My Mini Me

Dear Em,
From the moment you were born, Daddy & I have always seen you as a wonderful mix of the two of us. You have my cheeks but his long torso. You have the shape of Daddy's eyes but my wide feet. Daddy's eyes are blue & mine are brown. Your eyes are a greenish hazel. As children, Daddy had bright blonde hair & my hair was brown. Your hair is a beautiful, dirty blonde- a mix of both of us!

I love seeing the resemblance when I look at pictures of me as a child & compare them to what you look like right now. You are so my child. Sometimes, you even talk similarly.

On the other hand, you have a sense of style that is all your own. Still, sometimes you love to match your mom. When I try on clothes at a store, you love to try on the same ones.

When we were in New Hampshire, I realized we had a couple shirts that were similar. I declared it twins day, & you were thrilled to play along...even if there was no pink to be had in either of the outfits. We hiked around New Hampshire in sweaters with blue & white stripes. You held my hand throughout most of the day, & I smiled as I looked down at my mini-me.

That night we changed into comfy, grey sweatpants & bright orange shirts. Again, you squealed with delight that we got to be "twins!"

Having a mini-me is one of the most freaking fun things in the whole world, & I love how much you beam when I refer to you as my mini-me. I know there will come a day when you don't think I'm the most amazing woman in the world. I'm sure there will be a time when you don't want to dress or look anything like me. For now, I'm just going to relish this time. I'm going to enjoy every moment of holding hands with my mini-me.

I love you so,

Mommy

You want to be a dress designer

Dear Em,
I remember when you weren't quite two & your teachers asked you what you wanted to be when you grew up. Other classmates wanted to be dinosaurs & firemen. You didn't know. Your teachers asked you what Mommy & Daddy did for work. "They go to work & then they pick me up from school," you said exasperated (I think it's kind of tough to explain insurance adjusting & a sales consulting to a 1 & 1/2 year old).

Years passed & you seemed to nail down what you wanted to be, a princess, of course. I explained to you that the only way you could be a princess is if you married a prince. While not impossible it could be really tough, especially because we don't have any princes in the USA.

Gradually, you realized that there were so many other things you wanted to be or do. With princessing taking up so much of your time, it would be challenging to also have 26 kids & be a teacher & run a dance studio & be an artist. It's 2015. Girls can have & be & do it all, but you also have to be practical. A person can only do so much.

You've somewhat put your dreams of being a princess on the back burner, & while you still want to be so many things, there is one front runner that has emerged. You want to be a dress designer. You will spend hours drawing dresses along with accessories like crowns & necklaces & capes. It's incredibly adorable & also incredibly inspiring to watch a little five year old (who looks more & more grown up every day) with big dreams.

Keep dreaming big, little girl. Knowing you, there will be nothing in life you can't do if you set your mind to it.

I love you so,

Mommy

Your First (and, God willing, hopefully last) Cast

Dear Em,
We're back. I hadn't planned to take a break from the blog for most of the month of July, but we've been a little busy. Our house is kind of like a bed & breakfast with a revolving door of fun & amazing visitors during the summertime. We celebrated an unexpected & little bit of a crazy Independence Day. Then work got super busy, & I left for an impromptu week-long work trip in Las Vegas. I came home to your kisses & hugs & this...

Yup, that's you getting an X-ray of your broken ankle. Sigh.

Needless to say, I have lots of catching up to do in my letters to you. I'll start with the biggest & most stressful news of this month. You have your first- & (*crossing my fingers*) hopefully last- cast. While you just got your cast a few days ago, the problem actually started on the 4th of July. 

You were flying high on candy & desserts, a lack of sleep, & the sheer happiness of having lots of littles to run around & play with. You sprinted up our cornhole board, & as you did your foot fell in the hole. Your body continued to fly in one direction while your ankle in the hole moved in the opposite direction. 

I didn't see it. Not realizing the extent of what happened to your leg, I turned to you in the aftermath & scolded you for walking ("I wasn't walking, Mom. I was running," you corrected me) on the cornhole board after I've asked you at least 57,000 times not to do so. In hindsight, you had probably just broken your ankle & a better parent would have done a little more consoling before starting an "I told you not to" tirade. 

Being the accident prone but tough little girl you are, you shrugged it off & told us you were fine two minutes after the cornhole incident...bumps & bruises & all. Also in hindsight, letting you jump on the trampoline 20 minutes later was probably a poor parenting choice. Either A. you had already broken your ankle during the cornhole incident & rolling your ankle on the trampoline probably just added to your injury or B. You hadn't yet broken your ankle but the number you did to it on the trampoline sealed the deal. 

Anyway, because I'm a superior parent, our night ended with me screaming "I don't understand why you can't stop whining & just be happy," to my child who I thought was just severely overtired but in reality was suffering from a broken ankle. Sigh.

Your ankle was swollen the next day, but you were able to put some pressure on it. We thought maybe it was just a sprain & decided we would get it looked at if it got any worse. The next week you seemed to be doing fine. You were mostly cooped up inside because of rain, but we went for a walk at the wall & everything seemed to be in working order. I mostly forgot about the whole thing.

I went away for my work trip. Daddy mentioned to me that you had a little limp on the phone one day. In my sleep deprived/work stressed/in a different time-zone state, the limp hardly registered on my radar (I just want to take a moment to interject- As a mom, there are some days I feel like I totally rocked parenting. Most days there are highs & lows. Then there are the days I feel like I totally sucked on all parenting fronts. This whole incident truly falls in the "I suck at everything" bucket. When I think of all the ways I failed you during this time, I am mortified). I told Daddy to watch out for your limp, & when it didn't come up again, I mostly forgot about it.

I returned home from my trip at 1am on Saturday morning & went to a friend's wedding later that afternoon. Most of the time we spent together that day was in my bed with me in a semi-coma state. I showered you with souvenirs & you said nothing about your ankle. 

So, it wasn't until Sunday (more than 2 weeks after you injured your ankle) that I noticed you were walking funny. You looked like you were bow-legged, walking all the way on the side of your foot with a severe limp. I asked you why you were walking like that & you gave me a "what do you mean" look. "Does it hurt?" "No." "Where does it hurt?" "I'm fine."

I made an appointment with your pediatrician the next afternoon. "I'm not injured," you told him as you limped out of the examining room. Laughing at you, he sent us to get X-Rays. While waiting for your X-Rays, you & I sifted through a Highlights magazine. You got the tiniest cut as you turned through the pages. You squeezed the tiny cut until you could see an even tinier amount of blood. I smiled to myself. My tough & fiesty little daughter had likely been walking around on a broken ankle for over two weeks, but a paper cut was going to bring her down.

When your pediatrician got the X-Ray results, he told us it was time to call an orthopedist. After calling 15 of them, I thanked God when we got an appointment the next morning (the first two I called were booked up until August & January respectively). The PA we saw confirmed that you had a small fracture & would need a cast. Luckily, kids heal super fast, & you should only have to wear it for 2 weeks. 

This was when you hit your breaking point. You had suffered through walking on a broken ankle for over two weeks without a complaint, but the clunky cast & ugly black boot were too much for you. The fact that you got a pink, waterproof cast did little to console you. You didn't want them, & you certainly didn't want to be seen in them. "I'm already different enough. I don't want to be different with a cast too," you whimpered about the fear of other kids seeing you in your cast.

My heart was broken. I had scolded you & overlooked your injury. You had suffered in silence for over two weeks. Seeing your disappointment in the cast was too much for me to bear. I was determined to make your cast at least as fashionably painless as possible. On the way home I picked up multicolored sharpies, puffy paints, & rhinestones. You let me be the very first to sign your cast, followed by Daddy, Nonnie, Charlie (we wrote in his name & paw print), & Trey (he sent us his signature & I tried to replicate it as closely as possible). You brightened up a little bit at the sight of the words & pictures on your cast.

 
When you went to sleep I got to work covering your boot in colorful rainbows, clouds, sunshines, hearts, flowers, polka dots, & xoxos. You woke up super early the next morning, excited to see the results. 

You still don't love your cast. It's clunky & hard to maneuver. It doesn't allow you to rock sparkly heals during dress-up. But you're super tough. You told everyone at story time yesterday that you just twisted your ankle (they responded with "I think you may have done a little more than that") as the kids oooohed & awed over your cast. You're still running & swinging & bouncing...just at a little bit of a slower pace. When we go for our neighborhood walks, we pull you around in the wagon. You & your cast will never be bestbuds, but like most things you're taking it all with fiercness & an adorable smile. 

I'm so sorry that I let you down, little girl. I do hope that you will forgive me, because you can never know how much my heart has broken for you over the past couple days. Lucky for me, your smiles have filled my heart right back up.

I love you so,
Mommy

Dance Recital 2015

Dear Em,
After 2 weeks of vacation, we're still transitioning back into reality. I plan to post about mine & Daddy's European adventure & your fantastic visit with Grandma & Papa. Today, however, I want to post about an event that we made it home just in time to celebrate: your dance recital.

This was your second year of dance, & you love it. In fact, this year you took a longer dance class & had two dances to perform in the recital. You turned five just in time that you could share the same dance class as your best friend, S. Girls being girls, sometimes the two of you would tumble out of your class in tears, but mostly you loved sharing your love of dance with the girl you love most in the world.

Still on Mediterranean time, I had woken up at 3am the day of your dance recital. I prayed I would be able to be alert & present for your special day. You were so excited to get all dressed up for your special event. I curled your hair before putting it up in a pony tail.

"Mom, we have to wear eye make-up, blush, & lipstick," you excitedly announced. Putting make-up on children is not a strength of mine, & yet I thought it would be a good idea to go one step further this year & add eyeliner. As it turns out, that was a very bad idea. It smudged everywhere & you looked like more of a zombie than a dancer. We basically had to wash everything off & start over. There were a few tears & a lot of frustration. "Mom, Miss Andrea actually said we only have to put on eye make-up, blush, & lipstick if we want to. We don't have to," you whimpered. The thrill of wearing make-up had obviously faded away for you.

We finished getting you ready just in time, but I had to squeeze in a few photos- knowing if we didn't capture them in that moment, we never would. Daddy is used to my tardiness & made me a sandwich, got as much packed into the car as he could, & didn't look too aggravated that I was running late...again.

I brought you to the room where you & your class would wait & got a little choked up seeing my ballerina with all of the other ballerinas. How had a year passed so quickly? How were we already at your second dance recital? How is it that my ballerina is growing up so quickly?

I blinked back tears, gave you kisses & hugs, & told you to do your best & have fun. I was already so incredibly proud of you, my beautiful ballerina. Then I left you to take my seat in the audience. This year's recital theme was "dancing Through the Decades." Your ballet dance, to the song I Want to Hold your Hand, was one of the first. Your little class looked so stinkin' cute standing on stage together, & you were the ballerina all the way to the right.

At one point in the dance, your class did a line of ballet poses. The poses rippled down the line, starting with the girl all the way to the left & ending with you. However, when it came your time to get into your pose position, each & every girl was in their graceful ballet poses...& you were standing with a thumbs up & big smile on your face. Ha!

Your next & final dance came toward the end of the recital. You girls came out in a black, sequined costumes that acted like disco balls when light caught the sequins. You performed a tap number to the song Turn the Beat Around. I smiled, watching you. You looked like you were having so much fun. I'm so glad that you've found something that you love, & hope you will stick with it for as long as you love it.

There was a finale with the whole dance company. You smiled & waved at the audience. To your delight, a pop of confetti covered the stage. I laughed as I found you back at the classroom after the finale. Most of your class was packed up to go & standing in line waiting for their parents. You & S looked like you had moved in. You were sitting in chairs, eating snacks. Your costumes & other belongings were strewn across the floor. I hugged you both. I was so proud of my silly, beautiful, amazing little dancers.

You left the middle school where you had performed to join your many fans waiting outside. Grandma & Papa were there with S's parents & Grandma. You & S both held double bouquets as you posed for the paparazzi pictures before we headed to a local restaurant to celebrate.

I want you to know how incredibly proud I am of you. You worked on something for months, never giving up. You put it all out there in front of everyone & did your very best...in a style that was all your own. You absolutely dazzle me, little girl.

I love you so,
Mommy

Throwback Thanksgiving

Dear Em,
This was you on your very first Thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure you only ate mashed potatoes but then ate a whole slice of carrot cake for dessert (some things don't really change). Look at those toes! I just want to eat them up.

Oh & just for funsies, here you are shopping on Black Friday that year. What can I say? You have always done everything in style.

We have so much to be thankful for today & every day. Wishing our friends & family near & far a Happy Thanksgiving. 

I love you so,

Mommy

Throwback Thursday: Overalls

Dear Em,
I never realized how amazing overalls were until there was you. You have always been the cutest thing I've ever seen (I know, I'm slightly biased), but when we put your baby legs into some overalls, I was sure cuteness had reached a whole new level. So stinkin' cute!

But then potty training came along. The overalls would have been too tough for you to take off & put on back then. The possibility of no longer changing your diapers won out against the extreme cuteness of overalls. I tearfully said goodbye & put away what I thought would be your very last pair of overalls.

But then I picked up a cheap pair of overalls shorts for Hickfest this summer. They were basically going to be used as a costume, & I figured I could help you take them off & on if it was only for one day. But then you did something amazing. You showed me how you can take them off & put them back on all by yourself.

You guys, our overall days were back on!

Today is Grandfriends day at school, the perfect occasion to unveil you in your new pair of overalls. The adorableness was almost too much for me to take this morning. You kind of rolled your eyes at me. You wold much rather be wearing a dress or a skirt or a ballerina tutu. 

I know I was being kind of ridiculous. It's just that each stage goes by so very quickly (& yes, I consider overall-wearing a stage). I'm always forced to gear up for the next stage of your childhood before I'm ready to say goodbye to the last ever fleeting stage (except for in the case of potty training, we were way ready for that). Having an only child, I'm not naive to the fact that once we move on, we never go back. So, if you could just give me my overall obsession...for a few more years at least...so that I can savor every last adorable moment of my little one in overalls while she's still little- well, that would be amazing.

I love you so,

Mommy

Throwback Thursday: Cleaning Out the Closet

Dear Em,
The funny thing about time is that the future gives you things to look forward (like Daddy can't wait to take you to Disney), but the past is hard to let go of...because you never get those moments back (I would give just about anything for another day with my Grandma). I've loved you at every stage (even the tantruming threes). In fact, life has gotten much easier with each new stage (No tears were shed over saying goodbye to diapers). Still, I sometimes miss the precious moments of your younger years (like when you used to ask to watch "Wa-Why").

This is why cleaning out your closet is one of my least favorite things in the world. Every year I have to do it at least twice. I loathe swapping out summer clothes for winter & vise versa. You have always had more than enough clothes, & it takes FOREVER. More than that (& one of the reasons it takes me forever), it's really hard for me to say goodbye to your outfits & the size you once were. It's a glaring reminder of how quickly you're growing up. I can't help but remember the precious moments we had in each & every little outfit (like the beautiful day you wore this one outfit to the beach & laughed & giggled as you splashed in the waves & then cried because you were soaked & we wrapped you up in my sweatshirt & went out for ice cream...what do you mean you will never wear THAT outfit again?!).

This picture was taken one of the very first times I cleaned out your closet in October 2010. You were a little older than 9 months old. You sweetly hung out with me while I worked, making an even bigger mess of it all.

It's lucky I wasn't in the photo, because my face was likely red & puffy from crying. You had swiftly grown out of all your adorable newborn clothes. I blinked & you were too big for your 3 month, 6 month & even 9 months clothes. Time was going by in warp speed. I mean, you were already walking. Me? I would have been happy to snuggle & rock my baby girl for the next 42 years.

Time really hasn't slowed down since. With passing closet cleanings we've said goodbye to overalls & footie pajamas. We've said goodbye to first day of school outfits & Halloween costumes. At least two times a year I'm forced to come to terms with how much of a young lady you're becoming. For a while I stubbornly kept EVERYTHING, but looking at the piles of clothes you were never going to wear again was tougher for me than letting it go. We finally said our goodbye to most of your baby clothes during Operation Organize House this summer (you actually had a hard time letting go at the yard sale, asking me what your babies would someday wear...don't worry, I've kept a few of our favorite items in each size).

I can't help but think it's going to be much too soon when we clean out your closet so you can take your clothing to college. It's a little hard for me to take sometimes. So if you ever find me crying in the fetal position in a pile of your closet clothes, a little Emma snuggle might go a long way. Maybe a little wine would go a long way too.

I love you so,
Mommy

Oh yes it's 80s night...with a photo booth

Dear Em,
I was a child of the 80s. I grew up rocking to Bon Jovi, Michael Jackson, & Madonna. I loved the movies Big, Flight of the Navigator, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, & Karate Kid. I wore neon colors, jean jackets, & side pony tails.

Of course now I look back at the fashion choices & want to die laugh, but sometimes it's fun to bring back the embarrassing fashion choices (& laughter) just for one night (not for entire seasons like the fashion industry seems to want to do right now). This past weekend we threw a bachelorette party for one of my dearest friends, & we decided to bring back the decade that we were born in...just for one night. Because 80s night couldn't possibly be complete without a photo booth, I put a little something together.

I used:
- 2 1/2 yards of heavy white fabric
- Neon pink, yellow, & orange puffy paint
- A paint brush
- 3 paper plates

I laid the white fabric out on my lawn outside. Next I poured a big glob of pink puffy paint on a paper plate. I mushed my paint brush around the paint to completely saturate the entire brush. Then with flicks of my wrist, I splattered the paint all over the white fabric until the paint brush didn't have enough paint to make anymore splatters. I repeated with the other two colors. It took me less than 15 minutes to complete the whole project (thank goodness I wasn't wearing shoes, because my feet were also splattered with paint by the end).

With this particular photo booth, everyone mostly brought their own props. There were neon & lace leggings. There were jelly bracelets. There were head & wrist bands. There were neon sunglasses & mesh gloves. My favorite was the neon colored fanny pack. The neon splatters were the perfect backdrop as we captured these precious moments.

Ha! It was such a fun & ridiculously hilarious night. I loved reliving the 80s, just for a little while. And if we ever decide we need to relive it again...I have a photo booth for that.

I love you so,

Mommy