The Happiest Baby in the World

Or at least in my world.

Camille is such a joy.  She has a quiet, gentle way about her.  A sparkle in her eyes and is quick to give a laugh and smile to everyone who comes her way.  She has started to love to play with toys on her own (which neither of her sisters found much joy in) and will just babble and laugh to herself while she plays.  And she is a drool-monster lately.  Four teeth have come in and there must be more in the wings, because some days she's like a faucet (video evidence below). 

My First Grader

In addition to losing her first (and almost her 2nd) tooth), Caroline finished kindergarten this week.  I am so proud of how much she's learned and how she's grown and matured this year.  Looking back at pictures from the first day of school impresses upon me just how much she's changing.

And to top it all off last night she had her second dance performance; finishing up her second year of taking ballet.  She did great!  Pictures to come . . .

Awaiting a Visit from the Tooth Fairy

My first baby, now over 5 1/2 years old, lost her first tooth today.

The precious little pink-clad munchkin that you see above hit a milestone that, at least to her and her mama, is a big one. I suppose it hits me in a profound way because Caroline is experiencing so much of life right now that I have vivid memories of - my kindergarten teacher, that classroom at Westminster Elementary, playing with friends in the backyard, and most especially today, losing that first tooth. I can close my eyes right now and remember being on the swing, pumping my legs to go as high as those little five-year old legs could get me while wiggling my very lose tooth with my tongue. And in a startling moment, it came out! I can still remember the taste of blood in my mouth and the strange feeling of my gums where that tooth once lived.

Caroline and I talked about it tonight as she was going to sleep; what a big day this was for her, a day that she will be able to close her own mama-eyes, twenty-five or thirty years from now and recall like it was yesterday. She will remember sitting in the living room waiting for her mom to pull that first tooth out of her mouth. And I hope she'll remember the joy she felt when it was out, how she marveled at how tiny that baby tooth was. And for me her intrigue with the size of that little tooth triggered the emotional connection that as my first baby is losing her teeth, my youngest baby is getting her teeth. Those same teeth that are cutting through Camille's gums are the ones that I'll pull out of her mouth and help her place under her pillow five years from now. It's really amazing to think about time and growth and connections and memories.

So, tonight I'm under strict instructions to get to bed early so that the Tooth Fairy can come take that little baby tooth from under Caroline's pillow and hopefully leave a little money in its place.

Monday, note the full set of teeth.

Another shot just for good measure.  

And it's out!  

Words

"I write about God because I love Him deeply. And yet because I love Him, I’m afraid to write about Him."

When I read that I stopped in my tracks.  Stopped breathing for a moment even.  Yes.  Those are the words I've been searching for. 

I do a lot of writing here about my children and my family and what I read, but I do most of my writing about God in my head and in the little black moleskin in the chair in the early morning in the living room. I've thought and thought about why those words don't flow freely.   From there to here.  And Shaun's words nailed it. 

I don't want to misrepresent Him.  I don't want your experience with me, past, present, or future to tint or shade the your vision of God.  My failings and woundings and sins are no reflection of who He is; and the part of me that thinks too much and too long and worries too much fears that if I write the wrong thing - or the right thing - that my voice will not represent Him well.  And yet, He uses us - me even? - to be hands and feet and smiles and shoulders to those around us. 

Yesterday a woman came into my office to have some papers notarized.  She was filing for divorce, taking the first step to getting out of an abusive marriage.  We went through the motions, reading, signing, explaining, signing, stamping, sealing.  When I handed her papers back to her, I said, "That's all you need, these are ready to filed", you would have thought I told her I was handing her a million dollars.  She wept and hugged me and said "Thank you, thank you!  Thank you Jesus." 

I'll probably never see her again, but God allowed me to be a small part in what I hope is a path to her freedom. It was a reminder that a small word, a small deed, a signature, a phone call, an email, can be one thread in the tapestry that God is weaving in another life.  And this day, this day of Last Suppers and feet washing brings to mind the One who came to serve and calls me to do the same.  Even if I'm afraid that I'll get it wrong.  

A Holy Week in Unholy times?

I read this article this morning and I was so surprisingly affected by his words.  The article intertwines history, human nature, and thoughts on how our Creator comes into all of it in a really beautiful way.  The issue of certainty and control play a big part in my life right now (perhaps as Mead posits, all of our lives?) and his words were a gentle and honest reminder of how often that biggest need from a human standpoint is truly unattainable. 

All too frequently life, work, family, and the world can seem to come at us too fast; it all seems like too much sometimes.  This gentle reminder helped put that sentiment into its proper perspective during Holy Week, "It’s the week that came at Jesus too fast: the triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Sunday ended days later in humiliation, torture and death."

It is a bit on the long side, but worth the extra couple of minutes it takes to read it.

Serenity Parenting

I was thinking yesterday about what the goal of parenting is for me.  What is the end I have in my mind as I make the journey of parenting my girls?  Honestly, lots of words and ideas came to mind.  And when I then found this article yesterday, it was almost providential.  Okay, providential might be too strong of a sentiment, but it was timely.  As much as I think I can nod in agreement with what he says in the article, my tendency is definitely to err on the side of thinking my nurture has a lot to do with how my kids turn out.  So, all of that is to say, I think I agree, at least in theory and in part with what he puts forth, but why is so hard to take that knowledge from head to hands and feet?

Tomorrow

I promise I know that there is life outside of "Annie", but for one more day, I'll devote some time to my girls' love of all things Annie.  They were singing to the soundtrack yesterday, and Caroline's flair for the dramatic and Charlotte's emphatic "Momawah!" were too much for me.  So, I had to see if I could have them re-enact it in photo booth. Enjoy.