The Super Awesome, Amazing, Livy is 3

Olivia is three.  Well, she turned three almost a month ago but I can't forget it because she won't let me.  She just recently potty trained and so she is a big girl and a big deal.  If I ask her why she did this or that the response is often simple, "Because I three!"

"Olivia! Why did you paint your nails on the bathroom counter!"
"Because I three!"

"Mommy, I want to go to school." she says.
"You're not old enough yet." I respond.
"But I three!" she cries.

Olivia is at that funny age, one of my favorite ages, where everything she says cracks me up but she is also constantly testing the limits of everything. What sets Olivia apart is her self-view: she is a very confident child who praises herself for her accomplishments.  It's pretty funny.

"I'm done going potty. Good job super, amazzzzing Livy!" She says to herself running out of the bathroom like a superhero.
Or upon completion of a task she exclaims, "Olivia saves the day!"

There is no shortage of drama with this one. In fact, I'm pretty sure there is a constant musical going on in her head.  She loves show tunes and requests demands I play them every time we are in the car. She loves "Annie" and all things Disney.

Her recent trip to Disneyland was about as magical as it can be for a three-year-old.  She practically lives out these movies everyday so getting to meet all the characters was a real treat.

Oh, dear Olivia, Mommy and Daddy are crazy about you.  Not just because you are a funny three-year-old but because we love seeing you become the woman God created you to be.  We love all the things that are uniquely you.

Lord of the Flies- Part 2 of the Barbarian Chronicles

(While part 1 chronicled the life long obsession of her husband's animal kills, part 2 zones in on Destiny's own need for blood... duh nu nu!)

Still. Not a movement, not a blink.  I sat there motionless, without feeling or remorse.  I live in a land of no screens and many horses, a recipe for disaster. The flies are everywhere. Some may think me a barbarian, but it's just a way of life.  Survival, if you will.  I don't even think the fly saw it coming.  My pink swatter of choice came down with such force the dead fly flew across the room and into a bowl.

"3!" I cried. My son cheered. I was proud.  I had passed on a heritage I knew he would not part from.  It's in his blood- The ruthless and relentless hunt for the blood of the flies.  "Remember your record?" he asked with excitement. Of course I remembered.  How Could I forget?

 "21," I said with a smile.

"I don't think you're gonna break any records today, " he said almost in a challenge.

SMACK! BAM! "4...5!" I said as I snuffed the life from my foe. "We will see about that."

They may be fast, they might have the moves, but they haven't met: The Lord of the Flies!

Dear Forest Animals,

Dear Forest Animals (especially the families of Bambi and Thumper),

I know you are probably still in shock at the loss of Thumper.  Especially after loosing Bambi just months ago.  I don't know if this letter will even make much of a difference coming from the wife of the man that slaughtered your furry family.  But I must at least try.

I should have seen the red flags years ago.  I specifically remember before our wedding vows, hearing the story of his teenage years and how one bright and unsuspecting summer day, there was an "accident" involving a lawn mower and a turtle.  Little did I know it was the start of something sinister.

Years later, a bunny rabbit and her babies were enjoying the new life spring brings.  Laying out under a pile of grass, staying warm, the bunnies again had no idea their lives would soon change forever. With the same weapon of destruction, the vicious blades of the mower spun rapidly toward their little home.  The sound would have drowned out any screams the babies could have made. Before they knew it, the big, red machine was recklessly over them and all they could do was duck and cover.  When it was all said and done, one bunny was bleeding, the others forever traumatized.

Here's the thing, little baby bunnies, once precious animal blood has been shed, there is a thirst for more.  The desire may lay dormant for months, even years... But it does come back.

Last year, after a day of frolicking through the meadows and quiet drinks by the stream, Bambi took an evening stroll.  She quickly crossed the street, only to be met with a beastly vehicle and bright lights.  Hopefully it was quick and the bright lights of the car were forever replaced with the shining light of deer heaven.  But perhaps Bambi's death was not quite so disturbing as the comments made by the man just shortly after the atrocity, "What kind of animal runs right in front of a car?" ...I kid you not.  I can only hope the pain lies somewhere deep inside.

Flash forward to last night.  While lying in bed, the perpetrator says rather casually and without concern, "I hit a rabbit tonight." Ummm, okay. Let's rewind, sir.  "What?!" I said in shock and disbelief, "you killed a rabbit?" and without skipping a beat he said, "He zigged when he should of zagged."

So, there you have it forest creatures. I want to say it will never happen again.  I want to say there's a morsel of good left in this world.  But I cannot.  All  I can do is leave you with this stern warning: Keep your loved ones close.

Your Friend,

The Wife

9X2

My oldest child will be 9 in three months.  No biggie.  It's not like 10- the double digit birthday, or 13- the teenage birthday, or even 16- the birthday where you lie to your kid and tell him they changed the law and you now have to be 21 to get your driver's license.  Nope, just 9... Except it's not just 9.

It's 9!!! I had a revelation the other day.  My mad math skills made me quickly realize that 9 is half of 18.  Still not seeing it? It means my son has likely spent half his years living under my roof.  He's left babyhood, toddlerhood and little boyhood in his dust and is simply "boy."  He's the boy formerly known as "my baby."  One foot out the door, the other foot soon to grow man hair.  His first half may have been filled with Thomas the Train, Transformers, and Legos but what will this second half bring? Independence, braces, girls, puberty (say it ain't so), and... probably still more Legos.

I know he's still young and a little kid in so many ways.  However, I have the inside scoop on "blinking" and I can tell you it's highly over-rated.  You see, I blinked and he started walking.  I blinked and he started school.  I blinked and he grew adult teeth.  So I just know these next milestones are quick blinks away.

His soft, undamaged kisses will be replaced with scratchy quick pecks and hugs that require me to reach my arms up instead of down.  His sweet little boy voice will turn to crackly out of tune sounds that evolve into baritone-like confidence... But it will still be him.  He will still be the guy who can cause my heart to feel both the greatest joys and worst fears. He will always be my baby and my boy.  And who knows, maybe when I say, "I love you," he will learn to say more than "Okay," or "I love you," as monotone as possible with his eyes rolling.  Maybe age and maturity will bring non-coerced responses and heart-felt thanks.  Maybe. But for now I'll grab a hold of 9 with all my might and savor every moment, every triumph, every life lesson, and make this "second half" a great game and a strong finish.

Stay Together, Forever

From my earliest memories I remember adoring my sister.  I wanted to dress like her, be friends with her friends, talk like her, etc.. I still love and adore her. I dream of being neighbors in heaven.  She knows more about me than anyone else.  She knows and understands my very foundation. We don't agree on everything and we haven't always gotten along (picture little sister "borrowing" older sister's clothes because she wants to be like her) but even in our worst of teenage sister fighting, I knew she loved me.  I caught glimpses of that when my 6th grade boyfriend broke up with me and proceeded to walk in my house and ask my sister to the dance.  She said no. Sister love.  Or when I got beat up walking home from church and my sister was so mad she wanted to avenge me. Sister love. Or when she gave me my first cigarette. Sister devil.  No one is perfect.

There were times we got along and times we fought, like all siblings.  But I remember the day we "clicked."  I was probably 12 or 13 years old and my sister not far ahead of me. We were watching a movie.  I don't remember which movie but I remember we liked it.  At the end of the movie we started saying, "Stay together, forever," rather sing-songy and stretched our shirts out over our knees as we rocked back and forth to our newfound chant.  We knew that we would be together forever.

For these reasons I am beyond gitty for my four girls.  They get to grow up making memories they will cherish forever... times 4!  They will inevitably fight but they will be there for each other through the joys and heartbreak of life. And I just feel so blessed I have a first class ticket to the show.  I love seeing them come up with handshakes and scream and giggle when they're supposed to be sleeping (most of the time).  I love the fight that comes out of them when another is being wronged.  I look forward to what their future holds, my Little Women.

So my sweet girls, cherish each other.  You're all in for the long haul.  Stay together, forever. 

Lend Me Your Ear

Baby snorting, Baby breathing. "Whaaaa!" Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee.
Pitter-patter, pitter-patter, "I hung-gy!" Sleepless groan. Cupboards open.
 Pitter-patter, pitter- patter, Pitter-Patter, PITTER-PATTER! "We're hungry!" Clang, clang-slurp, clang, clang-slurp, clang, clang-slurp. Cupboards close.
Pitter.....Patter, Boy voice, "Mom... I'm hungry." ...Cupboards open. ...Clang.....clang.....slurp. Cupboards close.
Screams of laughter...louder screams of laughter...blood-curdling screams of pain! "Mommy!  Sissy pushed me!!!!"
 baby giggle? Baby Giggle!  Baby cry? Baby cry. Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle- breatheeee. Screams???! "Don't scream like that. I though you were hurt!"
Water drops falling from the shower. Sigh of relief... BANG! BANG! On the door, baby! BANG! BANG! on the door! "Say, What?!"
"Mommmmmmyyyyyy!"
"I'll be right out!"
 Door creeks, shower curtain rustles. "Mommy, you wat."
"What?"
"You wat."
"Huh?"
"You Waaaaaat!"
"...oh, wet. Yes, Mommy is wet." Towel friction. Baby crying. Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee.
Piano key bashing, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, piano key note C, PIANO KEY NOTE C!!!! "No more piano right now, please."
"Mommy, we're hungry." cling, clang, cling, clang. faucet on, faucet off.
"Want to play outside?" sounds of glee.
Silence...
 "Wahhhh!" Guzzle, guzzle-breatheee, guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee.
Door flying open, door slamming closed.  Crayons scratching paper. humming turned to song. "Jesus wuvs me, Yes, Jesus wuvs me, yes, Jesus wuvs me. Yes, yes, yes." songs sweetly sung out of tune.  Heart skipping a beat. Pep in my step.
"Knock, knock",
"Who's there?"
"Boo"
"Boo, who?"
"Don't cry." Giggles, giggles, giggles.
"Wahhh!" Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle-breathe.
Silence... SILENCE??? "What's going on in here?" sponges scrubbing walls, kids crying. "We're sorry, Mommy."
"I forgive you."
Door opens. "Daddy's home!"
"We're hungry." Cling, clang, cling, clang. Faucet on, faucet off.
"Time to go to bed." Cries and whining. Faucet on, toothbrushes brushing. Stories read, prayers said.
"Good night." ...
"Daddy?"
"Yes"
"Why did God make us?" Talk, talk, talk.
"Daddy, I'm thirsty."
"Daddy, I have to go potty."
"Wahhhh!" Guzzle, guzzle-breatheeee. Guzzle, guzzle-breathe. baby snores...
Silence.
"I love you, dear."
"I love you too."
  Sounds of dream world breaking through.

To Whom It May Concern,

Every year I take all my blog entries as well as several posts from Facebook involving my family and add it to our memory book along with pictures from the year.  I started this tradition in 2007 and have books for every year.  The other night I went to kiss my son before I went to bed and I saw all the memory books out on the floor.  "What are you doing," I asked.

"I'm reading the memory books," he said and continued to read.  The next morning at the breakfast table he asked, "Remember when..." and proceeded to go over things he had done as a two year old.  I didn't remember.  I had totally forgotten something that had meant so much to me not that long ago.  That's why I do this.  I want to remember and I want my kids to remember.  I want them to know what was going on both spoken and unspoken in their lives as they grew up.  So, kids, when you read this, I loved you, I love you now, and at the risk of sounding cliche, I will always love you... no matter what.  

Mommy

P.S. It was too expensive to print out more than one memory book for each year.  So, since there are so many of you, all the books are to go to ______________, that kid was my favorite.  (To be filled in later with bribery).