tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68076216873327477912024-03-13T16:36:19.671-07:00Crazy May DaysJuliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.comBlogger713125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-17745738379350084172022-08-14T01:05:00.012-07:002022-08-14T22:00:20.198-07:00Sweet Sixteen.<p>Molly Grace.</p><p>I couldn't begin to tell you all the ways I thought it would look at sixteen. All the days and months and years that at times crawled like an eternity have now in a blink, transformed to the reality of just two more birthday videos left. How am I still so caught off guard? Fast AND slow all at once. Sixteen tiptoed in like a ninja while I kept watch to greet her at the door. </p><p>Welp! You have officially run out of fingers for birthday pictures now. We have now almost reached the milestones that seemed downright otherworldly at the time they placed beautiful, curly-cued you in the hands of these completely smitten, newborn parents. Those same parents that are <i><b>"barely older"</b></i> yet, somehow find themselves in the hallway guiding you through the last little doors towards your adulthood. </p><p>Could we just walk slowly for old times sake? </p><p>Sixteen years of this parenting gig. Most days, I still feel as if we are winging it, wrapping it up with love and praying for the best. What started with you in my arms sneakily moved to you on my hip... clutched in hand...by my side... freeze tagging to here... skipping right there...biking around the bend...driving over the hill... and now finds me <b><i>chasing behind</i></b> often to be willfully shrugged off because "Geez Mom, I've got this."... in the but-you-also-kinda-don't-but-you-almost-sort-of-do weirdy way. </p><p>Such gorgeous blooms bursting into fruition, sweet girl...</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCHxoAWUlgbcm9pzwPK0_A0jcyFcgRLumXaleVeAdMxIAdUBue36yR11o2Tr89I1qFJXFD4HF1dE68O6uW-wUJBB2QFjDYB73s0MDK_0s5a_MJtbPpqT5aWcb-_jN6aZ6cuYm3hdCA1AW7mfFxh24E1e9hTCaFhC6wwZE8t6Yes8HSxiLYw5ViUwA/s4032/Enlight3036.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="2929" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRCHxoAWUlgbcm9pzwPK0_A0jcyFcgRLumXaleVeAdMxIAdUBue36yR11o2Tr89I1qFJXFD4HF1dE68O6uW-wUJBB2QFjDYB73s0MDK_0s5a_MJtbPpqT5aWcb-_jN6aZ6cuYm3hdCA1AW7mfFxh24E1e9hTCaFhC6wwZE8t6Yes8HSxiLYw5ViUwA/w464-h640/Enlight3036.JPG" width="464" /></a></div><p>Blooming through a lattice of thorns at times, but I'm choosing to hold close the growth and let the stings soothe and heal like surface wounds do with time.</p>Truth bomb, tho? I didn't love this year, bud. <div><br /></div><div>For you... for us. Year fifteen carried a heaviness and I wish some days, we could write it all backwards and put some ease where the weary settled in too close. If only life worked that way. Together, we have treaded through the muck of heartbreak, dishonesty, responsibility and stretching of boundaries. This year found us demanding integrity, fighting hard to live transparent, authentically showing up as a family that leans into the difficult growth despite those thorny patches... doing hard... important work. I am proud of us for seeking the tools, listening to understand and gifting amazing grace. Day in and out. <p></p><p>The sweetness of sixteen, Sister. Sweetness that can only be housing all that space for new blooms. </p><p>There is no one person that deserves it more. Dad and I are your biggest fans. On all days. In all choices. Through all kinds of weather. We always see your rainbow... so grateful that you are learning to see it too.</p><p>A sweeter year to come, I know it. </p><p>Mom
</p><div style="padding: 75% 0px 0px; position: relative;"><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen; picture-in-picture" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/739349680?h=03f772d3ef&badge=0&autopause=0&player_id=0&app_id=58479" style="height: 100%; left: 0; position: absolute; top: 0; width: 100%;" title="Molly is 16!!.mp4"></iframe></div><script src="https://player.vimeo.com/api/player.js"></script><p></p></div>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-85573767031692976952022-08-03T05:53:00.002-07:002022-08-03T07:01:18.089-07:00Oh Annie... you sure are Gr8.<p>Miss Girl.</p><p>The wattage of your inner light is quite possibly enough to power the entire neighborhood in the middle of the hottest, August on record. Hey ERCOT, I've got the solution to grid issues... it's called an Annie. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3k0IVyBFf0NB9VZDjEqFypUgjjkgjBwdCS9HCoDivU98S7Juy-T-FVRzuNgGmeGOtJGJAYyTAXhS0ylzQCgnKC4aOC3DWC60SNn9bCOnIUXAho1CTZc60N8cMgJnHSraLLJ4aSFLpztExlbLxf41pm_7OYvOqetXHuv-G1XUrPNG3KOk6z49EKPO/s3380/Enlight3018.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3024" data-original-width="3380" height="572" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhp3k0IVyBFf0NB9VZDjEqFypUgjjkgjBwdCS9HCoDivU98S7Juy-T-FVRzuNgGmeGOtJGJAYyTAXhS0ylzQCgnKC4aOC3DWC60SNn9bCOnIUXAho1CTZc60N8cMgJnHSraLLJ4aSFLpztExlbLxf41pm_7OYvOqetXHuv-G1XUrPNG3KOk6z49EKPO/w640-h572/Enlight3018.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br /><p>Whenever I begin to worry that perhaps Daddy or I have just really been going at this entire parenting thing wrong or feel totally unqualified for this role, I pause and remember that there is no way that could be true. Because with all my heart, I really don't believe that God gives gifts like you to just everybody.</p><p>Somedays I look at you and think that perhaps you are the closest glimpse to heaven I have ever come to see this side of Earth. It sounds weird to write it out this way but it really is the only way I can describe it. I have made a profession out of working with children my entire career and I love all my own children with my entire being --- equally and completely--- and celebrate their unique gifts and differences. In my entire lifetime, I have only met two other children that capture the same brightness as you and I have dubbed a term for it. </p><p>I think that you were born with angel light in your heart. </p><p>"Angel light" is one of the most rare and beautiful gifts. The pure joy that comes from it is unlike anything I have ever known. There is a pureness that you really don't find many places. Almost like the awe of a newborn baby, the wonder of a puppy, the authenticity in final moments (having supported bedside for many goodbyes, I am humbled by this secret and beautiful, vulnerable light I have shared in). These are the kinds of lights we should aim to shine in our everyday living but we just can't because the "business" of life gets in the way. </p><p>You live the kindness of truly, everyone being your friend. I can look at you and realize that you have absolutely, never felt one real, unkind thing about a person in your entire life. If we have ever had to scold you, it truly breaks your heart. This year, a police officer pulled us over in the neighborhood because you were dancing in the car in the one street we drove from soccer practice to our house. The officer explained the importance of the seat belt, saw how broken you were that we were pulled over because of you and tried to fix it... poor police man... no sticker was going to fix that... believe me, we know. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyb5hPzN0fue6jKQ6Ab1RHKWueBVd2OEvn5j05nhy-jI3khkkLkd90D7Odtw03H7TohXYgxZGSsb3Pujg3AiZEfH-WEVmDno4sEGzoquWWkgBupX44ni-2oszoJfFZYcF3WTEp2h5WzYOoF1FzbWrSIimK2ewOAhxPfM2a2xzSnHAmSTIMzDXz8ZJv/s3780/7C581A77-C508-4FD8-8FE2-1A5CE4F9DB98.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3780" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyb5hPzN0fue6jKQ6Ab1RHKWueBVd2OEvn5j05nhy-jI3khkkLkd90D7Odtw03H7TohXYgxZGSsb3Pujg3AiZEfH-WEVmDno4sEGzoquWWkgBupX44ni-2oszoJfFZYcF3WTEp2h5WzYOoF1FzbWrSIimK2ewOAhxPfM2a2xzSnHAmSTIMzDXz8ZJv/w512-h640/7C581A77-C508-4FD8-8FE2-1A5CE4F9DB98.jpg" width="512" /></a></div><p>You look at every day as your best day and each encounter as the purest opportunity for something wonderful to happen. I worry because the world is going to work hard to stifle that light. I want to protect it, to build a wall around it and cuddle you in. You don't seem to build the protective, callouses that come from scrapes and bruises of hurt feelings, understand the manipulative tactics of some "friendships" and will just give away your favorite new toy or gemstone or piece of jewelry... often times <i><b>t</b></i><i style="font-weight: bold;">he day you get it </i>only to never see it again.</p><p>We try to explain to you why you can't just give your new possessions away, but then you immediately turn around and ask us, <b><i><u>why you can't do that... aren't you supposed to share with friends, give to others...especially those with less things</u></i></b>? </p><p>Such goodness. It is just hard to explain that isn't always how the world works... yet. </p><p>Perhaps part of having angel light is the same part that keeps you from understanding. You can't have one with the other. I guess God knew you would need the fiercest fireball to light, gentle giant to orbit, fanciest-curly boss to lead and keep you safe. You were designed to be ours.</p><p>You are so loved, Annabel Jane... by your family, your friends and all those that meet you. Keep shining your light, sweet girl!! We can't wait to see the greatness of year eight!</p><p>I love you,</p><p>Mom</p><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="564" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/736052239?h=1ab4e76a9f" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-75704085165439204012022-08-03T05:12:00.002-07:002022-08-03T05:12:17.562-07:0011:11<p> ... </p><p>Lucy. YOU ARE 11!! Like that is on the way to truly becoming big and I have to ask... are all your dreams coming true?</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_R-HD95sRpN_CdgkU0BqnvdaMhjUYB7T7pJHqrJfJc-5TxTFadeZzDA0cDQz7RR37XFrrWpDXNuMZKZcs5ZLSCI-_oJKXs1a285QU1GCPh0iZu4YKTkrlR919M4NOjBWVGwZG3nySqJ83ddq5vu_8eD20eD5rGFpIfHKnPDZYqLfIYXmw9Y5rWS99/s1916/Enlight2776.heic" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1916" data-original-width="1377" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_R-HD95sRpN_CdgkU0BqnvdaMhjUYB7T7pJHqrJfJc-5TxTFadeZzDA0cDQz7RR37XFrrWpDXNuMZKZcs5ZLSCI-_oJKXs1a285QU1GCPh0iZu4YKTkrlR919M4NOjBWVGwZG3nySqJ83ddq5vu_8eD20eD5rGFpIfHKnPDZYqLfIYXmw9Y5rWS99/w460-h640/Enlight2776.heic" width="460" /></a></div><br /><p>From the minute you came in this world, it is like you knew the plan and we all just had to get on board or get out of the way. That plan has ALWAYS included being big.</p><p>God forbid, you encounter limits (which you did --- because hello, you have parents!), and boundaries and social rules and inferred rules... or anything that ever took you from your master plan because there has ALWAYS BEEN A MASTER PLAN in that little busy brain and we just can't keep up. Good thing you were born super short or anything because that would have really stunk to keep a kid like you off roller coasters and the likes extra long... oh... wait. I bet you had nothing to say about that and the fact that your little sister will likely pass you in height this year too... </p><p>Dang.</p><p>Eleven years and still our fireball of a Lubird. Sister, you just burn so brightly. WHITE HOT BRIGHT. Sure you no longer have Tiny Lu voice that sounds like she smokes a pack or two a day. You have finally started to grasp what we have been mandating you ask yourself out-loud all the time since you could talk ... " How much is too much?" and I have to say... you are really starting to get it. Sure the emotions, the volume, the intensity, the need to be the expert leader of ALL THE THINGS is still in fact <b style="font-style: italic; text-decoration: underline;">too much</b> at times, but it is getting less and less extreme and much more manageable. We are so so proud of you. Your passion, heart for justice, advocacy for the underdog, inability to cease leading those around you--- even when you are trying really hard not too --- continues to burn just as bright as it always has and I have to say... I hope that never changes. </p><p>This next year will be the year when all that confidence you have always known and carried so strongly within, will be challenged more than ever before. Honestly, the crumbling of confidence is the worst part of middle school years. Give me all the awkward growth spurts, raging acne and body odor... just let me keep the confidence. It is hard to see someone so great, individual, unique and AWESOME... come to doubt that. If anything, I am hopeful it is a short season of a muted pastel (lovely in its own way but still just a softer, quieter version of its former self... ready to burn brightly again soon...) Because what is our world without a little fireball of Lucy to keep it aglow?</p><p>On to 11! Oh, heavenly day!</p><p>Mom</p><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="564" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/695985204?h=4a4d1e7a9c" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-87006866122174078012022-08-03T04:46:00.004-07:002022-08-14T08:22:06.956-07:00I mean...14. (and some change)<p> I think it is very indicative of this season in our lives that I log on to write Annie's 8th birthday letter on the early morning hours of August 3rd only to discover I never actually rolled out yours last FEBRUARY. </p><p>My bad, good sir. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHj0tDlbX1SeT5gXNNGsbGXf4TH57E2gEG7VGIvi7S48GUJZfM3swYbvayCY8dWsOpltT_WCT97nEYdT3CrL8oKNJLZppbbs--XkvcSnGJsX1d48wiN36mAuM6zI-TFYsWGzg4qTicoAOW8Kus2AO3_CKh1yG6-9ZErtJzyc8Ct-cDYKjZjOoDs0A9/s4032/IMG_5724.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHj0tDlbX1SeT5gXNNGsbGXf4TH57E2gEG7VGIvi7S48GUJZfM3swYbvayCY8dWsOpltT_WCT97nEYdT3CrL8oKNJLZppbbs--XkvcSnGJsX1d48wiN36mAuM6zI-TFYsWGzg4qTicoAOW8Kus2AO3_CKh1yG6-9ZErtJzyc8Ct-cDYKjZjOoDs0A9/w480-h640/IMG_5724.JPG" width="480" /></a></div><br /><p>You know, there are all those songs written about life passing quickly, or those well meaning Grandmas in Target looking at my shopping cart of kid chaos over the years and telling me <i><b>"don't blink"</b></i> (not to be taken at face value because --yikes-- how horrific would my eye sockets be right now) but it would seem that perhaps they- in fact- might be on to something there. Life is moving faster than it seems I can maintain pace with. Guess I better up my training, because this gal sure isn't dropping this sport yet... in it for the long race. </p><p>NGL-- this has been a really sweet year for us, Gabe. </p><p>You made every sport you went out for, knew the coaches, the team, your value and felt ready to lend your role (in whatever capacity) to grow your teammates to victory. I see you walk to the car on my days driving sports carpool and all these kids I don't know are slapping you on the back or yelling your name across the parking lot to say goodbye and that's not even my favorite part. As you are walking to the car, I notice the quieter kids, not in sports, the ones leaning against the wall still waiting for their ride long after school has ended, paying little to no attention to the loud athletes yelling across the parking lot, glance up from their phones, instruments or sketches... and calmly say "Hey Gabe" wait for you to kindly respond back with a "hey" - which you always do - and then return back to their work. It is not lost on me that you have this profound gift to see all people as they are and make them feel known. The absolute best part about it all though, is that you are totally unaware you even do it. You aren't gathering high fives, collecting people or campaigning some crowd... you aren't after some higher snap score or to be separated into the haves and have nots... you are just kind. Authentic. True. </p><p><i><b>You ground people in their space and make them feel like they belong.</b></i> I see this play out in our family each and every day. Lucy is like a magnet that feeds off of your energy... Molly seeks you out for grounding when she is feeling most anxious ... Annie circles you like a little moon in orbit often giving way to your catastrophic gravitational pull and climbing you like a tree. Honestly, she would make a terrible moon and explode herself in like one days' rotation... but still. </p><p>To see you in a year where you are on top, 8th grade, comfortable... is such a beautiful space to see your gifts shine. I hope that even as all the new of this first year of high school come into view, you find ways to remember and cultivate this feeling in your new space, lean in to your gifts and know that the universe is infinitely more beautiful just with you in all our orbit... </p><p>Happy Birthday, Buddy. Love you so. </p><p>Mom. <iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="564" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/679649929?h=3af57d4cdc" width="640"></iframe></p>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-39606153569203028302021-08-14T06:19:00.012-07:002021-08-14T06:38:24.692-07:00Fifteen?! So dang old. <p> Girlfriend. Fifteen.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1QFcY8xxM04/YRe9MjirDoI/AAAAAAABgNs/R45_XHGg4yQAZnM2eb2SwCh9houajqd0QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Enlight2238.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1504" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1QFcY8xxM04/YRe9MjirDoI/AAAAAAABgNs/R45_XHGg4yQAZnM2eb2SwCh9houajqd0QCLcBGAsYHQ/w470-h640/Enlight2238.jpg" width="470" /></a></div><div><br /></div>What the heck?!<div><br /></div><div>I know they say that it goes fast and while I don't exactly agree with that as it felt more like the slowest, uphill fast most days encased in a tornado speed year, TODAY... FIFTEEN... seems way too fast. Time is so weird. <br /><div><br /></div><div>Funny enough, Dad and I look at you and continue to see the same feisty, crazily-curled toddler with all the opinions, your own version of fashion and alllll the facial expressions. Beautiful heart, good intentions and awkward delivery. Our favorite Fancy Nancy. </div><div><br /></div><div>There are lots of days the opinions were exhaustive and the frustration seeped through my words. What can I say, I have a lot to learn about patience and giving up control. I forget to believe you are older. I am realizing more and more that your middle name less represents your physical abilities and more of what you give to your parents time and time again as they fine tune their roles of parenting. Grace. Every day we make gains. Being the first sure isn't the easiest but you are doing your best to help us grow. </div><div><br /></div><div>Pandemic living is tough for a teen and yet this year you have formed some of the most beautiful friendships, found a sweet guy that loves you, joined various clubs, made varsity cheerleading as a sophomore and maintained well above a 4.0. To say we are proud, is the biggest understatement of the year. </div><div><br /></div><div>Today, sister, we celebrate all the new this year will bring. Learning to drive, actual tastes of real high school and glimpses of grown up Molly more and more each day. We used to get little previews... flashes of facial expressions that were a windows to future you and now more and more we are getting longer gazes and full conversations with this brilliant, gorgeous and hilarious older you. How did we get so lucky to land you for our always? </div><div><br /></div><div>Love you big, buddy. Here's to the three of us learning all about 15. </div><div><br /></div><div>FIFTEEN.</div><div><br /></div><div>How?!</div><div><br /></div><div>Love you!</div><div>Mom</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div><blockquote style="border: none; margin: 0 0 0 40px; padding: 0px;"><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzrreTImxg2IL6Odd_JCZq7DW34EwOXj5JiQ7vlpU48S7qUlpYPIw3kvbNzaDt5JPYit6xBtJizPJzFUk-8lg' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></div></blockquote><script src="https://player.vimeo.com/api/player.js"></script>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-3129129839506198692021-08-03T02:05:00.004-07:002021-08-03T02:05:41.747-07:00The last of the sevens. <p> ...</p><p>Annie Girl.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WBFcuDD2RP4/YQkEO50qNtI/AAAAAAABejo/9VTXksuwbYkC0YswOvxWs6dEkVcmMNiQgCPcBGAsYHg/s4032/IMG_8509.HEIC" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WBFcuDD2RP4/YQkEO50qNtI/AAAAAAABejo/9VTXksuwbYkC0YswOvxWs6dEkVcmMNiQgCPcBGAsYHg/w480-h640/IMG_8509.HEIC" width="480" /></a></div><p>There is something so magical about six and seven-years-old. </p><p>No longer a baby requiring naps or the constant need for help but not quite the independence of a full fledged schooler--- just yet. Still snuggled into the crook of my arm for morning cartoons, all knobby knees and windowed smiles...a stuffed animal friend clutched tightly in each arm. Oversized, sibling t-shirts for pajamas, your ducky-fuzzed bedhead, play baths over showers and learning to ride your bike without training wheels. There's fairy gardens, Girl Scout afternoons, stuffed animal tea parties and a budding love for journal writing. Hungry for adventures, brimming with infinite joy and not the slightest hint of tweendom on the horizon. It has been my favorite.</p><p>You see, with you I am gifted the chance to just soak up the magic of this age in a way I wasn't able to with the others. With everyone else, there was a younger babe (or babes) with infinite needs and a sleepy Mama just doing her best to get by. Now I am gifted this chance to sit in the sweetness of six and seven. Drink it to every last drop and send it off in style. I am beyond grateful. </p><p>Sweet girl, you continue to be the purest form of joy for our family. Every day is your best new day. I don't know that there is teen in our lives without their own dedicated picture reel of one hilarious, Annie May. From the facial expressions, your expressive ensembles to your quirky demeanor-- you keep us all laughing for days. I have at least a dozen silly stories at the ready to always make me giggle when I need it. Like a pocket full of Annie May joy. </p><p>My wish in this lifetime is for everyone to find their own version of an Annabel Jane May. To stand in the warmth that is the brightness of you and feel this loved, seen and treasured. It is a glimpse of the sun. </p><p>May this next twirl around it be just as magical.</p><p>Happy Birthday, Nanners.</p><p>Love,</p><p>Mom</p><p><i>**** Turn up the volume </i></p>
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<p><a href="https://vimeo.com/582426198">Annie is SEVEN!</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-81377546190176126412021-04-05T06:37:00.012-07:002021-04-05T06:41:18.230-07:00A Decade of Lu. <p> This girl.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X5_kk8xd444/YGqvplAMC_I/AAAAAAABThw/MVTmeT33FFoZY1mC8FOlAruuabU-KyRtgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Enlight1914%2B%25281%2529.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1608" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-X5_kk8xd444/YGqvplAMC_I/AAAAAAABThw/MVTmeT33FFoZY1mC8FOlAruuabU-KyRtgCLcBGAsYHQ/w502-h640/Enlight1914%2B%25281%2529.JPG" width="502" /></a></div><br /><p>Never before in my life have I have ever met a someone like you. The brightest wattage of raw spirit, unrestricted currents of empathy, unapologetically the MOST stubborn person I know... all in one mighty, muscle of a human with next level projection, incredible charisma and absolutely no volume control. </p><p>Girlfriend. </p><p>Some day you will discover the capabilities of your power and my goodness that will be incredible to witness. Your origin story. For now, though, I am quite okay if you remain a bit clueless to your wonder for at least a few more years. Do your parents a solid and maybe get us through at least the first half of the teen years? Please? Because let's be honest, parenting that sort of wildfire is going to be a <strike>shitshow</strike> learning curve for us all. </p><p>Lucy May, there is nothing that you do in moderation. Just last month you were called to the principal's office for leading a movement against istation and your voice made it all the way up to school district's administration...because... of course it did. The passion is spot on but perhaps a bit more attention to details, buddy. You love big, disagree passionately, compete fiercely, fall to tears without reason and your blue eyes pierce my soul on the daily. You just love people so hard. There is a magnetism to your personality and we are all just drawn your direction--- whether or not we want to be.</p><p>This year, true to development, despite all that awesomeness, the insecurities have started to seep in. Your physique is in transition thanks to the onset of puberty and all the hours put in at the gym, your hormones are revving up and the mean girl antics --that you will never understand -- have found a way to thrive amidst a pandemic... which seems pretty unfair. My hope is that one day, you will come to KNOW that you are uniquely and beautifully you and what a refreshing gift you are to us all. We'll get there, buddy. In the mean time, I'll just remember for the both of us, and remind you on the reg, okay? </p><p>You continue to adore gymnastics, soccer, singing, playing your ukulele and all things hanging with besties. Most days, you wake up with a plan for the day and are off on your bike before I have even finished my coffee. If you aren't running around with your brat pack, you are holed up somewhere writing a song, flipping on the trampoline or playing with Annie. I don't know that I have met a kid that loves Hamilton as much as you do. It will be so exciting to see them in Austin this December. Slowly, you have gained some independence this year and now bike around the neighborhood with friends and even stay home alone for a short bit while I run errands within the neighborhood. That autonomy is just so dang delicious. What you wouldn't give to be 15 right now.</p><p>But for now, let's just soak in the splendor of ten. That sweet spot of playing outside, believing in magic, reading in trees, still playing with toys and dreaming of big... before all the tech takes over, crushes change friendships and you become the expert of everything like those older siblings believe. Give me a little longer with the scraped knees, wild hair and silly antics, please. </p><p>You see, ten is the best. Just like you. </p><p>Love you, birthday babe. </p><p>Mom </p><p><i>*Turn up the volume*</i></p><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="564" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/533035544" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-71257235966974621282021-02-20T00:40:00.004-08:002021-02-20T09:18:34.972-08:00Another Teen. <p> Well, it is official. We now have two full-fledged teens in the house. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d1COyO4U5fs/YDDEh4HoR9I/AAAAAAABPhs/YZzuJ3PxXKs2bRyGecZIbe640njjxQh5wCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Enlight1768.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1513" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d1COyO4U5fs/YDDEh4HoR9I/AAAAAAABPhs/YZzuJ3PxXKs2bRyGecZIbe640njjxQh5wCLcBGAsYHQ/w472-h640/Enlight1768.jpg" width="472" /></a></div><p>Heaven, help us. </p><p>This is the last of our "first" pandemic birthdays for the year. Not going to lie, son--- this week hasn't been the most stellar one to endcap it with a birthday. We currently have no water running in our home of 6 people, 5 dogs (currently), 2 cats, 2 rabbits and are still continuing to defrost from single digit temperatures this past <strike>year</strike> week. In many ways, going out with a bang sure seemed to fit, I guess. </p><p>I sure worried about you a bunch this year. Sixth grade was a difficult transition for you and I was anxious that seventh would find you equally unsettled. Never in a million years would I have envisioned that you would find your footing in a year of so many physical changes, isolated from favorite friends, behind a mask, attempting new sports for the first time ALL in the middle of a pandemic. You challenged yourself with growth in ways my 12-yr-old self would never have been brave enough to do. Dad and I are just so stinkin' proud of you. </p><p>This year, your personal MVP left middle school and you forged on alone to figure it out. Hew to middle school sports, you were quick to discover (much to Mom's sadness) that your body type is absolutely perfect for football. It is just incredible the power that belonging can have on a person. For the first time in months, that angsty smirk taking residence on your face gave way to the dimpled smile I adore. Even if you were trying to hang on to that scowl on the field, you were terrible at it. Your bravery and joy helped me to learn to embrace my own in something new. </p><p>Dad and I know very little about raising a son through the teen years. Just like Molly, we are learning as we go. Our vocabulary is constantly adjusting, you remind me on the reg that I am quite basic, often a "Karen", mostly clueless, oldie from a completely different century. Everything about your parents is just so 1900s of us. Yet, when we pause and share with you that your words hurt our feelings, you immediately and genuinely apologize. This hormonal façade is diligently attempting to hide the mushy ball of gabey-baby love living inside. It really is unfortunate that your parents know you so well and see straight through to your core. Such a beautiful heart in there!</p><p>You are growing into such a good, young man, Gabriel May. You are kind to friends, loyal, funny, artistic, musical and tenderhearted. There is not a little kid in your life that doubts you hung the moon. You have such a gift for making people feel seen... even if it is to let them know that they are frustrating you. Lean into that gift, Son. It is such a special gift and so treasured by those in your inner circle.</p><p>One day, when the mirror of self doubt is put down, I am confident you will finally be able to see all the awesomeness that we see. Puberty is tough... especially when you aren't the fastest to grow. For now, I'll take the angst, the ridiculously loud gaming with friends, the big opinions, eating of all the snacks, your expertise on everything and a good deal of funky smells. It's all a part of the journey son, and where you are heading is nothing short of incredible. I am so grateful to be along for the ride.</p><p>Love you so, birthday boy.</p><p>Mom </p><p><i>**Volume Up!**</i></p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='482' height='324' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxa9n7rHhfViN5af5uxfvHmLu84ul3iaewtFrPDVECnxBJYngNChcLR8ycUv2i-EGoXc7MDT4JnSzTXp1CR1Q' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br /><i><br /></i><p></p> Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-12467717383332700282020-08-13T23:10:00.002-07:002020-08-14T05:20:44.310-07:00Molly's golden year.<p>It's a bit ironic that your golden year falls smack dab in the middle of a global pandemic in a year that brought us murder hornets, lackluster departures from middle school and alllllll this together time. I mean, maybe this day will mark the turn of something new for us all. Wouldn't that be lovely? The brightness of your today to lighten a murky, exhausting year.</p><p>Cast some of that golden goodness this way, sister. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H7nyyPnEZwo/XzYpy966kZI/AAAAAAABBsk/L6wa7FgXMukr3aCQvL-AWjpmwTKgZAsQwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Enlight1449.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1318" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-H7nyyPnEZwo/XzYpy966kZI/AAAAAAABBsk/L6wa7FgXMukr3aCQvL-AWjpmwTKgZAsQwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/Enlight1449.jpg" /></a></div><p>It has been quite a year, birthday girl. </p><p>Tonight was a reflection of so many nights these days... you giggling upstairs in your room with friends on the phone, the neon reflection of your LED lights bouncing off the walls down the hall and a gentle plea for more minutes on your phone before the dreaded NetNanny App locks that ish down. Predictable, slightly annoying and absolutely oozing with the glaze of teendom. We are here for it.</p><p>Time is such a unique concept while parenting a teenager. All those years I longed for the life of bigger kids and more sleep only to discover that teens still keep me up, make all the messes and eat all my snacks...just with bigger bodies and louder voices. Probably best I didn't realize that little bit of info in the early years of parenting. At times this year, we have found discord in our timing, unkind words are shared and the silent resistance of your budding independence crowds my spaces. Growing up can be slightly uncomfortable, no? </p><p>What I don't mention when I seem frustrated, is how easily I can feel lost. Unsteady footfalls, I glance up to realize that the map I have in hand is outdated and while I remember climbing aboard a familiar passenger car, in actuality, I have landed on the express train and I am careening down the tracks at an uncomfortable speed to some place I have never been before. It is overwhelming. You and me. Carving out new paths together--- you counting down the minutes to independence and me clutching tightly to the few I have left with you right by my side. What a weirdy-little waltz of emotion this season can be. I know that the rest of our gang will have it easier down the line and each day, I become increasingly thankful for your patience and grace. We will figure it out together. It's what we have always done. </p><p>So on to this next chapter of high school. Soon our calendar will be filled with advanced coursework, cheerleading, masks and new normals... maybe if we are lucky... the hopeful promise of future crowds. I'm excited for the return of hugs, sleepovers and evenings spent under those Friday night lights. So much joy awaits in your golden year of life. Pandemic be damned, we are going to make it shine.</p><p>First to forge the path and the one to make me "Mom". My hardest and best job and all because there was a you in my life. </p><p>Love you, first born. Happy next twirl around the sun.</p><p>Mom</p><p><br /></p>
<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/447721988" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-11776650350520154142020-08-02T21:39:00.002-07:002020-08-02T21:39:45.754-07:00A Quarantine SIX<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Annie May.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9CI7nYVPiso/XyeMVXcj9bI/AAAAAAABAcQ/PkliYPFgNCkUxJofo2pKWev4fj91i_hugCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_6854.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9CI7nYVPiso/XyeMVXcj9bI/AAAAAAABAcQ/PkliYPFgNCkUxJofo2pKWev4fj91i_hugCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_6854.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WnHrJBPux8w/XyeMVbfphFI/AAAAAAABAcU/Vs46urQmYUACc-pxR2PZkhPuR0NMdg05gCLcBGAsYHQ/s4032/IMG_6851.jpg" style="clear: right; display: inline; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4032" data-original-width="3024" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WnHrJBPux8w/XyeMVbfphFI/AAAAAAABAcU/Vs46urQmYUACc-pxR2PZkhPuR0NMdg05gCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/IMG_6851.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There is a light that burns within you that seems almost other-worldly. Wrapped in impish delight, your magical goodness feels like this rare gift we stumbled upon and somehow have managed to keep for ourselves. In all the logistical thinking that goes with with a weary and crowded mind (read: NONE), I would worry that my time with you might be limited somehow. Like any day, we were going to discover this horrific finding or medical condition that was going to take you away from us. This fear would catch my breath as you snuggled in closer or smiled your twinkly eyes my direction. It was irrationally crazy, untrue and yet- terrifying. You see, I just couldn't fathom how a brightness like that could stay here for always. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And yet, here we are.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"> Your steady glow in this family grows stronger still for six beautiful years and I am slowly leaning in to the truth that you were meant to be ours. How did we get so lucky?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You continue to be so quirky and uniquely you. Shoes lost, clothing optional, covered in someone else's confiscated hair chalk or makeup at all times. Just when we think that you float above reality-- you will hack into our technology, order animal fart apps on our Alexa with secret, memorized codes and change Dad's watch face on a dime without him even noticing. You are selectively attentive to details but only on Annie May time. It is simultaneously fascinating and infuriating. One day, we are going to harness that feral reserve you delicately balance and channel it to save the planet or something. There is some real ingenuity there, buddy.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You continue to be the most incredible, independent player, lover of ALL the cats, fierce beanie boo collector and crazed, makeup enthusiast I have ever met. At bedtime one evening in April, you casually whispered in my ear that you were a "cat in a human body" and I absolutely believe that to be a possibility. Good thing I'm not allergic to cats.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Tonight at dinner we were discussing what you wanted us to order out for your birthday dinner. You immediately informed us all that what you really wanted was for us to get everyone's favorite individual meal and eat it all together. It is your day and you just want to take care of everyone else. You told us that would be your "perfect meal." To quote Molly, "We don't deserve you, Annie". </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">You know what, she is absolutely correct. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Thanks for putting up with all our jaded, brooding and cynical ways and adding to the mix your whimsical light and goodness. YOU MAKE US ALL BETTER PEOPLE. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Here's to your next year, sweet kitty. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6DlLi_kog7g/XyeMDBldvEI/AAAAAAABAcE/chXbWiwyklIqinaPI261fY5sIV6AlsDpQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/Enlight1435.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-6DlLi_kog7g/XyeMDBldvEI/AAAAAAABAcE/chXbWiwyklIqinaPI261fY5sIV6AlsDpQCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/Enlight1435.jpg" width="300" /></a><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ydO_qVtx_iQ/XyeMCxUVfDI/AAAAAAABAcA/j7ALzLqpxro5oUixQuIVmiFjYeo0nNRzgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/D3AEC3CF-DCE7-4C23-9880-A291EF26233A.JPG" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: right;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ydO_qVtx_iQ/XyeMCxUVfDI/AAAAAAABAcA/j7ALzLqpxro5oUixQuIVmiFjYeo0nNRzgCLcBGAsYHQ/w300-h400/D3AEC3CF-DCE7-4C23-9880-A291EF26233A.JPG" width="300" /></a></div><br /><div>May it shine as brightly as you do in our lives each and every day. </div><div><br /></div><div>Love, </div><div>Mommy</div><div><br /></div><div><i>Birthday Video below--- I really think this song was written specifically for you. </i></div><div><i><br /></i></div>
<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="480" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/444126791" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-62254187238229590912020-04-04T22:43:00.003-07:002020-04-05T06:26:07.462-07:00A Pandemic Nine.<br />
Birthday Babe.<br />
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Of allll my Mays, leave it to the BIGGEST extrovert of the bunch to land her birthday smack dab in the middle of shelter in place orders during a global pandemic. It will be a year to remember for sure! Don't worry--- your Mom has some tricks up her sleeve to help you feel surrounded by your people and I can't wait for you to be surprised.<br />
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This year marked the the beginning climb to big girl status and a step further away from all things our tiny and mighty Lu. There's excitement in this growth -for sure- but it is met with a tiny pang of bittersweet. One day, you'll understand it. There was something pretty magical about the greatness of eight. You are an explorer, innovative, curious, independent with a good dose of magic still weaving throughout your every day life. It is like the best of all worlds and selfishly, I want you to get this sweet spot for so much longer than the world will allow you to have it. I guess we'll just have to enjoy it while we can!<br />
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This year, I worried I wasn't present enough for you. That random guilt plagued me at times when I would see you needing more of my attention in spaces where I felt pulled in another direction or toting the line of capacity. I wondered how I could make myself more available, seek you out, fill your bucket with some individualized time. I'll be honest, I didn't do so great at it most of the time. The happy and easy middle kid is so often the one left to drift while my attention gets pulled away. I know you would be the quickest to forgive me for it though. Instantly wrapped in a Lucy sized hug, you would tell me all the ways you love me and land a giant smooch awkwardly and aggressively on my face. The quickest to love always and even faster to forgive.<br />
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For such a wild spirit, you have this precious gift for loving people. I see it in the friendships you keep, the animals you seek and the little sister that resides in your shadow. There is a gentleness to your intensity and it paints the most beautiful picture of you. Fierce and loyal. Cunning and mischievous. Athletic and magical. You have struggled at times to see where you fit this year. There were talks about friends vs. friendly and how it is okay to not fit perfectly in to just one box. Some colors are just too bright to be seen only one way. In time, I hope you come to see that as a gift too.<br />
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You live the rainbow, sister and paint our world all sorts of colorful.<br />
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Love you to the moon and back, sweet girl.<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>*Turn Up Music*</i><iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="564" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/404205906" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-35774134073030710762020-02-19T21:42:00.001-08:002020-02-20T05:13:36.341-08:00Birthday BoyHey, hey birthday babe.<br />
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I have to say... twelve looks mighty handsome on you.</div>
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I won't pretend this year has been all things stellar. We are far too honest with each other to not acknowledge the squishy parts. Lots of big feelings and chalked full of change--- it was one for the books. The comforts of little-kid land in your rear-view found you confidentially chasing your American Idol. You had waited two whole years to share a school with her again and finally, the time had come. What you found in the new spaces, however, were crowded hallways filled with a lot of hormonally-charged, bigger bodies with all the opinions and far less kind words. The reality checks of middle school came at you like a wave and unfortunately, the salt left a sting. It has been challenging to see my self-assured, quirky kid come to doubt all the unique ways that he is beautiful. </div>
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Some years are just like that. In the wise words of Dolly Parton, "Storms make trees take deeper roots." Uncomfortable and awkward in your body at times, but necessary to grow.</div>
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Every day I see glimpses of your confidence rebuilding. When you feel comfortable at home, it is like all the hard of the day melts away. The funny videos, late night jam sessions, sketches and hilarious quips never cease to make me laugh. You are beloved by friends and teachers alike, and my hope is that you feel it too. </div>
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This year brought you some wonderful new loves too. Suddenly, your world is all things Topo Chico, hooded sweatshirts, skateboards, Anime and Notre Dame football. You have learned to play the guitar completely on your own. Often times, your strumming has become the peacefulness I look forward to as the day winds down. Dad has adored your growing love of all things football and having a buddy to toss the football with as the sun comes down. Thank goodness for that light up football. Man, it gets a lot of use.<br />
<br />
I look back at the pictures that started this year and I hardly recognize that little kid. As Molly would say, you are on the brink of one lovely "glow up". Pretty soon we won't be reminding you to stand tall in your head... you will just stand taller... with your legs. You are the real dill to my pickle, Mr. May. I will forever be cheering on my big-hearted and curious kid. Here's to a year of so much more.<br />
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Happy birthday, Gabe. I sure do love you.<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>**music up!!**</i></div>
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<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/392625530" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-35472126256079637162020-01-14T22:11:00.002-08:002020-01-15T06:03:20.259-08:00A Balancing Act<div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" paraeid="{edcc28d4-b171-41aa-a177-8f391d0bbefd}{151}" paraid="368888210" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">Standing at the stove, stirring our soon-to-be dinner and the distant voices of my daughter and husband exploding some kittens a room over floats around my kitchen. Lost in thought, I feel as though but a minute has passed and yet a quick glance at the computer screen confirms what I know in my heart to be true. Same smile--a bit more worn… </span><span class="ContextualSpellingAndGrammarError BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; background-image: url("data:image/gif; background-position: left bottom; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">same</span><span class="NormalTextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;"> eyes--aged slightly with weary… same passion--softened by experience. Ah, reflections. They just don’t lie. Dang it.</span></span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
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<span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" paraeid="{edcc28d4-b171-41aa-a177-8f391d0bbefd}{214}" paraid="938028906" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Carving out spaces to process quieted thoughts arrives with inconsistent dosing throughout the early years of motherhood. Creative outlets fall empty to the chaos of locating lost socks; refilling sippy cups; the goldfish army waging war on the floor of my van. The mundane of daily survival takes priority. It is babies vs. parents and I’m not so sure we’re winning. </span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335551550":1,"335551620":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335551550":1,"335551620":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" paraeid="{b70cfc2b-9c49-4fbd-ab79-fba2e288eaf1}{25}" paraid="101168021" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">This whole Mom </span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="ContextualSpellingAndGrammarError BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; background-image: url("data:image/gif; background-position: left bottom; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">gig</span></span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">. We know it well. How many days was I determined to create predictability, a schedule, some tiny resemblance of a routine only to have it repeatedly kicked out of orbit by this adorably-faced, loudly-opinionated, dictator requiring <b><i><u>ALL THE SNACKS</u></i></b> and<b><i> <u>NONE OF THE NAPS</u></i></b>?</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="OutlineElement Ltr BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: white; clear: both; cursor: text; direction: ltr; font-family: "Segoe UI", "Segoe UI Web", Arial, Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; margin: 0px; overflow: visible; padding: 0px; position: relative; user-select: text;">
<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" paraeid="{b70cfc2b-9c49-4fbd-ab79-fba2e288eaf1}{75}" paraid="1199651424" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Motherhood, </span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="SpellingError BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; background-image: url("data:image/gif; background-position: left bottom; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">y’all</span></span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">. </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{fc9ccced-7aec-490d-8094-e934ea18b746}{200}" paraid="174099314" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">My hardest, best work without any gold stars and </span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="SpellingError BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; background-image: url("data:image/gif; background-position: left bottom; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">alllll</span></span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> the bathroom company. There’s a sweetness to it for sure, but it lives under many, many layers of sleepy. It is a sweetness that saturates with time. Thank goodness for that.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" paraeid="{b70cfc2b-9c49-4fbd-ab79-fba2e288eaf1}{115}" paraid="1514746165" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Back to now. The laughter floating over our almost-dinner comes from my 3</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 8.5pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="NormalTextRun Superscript BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-fontsize="11" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: super;">rd</span></span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> grade daughter. The same squishy-faced babe a blog post or two back is now sporting pom-pom dangle earrings and cartwheeling her way through life. </span></div>
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kgUj_6KmnYs/Xh6s3nSHuYI/AAAAAAAAv40/TduJBCU7-JQ3SW60QJaINhIyjewDZrBlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_6606.HEIC" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="480" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-kgUj_6KmnYs/Xh6s3nSHuYI/AAAAAAAAv40/TduJBCU7-JQ3SW60QJaINhIyjewDZrBlQCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMG_6606.HEIC" width="640" /></a></div>
<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" paraeid="{b70cfc2b-9c49-4fbd-ab79-fba2e288eaf1}{115}" paraid="1514746165" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div>
<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" paraeid="{b70cfc2b-9c49-4fbd-ab79-fba2e288eaf1}{115}" paraid="1514746165" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Gone are my days of diaper bags, little gym hangs and googling the maximum daily dosing for baby Tylenol. In all fairness, Tylenol did go and change the dosing on all their meds post major recall- right there in the heart of my sleepless season- so some confusion was definitely warranted. Still, it is a season now gone away. That sweetness of baby time? I may have overlooked it then but on some of the truly, mind-numbing days with middle-schoolers do I go reaching for it now! But that’s life, right? We don’t know until we know and then we delve deeper into some other sorts of unknown. Ever. Evolving. It’s just the best.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{a132560e-8078-4672-a157-1a3b0c2bfbe3}{71}" paraid="1369467049" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">My secret to surviving the Mom hustle?</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335551550":1,"335551620":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Seek out some balance. Actively choose the parts to clutch closely and the memories to let fade. It is about the company that meets you in the crazy vs the “friends” that fall to the shadows. Those peeps late night texting about bloody nose remedies, high school IB programs, and affirming that it isn't your fault that your kids can’t speak nicely to each other? Those people are your TRIBE and feed the balance that enables you to recognize capacity, to draw firmer boundaries and creatively channel some renewal. This life with bigger kids comes with the space that the newborn mamas dream of. Don’t you worry, though. Not everything is foreign. Older kid models continue to arrive with no manual, consistency or naps … and as a fun little bonus they throw in the added gift of hormones. All those smells and really big feelings. </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{d5713960-bbb1-4479-83d9-8e97f153ddf8}{163}" paraid="1769159013" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">It's okay, Moms. We can do hard things. We already have.</span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335551550":1,"335551620":1,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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<div class="Paragraph BCX0 SCXW239532315" lang="EN-US" paraeid="{d5713960-bbb1-4479-83d9-8e97f153ddf8}{163}" paraid="1769159013" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: transparent; color: windowtext; overflow-wrap: break-word; padding: 0px; user-select: text; vertical-align: baseline;" xml:lang="EN-US">
<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">Bigger kid world doles out long days marked by heaps and heaps of grace. You’ve learned to forgive yourself more, hide a personal stash of chocolate in the pantry and have </span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"><span class="ContextualSpellingAndGrammarError BCX0 SCXW239532315" style="-webkit-tap-highlight-color: transparent; -webkit-user-drag: none; background-color: inherit; background-image: url("data:image/gif; background-position: left bottom; background-repeat: repeat-x; border-bottom: 1px solid transparent; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; user-select: text;">friends</span></span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> that porch drop wine. Your babysitters now live in your house and the permission for self-care lives here too. It is about balancing. The space to choose creativity again, to carve out a space for ME. Re-entering b</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">log world</span><span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US"> once more. </span></div>
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<span class="TextRun BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-contrast="auto" lang="EN-US" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;" xml:lang="EN-US">It is so lovely to be back. </span><span class="EOP BCX0 SCXW239532315" data-ccp-props="{"201341983":0,"335559739":160,"335559740":259}" style="background-color: transparent; font-family: "calibri" , "calibri_msfontservice" , sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; line-height: 19.425px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px;"> </span></div>
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Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-53483930419604925142019-08-13T22:58:00.001-07:002019-08-14T05:33:05.597-07:00Officially a Teen...<br />
Oh, Sister. YOU HAVE ARRIVED. Officially a teenager.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iVR0Wvmj-uQ/XVOf2LA57pI/AAAAAAAAojU/uS8nybqG5q8y46jEcd93X-PG9BEkQW8dgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Enlight759.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1168" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iVR0Wvmj-uQ/XVOf2LA57pI/AAAAAAAAojU/uS8nybqG5q8y46jEcd93X-PG9BEkQW8dgCEwYBhgL/s640/Enlight759.JPG" width="466" /></a></div>
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Wait...<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ABLffbGGhXE/XVOf2OGSP0I/AAAAAAAAojQ/WexieA3aVacJ35buOjL3REPvzb-EVdEPgCEwYBhgL/s1600/Enlight758.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1043" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ABLffbGGhXE/XVOf2OGSP0I/AAAAAAAAojQ/WexieA3aVacJ35buOjL3REPvzb-EVdEPgCEwYBhgL/s640/Enlight758.JPG" width="416" /></a></div>
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<br />
There we go.<br />
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<br />
Sweet girl, you have been speeding towards teen status for the past 364 days and finally your day has come. It's not always the easiest being the baby of your grade is it? Add a little insult to injury but your middle-child and baby-of-their-families parents were September birthdays and the oldest of the school friends. We totally just DON'T GET IT. Just remember, when all those buddies are 40-years-old with all saggy, tired skinned-- you will still be dwelling in an incredibly youthful decade of good skin. Get on with yo bad self.<br />
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It would seem that this was the year of the selfie. Don't get me wrong, there were other years of selfies but this was definitely the biggest year of the selfie. Happy selfies, backwards peace sign selfies, the kissy selfies, the frowny selfies and much to your Dad's tummy rumblings--- the mildly sexy selfies. Oye.<br />
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We continue to be clueless in all things life but at least you will keep us aware with softer and kinder words. The hormonal surges are there but there is a little glow at the end of the tunnel. We are going to make it... just in time for your brother to derail us straight through the boy version of puberty. Oh parenting. It is <strike>a</strike> <strike>shitshow</strike> the best.<br />
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All kidding aside, you sure are incredible. Your witty sense of humor, endless creativity and not to mention the fiercest love for her siblings there ever was. Anyone mess with your people and they will be due a visit by the meanest, scrawniest avenger they ever did see. They will rue the day, that's certain. Small and spicy, our diva since day one.<br />
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This year, you pushed your boundaries of comfortability. You bravely initiated some space in your life to love on children that have come from such harder environments. You heart was such a gift for those children. You came how raw and vulnerable and forever changed. My wish for you is a lifetime of that feeling. This world needs so much love and you have the most beautiful lot to give.<br />
<br />
This is our last little bit in the awkwardness of middle school. Ha. High school is on the horizon and it just about makes my heart stop. This ride just seems to keep gaining speed. Thanks for granting me grace while I struggle to keep up with the newness of TikTok and catching the Woah...with the memes, the vines, the very sad and very quiet musings of Billie Eilish. You trust me enough to share you crazy world with me and I hope it is that way for always.<br />
<br />
Here's to you birthday babe. 13 years as Mom and I wouldn't trade a day.<br />
<br />
Love you so!<br />
Mom<br />
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<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/353723165" width="640"></iframe>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/353723165">Molly's 13th Video</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-37644190891576318132019-08-04T18:06:00.000-07:002019-08-04T18:06:33.309-07:00High Five, Annie May.<br />
Birthday Babe,<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HphXwhe6yIE/XUUerIEH-iI/AAAAAAAAnv8/OHIJJjKgwiA4odFmij6sNkwUW2f46OQ_wCLcBGAs/s1600/Enlight730.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1217" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HphXwhe6yIE/XUUerIEH-iI/AAAAAAAAnv8/OHIJJjKgwiA4odFmij6sNkwUW2f46OQ_wCLcBGAs/s640/Enlight730.jpg" width="486" /></a></div>
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With all the words to ever before cross my mind, I find myself completely inept in capturing down the essence of you. See, you are like this magical, little, burst of light that somehow discovered me and holds closely to my heart. To share you with the world is to lose a little bit of light for me. Most days, I know that is the right thing to do but sometimes, selfishly, I just want to snuggle in a bit longer and barricade the world from you. My creative muse, my silly companion and my last buddy home.<br />
<br />
Until now, sweet love.<br />
<br />
This year marks the start of an incredible journey for us both. For the first time in always, we will come to navigate the majority of our waking hours apart. Each day, I'm confident will be more wondrous and exciting for you... but oh, how I will miss you!<br />
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This year has marked the passing into bigger kid world. Gone are the baby toys, the everyday nap schedule, the sippy cups and a need to be picked up and held all day. Our adventures now greet us on the trails, in parks and trying to chase after those ever-enticing big siblings. More days than not, I want to shout out to the world to slow down... to give me some time to soak it up so I don't forget it all. You see, we have had so much fun this year. There have been ballet days, disney movie marathons, playdates with buddies, carpools, PreK, becoming an amazon alexa expert, alllll the costumes, the bravery (ziplines & waterslides!!), the sassiness... THE OPINIONS. I have loved it all. Well... most of it. Minus that whole trip to the ER business. Oh, sis, your ability to stay calm in crisis, to breathe away the pain and inability to see, was the most beautiful display of bravery I ever did see. To quote the firefighter, "Who is this unicorn?" My love, that is you. A bright and shiny unicorn that the world just knew we needed to meet.<br />
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Five whole years of you in our lives and not a day goes by that I don't thank the heavens and earth for you.<br />
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Happy Birthday, Annabel Jane. Excited for this next twirl around the sun.<br />
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Love,<br />
Mommy<br />
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**Volume up for birthday video!!**<br />
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<iframe allow="autoplay; fullscreen" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="564" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/351746471" width="640"></iframe>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-67626273677698585162019-04-04T22:13:00.000-07:002019-04-05T05:56:37.626-07:00Lulu's gr8....<br />
Lucy girl,<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wk7nF67ZMYA/XKbeoc0ZLuI/AAAAAAAAiXw/PnBW5PRTwHc_-cGeat_2FdAnWE5TKi-mgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2252%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Wk7nF67ZMYA/XKbeoc0ZLuI/AAAAAAAAiXw/PnBW5PRTwHc_-cGeat_2FdAnWE5TKi-mgCLcBGAs/s640/IMG_2252%2B%25281%2529.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
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My goodness, you are the easiest kid to love! There isn't a day that goes by that I don't stop what I am doing and giggle a little inside about something silly you said or incredible thing you did without even taking note at the awesomeness of it all. My love, you are the QUEEN of badassery. I am quite confident that there is very little that you cannot do and every day I become more and more grateful at how unaware you still are of that. I mean, how does one parent the teenage version of the Queen of badassary? I am a little frightened to find out.<br />
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Looking though birthday video pictures of the last year, I narrowed it down to 97 pictures of you. NINETY SEVEN, you little ham. Honestly, I think you had an animal or a baby in your hand in about 76 of them. The rest you were doing something insane and bendy with your body, singing full volume or dressed up in some ridiculous getup. That file of pictures couldn't ring truer of your personality... you live big and love even bigger. Animals and people alike are never a stranger-- only your future friend.<br />
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I wish I could tell you that I had all the secrets to navigate those big feelings and the perfect trick to help you keep your volume control in check, but alas, I have never known another you and I am completely learning on the fly. Siblings get snarky with you and you love them even harder. Animals run away from you and so you tame them into submission. Some say go big or go home... you say go big AND go home. You go to our LUCY LOUD home. How empty we would be without you!<br />
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You live the entire rainbow, Lulu and the magic just transcends off you to anyone fortunate enough to stand in your glow. It is the most beautiful sight I ever did see. I will forever be chasing your light.<br />
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Little and wise. Flexible yet stubborn. Laughter through tears. You hug both ends of the spectrum and just smoosh it all together in a way that only Lucy May can do. You are the muse to our world.<br />
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And so to the greatness of eight. Let's go!<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>*Turn up music!!</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i><br /></i><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/328577145" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/328577145">Lucy's GR8.</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-5237016418748354902019-02-20T04:37:00.000-08:002019-02-20T04:37:54.561-08:00The GOAT is 11.Birthday Boy.<br />
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I wish I could capture down all the ways you have completely made me erupt in to laughter this year through some sarcastic meme, witty comeback or downright outlandish idea. I swear I absolutely never know what's to follow the daily "Hey Mom..." and I completely hope it stays this way forever. This world is brimming over with big feelings...seismic shifts....chaotic holdings and it is important work to belong with someone that finds your laughter. How many can claim that special person as their only son? You capture my heart with laughter, kid and in this lifetime, there is no greater gift to offer your Mom.<br />
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It has been incredible to watch you transition from a quirky little kid to this inquisitive, dreamy-eyed, wonder of a tween. Still a little disregulated with your very big feelings, but there's been so much progress. How quickly you emote it all... and even faster you forgive. We could all stand to be a bit more like you.<br />
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This year there were bedtime podcasts, yelp reviews of your sister, a newfound passion for art, bike rides with buddies in the neighborhood and all those dang fortnite dances. You learned that what gets written on text, can't be so easily undone and jokes about religion or politics are much better recieved in smaller crowds. Important life lessons. There were third time runs for class leadership and third time recoveries from that loss. To quote you, "Well losing the election stinks but, at least I introduced so many people to Napolean Dynamite." I mean... Napolean Dynamite is a MUCH COOLER claim to fame.<br />
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This next year you will embark on Middle School. Our quirky soul in a sea of so many more kids. It is a season that is marked for many with insecurities and I am hopeful that you hold close how beautiful it is to be unique. You can bet your bunnies I will be reminding you of this any and every chance I get. I have no doubt that you will keep us laughing, redirecting and trying to keep up with your endless knowledge bank every step of the way.<br />
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You are my MOST favorite son and every day I thank God that he felt I was cool enough to be your Mom.<br />
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Here's to a year of all that and more...<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>***crank up that volume!***</i><br />
<i><br /></i><iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/318385405" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>
<br />
<a href="https://vimeo.com/318385405">Gabe's 11!</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-18421047661116095492018-08-14T05:45:00.000-07:002018-08-14T05:45:12.091-07:00Our first, last year of tween<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Molly,<br />
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You started this year so wide-eyed, anxious and weary of all the changes to come in middle school. Undoubtedly, your rookie parents seemed to have all the wrong words of comfort. We are still learning. To make matters worse, your class schedule was the total opposite of friends that represented the safety of home. So in true Molly May style, you complained about it immensely at home, panicked you would anxiously barf on the bus--- and then all by yourself--- you navigated the hallways of towering teens, introduced yourself to new friends, became involved in school activities and absolutely rocked your first year. I think you be quoted as saying "Middle School is sooooooooo much better than elementary school" --- which speaks volumes because your elementary school is mostly made of magic.<br />
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It isn't always easy being the oldest child of a family. Having to pave the way and trudge the unknown. Even your own Mom and Dad never had to forge that path as tweens. We see this and couldn't be more proud of your strength and bravery. This year, especially, you had some pretty big moments of hard. It isn't easy to be a kid in a world of social media, unsettling government leadership and the prevalence of gun violence within schools. You have had to face dynamics that simply didn't exist in my childhood. Lock downs, student outcries, written statements and walkouts... the reality of our world has forced you to grow up at an unfair rate and yet through all of it, you have displayed nothing short of dignity, grace and a healthy balance of whimsy.<br />
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This year is a whole new adventure. One that holds the promise of braces, cheerleading, theatrical performances, new crushes, old friends, new friends and all the awkwardness endowed to life as a seventh grader. I am confident you will further grow our ever-expanding repertoire of middle school nuances and phrasing that now includes: shipping, lit, bruh, basic, fortnite dances, vines, memes, youtubers and allll the slime my Tupperware could handle. We will fumble in our phrasing, embarrass you relentlessly and always go out of our way to love on you in public. I promise we will cheer faaaar too loudly for you at football games, giggle at your ridiculous love of mascara and sigh through the wonky evolutions your curly( and now slightly green/blue hair) will endure.<br />
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I am sure we will seem silly, annoying, too strict and too cautious, and always clueless. We will continue to not care about the "but all my friends" and "I really want" and "everyone else" and it will be exasperating and comforting at the same time. Because in this next year of you, we will continue to be here too. To show up, to laugh with you, to encourage, to mentor, to console, to cherish and to love you. Especially on the harder days.<br />
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Every year, you grow us that much more as a Mom and Dad and every year we couldn't be more thankful.<br />
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Love you, sweet birthday girl.<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>*****turn up the volume*****</i><br />
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<i><br /></i>
<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/284868219" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe> <br />
<a href="https://vimeo.com/284868219">Molly's 12th!</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-49577001283348980852018-08-02T23:08:00.000-07:002018-08-02T23:12:47.774-07:00The fourth is four.Hey, hey birthday babe...<br />
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Rockin' the big O-4.</div>
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I can already tell it is going to be such a magical year.</div>
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Yeeeeeeesssss!!</div>
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Oh sweet, Nanner-pajamers. There was maybe never a more magical unicorn of a kid. I asked you this week what you wanted for your birthday and you leaned in super close, put your nose smooshed against my cheek and whispered, "Hmm. How bout' some fun?"</div>
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I mean. DONE. </div>
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Quite honestly, you could have asked for the moon and I would have gone over and beyond to capture our moon and all those others that circle Saturn or Jupiter or somewhere else really far away. </div>
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In pressing you a little further for some birthday wishes you followed with "Ooooh. A walk for Rosie and maybe a new leash." You make the best, best friend. I am sure if Rosie George could walk you on her birthday she totally would. I mean TOTALLY.</div>
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I guess what I mean to say is that twos are supposed to be tough and three's typically reign in drama but sister, these days are breezy and the sunshine has just continued to warm up my heart EVERY DANG DAY. You might be made of mostly magic, or maybe after all these years I FINALLY FIGURED OUT PARENTING... or maybe (read: probably) we really are just better together. Magical, face-smooshing, birthday wishing for dog walks and some fun kinds of better together.</div>
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You are a golden light in my soul, little miss and I am excited for all the bits of joy to come. Last year of preschool, first year of tap/ballet with buddies, two days a week of you and me time before the chaos of life in the big school sets in. </div>
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This magical life of loving you. Such a blessing. Happy birthday, lady sprite. </div>
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Love,</div>
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Mommy </div>
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*****Turn up the volume*****</div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/282963984" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>
Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-74619155083947709172018-04-05T00:30:00.003-07:002018-04-05T04:45:44.744-07:00Lucky number seven!Hey there, birthday sparkler! Seven sure looks mighty bright and shiny!<br />
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Kiddo! What a year! I know that time moves quickly in the eyes of every parent but this is one of those years when I look back, I find myself SHOCKED at the amount of growth that has occurred. You entered this year still very little to me. I had to watch you in a pool, help tie those shoe laces and occasionally help you with just surviving day to day... okay, rarely. You were pretty much ready to take on the world straight out out of the womb. Ha!</div>
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But to look at you now, all beautiful seven years of you, I have to look really hard to see the little kid. Like really hard. Now, I see before me is this confident, bright, beautiful, passionate girl who rocks it EACH and EVERY day and just leaves us all gaping in the dust of your wake. </div>
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My love, you've got magic in your soul.<br />
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If I were ever to live a day in the life of any of my children, I would 100% choose yours. I am fairly confident I would experience every color of the rainbow three times over, all before noon. You are tenderhearted, quick to love and even quicker to forgive. You have a mighty passion for music, the GREATEST difficulty with goodbyes and there wasn't a furry friend on this planet that you couldn't coax in to loving you back. It is the most exhausting and adorable goodness about you. Don't ever change. </div>
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I have absolutely no doubt that this year will be crazy full of adventure. I will undoubtedly hear a million more homemade songs, you will tear through at least 15 more packs of computer paper, rip clear through the knees of seven pairs of jeans and I am assured to find at least a dozen handfuls of outside living in your bed. </div>
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My wild and brave spirit. The world is beyond blessed to stand in the warmth of your glow.</div>
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Happiest of birthdays,</div>
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Mom<br />
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****turn up the music!****<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/263294603" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/263294603">Lucy's 7!!</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-64139284037189119052018-02-20T00:08:00.001-08:002018-02-20T00:23:06.186-08:00Double Digits!Hey kid.<br />
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It would seem I went and blinked and suddenly, this happened.<br />
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Chronic dry-eye be damned, I shan't be doing that again.<br />
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A week ago, you fell asleep on top of your Dad during Ghostbusters wearing a Chewbacca onesie with your fat little hand all smooshed up against your face and I swear for like two seconds, it was like looking at a mammoth version of your 1-month-old, Baby Gabey self. It was pretty much my favorite moment of the year. Same snuggled tummy sleeper with your puppy paws and round ole' rump launched proudly in the air just a-sleepin' through all the excitement on top of your favorite guy in the world. All these years later and in that moment, it was as if nothing had changed. Such a treat for my heart.<br />
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Oh, buddy. What a year! All things Minecraft have merged in to the land of YouTube and Roblox, your friends and you are now developing ferocious appetites, your room is starting to smell like if feet and farts were to have a baby, you proudly take off with your sister on bikes with gears, through the neighborhood and you proclaimed that you have "finally become an expert at defensive soccer." Finally. Big changes.<br />
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Some things still remain the same though. You can't for the life of you remember to put your clothes in the hamper and leave it two feet away from there at all times. Many times, we are still often left looking for one shoe as we frantically need to be somewhere and you always seem to remember exactly where it is as we are about to pull away and leave you for dead. You still have the craziest palate of any human I have ever met and your insatiable curiosity continues to both get you in trouble and/or completely leave us dumbfounded on a daily basis. So many sentences start with, "Hey Mom, did you know..." and yet I can never ever predict what is about to come out next. NEVER. EVER. PREDICT. IT. A couple weeks or so ago, you had to know how many stars were falling from the sky at the exact minute you were born and if that had anything to do with the number of earthquakes that would happen in the world that year. I just walked out of the room because, Son... I HAVE NO FREAKIN' IDEA and quite frankly, Mom has run out of responses to some of these questions.<br />
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10 years, Son.<br />
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Your quirkiness, comedic timing and gorgeous little dimple light up my heart in more ways than you could ever imagine. A decade with you... what a dream come true.<br />
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Love you so.<br />
Mom<br />
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**** turn up the music and enjoy!<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/256543877" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/256543877">Double Digits.</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-62448887661145475532017-08-14T00:17:00.000-07:002017-08-29T15:12:58.697-07:00Three Hands Old. <br />
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Molly,</div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Height: 55 inches (28%)</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: x-small;">Weight: 64.2 lbs (9%)</span></i></div>
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I can't help but smile at knowing that as I am typing this in the wee hours of the morning, anxiously awaiting your birthday... that eleven years ago to the moment, I was doing the exact same thing. Kid, eleven years later and I'd give up all my sleep just to see your sweet face.<br />
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This year brought us bunches and bunches of <strike>hormones,</strike> feelings. Many days, I wasn't quite certain you would live to see your eleventh birthday. But look at you... you lived. Woot. See, it seems I still have quite a bit to learn as Mom and I'm most definitely <b><u>not</u> </b>always right. You so kindly commented at bedtime that you weren't even certain I was excited to celebrate you in the morning... and I forced a smile and told you I needed to hug you on your last night as a ten-year-old. Smother it with love, kid. I may make a million and twelve mistakes over the course of your lifetime... but this sassy, opinionated tween reminds me so very much at times as the sassy, froed-out, two-year-old wagging a teensy finger my way from so long ago and I know this game. Smother it with love. Your hair care has greatly improved but the feelings are just as big and spiky. Thanks for sticking with some old tricks... Mama needed a win.<br />
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One week from today you will leave the safety of being straight down the street in the adorable, safe world of elementary school and hop on a bus to go somewhere that I can't get to in 2 minutes. I won't know these teachers or these new families right away. You'll meet people that challenge your conviction of self, that grow your empathy and change your life. It is going to be an entire big year of something new. I promise to let you get on that bus come Tuesday. I'll excitedly wait in the window as your bus approaches home and you can bet your bunnies I'll have at least a dozen, annoying questions the second you walk in. In the years to come, I'll say all the wrong things and definitely "know nothing".You, see...I did it to Nonnie too. Turns out growing pains the people you love best. This is my uncharted territory too... My biggest baby turns eleven today and so does this Mom. Keep giving me that grace, sister and we will figure it out together. We always have.<br />
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I had a little giggle that so many of the pictures in this video for the year came from YOUR phone from all those silly videos and millions of selfies you take. Your love for youtube videos, baking, music and making your own videos continues to blow me away. It is like you have all my favorites of your Dad wrapped up in your witty and glorious self. God sure knew what he was doing when he made you my first.<br />
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In it to win it, kid. Me and you.<br />
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Love you birthday babe,<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>****Turn up the music. It is a sweet one!****</i><br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/229527618" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/229527618">Molly's ELEVEN!</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-22727718978652516872017-08-02T22:07:00.002-07:002017-08-05T06:10:04.373-07:00Golden birthday for our golden girl. <div>
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Nanner bug.</div>
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<i>Height: 35.5 (17%)</i></div>
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<i>Weight: 26.6 (10%)</i></div>
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<i>BMI- 14.84 (22%)</i></div>
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Today is your GOLDEN birthday! You will wake up this morning (and likely once in the night to have Mommy 'check on you in a minute'), climb in to my bed, hold my face in your hands and will tell me that you "love me so so much" with the absolute worst morning breath I have ever smelled. It will be simultaneously both so adoring and disgusting. Pretty much toddlerhood in a nutshell.</div>
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Despite terrible twos being a thing, you remain my mellow yet mischievous kid. You rarely have a single meltdown too great that you can't be talked down from it and if someone even so much as mentions the promise of a sticker, you will pretty much curb any attitude in the blink of an eye. God bless, stickers. You continue to be one of the dirtiest eaters I have ever met, always have something crunchy in your ducky-fuzz hair and can become naked faster than I can spell Mississippi. I can't tell you how many times I look over and just see a pair of peach "dinner rolls" running off in the opposite direction... usually after one of your older siblings. Instead of your "birthday suit" we just refer to it as Annie is "dressed" for the day. </div>
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Goodness you love your big kids. You will stare out the window for them when they are gone, laugh when you see them walking home all the way down the street and become downright giddy when they invite you to play. Dog, homeless person, Army POW... you'll take on any role, just to stand as one of the gang. You've been sorted in to a HP house and had your own wand constructed before you were even truly introduced to Mickey Mouse. Naps happen in the car, on the floor, on the beach, in my arms, on a float in a natural spring... You take it all in stride, sister and never, ever complain. </div>
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I think that it is quite possible that you love me more than anyone has ever loved me in this world. Some days, I feel the weight of that love and just want to push it aside for a break. You are quick to forgive, always ready to climb back in my lap (or uterus if I'd let you) and will never take a second to keep me guessing about how loved I am. You love with your entire self, kid and I am forever blessed to be on the receiving end of all that goodness and light. </div>
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My life is enriched in ways I absolutely never imagined could be possible because there is an Annabel Jane May in my heart to love. Thank goodness you are mine. </div>
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Love you, birthday girl. Here's to a fabulous year three.</div>
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Love,</div>
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Mommy.</div>
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<i>***turn up the music for birthday video!***</i></div>
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="360" mozallowfullscreen="" src="https://player.vimeo.com/video/228168056" webkitallowfullscreen="" width="640"></iframe>
<a href="https://vimeo.com/228168056">Annie turns THREE.</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-66316752919166103522017-04-04T22:12:00.003-07:002017-04-04T22:19:19.944-07:00A 6th birthday girl.Oh my, Lubird.<br />
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Never before I have met another like you. You are the person that goes with all the est of our family... the silliest, the loudest, the craziest, the lovingest. I am convinced superlatives were created in the English language just to better define you. I can't tell you how many times I heard your insane laughter, or your robust vibrato or incredible energy this year and paused in awe that MY body was able to contain that force of life. You live all the colors of the rainbow, my love. How lucky am I to see a rainbow every single day!<br />
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If anyone is in need of love you are the person they need to stand next to. Kid, you just have so much love to give. Granted, sometimes you lack the self awareness to control the amount that you give at one time. I mean, death by hugging? You might get charged with this one day. Babies, toddlers, ANIMALS... they don't stand a chance with our resident Lenny.<br />
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I know there is going to come a time where the intensity of your everyday is going to push the envelope to a place that's uncomfortable. I pray daily that God continues to give me the grace and the wisdom to guide you in ways of safety and limits without killing that completely gorgeous spirit. I hope you always know the brightness you bring to my life.<br />
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I'll meet the teenage version of this fierce spirit one day... for now though, I am going to soak up the last few weeks of a baby teeth smile before all the gaps arrive, of snuggles before bed and your insane nightly antics. I'll continue to laugh at the discovery of selfies and the million of video chats you leave for me to find on my phone. I am every day thankful that I was trusted with such a precious treasure to grow.<br />
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Love you, little sparkler. Here's to a bright and shiny year six.<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>**** Turn up your volume. It's a good one.****</i><br />
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/211617247">Lucy's 6th Birthday Video</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6807621687332747791.post-81764408455442098872017-02-20T00:22:00.002-08:002017-02-27T15:14:20.980-08:00A not so Gabey Baby anymore. ...<br />
Well. Hey there, big kid.<br />
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<i>Height: 50 inches (14%)</i></div>
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<i>Weight: 65.2 lbs (58%)</i></div>
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Don't think I can quite get by with calling you my little boy anymore but good gravy I am so very thankful you still let me try. Psst... let's just always allow it, m'kay?<br />
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I can't tell you how very fitting it is that your birthday falls on President's Day this year. My wonder kid and his deep love of all things presidential. After all this time, still the best way to curb your negative behaviors is to remind you how Presidents have to learn to keep their cool when frustrated. Wonder how many more years that phrasing will continue to work? Knowing you, I have absolutely no doubt that you will change it up on us when we have become far too comfy and pull something completely out of left field. Like you do.<br />
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Oh buddy, What a year for you. I think you grew about 4 inches alone in the month of July. Makes total sense to me... all the Mays grow best in sunshine and beachy waters. You continue to have a deep love of all things Star Wars, Legos, Harry Potter and Pokemon. This year you have developed the coolest passion for sketching and writing comic strips. You uncovered a bunch of your Dad's old notepads in an old box and have completely claimed them as your own and added to the unfinished pages. I can't begin to tell you how much I love that. You are a lover of history, legacy and blonde little sisters. Still our ever-tenderhearted guy, all I have to do is tell you, "I love you so much" and your eyes just well right on up. I can't wait to see what grows out of your very big feelings. For now, we will just have to learn to balance the quick to temper, crazy competitive and chatty kid in class with the ever-encourager, dimple grinner, best brother we know.<br />
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Never in a million years when choosing baby names would I guess that EBAG would become your self-adopted nickname. And yet, now that I think about it... it is a quirky, intellectual, endearing, unique moniker. All things you.<br />
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Sure do love you, buddy. Can't wait for all the adventures to unfold this next trip around the sun.<br />
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Love,<br />
Mom<br />
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<i>***Birthday video! Turn up volume!***</i><br />
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<a href="https://vimeo.com/204847518">Gabe turns NINE.</a> from <a href="https://vimeo.com/user8397145">Julie May</a> on <a href="https://vimeo.com/">Vimeo</a>.<br />
<i><br /></i>Juliehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12591790425776009257noreply@blogger.com0