Fall Family Photos

I am so, so lucky to have a good friend who is a photographer. She reminds me, nearly daily, that she likely will be moving next year, and it makes me sad.

Sad because she is such an amazing friend, and sad because she takes our pictures!

Right before we left for vacation, she tried to shoot a few fall family photos for us. That fact that she even got one really great family picture, and then several others was quite the feat.

For starters, it was freezing. We were not dressed in preparation for that. At all.

And secondly, way more importantly, H had her eye gouged right before we left (by B's finger...) that we went to the doctor for after the shoot and saw the chunk that was missing from her eye. Good times, let me tell ya. Poor girl. (If you look carefully in the photos, you can tell which little eye is swollen).

Anyway, here's a few of the photos.

"It's not okay": When I messed up and yelled

Anyone who knows me knows I'm not a yeller.

Well, I am by nature but I fight like hell every day to keep that part of me at bay. And it works. Despite it being one of my very greatest challenges, I haven't yelled in well over a year.

Until today.

I was stressed over grown-up things, stuff that obviously had nothing to do with her.

But it didn't protect her from that stress. The stress and frustration that blew up and became a very loud, "Put your shoes on!"

You're probably chuckling, eh? It's such a silly thing to yell about. And probably lots of people have yelled much worse.

I could try and justify it. I'd asked her to put her shoes on 15 times all ready. We were starting to run late. I had lots of errands to do after I dropped her off at school and was on a time crunch.

But what would have really happened? If she had not put her shoes on right that second, what would have happened? She'd have put them on 60 seconds later when she finished her picture? She'd have grabbed them on her way out the door and put them on in the car? I'd have grabbed them on my way out the door and put them on her in the car? We'd have been five minutes late for school?

None of those situations seem dire or life-threatening. None of them deem a 4.5 year old little girl getting yelled at to put her shoes on.

But I did it anyway.

"I'm so sorry," she gushed as she flew to put her shoes on. Her face was filled with remorse and shame and that alone broke my heart. She should never be sorry for my actions or words. That's on me. She should never be ashamed for not being an obedient little robot who jump when commanded.

I was still too frustrated at that moment to even try to make it right. Truthfully, I was too busy justifying that I was right to yell - everyone does it sometimes - to even admit I was wrong in that moment.

It wasn't until hours later after I'd picked her up from school that I knelt in front of her in the kitchen and said, "I'm so sorry I yelled at you this morning."

Those grave, brown saucers of hers looked at me as she held my big ol' hand in her tiny one, and clasped her other hand over top, and said, "It's not okay."

I nodded, slowly.

She was right. It wasn't okay. Sorry didn't make it better or erase that event.

For some kids, maybe this would have been a trivial event in their lives. I grew up in a very loud house, I probably wouldn't have dwelled too much on this, and god knows I would never have told anyone that apologized to me that it wasn't okay. I'm so thankful that H is such a better, stronger person than I have ever been.

"You're right," I told her. "It's not okay. I can't change it or fix it. I can just promise that I am going to try so much harder to never do that again."

She nodded solemnly at me.

"You're the best thing that ever happened to me. You made me a mom. Your mom. And it's my job to do better. Always."

"Always," she whispered and flung her arms around my neck.

I wanted to cry, but I didn't. Not then.

She's only 4.5. And I've no doubt messed up in so many ways. But she knows what is acceptable. She demands to be treated correctly. And I love that. I love knowing that she will never settle for okay, and I like to think I had something to do with that.

Today I yelled, and my daughter told me it wasn't okay. She reminded me of why it's so important that I behave and react as the type of person I want her and B to grow up to be, the type of person I want them to surround themselves with as they get older - it's important that they know that people are human, they make mistakes, but it doesn't make those mistakes okay or admissible.

It's not okay.

And I won't ever try to justify it otherwise.

Aruba, Aruba!

We finally went on a much needed family vacation. It has been too long.

 

The kids were gems on the long flights. I had purchased some clearance out aquadoodles a few months ago which turned out to be the right pick for H. She is really into spelling, so she'd have me tell her a random word and sound it out and spell it. And she's getting pretty damn at spelling!

We were super fortunate that my parents were able to go with us to Aruba. The kids (and J and I, of course!) adore them, and always have a great time with them! J and I would chuckle during the times when my dad and step-mom would have one kid with them, leaving us with only one child, about how easy one kid is. Oh, how quickly that is forgotten. Ha!

Most of our time was spent on the beach or in the pool, or feeding the iguanas. But we did venture around the island and see and so much! We also took the Jolly Pirate out for snorkeling the Antilla and rope swinging off the ship. They were so impressed that H and B even tried to snorkel, let alone were completely successful at doing so. They said they had children come along often, but none as young as them ever attempted to snorkel.

The week went by far too quickly. H was not impressed with cold we met once home. They're both itchin' to go back. And I am too. Though truthfully, I have zero desire to ever fly again, which is surprising. But I'd rather drive any given day than fly. The kids are awesome travelers, but I just have a hard time being surrounded by that many rude people. It gets harder and harder to deal with stupidity the older I get. Alas, for some sun and family fun, I'd do just about anything!

I have over 1500 photos, but don't worry, I'm not going to post that many! But here is a peek at our adventure (and still way too many photos!).

My brave girl swinging off the ship into the ocean!

 

 Ready to snorkel!

 

 Always a ham!

 

 I almost didn't post this because you know, I'm not a tiny person exactly, but then realized if ever my kids read this blog some day I don't want them to think I was even a tiny bit uncomfortable with the amazing body that created them.

 

 This boy was ALWAYS covered in sand. He'd plop right down and do "snow angels"!

 

Oh, how I love him!

My little tiger

Feeding iguanas.

Making sandcastles!

The way B looks at H always melts my heart.

B sharing the sand with Grandpa S.

My beautiful step-mom.

Feeding animals.

Oh, he kills me!

Those two monkeys make my heart so full!

Always the adventurous girl.

He stacked his own good luck rocks. 

I'm still not sure how such a beautiful girl, inside and out, came from J and I.

Water guns are not just for kids!

B took this picture and it cracks me up!!



The gift of big feelings

My sweet, brave, precocious girl - the day will come in which you notice other people using words like "dramatic" or "emotional" and you'll realize that more often than not they're likely speaking about you.

I wish I could prevent this. I wish I could make those words taboo. I wish I could cover your ears and save you from them, but I can't.

Yesterday you fell and scraped your knee on our way out the door for school. Your scream was so loud and piercing that the gentlemen across the street working the excavator on our neighbors lawn stopped in their tracks, wondering what could possibly be wrong. They could not see the tiny scrape on your knee that hurt badly; that you needed to scream about to deal with.

I calmly put the other kids in the car and grabbed you a ninja turtle Band-Aid, and I scooped you up to put you in the car seat because you said it hurt too badly to walk. When you limped into kindergarten I didn't tell you to "suck it up" or "stop being melodramatic, it's just a scrape." I told you that I knew it hurt awfully bad to fall down, and that I hoped as the day went on it felt better. And I told your teacher you'd scraped your knee, and to please show you empathy if you mentioned it and needed a little extra love.

When I picked you up from school, you were fine.

When your brother asked you for your last dried mango in the car, you offered to split it in half with him. When he demanded the whole piece,  you promised him the bigger half. When still he insisted he wanted the whole thing because he was hungry, you asked me if it was okay if you gave him the whole piece and waited until we got home to get a different one.

I told you that you didn't have to give it to him, you'd been so generous to offer him half, and the bigger half at that. You said you knew you didn't have to, but he was clearly upset and must be much hungrier than you. You could wait. Besides, you loved him so much and knew he would appreciate it, because you would if it were you in his position.

My heart leapt into my throat; you're so compassionate and generous.

When you were sculpting play-dough, you couldn't get it just so. After several tries, you finally threw your hands up in the air and just screamed. You were so frustrated.

I made you aware of my presence, I let you know I was there if you needed me. You told me no, you just needed to scream big. So I let you scream big. Then you felt better and tried again. You finally accomplished what you were trying. Your grin consumed your entire face with your success.

At horseback riding lessons you got to do the double logs. Once you'd done it, sitting in that big ol' saddle, you punched your little fist up into the sky and shrieked, "Woo hoo! I did it! I did it!" I'm sure anyone within a 20 mile radius heard your joy.

At dinner, Papa mentioned he needed to get his hair trimmed. You fled the table and ran upstairs where I found you flung on your bed, sobbing your heart out. I laid down next you and stroked your head while you curled into my chest and just sobbed. You told me how much you loved your papa's hair and how sad it made you that he was going to cut it. I acknowledged your grief, because yes, for you, it truly was grief, and then we talked about how we only get to control our own bodies. You understood, though you were still heart broken. And that's okay, you have the right to your own feelings.

This was only one day with you, my sweet H. One beautiful, perfect day.

Your feelings are so big, no matter what they may be.

I adore that about you.

I was so much like you once. I had such big feelings.

But I was told by so many people that I was "dramatic," "melodramatic," "emotional," and eventually "hormonal." I heard it so often that I eventually started labeling myself as such, without any prompting. And eventually learned to just keep them all inside, so no one had to deal with or feel uncomfortable by my feelings.

I hope you never do this.

I hope you always feel comfortable expressing your big emotions in whatever way is most comfortable for you. I hope you are never made to feel ashamed.

These big feelings are such a gift. I hope you some day know this.

I hope you know that not everyone experiences life the way you do. And that's okay.

You feel everything big: deeply. The good and the bad - it's all just big. And that's amazing.

I cannot stop others from whispering the words "dramatic" or "emotional" when they witness your big feelings, and it makes them uncomfortable so they are hoping we shut you down quick so they don't have to bothered; but I will always do my best to make you feel safe expressing those feelings. I will do my best to always let you know they're okay. To accept those big feelings, even during those times that it makes me uncomfortable because my own instinct says to shut you down, since that's how others always reacted to me.

I hope you know that words like "dramatic" and "emotional" are just cop-out words that people throw out when they feel insecure themselves. I hope you know that even though they may be said about you, you are not those words. You are H. You are strong. You are empathetic. You are courageous. You are vivacious. And you're a bit precocious. But you are not cop-out words like "dramatic" or "emotional."

Some days, it may feel like you've been cursed, experiencing life so much deeper than others often do, but in the end, I hope you realize what a gift it truly is. Your sunshine will always be a bit brighter, the flowers will always smell more fragrant, the ice-cream sweeter, and the happiness deeper in your soul - and that my dear, sweet girl, permeates everything and everyone. What a gift!