So I've Been Thinking...

I've been thinking a lot about my grandmother lately. I'm not really sure why this has started "now" since it is not really near a birthday or anniversary or anything like that, but none the less it's there. I was on my way to Wal-Mart about a week ago and decided on the spur of the moment to stop by the cemetery. I've been there a few other times since she passed on, but this time I was overcome by emotion. I just knelt down there and had a really good cry. I haven't really done that since the week she actually passed away I guess. Maybe I just had it coming. But, all of a sudden, I really really missed her. And I wished so much that I could talk to her and that she could meet Chloe. And well, my heart just hurt. And as I was kneeling there, sobbing, a cool breeze blew and rustled the leaves in a nearby tree and a feeling of utter and complete peace came over me. I can't really explain it. But, then, I had a good prayer. I thanked God for His mercy and His grace and for the indescribable blessing my Grandmother was in my life. And I prayed that he would help me to be like her and to live in a way that would make her proud.



I wore a bracelet of hers today. She loved jewelry. She had tons and tons of jewelry. Some of it very, very expensive and some just regular old costume jewelry. My mother has most of it now, but she passed a few things on to me. Mostly some fashion jewelry or things that she thought I would like to wear that kind of looked in style now (even though it is actually really old). One of those things was a beautiful silver bracelet. It is like a large bangle, but it is carved and engraved and it has a clasp. I love it. It is really pretty and it looks great with lots of different things. But the reason I love it most of all is that when I look at it, I can see it on her delicate wrist, freckled from years of gardening (she hated the "age spots" on her hands and arms). I can see it on her wrist when I was child and her wrists and hands were still strong. I can picture it when she would come back from Florida in the winter with a subtle tan (and a few more freckles). I can see it on her wrist as she sat at her table and wrote letters and cards to friends. I can see it clearly as she painted her nails a pretty, pale, pink. I can see it on her wrist as she sat beside me in church with a tissue in her hand and her handbag beside her. Her hands resting on the open Bible in front of her. I can see it on her wrist as I grew older and her skin grew papery thin and her wrist became frail and delicate. It's not as if she wore that bracelet all the time or anything. She had so many pieces of jewelry and she loved to wear all kinds of different things. The truth is every piece I have of hers, even the plastic beads, I can see her wearing. And that is why they are so precious to me. That is why I wear her gray plastic beads with the paint wearing off, lovingly. Because I remember that one time those beads were around her neck. And I remember all of the wonderful things she did in her life wearing those many pieces of jewelry. I remember the adventures she had, the accomplishments, the lives that she touched, and the love that she gave all while wearing her jewelry.



So today I looked at that silver bracelet on my wrist and I saw her. And I remembered. And I felt close to her once again.



And with those thoughts in my mind, I was driving home and I noticed as I crossed the bridge in Harriman (as I often do) how pretty the view of the town is at that spot. The quaint brick buildings, the river on one side, the railroad trussel , all nestled in a little valley with hills all around. I'll be the first to say that there is a lot that is not pretty about this town, but at that spot, the beauty actually takes me surprise pretty often. And I thought about how many times my grandmother looked upon the exact same scene in her lifetime, how many times she actually was in the exact same spot I was in. I mean, many times she wasn't looking at the exact same scene or she wasn't in the exact same spot because the town changed so much during her lifetime. She saw it grow and then begin to die all within her lifetime. She lived her entire life here. And as I drove by the hospital, I thought about how it wasn't even standing when she was a child or even for part of her adulthood. I thought about how they must have really thought it was big stuff when they first built the hospital and how wonderful it must have been to be able to get medical care so close to home. I know from some of her many, many stories that even when my uncle was born it was still completely common for doctors to make housecalls. In fact, that was probably the only medical care that people received, especially if you lived "way out in the country" like they did.

My uncle was born at home. And as I think right now, I can hear her voice telling the story. When she went into labor, my granddaddy got all excited and ran to his dad's (my great-granddaddy's) house because they had a car. When he told him he needed the car, he told him he couldn't have it because another lady in the community was in labor as well and not doing well and he needed to drive her other children to some relatives nearby. Granddaddy got all frantic and (as my grandmother would demonstrate with her little half-smile and wink) my great-granddaddy winked to let him know he was just kidding. But, my granddaddy didn't need the car to take my grandmother to a hospital. He needed it to get the doctor, because there was no way to reach him by phone either. It was soon discovered, however, that the doctor would be tied up with the other lady (who actually died in childbirth that day) and would only arrive at the very last minute. Just in time to give my grandmother some ether and knock her out as my 11 pound uncle came into the world!

I've heard the story many times, sometimes with much more detail than that but I will always remember the last time I heard the story. It was without nearly as much detail because my grandmother was too weak. I don't know if it was because I was pregnant at the time or because she was so sick, but she talked a lot about when her children were born in her last few days. And the last time I heard the story was in her Intensive Care Unit room in Harriman Hospital. She told her nurse the story. I listened with tears in my eyes and a smile on my face, thinking she was getting back to her old self. Of course, at the time I didn't know it would be the last time. She seemed to be getting better and we were hoping for recovery at the time.

My mother was born six years after my uncle. And she was born in the fairly new Harriman Hospital. My grandmother was in and out of that hospital hundreds of times in her lifetime. Visiting sick friends and relatives, greeting brand new members of the family, recuperating from illness herself, sometimes even having some secret, elective plastic surgery. One time she went in and wouldn't allow the hospital to tell anyone she was a patient there. We kept calling to find out how she was and tried to visit and they kept telling us she wasn't there! Happy times, sad time, painful times.

As I drove by the hospital, I looked up at the window of her room. The room we said goodbye to her in. I thought about how when she had been in ICU the first time (the second time, she never regained consciousness), she had begun to get confused about where she was and she was looking at the window and asking me what building she was seeing. I looked out and told her and she said, "I've never seen it from this view before." When she was so sick, we discussed moving her to another hospital. My granddaddy really didn't want to. He wanted to keep her in Harriman. In the end, I don't think it would have made much difference and she was probably where she would have wanted to be. In her town. My town. Our town.

It makes me feel close to her to know that I drive down the same roads she drove down. That I look at the same buildings everyday that she looked at. I remember all of the stories she told me about when she was a child living in town, hopping trains, getting into mischief, being teased by other kids. I remember the stories of the great flood, stories about her brothers and sisters and of her mother (all of whom died before I was born). Stories about things at the church and at Emory school where my uncle and mom went to school and I went to Sunday school. And it makes me feel close. It makes me feel comforted. It makes me feel grounded. It reminds me that I am a part of something larger than just my life.

I remember being at her house the day she passed away. Everyone had left. My granddaddy and my mom and my uncle had all gone to the funeral home. I decided I would try to clean up a little bit. And I stood at the kitchen sink, getting ready to do dishes, and I looked out the window at the lake. And it just took my breath away. How many times had my grandmother stood in this exact same spot, looking out at the exact same lake? How many times did she stand and watch the trees change with the seasons? How many times did she stand here before I was even born? Did she stand there at the sink listening to the giggling of school girls while my mom had a teenage slumber party upstairs? Perhaps she stood there after my parents' wedding reception came to a close and the last guests had left and her baby girl was gone. Did she stand there in that kitchen (where their rotary phone still hangs) and get the call that her sister had died? Did she stand there in grief when caring for her ailing mother? How many emotions and conversations and thoughts and hopes and dreams did she have in the many times she stood in that exact same spot, with her hands in the dishwater, looking out at the lake? And now she would never stand there again. It had all ceased. Except it hadn't. Because here I stood. And there she was in me.

I have so many memories of the two of us together. Memories from my childhood, walking by her side at the lake, working in the garden, going to Wal-Mart, picking out flowers at Mrs. Williams greenhouse, picking strawberries, painting (her oil paintings and me paint-by number). Memories of being with her in church, the day I was saved and the night I was baptized. I have so many memories as I grew of her giving me special jewelry to wear for homecoming and coming to my Teen Board presentation, memories of her at my chorus performance, at graduation. I remember her dancing at my wedding and holding Evan for the first time. Precious memories of shopping trips with her and my mom, she and I heading straight for Baskin Robbins while my mom shopped. Priceless memories of Christmases and summers at the lake. Unforgettable memories of sitting on the front porch breaking beans and drinking coke from a glass bottle. I can see all those scenes in my head.

Just like when I look at the bracelet I can see her wrist. But, what is more precious to me than what I can see is what I can hear. Because everyone of those memories, every single one is filled with story after story of her life. I don't believe there was a time that we were together from the time I was born until she spoke her last words that she was not telling me a story. Stories of her family, stories of things she'd seen and done and people she knew. And I can hear them all. And because of those stories I have "memories" of so many things and people from before I ever existed. And now I hold the stories. And I will tell them to my children. And they will remember. They will know her through me. Because she lives in me.

Someday my daughter may stand at my kitchen sink. And someday it may take her breath away to think of all the times that I stood in that exact same spot. And she will realize that I will never stand there again, but she will. And all of the stories will come flooding back. And she will remember. And I will live on through her.

And maybe someday she will look down at her arm at a silver, engraved bangle bracelet and smile and she will know that I am with her, just like her grandmother, and her great-grandmother. She will know that she is part of something larger than herself. And we will go on.

Them's Fightin' Words!

Let's just say, hypothetically speaking of course, that there was this husband. We'll call him Mateo. (That would be Matthew in Spanish, but this is a hypothetical, fictional character of course). And we'll say that this hypothetical husband had a new job as an assistant principal and he was still coaching football even though he had supposedly quit coaching football because he wouldn't have time with his new job as an assistant principal. So, the hypothetical husband is never at home, get the picture?

And we'll just say that his hypothetical wife (who is a beautiful and gracious woman) named, hmmm, well, Amanda (you can say it with Spanish pronunciation if it makes you feel better) has been super stressed out trying to care for the children on her own most of the time, stay on top of her job as one of the best teachers in the county (hey, it's hypothetical, right?), keep up with her 9 hours of graduate classes, keep the house spotless (ahem) so it is ready to show at any moment even though it has never been shown (hypothetically speaking of course), shuttle their perfect son to both soccer and karate while lugging along their beautiful daugther, and cook delicious and nutritious meals from scratch (ok, that cracks me up even in a hypothetical conversation).

Now, just use your imagination with me for a moment and imagine this scene:

Mateo comes home at 11:00 p.m. from a football game to find Amanda still working on the computer, typing up a nine weeks test. Both are dead tired. After exchanging pleasantries, he heads to the couch to watch his recorded shows and she finishes up her test. She tells him at midnight that she is going to bed and that she had told Evan he might come up and lay down with him when he got home.

The next morning Amanda gets up at 5:00, works out, makes Evan's lunch, puts his school backpack together, puts Chloe's bag together to go to grandmother's, makes coffee, loads the car, showers, gets dressed and ready, and then heads up to wake everyone upstairs up. As she heads up she notices it is 6:48... later than she had planned. When she gets upstairs to wake everyone up, Mateo bolts out of bed and runs downstairs. Apparently she had woken him up too late. However, she was not aware that he needed to be up earlier.

She hears grumbling and cabinet doors slamming angrily the entire time she is getting Evan dressed and Chloe's diaper changed, but chooses to ignore it.

As she is loading the kids into the car, he comes running out and looks at her and says, "I know it is not really your job to get me up, but waking me up at 7:00 is unacceptable. I can't be late for work. I have responsibilities."

All this is hypothetical, of course. But, hypothetically speaking, if this were to happen at your house how would this story end?


I'm just glad Mateo and Amanda can laugh about it now.

Because this morning?

It weren't purty!

And as far as airing it on the blog?

All I can say is revenge is sweet, hypothetically speaking of course.

Seriously, though. One of the stories I will always remember (because she told it over and over) that my grandmother used to tell was about she and my granddaddy when they were fairly newly married.

My uncle was a baby and my granddaddy was working out of town at a sawmill and came home on weekends. Gone With the Wind was on at the Princess theatre in Harriman. A big group of people were planning to hitch a ride on a train from Little Emory to downtown to go to the movies. My grandmother was very excited about it. However, when my granddaddy came home and she told him how excited she was about going, he said, "What do you mean? You won't be able to go. You have to stay home and take care of Benny."

She always told the story the same way. She would kind of smile her little half smile and squint her twinkly eyes a little bit and say, "I was so furious at him! I didn't talk to him for days! The nerve of him!"

And I'd always ask the same question..... Well, did you go?

Her little laugh, and those little twinkly eyes and then she would answer poutily, "No, of course not. I had to stay home and take care of the baby."

6 weeks shy of 70 years of marriage.

I'll take that.

P.S. Oh, how I miss my grandmother's little half-smile, twinkly eyes, laugh, and her stories. Oh, my heart. As I tell this story I can see her so clearly and even hear her. I hope I never forget that.

P.S.S.

This is the last time, I promise. I forgot to tell you that Evan did manage to get to the soccer game with shoes (unlike practice the other day), but his shoe came off in the middle of the game! One of the few times he was actually running in the correct direction and near the ball. Oops!

P.S.

P.S. I also made this storyboard using an action in Photoshop and then decided it took too long and I would need to practice some more. And then forgot to upload it when I uploaded the other soccer pictures. Evan also got to throw the ball in at the game. Last week they kicked the ball in. The other team's coach wanted to follow the real rules.

And now I must go to bed. Really this time.

Be sure to check out the next post to see what we've been up to! You won't be sorry. Ok, you might, but do it anyway, ok?

What Have We Been Up To?

Well, let's see, Evan took Chloe for a ride in his Gator.

They both made funny faces.

Chloe loved it! Matthew held her hand to keep her safe.

It was pretty cute.

The swine flu, regular flu, and some nasty virus rampaged through our student population. Our school was closed last Wed, Thurs, and Fri. On Thurs. we learned the entire county would be closed Fri. through Tues. We celebrated!

Chloe transformed into Wolverine, or maybe Wolveriness.

She rocked the outfit (I watched several episodes of Toddlers and Tiaras and picked up some lingo).

Evan insisted on baking me a cake. I'm not sure why, but it was really important to him. He told me to pretend I didn't know. He and his daddy made the cake. I watched Say Yes to the Dress in the bedroom. They brought me the cake with a candle and sang "Happy Cake Day to You." I nearly cried and also slept with my sweet boy that night.

Chloe liked the cake the next day when she got to try a piece.

Evan had another soccer game. The fearless bunch faced off.

Evan enjoyed sitting on the bench. He was tired that day.

Chloe played with her little puppy and laughed hysterically when it barked. She actually kept a bow in for at least half an hour. I don't believe we made it home with that bow.

Evan looked fierce and mean, but I think this is because Hayden just told him he had to stay in the game and wasn't coming out at substitutions.

Eli got to kick a penalty kick. He made it! And he also scored another goal! He wasn't tired.

This little adorable, cutie named Scott on Evan's team also scored a goal. He is always smiling. See? Fighting off two obviously fierce maniac defenders with a smile on his face.

This little cutie was tired that day as well. She was rather pouty. In fact, much of Evan's team was tired that day leading Coach Sara to announce that we would be running at practice on Monday, LOL.

Evan sat on the cooler and whined about being tired.

His daddy didn't like it very much. He promised to review the game film with him later and look for areas he could improve.... Right after football season.

We did some shopping. We finally got a new computer. I love it! I discovered that because I'm a college student I can purchase the real deal Photoshop CS4 Extended version for 80% off its normal retail price. I almost passed out. I immediately downloaded a free trial just to see if I liked it :). I also downloaded Pioneer Woman's Actions. Be still my heart.

I then downloaded Evan's JumpStart game that he has been without for quite some time now. We marveled over how much better he was at the learning games now. He played it for 3 days straight. Just kidding, but nearly. I did not get to play with photoshop.

We spent quite a bit of time being lazy, like this.

Evan wanted me to take his picture for some reason.

I obliged.

I did a very little bit of homework. I had Matthew to bring my standards home so I could write my unit. I did not write my unit.

We had an Open House. It poured the rain for the entire 3 hours. No one came. Not one single person.

We drove around and looked at houses while no one looked at ours. We got confused and frustrated.

We came home and decided we really, really like our house and people are crazy for not wanting to buy it. And we wish (again) we could pick it up and move it with us.

We discussed what to do about our house. We realized (again) that we need to be patient and let God work it out for us in His time and just enjoy our house while it is still ours (even if we are not enjoying the driving).

We are still working on that.

We did a little more shopping. Being off work is not good for our checkbook. I love Ann Taylor Loft and their coupons:). We got Evan's fall wardrobe.... super hero t-shirts from Old Navy and sweat pants. He loves them.

We ate lunch at Chick Fil A. I was good and ate a chargrilled sandwich and salad. Chloe tried to climb the poles inside the play area like another little boy she saw.

We came home, put the kids to bed for naps and I worked out for an hour. I felt really proud of myself.

And finally, Chloe played in the rain while I switched her carseat out. Yes, I too got soaked. She loved it and had a ball!

Matthew and I laughed at Chloe having to put her foot up on the kitchen chair and fix her shoe after she watched me put my foot up to tie my shoe. We laughed at Evan telling us that he is so excited to go to Hadley's party on Sat because he "just loves parties, just loves cake, and just loves Hadley because she is his best friend." and then that "Madison is his best, best friend. They play together all the time. They play cook and food and batman. And they just both love to play together." and he just "loves school because Madison is there."

We put the kids to bed.

I downloaded the pictures off my memory card, burned a dvd, emptied my full memory card. I finally got to play around with Photoshop. I decided I honestly, truly love it and that I will have to buy it when the free trial runs out. I stayed up way too late, editing and blogging and watching episodes of Jon and Kate Plus Eight and mentally complaining about their current situation. And then I decided I had stayed up too late and that I would not be getting up in the morning to work out. So, I ate a leftover Chick Fil A brownie from earlier. And then I went to bed.

The End.

Are you sorry you asked what we have been up to? What's that? You didn't ask, you say. Hmmm.... Interesting (unlike this post).

Speaking of...

Last night Evan, Matthew, and I were sitting on the couch watching TV. We got out of school Wed.- Fri. of this week due to illness at our school and of course as soon as we got home on Tues. Matthew and I both start experiencing stomach bug symptoms. We still felt kind of lousy all day yesterday, but neither one of us came down with the full blown flu or stomach virus.

So, we're all sitting there watching tv and I said, "Well, I don't think it's the flu. Must just be a little virus or something."

Evan says, "VIRUS?!".

We said, "Just a little bug that makes you feel a little sick that's all."

He keeps watching TV for a while and then says, "Speaking of viruses...." and begins to tell some batman story. I don't know where he gets these little sayings.

A Good Laugh

This is probably not nearly as funny to everyone else, but I just finished laughing my head off so while I was sitting here on the blog anyway, I thought I would record this moment. I know someday, when we've been married for 50 years this conversation will be precious to us and I'll be glad I recorded it. Or maybe not.

So, I've started listing Evan's weekly verse from Upward for a while. We'll go back to the ABC Bible Verse book when Upward is finished. So, I was going to write it down and I told Matthew to read it to me off the refrigerator. He read the verse, "God has poured out His love to fill our hearts." and I said, "Where is it found?"

First he said, "John 3:16" and I said, "No, it's not! Really!"

Then he said, "Phillipians 9... " and I said, "Isn't it Romans? I can see that from here."

So, then he said, "Romans 5:5 (b)" and I said, "Seriously! Tell me!" He said he was serious. And I said, there is no a, b, c... what is it really?

He points to the poster and says, "Romans 5:5 (b) for big ole butthole who doesn't believe me!

And I totally busted out laughing. I'm not even sure why. And it does say b on the poster and I'm not sure why about that either.

We have such a loving marriage and Godly home. We are so blessed. LOL.

By the way, that was some awesome alliteration, honey!

Just Life

So, yesterday about five minutes before it was time to wake Evan up it dawned on me that it was picture day for him at school. I had really intended to prepare him the night before for picture day so that I wouldn't have to spring it on him that he was going to have to wear a polo shirt (with buttons) and shorts that had a real zipper and button on them (not soft pants). But, I had forgotten. So, I went up to get him up and I picked out his clothes. He wakes up every morning in a terrible mood. He is just not ever ready to get up when I have to wake him up. Most mornings he cries that he doesn't want to go to school, but he's fine once he gets there.

So, after he got over the intial grumps, I told him I had to talk to him about something. I told him how it was picture day and that he would have to wear nice clothes, but he could change after he got his picture made and I would send a regular t-shirt and shorts for him to change into. He took it really well! He said, ok. I was shocked.

But a few minutes later, when it was actually time to get him dressed it was another story. He wailed and cried and carried on. He pulled and tugged at his shirt, stretching the collar all out of sorts and he jumped around saying "ouch" about the shorts. I had to threaten several times, but he finally got the clothes on and stopped crying. Or so I thought.

He had several other "break through" crying episodes between then and getting to school. Most of the time he was saying he wanted his "normal clothes" and he "hated his fancy clothes" (if you can consider an orange polo and some plaid shorts "fancy"). Finally we made it to school. We were running late because of all the drama that morning and I was trying to get him to hurry and get out of the car and he was moving like a turtle. As he stood up in the van and I reached to help him down. He just kind of fell into my arms and was kissing me on the mouth. Shamefully, I'll admit, my first reaction was "come on, we're late" and then suddenly something struck me. I kind of glanced at some of the parents walking up the path to the elementary school with their kids and I thought about the big kids at our school and I realized someday, much sooner that I want, Evan will rather die than kiss his mommy at school. And as my heart kind of hurt at that realization, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back. And we slowly walked into his school and I told him bye. And I was 10 minutes late for work and didn't have a parking space, but you know what? I didn't care.

When I picked him up, he was happy as a little lark in his comfy t-shirt and shorts (with the shirt on backwards). We picked Chloe up and went home. I ushered both kids inside. They went out to the playroom and started playing. I made Chloe a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and packed some goldfish and applesauce. I took the Capri Suns out and put them in a cooler with ice and put the snacks in a bag (it was our turn to bring snack). I gathered Evan's shinguards and soccer socks and put it all in the car. And then I told the kids to come on, it was time to go. Evan called back, "We're coming, mommy!" And I saw him and Chloe walking together from the family room with his hand on her back kind of leading her. And I thought to myself, how adorable they look and what a great big brother he was!

I told Evan to get in his seat and I put Chloe in hers. I strapped Evan in and off we went. We went through a drive-through and got Evan and I something to eat. As I pulled out I realized they had given us no straws or a spoon for Evan's Frosty. We arrived at the soccer field about 5 minutes early... perfect! I got out, grabbed Evan's gear, pulled his regular socks off, put his shinguards on, and then I realized... no shoes. I said, "Evan, where are your shoes?" Shrugged shoulders. "Did you take them off when you got home?". Yup. "And you didn't put them back on?" Nope. "And you didn't bring them with us?" Shakes head. "EVAN! I didn't know you didn't have any shoes on and now you have no shoes to play soccer in!". He starts to look a tiny bit upset. He says, "Well, what are we going to do?". I didn't really know. I thought about just turning around and driving home, but we had snack and I had just driven 35 minutes to get there. I just wasn't sure what to do. Does he just watch practice? Finally, I decided I would just drive down the road to Wal-Mart and buy him a new pair of cheapie shoes. I took the snack up in case we didn't get back in time.

I told a couple of other parents what was going on. The first parent thought I meant I had no shoes for Chloe. She said, that's ok, my daughter's running around with no shoes. I said, "No my son has no shoes and pointed to the other kids on the soccer field. At this point, the other parent burst out laughing and exclaimed, "That is so my life!" Ain't it though.

So, we headed to Wal-Mart where I searched aimlessly for shoes. Finally, I asked someone with a blue vest on where the shoes were. She looked me dead in the eyes and said, "Over in lawn and garden" with the same tone of voice you would use to say, "Duh!". I must have looked totally bewildered because she added, "temporarily". Ok. I proceeded to buy Evan the ugliest pair of red tennis shoes on the planet (no offense to anyone who routinely buys shoes at Wal-Mart, but they did not have a great selection in his size yesterday).

Finally, we get back to practice. Evan tells me, "These new shoes don't feel too great, but I guess they will have to do." You think?

He runs out to practice, I feed Chloe her dinner. All is good again. After practice Evan and his little bud, Eli (the coach's son) turned somersaults in the grass and chased Chloe all over the field for another 30 minutes. They were adorable and had so much fun. I could hear Chloe's laugh all over the field.

And that is just our life right now. So busy. Running all the time. Late all the time. Forgetting things all the time. And wonderful all the time!

15 Months Today!

Little Miss Priss is 15 months old today! She is sooo much fun right now! She is just at a wonderful age. So much personality, yet still pretty easily distracted so no real temper tantrums yet.

I'd say the thing that has changed in the last month the most is her vocabulary! Chloe has started saying tons of stuff now. I will never be able to remember all of her new words, but here's a try (I'm going to leave off the ones I know she was saying before).

dog
deer
bird
bug
elephant (I know that's what she is saying:)
lion
monkey
shoes
stuck (this is a position she gets in often these days)
fall (again, she's learned this one the hard way)
bump (do I sense a pattern here, can you guess the next one?)
boo-boo (you're so smart)
kiss
breakfast
pizza
milk
grandmother
granddaddy
batman
horse
animal noises: ruff, meow, moo, cheep, baa, elephant noise, roar for lion or dinosaur, monkey noises
bear
blankie
paci
night-night
thank you
please
love you

I know there's more! She is all over the place and into everything, but she's so happy and sweet most of the time. My favorite thing that she does right now is run up and give you hugs and kisses with a big "muwah!" sound.

Oh, and she no longer looks at the camera when I take her picture. I know her next word will be "soft pants".

Evan's First Game

Evan's coach and her son.

Evan and Coach Hayden (the coach's older son).

Kicking the ball in bounds.

A Great Day!

A Real Break Through!

Evan faithfully goes to karate, tae kwon do, whatever it's called, twice a week. Sometimes he really focuses and tries, sometimes he is silly and doesn't pay much attention. Many times, he looks totally hillarious doing his various punches and kicks. (And don't even get me started on the jumping jacks, push ups, and sit ups, I'm giggling just thinking about it). Just to be completely honest, I haven't seen a ton of improvement in his actual skills. He's gotten braver, more confident, more social with his classmates, maybe even a little more aggressive, but the actual skills are still about the same. And to be honest, I haven't seen that much instruction in the actual skills. It is the only thing that has kind of bugged me (being the teacher that I am). They basically just do the same moves each week but no one really corrects him. No one really pulls him aside and says, when you punch you need to pop your arm out hard like this, or when you kick you bend your knee and snap your foot out, etc. He just keeps doing them wrong week after week. So, I try to instruct him at home, but really, what do I know?

Anyway, Matthew keeps telling me he's not going in order to become the karate kid so not to worry about that right now. I have to tell you, I was totally blown away when all of a sudden he knew how to count to 10 in Korean (I think that's the language). They didn't instruct him in that either. They just do it a million times per lesson and then they started asking them to do it. We even had a teacher at school who also teaches Tae Kwon Do bring us a terminology sheet so we could practice at home and then we didn't need to! Maybe they do know what they are doing.

So, at the end of this month, Evan tests for a belt. He will get a yellow belt if he is successful. I've secretly had my doubts. He knows all of his academic requirements... his address, his phone number, our names, where we work, where he goes if there's a fire, to call 911 in an emergency, never to go swimming without an adult, not to talk to strangers, not to open the door at home unless mom and dad say it's ok, how to count to 10 in Korean (I think that's the language). He even knows how to respond to the Korean commands for "attention", "ready", "bow", "sit down", and "stand up". But, the punches and kicks he has to demonstrate, I've had my doubts about.

Last night, totally out of the blue, his Master announces that they are going to practice for their belt test. And pulls out this whole stack of boards. He told them they were going to kick and break the boards. I thought to myself, "this should be interesting." He then instructed them each individually in how to kick... what part of the foot to kick with so as not to break their toes, etc. He had them practice by kicking him in the stomach and then he let them try on the board. It took the first little girl 2 or 3 kicks and the board snapped. She was SO excited! The Master presented the board to her and she bowed. He told the students that if they played with their boards while he helped the others then he would take them away. I've never seen those kids exercise that much self-control!

A couple of others went and it was Evan's turn. My stomach was in knots. He sometimes draws well-meaning chuckles from the other parents when its his turn to demonstrate something. I wanted him to do well. I didn't want him to be disappointed. I wasn't sure how he would feel if he couldn't break the board.

He showed Evan how to kick corectly, let him practice on his tummy and then said, "Let's see what you can do." He held the board up. The first kick didn't break it. His Master told him to "kick hard and say aye-ya!". Evan set up to kick again, he hit the board and yelled "aye-ya!" and I heard a CRACK! And the board was in two pieces! Everyone applauded and Evan stood before his Master and he presented the boards to him and Evan bowed. And I cried! Seriously! I even have tears in my eyes right now! I was so proud of him. My heart literally just soared when I heard that board snap. I was so very happy for him! He was thrilled and so proud. He couldn't wait until his Daddy's game was over to show him the boards and he took them for show and tell at school today (it just so happened today was his turn). We'd been talking since Wednesday about what he would take and then as soon as we got home he ran straight over to the brown bag that he was supposed to put his items in and put those boards in. He was only going to take one of them, because Ms. Becky told them it could only be one item. But, I convinced him that it would be ok to take both pieces because it was one board just in two pieces.

I have to tell you, I was getting a little burned out on karate, tae kwon do, whatever. It's two nights a week and we have soccer going on right now, too and it's alot. But, now I am hooked! I absolutely cannot wait until he gets his yellow belt. Of course, then I will be ready with the cameras!

But, last night was a moment I don't think I will ever forget. It was wonderful. I simultaneously wished so much that Matthew had been there to see it and was secretly glad that it was a moment I get to cherish all of my own. It was so special. I'm so proud of my little man!

Proud Soccer Mom!

Well, it's official... I'm now a mini-van driving soccer mom. I would like to sound like everyone else I know my age and claim that I never thought I'd be a mini-van driving soccer mom, but the truth is I've aspired to be a mini-van driving soccer mom for a long time, ha! I always pictured myself as one. So, I'm not surprised. And I'm loving every minute of it!

Evan is playing Upward Soccer with First Baptist Church in Lenoir City. This is his very first experience with organized team sports of any kind. So far he's loving it and I really love it. I think it is going to be a great experience for him.

Here he is all geared up for his first practice and warming up in our yard at home before we left. He was so excited he didn't even complain about the shin guards and soccer socks which I was certain were going to be too tight or scratchy or something.

YES! I love how excited he is. He has so much confidence and thinks he is unstoppable!

Team meeting and devotion at practice. Evan told his coach, "Hold on a minute, my mom is trying to take a picture!". How embarrassing! Luckily, I had the coach's daughter in school for two years and her husband coaches with Matthew. She found it amusing.

Playing some sort of "Freeze" game at practice.

Passing back and forth with another little girl at practice. He did a really good job at trapping and stopping the ball and then passing it back.

My big soccer star!

The other players better watch out! This boy means business!! When you see the blue blankie come out, you better run!

Hey, soccer is hard work!

The next day after practice, Evan's coach dropped her daughter off at school and when Matthew opened the car door for her, she said "I didn't know Evan had played soccer before." Matthew said, no, he's never played before. And she said, "But he knew all the rules when we were in our meeting. He told everyone, "You can head it, boot it, knee it, and shoot it, but don't use your hands!" Matthew burst out laughing and then explained to her that he had learned that from a Froggy book.

Head it!

Boot it!

Knee it!

Shoot it!

BUT DON'T USE YOUR HANDS!