3 Birthday Parties and a Sleepover

Okay, so the title is a little nod to the "Four Weddings and a Funeral" title-ha.

Party #1: Saturday: Pump It Up

Party #2: Later on Saturday: Houston Scuba Academy

Followed by a sleepover at the birthday girl's house for Helen

Party #3: Sunday: Palace Bowling Lanes

Add church on Sunday, my night out with a friend to see "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo," Daron donating platelets on Saturday, and Daron finishing the new plumbing for the shower we're remodeling. Whew! What a weekend! Thank goodness there's nothing on next weekend's calendar...

On Sibling Affection

This morning, Daisy woke up and moved from her bed to Daron's recliner. After snuggling with me in my bed for a few minutes, fixing the coffee, and starting her breakfast, Helen climbed on top to give Daisy a snuggle.

If your kids are younger than 7, or just not as insanely independent as Helen, then the idea that she fixed the coffee and made her breakfast may sound quite impressive. But if you have now, or have ever had, more than one kid in your house, you should know that voluntarily hugging your little sister is the most shocking thing that happened this morning!

On Meanness

Maybe it is just me, but I am very naive when it comes to the kindness (or lack thereof) of children. I know there is the "Mine!" stage and the "I'll be your friend if you give me that ____" stage, but I was unprepared for the outright meanness stage. That is, the meanness of children to other children. (Siblings excluded of course.) This year, I have heard stories from Helen of kids calling other kids fat, unpopular, and ugly; forbidding a boyfriend (yeah-that's right-I said boyfriend!) from playing with other girls; hitting; cursing; kissing; it just goes on and on. The innocence is lost it seems.

Now, my daughter is far, far from perfect. And of course, she is not always nice. But she is also unconcerned by the perfectness of one's hair or the size of her waistline or the notion that anything can be posted on Facebook. She watches cartoons, not sitcoms with teenagers and tweens kissing. She thinks "stupid" is a bad word that one should never say. She is only 7.

Thank goodness, her individuality will take nothing short of a steamroller to suppress (I'll admit that I've tried a time or two). The girl has a sense of self that most adult women would kill for, but her innocence cannot be regained.

On Inspiration

I am in a book club with some other moms- super fun and has gotten me reading regularly again. I love it. The book for March (which I have not read yet-especially since I haven't read February's- is "The Happiness Project" by Gretchen Rubin). I visited her website and watched a 1-minute video titled, "The Years are Short." (www.happiness-project.com) The video shows Gretchen and her daughter and a little story about riding the bus. The point of the video is that in the maddeningly crazy, exhausting years of motherhood: The Days are Long, but the Years are Short. It is very poignant and spot on. If ever there were a time for not being able to see the forest for the trees, it is when picking up the balled up socks and backpack from the kitchen floor (again), explaining why it is necessary to brush one's hair (again), fixing the PB&J just the right way (again),... But here's to my view across the lunch table every day.

Kindergarten starts in the fall.

The days are long, but the years are short.

On Documentation

So I have new found enthusiasm (I hope) to restart my blog. I have floundered over the recent months. When I began my first blog, it was to document our journey to China to get Helen more than 5 years ago and I kept at it (mostly) faithfully for 3 years, encompassing also our trip to Vietnam to adopt Daisy. Two years ago, I had that blog printed into a book and started this blog to mark a change in our status. A family that had finally been made whole and complete.

But in the ensuing years that now included 2 small children, my life at home became busy, erratic and, let's face it, normal. I began to post to the blog less and less and wonder who in the world would want to read about missing teeth, another year's Halloween costumes, and yet another trip to the zoo. This is not meant to

diminish the significance of my adoring fans (are you there mom?), but I basically lost my motivation.

I have felt very bad about it though. I love the blog book I have. Reading the stories of our days overseas and the comments of all the readers brings me to tears. every. time. It is a documentation of our lives, however small. It is a recorded memory. It is our history. It is us.

My grandmother. My daughter. My parent's home. Christmas 2011.

How's that for irreplaceable documentation?