Category Archives: birthdays

February 19, 2012 · 6:18 PM

15 Awesome Things

Fifteen years ago from right now, I was in labor. Just a couple of hours away from meeting my five pound, eleven ounce oh-so-breathtakingly handsome and hairy first child. In honor of each and every one of the last fifteen years, I give you fifteen things that make Spencer one of the coolest people I know:

1. His sense of humor. No complicated, deep, not-sure-if-you-get-it kind of humor here. Just straight up corniness, with a big hearty laugh on the side. If you know my dad, you know why I’d appreciate a corny sense of humor.

2. His taste in music. He has one of the most eclectic ears of anyone I know. You might find anything from Broadway show tunes to Christina Aguilera, to classic rock, to modern pop, to heavy metal on his play list.

3. His exceptional memory. He never forgets a name, a street, or a “remind me to…” request.

4. His ability to fix things. He’s been taking things apart and putting them back together again since he was old enough to hold a screwdriver. This means our house is often overrun with stray screws, nails, and various parts and pieces… but it also means he has an admirable (and useful!) skill that will serve him his entire life.

5. His loyalty. If you’re fortunate enough to gain Spencer’s friendship, you’ve made a friend for life.

6. His JOY. It just bubbles out of him. He loves life, and he wakes each day excited for new experiences.

7. His unshakeable sense of self. Perhaps one of my favorite things about him, he’s a person who knows exactly who he is and never tries to be anything else. Right now that means a person with one foot in adulthood, and one foot still firmly in childhood. A person who will unabashedly build with legoes one minute, and have an in-depth conversation with his mom about Law and Order: SVU the next.

8. His determination. Apraxia has made certain things more difficult for him… but he never lets it stop him.

9. His love for his family. If I only could have bottled all the hugs and “I love yous” he gave me when he was younger, I would be set for life. Fortunately, he hasn’t stopped showing his love for myself, his father, and all his siblings (even the little sister who often tries with all her might to drive him crazy) Over the past few years, while we were still working out all my gall bladder-related issues, he’s also always been the first to offer a sincere, “I’m sorry you’re not feeling good” even if it was the third day in a row that I’d been sick.

10. His fascination with fascinating facts. He loves to watch Dr G: Medical Examiner, Untold Stories of the ER, and a host of other real-life medical and crime shows that make a lot of people queasy. When we go on field trips, he’s right up front, intently listening, asking questions, and mentally filing away information for another time.

11. His concern for others. He has such a huge, huge heart. He’s always touched by stories of illnesses and hardship, especially when it comes to children. We’ve been praying for a little girl with cancer here in the valley for a few years now, and he continually asks how she’s doing, and reminds me to give him updates as soon as I have them.

12. His enthusiasm. I don’t think I can adequately describe just how enthusiastic he is unless you’ve seen it for yourself. Excitement isn’t an emotion he does half way and I LOVE that about him. He throws himself into new hobbies, new pursuits and new friendships.

13. His steadfast refusal to curse, or to take God’s name in vain. People are often surprised to hear this since I so rarely swear on my blog, but strong language doesn’t generally bother me. It does bother Spencer though, and I so respect that he takes a personal stand against it… so much so that when he created his own Minecraft server, one of the first things he did was install a plug-in that would filter any coarse language as people chatted. (To give you an example of how seriously he takes this, when he refers to the TV show, “Jackass” he always self-censors it as “Jack Butt.” :))

14. His willingness to face fears. As a young child, he had a severe fear of the dentist, compounded by issues with having his face touched. Thanks to a wonderfully patient and compassionate pediatric dental team, he faced his fears head-on. Today he’ll sit through HOURS of orthodontia and patiently endure fillings with nothing more than a shot of novacaine.

15. His friendship. Yep, I’m one of those moms, and proud to be. Yes, I’m his mom, but I’m also lucky enough to be his friend. And he – like the rest of my children – is one of the best friends I have ever had.

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January 11, 2012 · 1:04 PM

My birthday, and people who let me be me

I turned 38 yesterday. I am enjoying getting older, but I especially love the realization every year that I am just a little bit (or a lot) more authentically ME than I was the year before. For someone who floated through her teens and much of her twenties with nary an opinion in her head, that’s something to be celebrated for sure.

I like to make a big deal about my birthday, but the day itself was remarkable in its unremarkableness this year. I actually stayed home most of the day. We did our nails, we painted (at first on paper, but as is usually the case, eventually on bodies), we played outside, and we did all those things that people with kids do when they’re at home. Mike was going to be late coming home from work – clearly his employer didn’t get the memo that it was my birthday, because why else would payroll fall on the most important day of the year – so we filled the late afternoon with a last-minute trip to the store. By the time we got home it was 5:30, and I was ready to sit down for the first time all day and break into my new bottle of wine. But.

Then the girl put what I can only assume was half a roll of toilet paper in the toilet, sufficiently clogging it ….. and I then spent another half an hour plunging, flushing, and mopping up the resulting overflow. Glamorous finale to my day (bonus: my bathroom is extra clean now. Happy birthday to me.)

And then it was evening. Mike made it home, and I finally got to pour my wine. Despite the fact that he was feeling lousy from the cold he’d caught from the kids, he still made me the beautiful salad I’d been craving for days, while I worked on getting the cupcakes in the oven.

We don’t always, or usually, do birthday presents for each other, but this year he’d come home with a little gift for me. I’m not kidding when I say it was the best thing he’s ever gotten me.

Now, the visual of him going into an incense-burning, bong-selling, hippie store in his serious-button-down-office-man attire just for me was almost present enough in and of itself. But that’s not why I loved it. It smells and feels really good, and is supposed to be great for keeping dreads soft and moisturized and non-frizzy… but that’s not why I loved it either. I loved it because it said something. It said:

I support you.

I have wanted to dread my hair for probably two years now, and recently decided that this would be the year I did it. Like my nose ring, my husband wasn’t super enamored with the idea in the beginning. And also like my nose ring, I would have done it regardless. But to have him fully on my side – not in a “It’s your body, do what you want” kind of way, but in a “I went out of my way to get you a present. I love you. I support you. Go, be you” kind of way – honestly means more to me than I think even he knows.

I don’t have a whole lot of people like that in my life. One of the reasons why I so love my online community is that it is truly one of a very few places where I feel that acceptance…. where I feel like I can really be me. In my online community, there are so many people who not only “get” me, but who also wouldn’t want me to be any other way. In my actual day to day life, not as many. But they’re there, and last night reminded me that I’m married to one of them.

And so, this year as my present to myself, I’m not just going to dread my hair. I’m also going to allow myself to stop wanting that support or acceptance from the people who are just honestly never going to give it…… and celebrating the heck out of the people who do.

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Filed under about me, acceptance, birthdays, dreadlocks, life

June 27, 2011 · 4:20 PM

Firsts


Paxton and the birthday boy

This past weekend was my nephew, Isaac’s 10th birthday party. He chose to celebrate at a local water park (perfect for the 110 degree day) To be honest, the anticipation was a little stressful, mainly because lots of water plus four kids – only one of which is a strong swimmer – equals lots of heightened anxieties for parents. But it turned out to be a great day for all involved, as well as a day of conquering fears:

Spencer went down the huge slide.

Tegan went down the kids’ slide without me… over and over and over and over and over.

Everett practiced swimming and floating and treading water independently.

And Paxton discovered the joys of jumping from the high dive.

When we got home, Tegan went to sleep in her own bed for the first time, and slept there for nine hours straight. I of course was so weirded out by having a kid-less bed, I spent most of the night awake, watching old sitcoms and checking to make sure everyone was still breathing.

My kids are growing up.

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May 2, 2011 · 7:00 AM

To Everett, who’s still brave and strong

Everett turns seven today. In honor of his birthday, I decided to write him a letter, just as I did for Tegan when she turned three, and will hopefully continue to do for all four going forward.

To my sweet Everett,

Today’s your birthday, which means I’m thinking of your birth story again. It’s always hard for me to re-visit that day, because it was one of the most truly frightening things I’ve ever experienced as a mother. No mother ever dreams about her baby being born blue, not breathing, and not making any sounds. No mother wants to watch, desperately praying, while doctors work to resuscitate her newest son. It’s still hard for me to look at those early early pictures, even after you were breathing well… you looked so pale, so fragile. I like the pictures that were taken a little later, after you’d finally been placed in my arms. So alert, and so, so beautiful.

I do think about that day though, and I do talk about it. Mainly because you like to hear it so much. You love to hear, over and over, about your entry into the world. You love to tell me how brave you were, and how strong, and how you started breathing because you couldn’t wait to meet me.

And I couldn’t wait to meet you either. How did I get so lucky to be blessed with a third son?

Everett, you inspire me. In so many ways. I love how excited you get to try something – anything – new. I love how quick you are with a smile, and how you’re even quicker with a hug. I love how affectionate you are. I love your sense of humor, and I love hearing you laugh. I love your enthusiasm, how much you just love life. I love that no matter what you’re feeling… whether it’s happiness, sadness, fear, or elation… that you let yourself feel it, and express it, fully. I love how authentic you are. I love how you’re flat-out wrestling with your best friend one moment, and painting your fingernails the next. I love your gap-toothed grin, and I love the way you lisp when you talk.

But mostly, I just love YOU. I am forever grateful, and proud, to be able to call you my son.

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February 23, 2011 · 6:31 PM

Birthdays, Donuts, and Wayward Chickens

John the chicken

So my friend Brandie told me that it’d been awhile since I’d blogged about any animal stories. And then wouldn’t you know… yesterday we had a animal incident that very nearly begged itself to be told.

It was Tegan’s birthday, and we were home all morning, babysitting Luna:

Isn’t she sweet?

The girl wanted to go to Krispy Kreme to get her free dozen birthday donuts, and I needed to go to the grocery store to get the food for her dinner (she’d requested chicken fingers, fries, Dora fruit snacks, and strawberry ice cream. We keep none of those things in the house) So I make a general announcement that we were going to be going out, and everyone started getting dressed, brushing teeth, and otherwise doing all those things that you do to get ready.

I asked Spencer to round up the chickens and get them back in their coop. As long as we’re home, they free-range during the day, and then we close them in when we leave or when we go to bed at night. Up until yesterday, I never worried too much about them getting out of the yard. Plus their coop is here, and they have so far seemed to feel safe and secure within their space. Our yard is walled in, and there’s a fence between us and the neighbors. I’d seen them sort-of-fly, but never getting more than a couple of feet off the ground.

Ordinarily, Spencer doesn’t have much trouble rounding them up and getting them back into their coop, but yesterday they weren’t being cooperative. So he came inside looking for reinforcements (AKA Paxton & Everett) I carried Luna out back to watch, and they all played “herd the chickens.” The first one to escape was one of the Leghorns – either Foghorn or Sam – who squeezed through the fence and wound up in the backyard of the vacant house next to us. The troops all went over to retrieve her, and she came running back up our side walkway, properly remorseful. They continued to try to shoo them, but the chickens were having none of it. So I gave the baby to Spencer, and told them that I’d catch them myself and carry them, one by one, back to the coop.

I started with John, because John’s always the easiest to catch. One of the Barred Rocks was next, but as I was trying to put her in, Paxton opened the door a little too wide, and John escaped again. I put him back in and went to get a third. We talked about what percentage of the chickens were in the coop. As I was walking back with the chicken that would make it 50%, John got out again, and took off across the yard.

This went on for a very long time.

At some point, Sophie got outside.

This is Sophie

We’ve been very closely monitoring her around the chickens, because she seemed a little too eager to eat them. But as she’s been getting better and better (and since she’s a herder and not a hunter) we’ve been giving her too much a little more leeway. And yesterday, she was fine.

Until she wasn’t.

She chased one of the Leghorns, who reacted with a little more panic then usual, flew straight up into the air, and landed on the roof of the patio:

I didn’t know chickens flew that high. Now I know.

I ran to get the ladder from the garage.

It’s a new fangled fancy ladder that Mike just got over Christmas. No clue how to use it, and no clue what I was actually going to do if and when I got up there. So I’m carrying this (extremely heavy) ladder through the house, when I hear the boys yelling at Sophie again, and then screaming at her to stop. I dropped the ladder right where I was, in the middle of the kitchen, and went running out to see what was going on. She’d chased, and caught, the other leghorn. She’d escaped by the time I got out there, and was hiding – terrified – behind the cooler on the patio.

And the one on the roof? They could no longer see her anywhere. Gone.

Dog goes back inside, I finish dragging the ladder out to the yard, and I’m fully prepared to venture onto the roof. Except I couldn’t even figure out how to open the ladder. Have I mentioned that I don’t do well in high pressure situations?

So I’m standing there, fiddling with the ladder, hoping and praying that the missing chicken hadn’t made her way to the other side of the house (and the street), when Everett yelled out, “I see her!”

She’d decided she needed more of a challenge, and had gone higher:

I share the pictures just for a little perspective, but you’ll notice that there is no chicken there. I – briefly – considered running inside for the camera, in the midst of all my ladder finagling, but I did not. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if it ended badly and I had to live with the knowledge that one of my sweet chickens met a tragic demise and I was taking pictures like a tourist.

So you just need to imagine that there’s a tiny, white, trembling chicken on the edge of that roof.

Imagine that you’re trying to figure out how in the heck you can help get your young chicken back to safety. Now imagine that you look away for half a second (because you’re having an internal struggle about a camera) and you hear a huge squawking, fluttering commotion as the chicken flies over your head and lands, nonplussed, right in front of its coop.

And just like that, it was over. I finished gathering the others, including the traumatized one still hiding behind the cooler 🙁 and safely locked them all inside.

We headed to the donut shop and grocery store about two and a half hours after we’d started getting ready. We had our donuts, we had our dinner, and Tegan got to blow out the candles that I’d neglected at the party this past weekend.

And the chickens lived happily ever after.

The End.

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February 22, 2011 · 7:57 PM

A Letter To My Daughter

To my sweet Tegan,

You turned three years old today. Three years! That really shouldn’t surprise me, because I’ve watched you growing and learning every day the past three years, and I’ve been with you every step of the way. I know every story, I remember every wound. I’ve seen you become the amazing little girl that you are. But you know, to be a mom, and see your babies growing up… especially your last baby… there’s always something about it that catches you off guard. That bittersweet moment of wondering, “How did you get so big so fast?”

And it’s important for you to know: I’m pretty much in awe of you. You’re three years old, and you are just so perfectly and authentically YOU. You know exactly what you like, and exactly what you don’t, and you’re always true to both. You have a whole drawer full of cute little jeans that you never wear, because you’re just not a jeans girl. You don’t like ponytails, instead choosing to leave your hair long and loose, beautiful and crazy curls bouncing around your shoulders. You’re particular about your chocolate, and you absolutely love sausage (which, I’d be remiss not to mention, you still consistently call “hostages.”)

You love Dora and Diego, you love reading books and drawing pictures, and you love dancing in the living room. You love walking baby Luna out to the car when she leaves. You love laughing and being silly. You always appreciate potty humor. You love to be naked. You love your pink swing. You love painting your fingernails. You love helping me bake. You are sweet and genuine and love surprising people. You love your family.

You are wonderful.

And today, on your birthday, I have to ask you something. I have to ask you to never lose that absolutely beautiful self of you. Embrace it, and stay true to it, and never let anyone tell you that are anything less than perfectly and uniquely created just as you are. Do what makes you happy, and always follow your own heart. While the world (or even people you love) may tell you you’re crazy, or dreaming, or weird, YOU are the one who gets to choose how you live your life… from the work you do, to the company you keep, to the way you treat people, right down to the way you wear your hair.

You are you. You’re an individual. Be proud of that, and never compromise on who you are for the sake of fitting in. It’s okay to be different, and it’s okay to blaze your own trail. Never let anyone else tell you who you should be… not me, not your friends, not “society.”

In return, I make this promise to you:

I promise to love you, unconditionally. I promise to encourage you, to help you, to be there for you. I promise to be your ear, your shoulder, and your cheerleader. I promise to support you in your efforts, and advocate for your passions. I promise to treat you with kindness and respect and in a manner that I would like to be treated. I promise that when I mess up (and I will mess up occasionally) that I will own up to it, and I will apologize, and I will do better the next time. I promise to hold you close when you want me, and to let you go when you don’t. I wish I could promise to protect you from every hurt, every disappointment, every heartbreak… but I can’t. I can promise to pick you up when you fall, to wipe your tears when you cry, and to sit beside you as you mourn.

And I promise to let you be you.

Thank you, for the past three years. Thank you for being you, and thank you for teaching me to be a better me as well.

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Filed under birthdays, parenting, Tegan

February 19, 2011 · 10:08 PM

Tonight

I want to be sad tonight. I can think of no other way to say it. For so many small, small reasons, I want to be sad.

I want to be sad because all the Krispy Kreme donuts (which we have about twice a year) were gone before I got to heat one in the microwave and experience its cloud-like goodness.

I want to be sad because we had a last-minute birthday party for Tegan and Spencer today, and we never even sang Happy Birthday, or had them blow out any candles.

I want to be sad because I didn’t get any good pictures, because for some reason even though I’ve managed to learn how to use the camera when it’s not a particularly important shot, using it under a high-pressure situation still has me completely flummoxed.

I want to be sad because I’m TIRED, oh. so. tired. because once again too many nights of not sleeping have caught up with me, and have magnified everything to larger-than-necessary proportions.

I want to be sad because I don’t understand people sometimes, and have a hard time accepting that people will continue to do passive-aggressive hurtful things instead of talking about their issues like grownups…. because people don’t respect themselves enough to do things differently.

I just really want to be sad. But I can’t.

Fourteen years ago from tonight, I was brand-new 23 year old mother. I was nursing my first child, an oh-so-tiny 5 pound little boy, with big eyes, lots of black hair, and skin he’d yet to grow into. My life changed that night. It became less about me, and more about HIM. Tonight, that little baby is a healthy and happy teenager.

He didn’t care that we didn’t sing happy birthday, or that he didn’t blow out any candles. In fact, he hasn’t stopped talking about what a great birthday he had.

I went on to have three more healthy children after that day (three more… seriously, how blessed am I?) including this one, who also claimed it was the “best birthday ever,” even though her birthday isn’t technically until Tuesday:

I can’t be sad tonight. I’m too grateful to be sad. Tonight, I’m grateful.

I’m humbled.
I’m blessed.
I’m so very blessed!

I will not sweat the small stuff…. and it’s all small stuff.

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January 10, 2011 · 11:56 AM

I’ve Learned

I turn 37 today. I like the sound of that. Just as I enjoyed the latter part of my 20’s, I am enjoying inching toward 40 as well… in fact, even more. The grey hairs, the furrow lines, the extra 5 pounds and all. Here are a few things I’ve learned in the past year:

1. I shouldn’t drink wine while I’m on my laptop. Or water or coffee or tea or any other sort of beverage. This one is so important, I got to learn it over and over again.

2. Sometimes I need to give people more credit. And sometimes less.

3. People really do come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime. If it’s for a reason, sometimes the reason is quickly apparent, and sometimes it takes a long time to figure it out. But it’s there.

4. Going on roller coasters is ten times as fun when you get to enjoy it with your kids, especially when it’s their first time.

5. Thinking is good. Too much thinking is not good. Thinking at 2:00 in the morning when I can’t sleep may or may not be good.

6. If there’s a trailer parked in the street, I will back into it.

7. There are people in my life that I will never understand, and I need to be okay with that. Another one I get to learn over and over and over.

8. For years I thought I needed to develop a “thicker skin.” I do not. I need to learn to learn to be comfortable with the skin I was given. I am sensitive for a reason.

9. Sometimes it’s best to remain silent. Sometimes it’s not.

10. Life is messy. Beauty can be found in the chaos, in the calm, and in everything in between.

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January 9, 2011 · 7:45 PM

Happy Birthday Eve to Me

An odd day today, for the last day of my 36th year. Lots of reasons to be frustrated and stressed, and four reasons to be sublimely happy. Tonight I choose happiness.

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May 9, 2010 · 7:57 PM

"The best birthday party ever"

Everett’s words to describe his 6th birthday party yesterday. It was an incredibly cool party, filled with friends, neat animals, and deliciously edible dirt. My overwhelming after-party emotion is generally relief… relief that it went well, relief that everyone had a good time, and relief that it’s over. But I’m also incredibly thankful for all of the above, as well as for the good health to enjoy it, the almost always cooperative Arizona weather, and the friends and family that gave up their Saturday afternoon so that they could come celebrate with Everett. We are blessed.