Sunday, August 29, 2010

Melancholy Nostalgia (or Nostalgic Melancholy)

Now if that's not a catchy title for a post, I don't know what is.

My beautiful daughter is sitting at the piano playing Primary songs. At the moment, "I Am a Child of God." She is wearing her new flowy, flowery dress that we got on sale at Dillards for $25 yesterday while we were shopping for homecoming dresses.

"WHOA!" you say.
"HOLD THE PHONE!"
"Did you say homecoming dresses?"

Why yes, yes I did. And it was TOTALLY fun yesterday, and we had a blast. She came out of the dressing room skipping and spinning and acting like...well, like a sixteen year-old girl shopping for homecoming dresses. And we had so much fun together, and she had to drive because I can't drive right now due to the five pounds of attractive black metal and velcro and not-puffy-enough padding I am sporting on my right leg. Still.

Anyway, today she is beautiful. Inside and out. And she's going to her first big dance. And she's my little girl who sat in her Fisher Price wagon and pulled each book off her bookshelf one at a time and read them. And had her blanky that she named "Hucky," whom she loved until he fell apart into thin shreds, and whom she still has tucked into a ziploc bag in her box of treasures. And who held my hand while we walked to Kindergarten together, and who held my hand today while she helped me out to the car.

I am thrilled with the beautiful and confident young woman that she is. I kinda miss the rough and tumble little girl she used to be.

And today we went to a missionary farewell, and it made me miss my missionary. He's out there serving, and I'm packing up a birthday package, because he'll be 20 next week. (There are tears on my keyboard...will that ruin it??) I can't EVEN begin to describe how happy I am that he is on a mission, and how much joy I feel when I see pictures of him out to lunch with all the widows in his branch, or fixing an investigator's broken weed whacker, or standing by a beaming brother in white. But in my heart, I miss the little tow-headed boy with his plastic tool belt, laying on the bathroom floor next to Dad while they fixed the leaky toilet. Or the five year-old with his brand new bike. Or the tender big brother pushing his new baby sister around in the plastic wheel barrow.

I am so proud of him. I miss him so much. And when did the twenty years go by?

Wade is almost twelve. He came downstairs this morning, quite frustrated because he couldn't tie his own tie. Dennis has been teaching him the past several weeks, but it hasn't clicked yet. Wade got on the internet and found a tie tying tutorial, printed it out, stomped back upstairs, went in his room, and slammed the door. Hormones? Yeah. Determination? Yeah.

Where is that round-headed baby with the chubby fists that were constantly clenched in excitement? Where is the three year-old who used to lay on the kitchen floor and cuddle with the 80 pound dog? The little streaker who would dash to the back yard the minute he got out of the tub and shriek until he was apprehended, the boy who needed me to lay on his bedroom floor until he fell asleep at night? He's grown and gone, replaced by a boy who has grown six inches in the past year, and is quickly becoming a handsome young man.

And my baby. Oh, my baby. I grabbed him during church today and forced him to sit on my lap so I could kiss him and love him, because I knew that it would only be a brief moment before he would be standing at the pulpit, giving his missionary farewell. My little monkey who loves rubber boots and all things cowboy, who still gets in bed with me because he wants to cuddle, and who stuffs his pockets with Legos before church each week.

How can I bear to watch them grow and fly? How can I not? The joy is exquisite. The heartache is, too.

It's a nostalgic, melancholy Sunday evening, and I need some tissues.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Eleven Days Later

Now I can bear to talk about it. It's eleven days later, and I'm feeling like maybe it's really going to be OK.

I know, I know, I'm being overdramatic. It's FAR better to be overdramatic that UNDER dramatic, so just give me a break, OK?!

Plus, I know you're just itching to hear the story. Unfortunately for you, it's not a very exciting story. I toyed with the idea of throwing in a few ninjas (Kate's suggestion), or a wakeboard with a double back flip and a half twist, or maybe some gravity boots....but the truth is, while walking home from church, I fell off my shoe, fell down, and broke my foot.

I KNOW!!! What a lame (ha ha, that's a good pun!) thing to happen. So I've been on crutches and in a boot for the past ten days, but yesterday the doctor graduated me from the crutches. Oh, happy day! I HATE those dumb things. So now I don't have to hobble with crutches, I can just hobble all by myself!

Now that I can get around a little and carry my own dishes to the sink and get into the bathroom unassisted, I'm feeling a little better about the whole thing. But that first week or so was pretty rough. Here are a few photos to help increase your pity for my unfortunate situation:

This is right after we got home from the doctor.
The sad face is pretty realistc.

My new boot.

A few days later, and the swelling is...big.

One week later. Nice bruising...

Here I am contemplating wearing my purple sweats to church....

So now we just wait for that little bone to heal up, and we'll be good to go. Several people have asked if I am going to get rid of those shoes, and the answer is, "NO WAY!" They are awesome, and they can't help it if their owner is a klutz!!

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Open Letter

Dear Hacker,

I just wanted to tell you that you are pretty much a FIRST CLASS JERK.

Be nice, for pete's sake. Oh wait, maybe that's too hard for you. Sorry, didn't mean to make you feel bad or inconvenience you or scare your children.

I'd like to know what makes you think you can take other people's private information and attempt to use it for your personal gain. It's selfish, it's rude, and it's wrong. I feel confident that someday, what goes around will come around.

Let's just all get along. Honestly!

Sincerely and with ZERO love,

Me

Thursday, August 5, 2010

Well, Now I Know

I did not serve a mission. I do not know what it's like to leave home for two years and go to a place that I've never been before and live with people that I don't know and preach the gospel full time. But my son knows, and he's helping me understand.












Well, now I know.

Sort of!

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Memories of the Last Week...

The end of the school year has come and gone, and summer will be over in a few weeks. Before I know it, the kids will be back in school, and we'll all be wondering, "Where did the summer go?" Here's a look back at the last week of school...

Wade did an AMAZING project
about the State Fish.
He wrote a book, with facts and pictures,
of ALL 50 STATE FISH.

Wade was {GUESS WHO}
for the 5th Grade's
Famous Americans
Wax Museum...

Did you guess right??

Here he is with Benjamin Franklin...

On the way to Wade and Isaac's LAST DAY OF SCHOOL
(aka The Dance Festival),
Kate's hair was so gorgeous,
I just HAD to take a picture!

The First Grade did a Mexican Hat Dance.
This required Isaac to hold hands with a girl.
He had the funniest grin on his face
THE WHOLE TIME!!

He's so ADORABLE.
I love his goofy grin.

Plus, he can totally dance.

The Fifth Grade danced to Kokomo.
Wade did a great job,
but insisted that he HATED IT!

He's grown about six inches this year.
Two of them since this picture was taken!!

Just see how handsome he is??

Here is Kate and her cute friends...
they had already had their last day of school,
so they came to The Dance Festival
(so they could dance the Boot Scootin' Boogie!!)

Isaac and his awesome teacher, Mrs. Chrystler

Wade and his awesome teacher, Mrs. Lemmon

Wade and his special friend, our crossguard, Bud.

Bud and Wade have a neat relationship. When Kate was in kindergarten, I used to walk her down to school in the afternoons. Wade was just a baby, and I pushed him along in the stroller. As the weather turned colder, Bud, who was the crossguard even then, would load Wade's stroller in the back of his truck and give us a ride home after we had dropped Kate off. I was always so grateful for his help! He watched as the years passed, and waited for Wade to be old enough to come to school. When Wade started kindergarten, Bud was there to help us cross the street. Now Wade is starting his last year of elementary school, and Bud has been there nearly every day. I think Wade really loves him.