult to understand or get along with. Why did she have to go at everything like a steamroller? How could she see the world as black and white with no grey? Why did everything have to be an up hill battle? Did she ever exhaust herself? Even later in life when we were both young adults, someone would find out I was her sister, remark to me, “Oh, that Sally is so sweet!” and it would take everything in me not to roll my eyes as I thought, “If only they had known her when she was three!” Because “sweet” was not (and still isn’t) on my top ten list of adjectives that would describe that particular sister.

 

But don’t misunderstand me. I struggled to have a relationship with Sally. I struggled to even care about having a relationship with Sally. And it was not her fault. Even if there are eight years between us and our personalities are not “compatible”, we have shared interests and we are – most importantly – sisters. It just took me a long time to accept that Sally is Sally…perhaps because it took me a long time to figure out that it’s not my job as the eldest to “fix” my siblings. Yeah, I can be just as stubborn as she is.

 

Today Sally is 33 years old. And while we aren’t “besties”, I am so grateful to have her in my life. Not in the least because she is a great aunt to my kids, especially Ethan….who is very like Sally in some ways. Over the last six months, whenever she is available, she has been taking Ethan up to my parents’ house (where she lives) to “pow-pow” with him. I can’t remember how long Sally has had boxing as a hobby, but she has a decent setup in her bedroom and Ethan lovesgoing up there to get boxing lessons and have some fun. I love that she spends some time with the little guy who needs a channel for his rough ways. Truly, life wouldn’t be the same without Sally!

 

Ethan and his favorite aunt: Sally!

Eight Months!!!

Today our little Elly is eight months old! Still outweighing both her siblings at this age, she also appears to have plateaued a little in her growth for she hasn’t changed diaper or clothes size. I’m rather glad. She’s got a lot of cute clothes, so it’s nice to see her wear them a lot.

 

She has her two bottom teeth and I keep watching for the top two to pop through. For even with her new amber necklace (which does seem to help with at least the drooling!), she has been pulling her ears and biting more this past week. She’s not crawling yet, but she’s trying to figure it out. Sometimes she’ll rock back and forth on her knees, but as she is usually in a sitting position, she is trying to wiggle around that way and get things that way. Since we have laminated “wood” floors, sliding about that way is pretty easy. She can get down to her belly, but then gets frustrated and screams for attention. However, she is trying to pull up already on just about anything she can grab. I need to get Ed to lower the mattress in her bed already…

 

She does know how to make herself known. She is not afraid of yelling at the top of her lungs if she feels you are not paying sufficient attention. When music comes on, she starts “dancing”. She also does this thing with her head, cocking it to the side, sometimes almost all the way down to her foot. Aside from looking really cute, I haven’t figured out what it means. And even though she is very adjusted to her siblings dashing about and making noise, I am pleasantly surprised to find she can sit with her toys and play happily by herself for quite some time.

 

Now if she would only sleep through the night for more than two nights in a row…!

 

Soooo cute!

 We really did not want the sticker on!

Dear Ethan,

 

Today is your 4^thbirthday! And while I don’t think turning four has been as thrilling as turning three was, very few people get as excited about birthdays as you do!

 

Three has been an adventurous year in more ways than you will ever know. For at the end of the day, Covid-19 and the crazy world we now live in has meant very little to you. You still got to do swimming lessons for the first time. (And would have passed to the next level if you had just learned to keep your feet still while floating on your back!) You got a new bike you ride and ride. You even got to play one game on Emry’s soccer team…wetting your desire to play on your own team this year. Aunt Sally has taken you under her wing to teach you to “pow-pow”. All ways to run off some of your exuberant energy…but only some of it!

 

Truly, you wear me out most days. You are always up to something, always chattering away, sometimes being Emry’s best friend and other times being the biggest pest of the year. You are now a big brother as well as a little brother, and while you adore Ellyson, you often forget how small she is compared to you. When I tuck you in bed at night, I take a deep breath, thanking God you have survived another day and I can now rest a little. 

 

You go at just about everything headlong with very little thought. Sometimes that’s great. You don’t know you’ve never played soccer, or hit a baseball…or jumped off Grandpa and Grandma’s swing set without looking down first. Which is why we ended up at urgent care to be sure your foot wasn’t broken.

 

But you’re also a smart little thing, You love getting your “school books” out when Emry is working on her schoolwork. You’ve learned your numbers and letters, working on how to write them and the sounds they make. You can spell and write your name. You love to do dot-to-dots and mazes. You color very well and always want to draw with Emry. And you’re always asking, “Why?”

 

And as exhausting as you can be, it has been a joy to watch you grow over the past year. I love watching you learn new things, and watching or listening to your imagination. It’s a joy to see you and Emry play together. And your enthusiasm for just about everything is infectious. I love to hear you recite your memory verses and tell me the things you’ve learned in Sunday School. And there is very little more joyful than hearing you pray and ending it with “Thank you, Jesus! Love you, Jesus!”

 

You are such a blessing, little man, and I am so happy you have been with us these four years. I pray we have dozens and dozens more together! 

 

Love,

Mama

Jay

It’s hard to believe this little guy who made me an aunt….

 

 

Is now this eight-year-old!

 

 

But today my first nephew, Jay, is eight-years-old, in the second grade, and well on his way to being much taller than I am. Happy Birthday, Jay!