True Love

My young daughters have already begun to choose their future husbands.  I find it a bit odd since who I was going to marry was pretty much the farthest thing from my mind in  preschool, but this seems to be a common practice now.  I’ve found it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it might, likely because I breathe a sigh of relief at all of their choices.

Lilly proudly declares, “I get married with Luke.”  Luke being a boy from our church.  He’s a very appropriate 2 years older, one of the cutest little boys I’ve ever seen, and just the right amount of ornery.  He makes me laugh just to look at him, and he comes from a good family.  And it just so happens that the girls are all good friends with his twin sister, so the families could just merge seamlessly.  Good choice Lilly.  Please remember this in high school.

Catie picked Carter, the son of some friends of ours.  Or possibly Isaac, their other son.  Either way, I’m good with it.  Another great family, great kids, super cute.  She & Isaac might be too similar to make it work, but thankfully they have a few years to iron out the details.  Thumbs up.

And then there’s Annie.  She is 7 and going into 2nd grade, and she wants to marry her best friend.  So far, a very solid plan.

What makes Annie’s choice so special is who her best friend is – a little boy from her class who is severely autistic.  They sit beside each other, and from day one Annie has adored him.

She never noticed that their skin is a different color.  She never cared that he is largely non-verbal.  Instead, she began checking books out of the library on sign language.  It wasn’t for 5 months that I realized she was doing this so she could learn to communicate with him.

She never cared that he throws fits of frustration.  She didn’t mind recently when he hit her on one such occasion.  In fact, she dismissed it immediately when I asked her about it, afraid he would get into trouble.  “It’s okay mom, he didn’t mean it!”

She carries tissues in her backpack so that she can use one of those if the need arises, because he doesn’t like everyone to use the tissue box.  He wants it to be his personal tissue box, and Annie is happy to comply.

She’s even gone so far as to re-arrange her bathroom schedule, because he doesn’t like it when she goes to the bathroom right after lunch.  She never questioned why this bothered him, she just accepted it.  And she loves him enough to change even that, just to ensure his happiness.

The first week of school, she told Catie about her new best friend.  “He has autism” I heard her say, and my ears perked up. 

“What’s that?” Catie asked.

“It’s just part of him, like you have blue eyes, and Lilly has big feet.  It’s part of what makes him him.  He’s really cool Catie, I can’t wait for you to meet him.”

And that was all she ever said about it – she’s never mentioned his autism since.  But him?  He gets discussed every day.

Their desks are together.  They line up together.  She holds his hand in the hallway, and she likes to sit with him at lunch so she can open his milk.  Sometimes they make swaps with their food, which works out particularly well for him since Annie eats like a bird.

She loves him with a heart that is pure, and she loves him from a place that is deeper than most adults I know. 

She has a completely normal, ordinary, everyday friendship with him, and I love this about her.  That she overlooks all that is different and notices only what is alike.

Recently I accompanied her class on a field trip, and I was pleased to see how kind she was to him.  She didn’t run off and leave him because things were new and exciting and he couldn’t keep up.  She still held his hand.  She still opened his drink.  She still looked after her buddy.

In fact she ditched me on the bus so she could ride with him instead, and she helped him do Mad Libs on the way.  That he didn’t understand ‘adjective’ or ‘adverb’ was no deterrent at all – she just found a way to make it work.  When he got out of his seat, she showed him the sign for ‘sit’.  When he was restless, she gave him my phone to watch cartoons.  And mostly, she gave him hugs.  Lots and lots of hugs.

I was so proud of her, and I told her that evening that I was happy to see how nicely she treated him, and what a good friend she was being.  At this she screwed up her little face, gave me a strange look and said, “I’m not his friend to be nice to him.  I just love him.”

And she does.  She just loves him.

I wonder how many times in his life he will experience that kind of blind, unconditional love.  I wonder how many times I will. 

I wonder how many times I offer that same selfless love to others.  Especially to those who aren’t family, to those who are different, to those who lash out at me in frustration. 

How often do I love purely, without expectation? 

How often do I overlook everything that makes someone different or difficult, and just. love. them.?

My daughter has the most amazing spirit I believe I have ever encountered, and praise God for it, because certainly it comes in spite of all the ways I fail her.  I very often feel she is the one setting the example for me. 

Today, I will strive to love like Annie.  It’s a lofty goal, but I have a great Teacher – in more ways than one.

A conversation with Catie

We live less than 3 miles from Catie’s preschool.  2.63, to be exact.  And the sheer number of words that she can squeeze in during that 5-minute ride never cease to amaze me.  How do her vocal chords keep up with her mouth?  How does her mouth keep up with her brain?  And where does her brain come up with this stuff?

What follows is an actual conversation with my almost-five-year-old.  I recorded it for posterity.

Catie: Turn on the radio.

Me: I will Catie, just a minute.

Catie: Can you turn on Leaving on a Jet Plane, I don’t know when I’ll be back again?  I like that song.  I know all the words.  Want me to sing it to you?  I’m leeeavin, on a jet plane…

Me: I don’t have that CD with me.

Catie: Aw, mom! Why not?  I love that one.  Can you put in Power in the Blood?  Or Nothing but the Blood?  I like songs about blood.  Are there any other songs about blood?  Why do they sing songs about blood?  Isn’t that kind of yucky?

Me: Well no, honey, because those songs are about Jesus.  His blood is special.

Catie: I’m special too.  My teacher said that the Bible says all of us are special, but she didn’t know where it says that.  I think maybe she made that part up just to make us feel good.  But I bet God still loves us, even if we’re not all special.  It would be really hard to make all of those people and have every one different.  Do you think everyone is really different? 

Me: Yes I do.

Catie: Why?  Twins aren’t different.  They might look different, but they aren’t always different.  Luke and Addy are different because they are boy and girl, Luke is a boy and Addie is a girl.  But some twins are both girls and they look exactly the same and that is dental and then they are the same, and I guess probably boy twins can be dental too, but I don’t like that kind and I only like girl twins, because the boy twins that go to my school, I don’t know their names but they are boy twins, and they throw wood chips.  (pause)  That smells bad.  What smells bad?  What is that smell?  Do you smell something stinky?  I smell something stinky.  Lilly do you smell something?  Hey did you know that Seth’s dad goes hunting?

Me: No I didn’t.

Catie: Has dad ever gone hunting?

Me: [snort] Not hardly.

Catie: Have you ever gone hunting?

Me: Yes.

Catie: Did you go with Pappap?

Me: Yes.

Catie: Will you take me hunting some day?

Me: We’ll see.

Catie: I’d like to go hunting.  I don’t think I want to shoot a gun yet.  Maybe I can just watch.  When I’m bigger I will shoot a gun.  Do we have any guns?  I like guns.  Not for shooting people, just stuff.  Like cans and animals and stuff.  That guy on tv shot a can.  Plus you shoot cans in that game at the fair.  I want to hunt when I’m a grown up.  I’m going to hunt cows, because I like steak.  Have you ever hunted for cows?

Me: Well, no.  You don’t really hunt cows, honey.

Catie: Why not?  Cows are easier to hunt than deer.  Seth’s dad goes hunting for deer but I don’t know why.  Deer run from people so they’d be hard to hunt.  Cows just stand there.  Plus they taste good.  And farmers could just go hunting whenever they want.

Me: I think you’re missing the point of hunting, Catie.

Catie: Isn’t the point to shoot something so you can eat it?

Me: Well yes, but…

Catie: (interrupting) Can we go to the zoo for my birthday?

Me: Why? Do you want to go hunting at the zoo?

Catie: No. (pause) Can you do that?

Me: No.

Catie: Why not?

Me: Because zoos try to keep animals alive.  I don’t think they’d like it if you came in shooting them.

Catie: But you can’t eat if the animals are alive.  They have to die sometime.  What are we going to have for lunch?

Me: I don’t know yet.

Catie: Can we have soup, and can we eat it at Grama’s house?

Me: You can’t just invite yourself over to someone’s house, Catie.

Catie: I can if it’s Grama.  Do you love your mommy?  She is the best Grama ever.  When we were over there yesterday she gave me tea and I got to put my own sugar in, and she let me put in as much as I want.  And she gave me a treat, and she didn’t even yell when I stepped on her foot.  I think she loves me.  So I want to go to her house for lunch and I want you to tell her that, because I know it will be ok.  Ok?

Me: We’ll see, Catie.

Catie: Call her and tell her I said that.  And tell her about the hunting.  And also, can we have steak for dinner?  Except Annie would like crab legs I think, because she doesn’t like steak.  Can we have steak and crab legs?

Me: No.

Catie: You always say no.  Grama never says no.

Me: She did when she was my mom.  And she didn’t give me steak and crab legs for dinner, either.

Catie: When you pick me up, can you bring Grama with you?  And can you come in and see my teacher today?  And I want you to read me a book when I get home ok?  We’re painting today.  I’m going to paint with Anna Jean, because she helps me and because we don’t like to sit next to Teresa because she says bad words.  Also she sticks her tongue out at me, whichly is not nice, and also one time Seth said butthead.  And he threw his apple in the wrong place and I saw him and I knew he was wrong but I didn’t tell Miss April because you said not to be a tattle-tale, but I watched him and I knowed it was him that did it and he was being naughty.  He didn’t do what Miss April said.  I think his mom needs to teach him better manners.  Maybe he needs his bottom spanked so he wouldn’t say butthead anymore.  He isn’t very nice but I still like him because I have to because Jesus said we have to like everyone, but if I didn’t have to because Jesus said to, if Jesus didn’t make me, I wouldn’t like him and I wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who said bad words like butthead.  Except I have to on account of Jesus.  But that’s all.  That’s the only reason.  Did Jesus really say that we have to like everyone?

Me: You have to love everyone, but you won’t always like everyone.  It’s complicated.

Catie: What does complicated mean?

Me: Hard to understand.

Catie: Oh.  So do I have to like Seth or not?

Me: Yes.

Catie: Then I’m going to tell him that he better be glad for Jesus, because if there wasn’t Jesus no one would ever like a meanie like him.

Me: Don’t you dare say that to him.

Catie: Ok.  But I’m still gonna think it.

Me: Caitlin Boyd!

Catie: Mommy mom!

Me: Child, you wear me out.  Please do not say anything like that to him.  It’s not nice.

Catie: I told you I wouldn’t.  But don’t you ever think things in your head that aren’t nice?

Me: Yes. But a good person tries to stop thinking bad things, and think about things that would make Jesus happy.  I don’t think it would make Jesus very happy to hear you telling Seth that no one likes him.

Catie: That isn’t what I said at all.  I said no one would like him if Jesus didn’t tell us we have to, which means we do like him, so I don’t think that’s the same at all and I think it’s ok, but I won’t say it.

Me: Catie! <sigh> Have a good day. And stay out of trouble, ok?

Catie: -ignores me because she’s already started talking to the carpool lady-

Me: -drops head to steering wheel in exhaustion-

A conversation with Catie.  I wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Makeover Monday – Side Table

Ok, so this week isn’t exactly a makeover.  It’s not even close.  It’s just a little table.

But if you look closely, you’ll see that it’s actually a lot more.

It’s actually my daughters’ own creation (with the help of plans from Ana, of course).

Yes, as a matter of fact, I do let my kids play with tools.  I encourage it.

Anyone who knows me would laugh at the suggestion I am a feminist, but I suppose in this one way, maybe I am just a little.  I want my girls to be able to do anything.  Everything.  I don’t want them to stick with traditionally feminine roles.  I want them to be smart and confident and know that actually, they can fix things and build things and get dirty, just like the boys. 

Better than the boys.

I think Ana is an inspiration in that regard.  If you have ever seen her, she’s not exactly how you’d picture a female carpenter.  She’s teeny tiny and absolutely gorgeous.  She’s a femme fatale weilding a nail gun.  How cool is that?

I want my daughters to know that they can do what they set their minds to do.  And yes, I do hope that leads them to build things.  Because it feels really, really great to look at something you created.

And also it feels great to save money.

This side table was created with wood I had left over from another project.  However, if you’d like to build one yourself, it would cost around $15 in lumber.  Not bad for a $199 Pottery Barn knock-off, eh?  You can’t even order a swatch of wood from Pottery Barn for that price!

And every time I look at our table, I get to appreciate the kind of beauty that Pottery Barn can’t sell.

The cuts that aren’t quite straight

The holes that Lilly filled with caulk instead of wood putty

The love (and mess) that went into the paint job

The end result?

You can still see a few gaps.

The cuts weren’t perfect.  The paint isn’t perfect.  They were too impatient to sand properly.

Yet it’s still the most beautiful table we own, if you ask me.

Pottery Barn sells Perfect, no doubt.

But Knock-Off Wood gave us a pretty perfect day, and that’s worth a whole lot more to me.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Annie and the Bee

My Annabelle is in 1st grade, and she has signed up to compete in a spelling bee.  She found out about the bee on Friday – and it is this Tuesday night.  Not much time to prepare, but she’s up for the challenge.

More challenging is the fact that this bee is open to the entire county, not divided by age, and it includes kids through the 8th grade.

[Actually the rules state that it is for kids through 8th grade or 16 years of age, but somehow I'm thinking that if you're 16 years old in the 8th grade, a spelling bee probably isn't your thing.]

I’m really proud of her for taking this on. 

Don’t get me wrong – we don’t think she’s going to win.  In fact, if you ask her she’ll tell you that she’s entering the first round of a spelling bee.  We figure if she can get through the first round, the rest is gravy.

She’s a great little speller, but a 7 year old against a 16 year old is hardly fair.  I blame the organizers for not having a better system.  But I give lots of credit to my spunky little girl for wanting to do it anyway.  She isn’t afraid to go up against kids more than twice her age, even knowing she’s going to lose.  Once she saw Akeelah, she mapped out her path pretty quickly.  “I’m going to do that some day,” she told me.  And I have no doubt that she will.

Gumption, she’s got. 

She’s so smart, so brave, so confident.  She’s fearless.  There’s nothing she thinks she can’t do and do it well, and she always, always goes for it.  She never gives up, never backs down.  She’s so tiny for her age, and yet so scrappy.  So determined.  So much wiser than I am.

Once upon a time, I was like her.  I would put myself out there.  Once upon a time I, too, would go for it.

I lost that somewhere along the way.  I lost my confidence and my courage.  But I look at this little girl and I admire her tremendously; she makes me think I could get it back.  She inspires me to do better - to be better.

In many ways, my young daughter is a role model for me.

On Tuesday night, I’ll be the proudest Momma in the building, regardless of the outcome.  The first round of the spelling bee this year is just practice for next year – the year that she wins it all. 

I know she can do it.  And even better, she knows she can, too.

Smart girl.

Lucky me.

The anniversary of the day my life began

Seven years ago tonight, I became a mother.  Seven years ago, my entire world changed.  For the better.

As I tucked her in to bed tonight, I told Annabelle once again the story of the night she was born.  How I waited anxiously all day.  How it was such an easy labor that I even napped in the afternoon.  How Aunt Beth and Erin flew all the way from Kuwait, arriving only 2 hours before she was delivered.  I only pushed once and out she came – she was easy right from the start.  She was an almost-9-pound baby, which is ironic considering how petite she is now.  I told her how I slept with her in my arms for days, because I loved her so much I couldn’t tear myself away from her.  And I told her about Dr. Buck, who kissed my forehead and said ‘Congratulations.  You’re a momma now.’  The most simple, profound words I’d ever heard.

Seven years ago tonight, this little angel of a girl changed my world – and one day she’ll change the rest of it, too.

On a lighter note…

We celebrated today with a skating party.  Catie got to invite her friends, also.  Since she has a summer birthday, she’ll never be able to have a party with school friends, so she was super excited about sharing in Annie’s big day.  All told, about half of the invited kids were able to come which, given past turnouts, was a pretty good number.

Annie wanted to have a Phineas & Ferb party, but unfortunately I couldn’t find anything available to make that happen.  Which is quite odd, if you ask me.  The show’s been out for two and a half years and it’s wildly popular.  What gives?

Anyway, I was able to order this edible icing creation off of eBay, so at least she had a proper cake:

The skating rink always has a limbo contest, every time we have been there.  And every time, Annie has won.  Every single time.  I think it’s because she’s so tiny she hasn’t even hit the bottom of the growth chart yet, but hey, at least it pays off in the form of chintzy plastic toy prizes.

On an unrelated note, have you ever noticed that skating rinks universally seem to have been decorated in the 80s and never updated?  Neon and blacklight – totally rad!

My sassy little Catiebug:

And a semi-decent picture of Lilly, who next to never looks at the camera.

After the party, my husband’s family came to our house for presents.  Annie got a salon chair which was a big hit, and Uncle Mike was a very good sport about getting a makeover:

And she also got the new bike she’s been eyeing ever since she ditched her training wheels.  A super sporty Barbie bike that has a miniature bike on the handlebar so that her doll can ride along with her:

See that green tee and jeans behind her?  That’s me.  Enjoy the view of my hip there, because that’s about as close as we ever get to me being in a picture.  I’m usually manning the camera, and on those rare occasions when my husband does apparently he doesn’t care to snap a pic of me.  Humph.

I wish the story ended happily there, but unfortunately later Annie was screaming in pain with an ear infection.  And the only pharmacy still open was out of the antibiotic we need, so we have to wait until tomorrow morning to start treatment.  I’m anticipating a long and sleepless night.  Hence the reason this post is so terribly late in the day – yet, I’d like to point out, still on February 13th (with a few minutes to spare).  NaBloPoMo, still going strong.

Johnny Depp once said that “Anything I’ve done up till [the day she was born] was kind of an illusion, existing without living.  My daughter, the birth of my daughter, gave me life.”

I feel exactly the same way.

Happy Birthday Annie Mary.

xoxo

Very Fun Indeed

If you’re one of my 6 loyal followers you might have clicked on the yummy treats link yesterday.  In which case, you might have seen a website called Making Things Fun.  This blog is the brainchild of my soon-to-be-7-year-old.

It is completely her baby.  She has learned how to click all the right links, answer her emails, and even tweet about her new posts.  She’s worked really hard on her posts, too - since she isn’t a great typist, it takes her forever to get one done.  Occasionally she’ll let me help with something mudane like a hyperlink, but for the most part she wants to do it all herself.  And I love her determination.

She has a couple dozen idea posts saved up in drafts, and every day she writes down a new one.  I’m not sure how this project will pan out, but I admit to having the occasional fantasy that this is the beginning of her child-prodigy entreprenurial career.  She is destined for greatness in one way or another – maybe this is it.

Regardless, I think it’s a worthwhile endeavor.  She’s practicing her writing, spelling, and grammar.  She’s expanding her computer skills and becoming a better typist.  And she’s making her little 6-year-old dream come true. 

She came up with the name herself (and the domain was available – score!).  She sifted through hundreds of templates until she found the perfect design.  And she’s seeing her world in a whole new way.

Instead of just doing her chores, she’s looking for a way to make them fun so she can write about it.  Instead of flying through a craft on her way to the the next activity, she’s slowing down to take pictures of each step.  Instead of going through life on autopilot, she’s pausing to take note of the details.

We all need to appreciate the details.

So check out Making Things Fun when you get a minute.  Follow her on Twitter, too – @MakingThingsFun  And drop her an email or leave a comment if you can - she loves that.  She responds to everyone!  And if you have a family-friendly blog and you’d like to join her blogroll, let her know that too.  We’d be happy to add your button to her sidebar.

Please don’t hold this against us

Annie’s 1st grade class is working on a pen pal project.  In 21st century style, though, it’s not really about the pens.  This project also involves audio, video, a school tour, and a smartboard.  It’s pretty cool, and the kids have been really excited about it.  The principal thought the project was so unique that she called the local paper to do a story on it. 

This is the first time I’ll point out to you that we live in a small town. 

So one day last week, a reporter came out to the classroom to take pictures and ask questions about the project.  He asked the teachers if they had a particularly expressive child that he could interview, and wouldn’t you know, my little Annie was the one he talked to.  ‘Expressive’ is definitely a word that suits her.

I was told to look for it to run in the Sunday paper.  And as it turned out, being a small town, this story was worthy of the front page.  Pretty impressive, right? 

Well.

So I read along to find my girl, and I come across this lovely little tidbit.

Student Annie Roberts-Nault has already found out about several similarities she shares with her pen pal, Emily.

“She likes to play in PE in school … I told her PE was my favorite class, too,” Roberts-Nault said.

Dogs are a common feature in both households as well, with her pen pal having one pup while Roberts-Nault’s family has three. According to Roberts-Nault, however, more does not necessarily equal better as one of her pets, Rigley, possesses a bad habit. The canine has a tendency to poop on her family’s deck, a definite defecation no-zone.

Props to Annie for landing us on the front page of the newspaper with a story like that.

I would like to clear up a few things now.

• Wrigley is spelled wrong.  Cubs, people, it’s the Cubs.
• She is not my dog.
• She is 9 years old and this has only happened twice in her life.  It’s true that I can’t stand the dog, but even I can say that this is not her major problem.
• She is a 25 pound black lab mix, up to date on all her shots, and ready for a new home at any time.

Did I mention we’re a very small town?  A last name like ours really doesn’t blend in.  Not to mention Annie’s such an extrovert that half the county knows who she is already.  Absolutely no chance of anyone not seeing this one. 

How great for us to now be known as the family with defecation issues!

I am, of course, still proud of her.

And, of course, concerned about her inability to filter for appropriate content.

At least she didn’t tell them about the time Daddy kicked Mommy and Mommy was crying on the floor of the closet.  [Catie actually told this to her pre-school teacher.  That the kids are still in our possession at this point is remarkable.]

So it could have been better, but it definitely could have been worse, too.

The article ends by stating

Technology, it seems, no matter how advanced, is never perfect.

It seems the same could be said for my Annie.

~Read it (and laugh at us) for yourself here.

Handy Manny Birthday Cake

As I mentioned earlier, my youngest daughter turned 3 last month. 

This is where I’d like to talk about how beautiful she is – because she really is gorgeous.

(She also refuses to look at the camera for pictures)

I’d like to tell you how smart she is, what a quick sense of humor she’s got, how she posesses a God-given ability to entertain herself quietly for hours.  I’d like to tell you how bittersweet it is to watch her grow up, knowing that she is my last baby.

But since I just said a blog shouldn’t be all about ‘me’, I can’t.

So instead I’ll tell you about her Handy Manny Birthday Cake.

The kid is head over heels for Manny these days.  I have my concerns, but whatever.

She got the Handy Manny Talkin’ Toolbox for Christmas, so a toolbox cake seemed appropriate.  It also seemed easy, since I could just steal borrow the plastic tools from her set.

My mom was kind enough to bake the cake and fashion the handle for me – my only task was frosting it.  You’d think I’d be able to handle that, but actually not so much.  Cake decorating is so not my thing.  Pardon the rough splotches.

The design on the front was meant to make it look like her toy toolbox.  My dad printed the image off and laminated it and then I just stuck it in the frosting.

(You might notice here that I said ‘my mom’ and ‘my dad’ and not ‘my husband’.  That’s because he did nothing.)

Lilly was a happy camper.

And a good day was had by all.  Even by Mommy, who cried a little when she tucked a 3-year-old baby into bed that night.  Bittersweet, I tell you.

Lilly’s First Haircut

As I have mentioned before, we support Locks of Love in this house. 

Well, those of us with hair do. Ahem.

Annie has donated twice.  Catie has donated once.  I have donated 9 times.

About a month ago, Lilly decided that her time had come as well.  It was her first ever haircut, and she got it just before her 3rd birthday.  She was delighted about the outing and sat very still, patiently waiting.  I think she was just delighted at the prospect of a short bob that would mean no more fending off Mommy wielding a hairbrush.

Here she is before:

The first cut:

And the end result:

11 inches gone!

She looks older which I don’t like, but the cut is adorable and it suits her perfectly.  Short and spunky, just like my girl!

Wordful Wednesday – Lilly Wussell

My little Lilly Pie turned 3 a couple of weeks ago, and I didn’t blog about it yet.  Shame on me, I know.

Anyway, Catie is in preschool 3 hours a day now so I have had more time to spend with Lilly all alone, and it’s been amazing watching her grow and develop into such a unique little person.  She’s so spunky and funny and smart, and just a delightful little girl.  And she entertains herself exceedingly well, which is a quality any mother will tell you is a blessing beyond measure.

Her given name is Lillian Russell (after my great-grandmother, my great-grandfather, and my father – not the actress) but she prefers to talk about Lilly Wussell and Pappap Wussell.  They are very good buddies.

Last spring when we went to Disney she got sick.  Very sick.  Barfed in line at Toy Story Mania – barfed pretty much everywhere actually.  Among other things.  She was so sick, in fact, that she was hospitalized the day we returned home.  Poor dolly. 

But when she first got sick, I packed her up and left the park to take her back to the resort to rest.  She had other ideas though; as soon as we got back to the Polynesian she felt strongly that we needed to eat.  I guess having an empty stomach and all…  So my girlie and I hit the Kona Cafe, and had a lovely little lunch together.  Which as you might guess, didn’t stay down for long.  But it was good while it lasted.

And in that brief interlude, between episodes of vomiting, she turned on the charm as she always does.  I sat laughing and in awe of her, wondering where the sick little girl I’d seen an hour ago had vanished to, and hoping that she’d stay well.  And I couldn’t resist snapping this picture, which in retrospect is not only a cute memory, but the the very essence of Lilly.

Adorable - check.  Ornery grin - check.  Food nearby - check.  Mommy’s heart in her hand - check.

Love you, Silly Lilly.  Thanks for completing me.

*This post is part of the Wordful Wednesday carnival.  If you have a moment, swing by and check out more pictures with a story over at Seven Clown Circus.