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| This was the fateful moment right before Hudson took her glasses and chewed them up, leaving teethmarks on the lenses. |
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| Notice the teethmarks. |
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Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Days Are Fleeting, Memories Are Forever-May
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
Dear Evan,
"When you hold a child to your breast to nurse, the curve of the little head echoes exactly the curve of the breast it suckles, as though this new person truly mirrors the flesh from which it sprang.
Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger’s touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-checked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body.
But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says “I am,” and forms the core of personality.
In the second year, the bone hardens and the child stands upright, skull wide and solid, a helmet protecting the softness within. And “I am” grows, too. Looking at them, you can almost see it, sturdy as heartwood, glowing through the translucent flesh.
The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves.
In the next years, the hardening spreads from the center, as one finds and fixes the facets of the soul, until “I am” is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber."
-Diana Gabaldon "Dragonfly in Amber"
Evan, you are 12 years old today. I'm not sure why this birthday has tugged on my heart a little more than some of the others. It's not particularly a huge milestone, but in a way it feels like one. You are officially a pre-teen. Next year, you are officially a teenager. It's as if this birthday is the last of your child years. I've watched you grow this year. You've grown as tall as I am. Your face holds nothing of your baby-softness left. Your hands are huge with long fingers. Your feet are larger than both mine and your father's. But, you've grown in so many other ways as well. You are becoming so much more responsible. You are less forgetful. You take care of all of your school work with no help or reminders from us, and you make great grades! You have started helping out some around the house... with laundry, dishes, warming up your own food. You've even started staying at home alone for a little while. You are becoming so much more conscientious. You think of other people's feelings more. You are more careful with your words and actions. You are becoming more patient and forgiving with your sister. You are controlling your emotions better. We've had a reprieve from the emotional outbursts, hoping they don't return, but there are still several years of changes to come for you. You are becoming more private, more interested in hanging out with your friends, spending more time in your room. Yet, I've noticed you making more of an effort to be with you family at times. Playing with your sisters, just sitting and talking with your parents. Giving hugs, joking around, teasing. It's different than your childish affection, though. More deliberate, more mature, as if you, too, subconsciously sense the years we have together shortening. As if you, too, subconsciously are soaking it in. This time we have together with everything just as it is right now. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but before it is as if your love were beyond your control. You couldn't decide to love us or show us love anymore than you could decide to breathe. It just was. Wild, sporadic, with no rhyme or reason... full of all the passion of childhood. You could cry and scream, laugh hysterically, and hug with all your might with abandon, without thought of the person receiving all of these emotions. With no thought at all. Your love feels different now. Controlled, purposeful, intentional. I sense you watching us, our reactions, seeking our advice (sometimes rolling your eyes at it, sometimes soaking it in), thoughtfully questioning, controlling your reactions, being careful with how you respond and what you say. It is new and different and so precious to me. In some ways it means so much more. It is one thing for your baby to love you unconditionally because you provide all of his needs and you are the center of his universe. You are his whole world and needs you so much and it is overwhelming, the love you feel for this dependent little child. But, it is different when your child grows and becomes more and more independent and chooses to love you. To try to make you feel special. To take care with your feelings. To be concerned about you. It is humbling. How can I be so lucky to have this boy's love? I treasure every hug, kiss, cuddle, conversation.
I've learned that we are entering a time where it is important for me to read between the lines. It is harder for you to tell us what you need, but there are still needs. We have to listen to your complaints and figure out what they really mean. We are still learning to interpret this language and we are not perfect at it yet. Everything often feels like a test. You meet your friend half-way between our houses in the middle of the night without telling us to grab a slice of pizza. You tell us about it the next morning. It was harmless, yet, you snuck out of the house. How do we react? We don't want you sneaking out of the house... we don't want you to decide just not to tell us,next time. It's a territory of questions with no easy answers. Such tougher questions than, "should I put alcohol on his umbilical cord? should I let him cry it out to learn to sleep? should I take away the paci? should I use formula to supplement?" These felt like the most important questions in the world at the time. It felt like one wrong move and we could mess everything up. But, now all of a sudden, the questions seem so much more important and more difficult to answer (and there are way less books and articles to read on the topic). I know we are making mistakes, but we are doing our best, and someday when you look back and read this, I hope you can say that you always knew we loved you. Because we do so very much. More than you will ever know.
It hurts to watch you grow up. As you stand here on the line between your childhood and your teen years, I miss my soft little baby with your full cheeks and soft blonde hair, but it is exhilarating too. I am so proud of the young man you are becoming. I am amazed and humbled to see you grow. You are slipping through my fingers, and yet, you are so much greater than you could ever be if I held on. You are "hardening, strengthening, becoming solid"... physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. This process, as the quote says, "of finding and fixing the facets of your soul", over the next many years is one that I cannot do for you. I can walk beside you. I can offer you guidance when you need it. I can love you through it, but it is a journey that will be yours alone. I'm just so grateful to get to watch the amazing transformation. I'm so grateful that God allowed me the amazing privilege to be your mom and I love you so much. I hope that as these next few years (these way too short few years) pass and you grow and learn, that you will seek God's guidance and direction for your life. I hope that you will always remember to seek Him. I know that is the key to your happiness, whatever that may look like.
This morning as I was typing this, you interrupted me. Caroline had pulled your string all the way through your hoodie and you came to me for help. As I worked it back through, you apologized that I'm having to do it. (I don't mind at all). When I finally get it fixed, you say, "Thank you momma, you're a lifesaver." I can't quite explain how that feels.
But, it feels good. I love you so very much. Happy birthday, buddy!
“But from there you will seek the LORD your God, and you will find Him if you search for Him with all your heart and all your soul. 30“When you are in distress and all these things have come upon you, in the latter days you will return to the LORD your God and listen to His voice. 31“For the LORD your God is a compassionate God; He will not fail you nor destroy you nor forget the covenant with your fathers which He swore to them. Deuteronomy 4:28-31
Babies are soft. Anyone looking at them can see the tender, fragile skin and know it for the rose-leaf softness that invites a finger’s touch. But when you live with them and love them, you feel the softness going inward, the round-checked flesh wobbly as custard, the boneless splay of the tiny hands. Their joints are melted rubber, and even when you kiss them hard, in the passion of loving their existence, your lips sink down and seem never to find bone. Holding them against you, they melt and mold, as though they might at any moment flow back into your body.
But from the very start, there is that small streak of steel within each child. That thing that says “I am,” and forms the core of personality.
In the second year, the bone hardens and the child stands upright, skull wide and solid, a helmet protecting the softness within. And “I am” grows, too. Looking at them, you can almost see it, sturdy as heartwood, glowing through the translucent flesh.
The bones of the face emerge at six, and the soul within is fixed at seven. The process of encapsulation goes on, to reach its peak in the glossy shell of adolescence, when all softness then is hidden under the nacreous layers of the multiple new personalities that teenagers try on to guard themselves.
In the next years, the hardening spreads from the center, as one finds and fixes the facets of the soul, until “I am” is set, delicate and detailed as an insect in amber."
-Diana Gabaldon "Dragonfly in Amber"
Evan, you are 12 years old today. I'm not sure why this birthday has tugged on my heart a little more than some of the others. It's not particularly a huge milestone, but in a way it feels like one. You are officially a pre-teen. Next year, you are officially a teenager. It's as if this birthday is the last of your child years. I've watched you grow this year. You've grown as tall as I am. Your face holds nothing of your baby-softness left. Your hands are huge with long fingers. Your feet are larger than both mine and your father's. But, you've grown in so many other ways as well. You are becoming so much more responsible. You are less forgetful. You take care of all of your school work with no help or reminders from us, and you make great grades! You have started helping out some around the house... with laundry, dishes, warming up your own food. You've even started staying at home alone for a little while. You are becoming so much more conscientious. You think of other people's feelings more. You are more careful with your words and actions. You are becoming more patient and forgiving with your sister. You are controlling your emotions better. We've had a reprieve from the emotional outbursts, hoping they don't return, but there are still several years of changes to come for you. You are becoming more private, more interested in hanging out with your friends, spending more time in your room. Yet, I've noticed you making more of an effort to be with you family at times. Playing with your sisters, just sitting and talking with your parents. Giving hugs, joking around, teasing. It's different than your childish affection, though. More deliberate, more mature, as if you, too, subconsciously sense the years we have together shortening. As if you, too, subconsciously are soaking it in. This time we have together with everything just as it is right now. I don't know how to explain it exactly, but before it is as if your love were beyond your control. You couldn't decide to love us or show us love anymore than you could decide to breathe. It just was. Wild, sporadic, with no rhyme or reason... full of all the passion of childhood. You could cry and scream, laugh hysterically, and hug with all your might with abandon, without thought of the person receiving all of these emotions. With no thought at all. Your love feels different now. Controlled, purposeful, intentional. I sense you watching us, our reactions, seeking our advice (sometimes rolling your eyes at it, sometimes soaking it in), thoughtfully questioning, controlling your reactions, being careful with how you respond and what you say. It is new and different and so precious to me. In some ways it means so much more. It is one thing for your baby to love you unconditionally because you provide all of his needs and you are the center of his universe. You are his whole world and needs you so much and it is overwhelming, the love you feel for this dependent little child. But, it is different when your child grows and becomes more and more independent and chooses to love you. To try to make you feel special. To take care with your feelings. To be concerned about you. It is humbling. How can I be so lucky to have this boy's love? I treasure every hug, kiss, cuddle, conversation.
I've learned that we are entering a time where it is important for me to read between the lines. It is harder for you to tell us what you need, but there are still needs. We have to listen to your complaints and figure out what they really mean. We are still learning to interpret this language and we are not perfect at it yet. Everything often feels like a test. You meet your friend half-way between our houses in the middle of the night without telling us to grab a slice of pizza. You tell us about it the next morning. It was harmless, yet, you snuck out of the house. How do we react? We don't want you sneaking out of the house... we don't want you to decide just not to tell us,next time. It's a territory of questions with no easy answers. Such tougher questions than, "should I put alcohol on his umbilical cord? should I let him cry it out to learn to sleep? should I take away the paci? should I use formula to supplement?" These felt like the most important questions in the world at the time. It felt like one wrong move and we could mess everything up. But, now all of a sudden, the questions seem so much more important and more difficult to answer (and there are way less books and articles to read on the topic). I know we are making mistakes, but we are doing our best, and someday when you look back and read this, I hope you can say that you always knew we loved you. Because we do so very much. More than you will ever know.
It hurts to watch you grow up. As you stand here on the line between your childhood and your teen years, I miss my soft little baby with your full cheeks and soft blonde hair, but it is exhilarating too. I am so proud of the young man you are becoming. I am amazed and humbled to see you grow. You are slipping through my fingers, and yet, you are so much greater than you could ever be if I held on. You are "hardening, strengthening, becoming solid"... physically, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. This process, as the quote says, "of finding and fixing the facets of your soul", over the next many years is one that I cannot do for you. I can walk beside you. I can offer you guidance when you need it. I can love you through it, but it is a journey that will be yours alone. I'm just so grateful to get to watch the amazing transformation. I'm so grateful that God allowed me the amazing privilege to be your mom and I love you so much. I hope that as these next few years (these way too short few years) pass and you grow and learn, that you will seek God's guidance and direction for your life. I hope that you will always remember to seek Him. I know that is the key to your happiness, whatever that may look like.
This morning as I was typing this, you interrupted me. Caroline had pulled your string all the way through your hoodie and you came to me for help. As I worked it back through, you apologized that I'm having to do it. (I don't mind at all). When I finally get it fixed, you say, "Thank you momma, you're a lifesaver." I can't quite explain how that feels.
But, it feels good. I love you so very much. Happy birthday, buddy!
“But from there you will seek the LORD your God, and you will find Him if you search for Him with all your heart and all your soul. 30“When you are in distress and all these things have come upon you, in the latter days you will return to the LORD your God and listen to His voice. 31“For the LORD your God is a compassionate God; He will not fail you nor destroy you nor forget the covenant with your fathers which He swore to them. Deuteronomy 4:28-31
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Saturday, May 13, 2017
Breakout!
Evan and his friends did a Breakout room in Knoxville and had a blast, but they didn't break out! I couldn't believe that with the brain power in that room, they didn't make it out.
Sunday, May 7, 2017
Happy Birthday to Oliver
We celebrated Oliver's birthday with a nerf gun war (which I got no pictures of) and a family celebration at Brian and Beth's "farm". Chloe is ready to move in!
Tuesday, May 2, 2017
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