Georgia Reese turns 4!

 
Happy birthday to the girl who asked to have the word "Revenge" written on the front of her Sunday School card...

 to the girl who calls me her "cute little mama" and who even wished for me whilst blowing out birthday candles. (sigh)...



Happy 1461 days of life...

to the girl who thinks stinky bathrooms are an aberration.  Bathroom sprays are even worse, as they tell her someone had a reason to use such masks of odor.

 To the girl who smiles with not just her mouth, but her eyes and her forehead and her whole being.

The girl who asks for food every other minute, and who packs her own lunch to have with her wherever she goes.  And who has a long list of items that mama needs to do now to keep the whole family organized.  The Lord knew I needed a micro-manager, but oh....those moments can be intense.

She holds her pencil correctly, naturally.  And she orders her own food at the restaurant and she checks to make sure the waitress does her job correctly, and will stay far, far away from Chechup (ketchup) and all other foods that give her itchies.  A girls who follows the rules, that is sure. 

And you can hear her wherever she goes, rubber galoshes smacking against pavement.  




Happy 48 months...

to the girl who gave this mom words..... for it was while she was still in my womb that words unleashed and have been dancing around ever since.  Fitting, I think, as she has a whole long list of big words she loves to throw around: courage, avenge, actually, famous, spooky and... more.

Happy birthday to the four-year-old who adds excitement, warmth, and intensity to our fam.  You are a star, Reese!  And we love you more than you love food.  And that's a LOT.
 

Decorating the cake at home:

A birthday dinner at home, followed by presents:

 

Party time at the park!

I thought it would be sweet to pick one of Reese's drawings to put out in a frame for the party.  I grabbed one I had saved. She had drawn it about 6 months ago. I thought it was cute.  It looked pretty much the same as her other pictures.  I put it on the table.

"MOM!  Whyyyyy did you bring my picture of daddy to the park?"  

Brian passes out eggs for the egg race:

 

What I wouldn't have given to have been a fly on the shoulder of one of these two characters:

 

Wheelbarrow races!

And a night cap of gifts.  :o) 

 What a wonderful day for an amazing little girl.  We love you, Georgia Reese!

Revenge

"That girl dances to the beat of a different drummer".  He said it nonchalantly as we walked along the street, watching our three daughters skip ahead of us.

"What makes you say that", I ask him, "the rubber goulashes in 90 degree heat, or the fact that she came home from Sunday School today with the word "Revenge" written on the front of the card she made?"

The First Time I Breathed Ocean Air

The last time I breathed ocean air
was like the first time I breathed ocean air

hands outstretched in freedom's shawl
with waves that drown words that bleed

Enormity engulfs my beating heart and
with it gives purpose, renewal, depth

Be brave it tells me!  Live like you have
nothing to lose, and care for others like

you have beauty to share. Take these five
stones and remember that there is One

who gives life and steady feet to those in
soft sand. And One who uses crashing waves

to make rough spots smooth.  Remember,
it tells me!  Don't forget what you know is true.

Breathe deep this ocean air like the first time
you breathed ocean air.

And dance.  Dance sweet in the salty waves.

Main Street Mile 2013

Once again, we signed the kids up for Main Street Mile...or rather, we were tied to a chair and made to do so!  The kids love this race.  There is no coercing or begging.  No pleading.  These gals decide every year to run in 90+ temps amongst strangers dressed in fur (AKA mascots), sweat dripping down their faces, lungs working overtime to recover gasped breath.

Why, you ask?

Ice cream.

Yes, I did say ice cream.  I'd like to say these girls are dedicated to improving their lifelong cardiovascular health, or that they really believe in helping further research and a cure for testicular cancer, but that is just not the case.  We're talking the under 11 year-old-sect here.  They have their lifetime to worry about worthy causes.;o)

But in becoming a part of something big, outside their own realm of influence, these girls just might grow up to be caring individuals who want to give a small amount to do something tangible to help further medicine.  They just might want to take care of their bodies and enjoy the feeling of pushing your body, your lungs further than it went yesterday.

So every year we run after the ice cream truck and we sweat and we laugh at the furry mascots racing year-after-year, having become a beloved tradition among bystanders.

Will the cow win again this year? 

And will we run faster than last year?

Will I get orange or a chocolate ice cream this year? (yes, we ponder important questions in this fam!)

A family affair, we all get to run. Or, in the case of our trusty bystanders Aunt Bucky and Nanette, some get to watch and cheer and take pictures.  This year, papa ran with Liv.  Holland ran with Brian.  I got to run with Reese.  What a privilege that was....her first race.  I expected Reese to be laughing and giggling and smiling.  But I should have known better.  Anyone who knows Reese knows the girl is serious about her snacks and she is always "hungy".

Papa, chasing Liv.

Daddy and Holland.

Mom with the very serious Reese.

The whole race she was chanting, "Let's get ice-cream.  Let's get ice-cream!"  And even when she stopped briefly due to "this running is making my mouth feel thirsty!", she insisted that we keep running so that we could, "go get ice cream!"

There were no smiles.  No laughing.  Only serious love for ice-cream.  And when asked why she said she'd like to go back and run the race again, she said, "because of the ice cream and those blue ribbons!" 

Until next time, Main Street Mile...thanks for the fun, the thrill, the ice cream.

For Me

Feeling very grateful....

I see her coming from far off hill
stumbling, holding the hand of steady

I hear her laugh like the sound of
bells, happy against setting sun

and she gives clutching flowers
special-picked by little hands

to someone more able to keep
protected from steep hill peril

Understanding is a flood and I
wait for her come to find me.

running through the gate, little
hands once again grasp bundle

and with hands behind and smile
wide and eyes brimming with sparkle,

"Which hand, Mom?" She asks with
bursting voice and I point to that one.

outstretched and full of proud
she hands me bouquet of beauty

picked carefully among hillside green
each one chosen and pulled, for----me.

And as I think of all the roles I fill
or lack to fill.  Or stumble into--

This is the one that really matters.
The one of flower-admirer.

Kid-encourager.

Laugh-partner.

Enjoying life--

Together.

I am here.