Printheth (Princess) and Glath Thlippers (Glass Slippers)

Song Suggestion:  Cinderella by Steven Curtis Chapman

  I am sitting in my three seasons room, the track lights are dimmed, I have my lab top on my lap and a chunk of spinach artichoke cheese that I am nibbling on in hand.   Kendall is to my right.. sippy cup with milk in her left hand and a rolled up piece of honey ham with cheddar cheese inside, clutched in her right hand. She has her pink fuzzy (her blanket) wrapped around her, head to toe.. the pink tassels that trim her blanket fall around her face, and when I look at her I cannot help but smile.  I never realized how entertaining it was to watch her smash that ham and cheese into her mouth.  When she noticed that I was watching her she started giggling.  This huge smile, it makes her nose wrinkle and her dimples show, then she throws back her head and lets out this massive chuckle.  I cannot help but laugh with her.  It's contagious, she is contagious.

  Kendall was a fantastic baby.  She was just very content.  One of my most vivid memories of her as a baby was when she was only three weeks old.  She had woken up for a midnight feeding and there I sat with her all bundled up watching her suck down that bottle.  I dozed off with her in my arms and as my arms relaxed and released her just a bit, I startled awake.  My heart pounding, I could have dropped my baby.   I looked down at her to see if she was sleeping or if my reaction had woken her up and there she lay in my lap.  Wide awake, which was fine, but what scared the living hell out of me was that she was staring at me and she was smiling so big that I could see her gums. I am sorry, but there is nothing normal about a three week old wide eyed and bushy tailed baby smiling at you for more the a few seconds.  It's scary.. it was actually terrifying to me.  It was not gas, because as I set her down in the middle of the living room and left her lay there on the floor and backed up out of the room, she continued to lay there and watch me and smile at me.  I thought she was possessed.  I mean seriously, what does a freekin three week old have to smile about!?   I waited for her to stop smiling then walked back into the living room and I put her in her crib.. and went to bed.  I was so freaked out.  

    The first time Kendall and I had our first little disagreement was when  she was a one and a half year old.  She would not take a nap and I was beyond frustrated.  I remember standing over her yelling at her to get back in her room and go to bed... blah blah blah..  and she clenched her fists.. and just started yelling back..  but the thing is she couldn't talk yet, like I said she was only one and a half.  But she formed this babbling language for that moment and let me have it. I was speechless.  It was a fantastic slap in the face.  I knew I sounded exactly the same to her as she sounded to me.  This is when I scooped her up and loved her and cuddled her.  She went to bed after that.  No argument.  Kendall has always been able to get her point across. Whether she's been three weeks old or three years old.  She's a bundle of emotion. 

   Kendall is eccentric, she is expressive.  She has this wild sense of style that I absolutely love. She calls all her shoes, "glath thlipperthz" (glass slippers) and she loves her new fairy costume. She loves make up and cinderella, and dancing.  Kendall changes her shirt at LEAST six times a day and each time she does, she comes to me and does a twirl, nearly landing on her bottom.   Kendall only wears pants that are "the pink" and she loves any type of chocolate there is out there.  She calls herself "printheth"(princess) and refuses to have her hair brushed with out a fight. 

   I celebrate Kendall tonight.  For the her freedom of dress... her freedom of opinion,  for her free little spirit.  I celebrate her brother for putting up with her.  I am in awe of these tiny people I call my children and I celebrate the One who gave them to me.  

    

   

   

 

  

  

What would you rather be?

Song Suggestion:  Batman Soundtrack 

  I am busy in the kitchen making dinner.  I have pots and pans piled high in the sink, there are three different dishes cooking at once and they all must be tended to, so as not not fry the living crap out of them, when my son Cole walks in the kitchen.  He leans himself against the counter on the opposite side of wear I am standing.  

  "Mom, what would you rather be, a seagull or a penguin?"  he asks.

  I know the answer right away..  "Duh, a seagull."  

  "Why?"  He asks.

  "Have you seen that documentary on a penguins life?!!"    "Good lord I would rather be a turd."   I answer

  No offense to this magnificent bird,  but man! Have you seen what they have to do to procreate?  NO THANK YOU.  I love my children.. but geesh I am not sure I would do what those creatures have to do just to have offspring.  If you haven't seen March of the Penguins.  Go out and get it.. you will understand.

   Anyway Cole laughs.. and then asks me..   "So then.. which would you rather be a turd sandwich or a snotty Kleenex?"  

"Hmm that's a tough one..."  I pretend to ponder on this for awhile, then answer,  "Most definitely a turd sandwich."

  This is when he gets hysterical.   "WHAT, WHY?!"  he asks.

"I can handle turds.. but snotty boogers make me gag."  I reply.

 Now I turn the tables on him to get away from the turds and boogers talk... "What would you rather be, Superman or Batman?"

  "Superman hands down!"  He says.  "Superman has powers.. Batman doesn't he is just a really, really strong dude who wears a mask and armor."  

 

  "Yea, but in the movies it always seems like Batman gets all the pretty ladies."  I tell Cole.

He pauses for a second, then this mischievous little grin spreads across his face.. the one I saw when he was a baby and knew he was going to be trouble.  The one I see now.. and know he's gonna be trouble.

 

 "Did I say Superman??  I meant Batman."  he says.      Then he gives me a high-five.

 

Find Peace

Song Suggestion:  Cry out to Jesus by Third Day

I found myself sitting in Trinity Church this week Thursday. It was 7:00 p.m. an unusual time for a funeral. Funerals that I've been to, not that there are many I've been to thankfully, have been during the day. So this one was a little different.

As I sat in the sanctuary before the service began I noticed the Christmas decorations. It took me back to almost 7 years ago.. Dec 8. Our wedding. The church is decorated, greens are hung in the stain glass windows just like every year.. the wreath is prominently displayed and the 10 foot Christmas tree is looking lovely. It is beautiful.. I remembered why I had my wedding in December, because I love Christmas so much. I love the memories of Christmas.

Then I zone back in to the present. The hear. The now. The raw and the gritty. I felt guilty being there in the presence of such pain.. and not feeling the same sadness that almost everyone who knew him was feeling.

I glanced around the room. My eyes kept getting caught on this particular couple that was sitting a few rows in front of me. As they watched the slide show of this young man.. she would smile and look over at her husband and try to find humor in some of the silly pictures that were left for us to enjoy of him. She was uncomfortable. He would return the smile.. then her attention would turn back to the slide show. His jaw line would shake. He tried to close his hand over his mouth to wipe the emotion away, only to find himself wiping the tears that would drip over his hands away. I am not sure if she even noticed. I watched as he struggled and at one point his hands were even shaking. I assumed it was a close friend.

I sat there, with my best friend, and said a silent prayer for her. Thanking God that she was right there next to me, and I still had her. That she was living and breathing beside me. I said a silent vow to myself that if she dies before me.. I will stand up in front of a million people if I have to, in honor of her, so that I could tell everyone that she was an amazing woman. Funerals make you think about this kind of stuff.

After the funeral my friend and I got to talk with this young man's sister... one of the three he had. We graduated with her. I hugged her. The embrace. The... 'thank you for coming, I am putting on this.. 'I am strong and OK face'... now please go away, embrace'. It was familiar. Even two years after my Dad has been gone. Then I glanced over at her mom. The Mother who just lost her 24 year old son, her only son and I stared. I watched the stream of people who stood there uncomfortably. Waiting to give their condolences to her.

I watched her as she took deep breaths, and smiled bravely.. she even managed to laugh with a few people. I watched her as they walked away.. and the tears just kept coming. I am sure she probably wanted to get out of there. To go somewhere alone and away, so that she can cry. For what is gone. For what is not coming back. To grieve without onlookers.

It took me to a moment that I have shoved far back in my memory, of the morning my dad died. I walked down stairs in the basement to find my Mom leaning over the washing machine, sobbing. I stood very still in the doorway and watched her for a moment.. she was hunched over my Dad's flannel pajamas, folding them one last time. When she realized I was there she was startled.

"I never realized how much I would miss him." she said still sobbing.

I hugged her. She smiled, attempting to keep the emotions at bay. I never said anything. There are no words of wisdom to give a grieving widow who just lost her husband. I gave her a kleenex and we walked upstairs to the crowd of family and friends and we simultaneously hovered about in a semi-coherent state. Funerals bring back vivid memories.

I question God's timing in things. I question why a 24 year old man, who has the rest of his life ahead of him had to die. I know it's never a good time to lose someone. But I still question. Why now? Before the holidays.. why this season has to be marked with such sadness for some. I don't understand it. But there is this underlying faith that has enveloped me. A peace that has told me it's not up to me. It's up to Him. That God has it under control. That it's not up to me to dissect life's traumas and figure out why.

I am going to choose to appreciate Christmas and the memories. I am appreciating what I still have.. what can be taken away from me tonight, tomorrow.. in a month or a year from now. I am trusting in Jeremiah 29:11.. that God has a plan for us to prosper.. No matter what life throws at us. Today I will allow a few moments to myself to feel. To feel sad and angry. But I will not waist anymore time on this, then those few moments.