Sam's 4th Birthday

Every year we try to do something a little bit special with the kids on their birthday.  This year, we decided that Sam was old enough to decide what we did...with a little bit of direction from us.  We gave him some ideas and let him plan our day.  His big plan?  He wanted to "ride the steps and play with the trains and go back to that place where we jump and slide."  Shawn and I were a little confused about the whole "riding the steps thing"...until we remembered that when we went to the Aquarium we stopped in a Barnes and Noble next door for a quick potty break before getting on the road.  The restrooms were on the 2nd floor close to the children's area, so while I was changing Sydney's diaper, Shawn and Sam hung out by the train table.  Apparently, it made an impression.

 

Anyway, we weren't driving back to Cincinnati to play with the trains, but we remembered that Joseph Beth has an escalator, so we decided to go there.  Sam LOVES the train tables at the bookstore.  Every time we stop and let him play, Shawn and I ask ourselves why we don't do that more often.  It's fun, free entertainment, and he always gets wrapped up in pretending and playing.

 

 

 

 

The next day, we had his party at the same bounce house where we've had it the last couple of years.  If it ain't broke, don't fix it!  We could hardly get Sam to concentrate on eating cake and opening presents because he was so preoccupied with getting to jump.  Luckily, we were the first party of the day, and the owner was nice enough to let us go ahead into the jumping area.

 

 

 

Three guesses what kind of cake Sam requested---Scooby Doo.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Side note---this girl totally cracks me up.

 

 

Sam first played air hockey at a friend's birthday party a couple of months ago, and he loves it.  He's pretty good, too!

Of course, Sydney thinks she has to do everything that her brother does.

We found the Harry Potter display at the bookstore, and Sam had to wear the hat around for a while.  He loved shooting hoops with Dad at his party.  And we got to feed the ducks and geese outside the bookstore.

 

We let Sam choose a special birthday treat from the bookstore.  Once again, he surprised us.  I was sure he would choose a train since that was what he had been playing with.  Or maybe even a book.  But no---he wanted a pair of Quidditch goggles from the Harry Potter stuff.  Then, he insisted on wearing them to lunch.

I love the picture on the bottom.  It might be my favorite of the day.  Daddy and Sam playing air hockey and their whole cheering section lined up along the side.

Mothers' Day

I won't lie----Mothers' Day is bittersweet for me.  I approach it every year with a mixture of joy--because every day, for the rest of my life, no matter what I do right or wrong, I get the privilege of being a mom--and trepidation, because I won't be sharing it with my own mom. 

 

I would've liked to have been a mom in the presence of my mom.  I would have loved to see her with my babies.  I know she would have delighted in them. 

 

I read this a few days ago, and in many ways, it sums up everything I feel about today.

 

Except I won't be standing over a grave.

 

I visited Mom's grave one time.  One.  I think I stayed two minutes before I felt smothered. 

 

Some people find peace in visiting the graves of their loved ones, but I do not.  She is not there.  To me, her grave is simply a reminder of that fact.  Instead, I will celebrate her memories.  I will look through the photo album she made for me.  I will share stories about her with my children.  (And my son will memorize every detail of them, because that's just what he does.) 

 

I might shed a tear or two, but it will not be while staring at a gravestone.  It will be while I watch my children play.  It will be while singing in church.  It will be as I reflect about how many cross country races and piano recitals and swimming lessons and band concerts she attended as she supported us and cheered us on.  I will remember the cupcakes she made for us to take to school.  The spelling tests she helped us study for.  The snacks she provided for a neighborhood full of hot, sweaty, smelly kids after an afternoon of wiffle ball.  The mornings that she French braided my hair when we were already late because a ponytail just wouldn't have worked.  The costumes that she made.  The science projects that she helped put together (I have no idea how many tomato plants we tortured and killed during my middle school years).  The  nights she stayed up until goodness-knows-when doing her own homework because she had helped us with our homework first.  The hair-brained schemes of mine that she supported because they were important to me.

 

Yes, it is well.

 

Most days, it is.  And on the days, like today, that it kinda isn't, my lips will repeat until my heart believes it.

 

It is well, because He made it so.  It is well, because the grave isn't the end.  It is well, because in the absence of my mother and my children's grandmother, we have been blessed with a handful of women who have jumped in and bent over backwards to fill that void as much as possible.  Because they love us.  Because they loved her.  It is well, because I've seen the end of the story, and spoiler alert:  We win.  We get to see her again.

 

It is well.

A Picture's Worth A Thousand Words

Reason #417 why you should always leave your bathroom locked when you have a toddler.

Molly loves it when Sydney helps herself to snacks.

 

 

I recently read the book "1000 Gifts" and started keeping my own gratitude journal.  Being intentional about seeing new things to be thankful for each day and writing them down has really opened my eyes to my blessings.  I can tell a big difference in my attitude on the days I don't write in it.

 

 

I love it when he shares with her without being asked.

 

 

If I did a picture gratitude journal, I would probably put a lot of pictures of sunrises and sunsets in it. 

Best buddies.