The Last Trick-or-Treat

Last night was a fairly traditional Halloween for us: a dinner of mummy dogs and chips followed by trick-or-treating and lots of candy eating. Although we opted to skip the scary movie and watched "Castle" instead. Savannah & I have grown to love that show!

For the last couple of years, my sweet, soft-spoken Savannah has taken to scary costumes. This year she was a blood-sucking zombie basketball player.

Sarah wanted to be Rapunzel, but, alas, we were unable to find the long, flowing hair for our fair maiden. She finally agreed to be a fairy princess.

Pace, still not quite able to communicate, had absolutely NO say in his costume.

Yeah!

Oops! I mean, maybe next year, little guy.

He went as the head coach of the Dallas Cowboys.

His costume turned out to be the hit of the evening, and all I did was add a headset to a Cowboys outfit already hanging in his closet. Touchdown!

But the event of the evening that really woke me up was at one of the last houses we visited. Pace and I were slowly making our way up the path when Savannah and Sarah raced by us.

“Trick or treat!” they both proclaimed.

Pace and I waddled up (I swear, Pace walks like an old penguin.) as Sarah received her candy. The lady looked up at me and said, “Where did your older one go?” I looked around to find Savannah standing on the sidewalk with her dad.

“Anyone who says trick-or-treat gets a piece of candy. Would you give her this?” the neighbor said placing a candy bar in my hand. I took it to Savannah and asked why she left.

“I’m just too old for this, Mom.”

And that was that.

I now have a kid that’s too old to trick-or-treat. Wait…I need to stretch out my creaky knees and put on my reading glasses. The words have suddenly grown blurry.

So the plan for next year is Savannah will stay home and pass out candy while the “kids” go trick-or-treating.

She’s growing up, folks, and I can’t stop it.

Savannah's First Concert

Two tickets to see Taylor Swift in concert...

$225




Cost to park at Cowboys Stadium....

$35



Cost to see Savannah's face when Taylor Swift steps onstage....

Priceless!


It was a very good girl's night out!

My Smoke Signal to You

We had our Christmas Eve service yesterday evening, which ended with singing "Silent Night" by candlelight. After everyone had extinguished their candles and left to finish last minute wrapping and cooking (at least that was my plan), Savannah came up to me holding her candle.

"Mom? If I blew out my candle and lit it again, is it still holy?"

"Sure," I responded. I couldn't see how her intentions would be anything but.

"Good. I want to take it outside and blow it out and send the smoke up to Jesus for a present."

She touched my heart and I'm sure put a smile on the one who came to us as a baby many, many stars ago on this day.

I'm sending out a smoke signal to all of you; you who still come to see what I have to say despite my absences.

I hope you have a blessed and joyful Christmas and a happy and safe new year (but I plan to talk to you again before then.)

City Woman

Savannah is crazy for animals. She is a sweet and gentle soul who loves all, er…most animals. Her goal is to become a veterinarian, animal shelter owner, grunt, or volunteer – however she can get in the place - or a marine biologist.

Oh yes! Or a singer!

Pretty hefty goals if you ask me, and I know she can do any of them.

Of course she has the typical love for dogs, cats, and birds. But she goes crazy for dolphins and horses. Unfortunately, there are no dolphins close by that we can introduce her to, but horses are another story. At least that’s what we recently discovered.

There is a very cool couple in our church, Angie and Frank, who own two horses. Frank grew up with horses, but four years ago Angie discovered them for the first time and fell in love. They ended up selling their house along with most of their possessions inside, bought their horses and built a barn with part of it being their home. They literally built it with their own four hands.

Talk about living your dream! They discovered what they wanted and went for it, no matter what the sacrifice. They’re my new role models.

It’s a shame I didn’t get pictures of their home. It’s absolutely beautiful…and very small. I think Pat and I would kill each other in a month’s time.

They invited us out after church yesterday so Savannah could be with the horses. It was wonderful watching Savannah sit atop Sundance, a beautiful creamy Quarter horse. And he was so sweet with her. Angie said he’s usually easy to get along with, but not as calm and mild as he was with Savannah. I think he knew what kind of person he had on his back: 1) a brand new rider, and 2) one of the sweetest people you’ll ever meet. I can’t believe she came from me sometimes. I’m foul mouthed, impatient, hot tempered, and…

definitely a city girl.

Now I spent time in the country growing up. My family comes from the piney woods of East Texas. We chopped down our own Christmas tree behind my grandmother’s house and we listened to Willie Nelson. If that doesn't make you country, I don't know what does.

Plus, when I was around eleven my father moved back to East Texas from the city after my parents divorced and I spent every other weekend and many summer days poking around with cowboys and my very country kin. I’ve always prided myself that I could switch from city to country in the 3-hour time period it took to go from one to the other with a stop at Dairy Queen on the way.

Yesterday, though, I realized just how long it’s been since I’ve been, well, countrified. I got dressed for church that morning, keeping in mind that I would be going out to see horses later. When it came time to walk outside with the Quarter horses and our gracious hosts, I looked down wondering why I was having such a hard time. Hmmm…I wonder why I thought leopard print flats would be good for the dirt and sand. Plus, my open-holed crocheted sweater didn’t do much to keep the cold wind out. Oh! And I held a baby wrapped in a “I’m a Rock Star” blanket.

Then there was Savannah. She had on Levi’s – very appropriate - with a beautiful, thin blouse – not so appropriate, but luckily she had her hoodie to keep her warm – and her Ugg wanna-be boots. Not appropriate at all! And we had Sarah running around in a dress and keds.

They wouldn’t write a country song about us. We would be the Lifetime Channel movie about the family that takes a trip to the country and all mayhem ensues. I don't think I could have convinced anyone I've spent time outside the city lights.

But the cold wind and the sand in my shoes were all worth it. Savannah couldn't keep the smile off her face, and Sarah was in complete awe of the mighty creatures. We managed to get her up on one for a short while before she wanted down, but Savannah stayed up as long as they would have her.



That's Angie with the girls sitting atop Sundance.

Look at that blue Texas sky! You don't always have that in the city.

I still can't believe I wore leopard print flats. Good grief!

It's All in the Mind

I’ve been in a baking kick lately: gooey s’mores bars, moist banana muffins, and my awesome chocolate cream pie. Ok, the last isn’t baked, but it’s a treat so I’m counting it.

So earlier this week I found a fantastic recipe for red velvet cupcakes (Thank you, Paula Deen!). As I was pouring the finished batter into the muffin tins Savannah came in. A little late, I might add. She usually runs in as soon as she hears the mixer running, but she strolled in rather nonchalantly this time.

“Wha’cha making?”

She looked a little confused when she first saw the red batter and then her eyes grew big with excitement.

“Are those red velvet cupcakes?”

“Beet muffins,” I responded.

“What’s a beet?”

“It’s a vegetable. Wanna try a taste?”

She looked repulsed when I held out the spatula to her.

“Just try it,” I encouraged her.

She got a very small dot of batter on her finger and tasted it, then stuck out her tongue.

“Yuck!”

“Are you serious?” I said stunned. Yuck wasn’t quite the response I had expected.

“I don’t like it,” she said with a slightly disgusted look, yet there was still something on her face that told me she wasn’t sure she believed she had just tried beets.

“I can’t believe you don’t like this. Try it again.”

With a little trepidation she took a bigger bite of the batter and with all the drama of her sister she protested, “Oh! It’s horrible!” and ran out with her head thrown back and her arms flying behind her.

Oh the horror of supposedly trying a new vegetable!

A red one at that!!

I finally confessed when Savannah found Pat and me sharing the very tasty leftovers in the mixing bowl and a laugh that our oldest, hater of all things good for her, had immediately hated it just because she thought it was a vegetable.

It’s amazing what we can keep ourselves from enjoying just because of our thoughts….and fears.

Just a little food for thought.

Letter to Pace

Dear Pace,

You turn 5 months old today. It’s going so fast. Too fast really, considering you’re my last.



Honestly, I’m a little sad and relieved at the same time. I’m getting too old for the late nights and early mornings, but I’ve loved watching your sisters bond with you. Each in her own way.

I’ve always known that your oldest sister, Savannah, has a kindness about her. A warmth that can settle your soul. When I’m not around she’s the one who can calm you when nothing else seems to help. She holds you tenderly and rocks you while speaking in a soothing voice. If I or your father need someone to take care of you for a while, she’s right there. When you’re older and you need someone to talk to or just sit with for a reprieve during rough times, Savannah will be the one to call. She’ll be your rock through life.

And there’s Sarah. Before you came home from the hospital I worried that she would have a jealous streak. Some of the attention she was used to getting would be given to you, and believe me she LOVES the attention. You’ll discover that. But Sarah showed an immediate interest in you and has grown to love you fiercely. And I do mean fiercely. She gets right in your face and sweetly says, “Ah-goo” a few times and then she shakes with such an intensity. I don’t think she knows what to do with the strong feelings she has. She may wear you out, always on the go and craving the spotlight, but you’ll never doubt her love for you.

I pray that the three of you will be a tight unit, able to help each other, laugh and cry with each other, and keep the family bond intact. Encourage each other to work toward your dreams.



And always remember…

Mom loves you.

P.S. So does Dad.

Update on Savannah

My baby has had two days at her new school.

My baby, though initially scared, had a great first day.

My baby made friends on her first day of school.

My baby looked confident and happy when she walked out of the school.

My baby was eager to tell me about her first day.

My baby followed me around the house to talk about her second day.

My baby is happy.



My baby is 11 and in middle school.

My baby is not a baby anymore.

She’s grown up on me when I wasn’t looking.



She took on a major change with poise, grace, and determination.

She maneuvered the hallways and portables of a much bigger school with ease.



She has crossed over from girlhood to teenager.

And she still greets me with a huge smile and even bigger hug.

She gives great hugs!

I’m so proud of her.

Savannah on My Mind

I’ve got Savannah on the brain. She started her new school this morning complete with a new uniform, lunch box, and a stomach full of nerves.

When we pulled into the parking lot Savannah let out one of those nervous stretches. You know the kind. It’s shaky and tight and you take in a deep breath and let it out in a last effort to get out the butterflies, but it just pumps the adrenaline more.

I told her we could sit in the car for a little bit, so we sat together listening to her new Camp Rock 2 CD until she said, “Okay. Let’s go. Now.”

It was toward the end of first period before we had her registered and a class schedule worked out. I was fine with the delay because it gave me some extra time before I sent her out into the great unknown. She’s going from a school of 300 to a school of 1000. BIG change for my timid girl.

An eighth grader gave us a tour of the huge school…that is until it was time for second period to start. Then she took off leaving Savannah and I staring at each other.

“Well, I guess I should go,” Savannah said trying to look confident. Then a scared look came across her face, but just briefly. I laid my hand her arm, “You’re going to have a great day.”

She nodded and walked toward her class, shoulders back, and head held high.
I wanted to reach out and cling to her. I wanted to take her back home and fill in for her until the school day became routine and I had landed a friend or two, then she could drop back in and take over for the rest of the year.

I stood in the hallway and watched her walk away until I couldn’t see her red curls anymore. Then I turned and cried as if I had just dropped off my five year old for her first day in kindergarten.

I am the epitome of an overprotective mom. I admit it. Maybe it’s because I remember what it’s like to be awkward and eleven. Or how it feels to be shy and have to start a new school without knowing anyone. I attended five different schools in six years, and each time I was terrified.

I’ve been watching the clock all day.

Savannah’s in choir now. That will be a nice break in her day.

Oh God. This is probably her lunch time. I hope she finds a place to sit.

She’s in her last class right now and I’m counting down the minutes until I can give her a big hug and hear how her day went.

I hope it was good.

I’ll keep you posted.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

This week has been trying.

This week has been frustrating.

This week has been sad, mixed with anger, mixed with hope.

This week has brought out the lioness in me like no other.

We had… let’s call it “issues” with Savannah’s school this week.

“Issues” that resulted in us pulling her from school.

Pulling her from a school she’s attended since Kindergarten.

I was so angry at the administration of this school.

Then I felt completely broken at the loss…for me….for Savannah.

Now at the beginning of her sixth grade year she will need to start over at a new place, with new kids, new teachers, and the semester has already begun.

I find myself holding my kids, especially my oldest, closer than ever and growling at anyone who dares to come near.

But then a little hope emerged when Savannah and I toured schools together, and we felt ourselves getting excited about one. I swear I saw a future friend walk by. She had the same curly hair as my girl pulled back into a ponytail and she looked at us with a shy smile as she walked by.

This morning I picked up Savannah’s information from her old school for the transfer to become official. As I stood at the office window the Kindergarten class walked by in a single-file line and I could see Savannah, five years old, walking with them. Then the Science teacher Savannah had been looking forward to having this year walked out into the hallway, talking to the kids as they walked by. My heart sank and I could feel the tears well up.

We’ve been a part of this school for over six years and they’ve been a part of us, frustrations and all.

As I turned to leave the office manager said, “Tell Savannah I love her and I’m going to miss her.” I could only nod.

In the car I wiped my eyes and drove away.

We’ve made our decision…

And there’s no looking back.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pl3vxEudif8

A New Chapter

Before the summer began I added a new chapter to the bad mother saga.

We know that I don’t swaddle.

I’m not available to my kids.

And I cuss.

Like a hell of a lot.

Let’s call this addition “Tacky.” I’m blaming this incident on pregnancy hormones because it makes me feel better.

Before I get into it I’d like to give you just a little back story. One of Savannah’s classmates since first grade, we’ll call her The Girl Who Shall Not Be Named, is rather, let’s say, snooty and manipulative. She has said and done some things to Savannah through the years that has made me not a fan. For instance, she likes to come between Savannah and her best friend.

I’m a protective mother.

OVER protective mother.

FIERCELY over protective mother.

You don’t like my kid? Then I don’t like you. Hmmm…I could stop the tacky story right there, couldn’t I? But, oh no. There’s more.

I was seeing Savannah off at school for her fifth grade trip last spring. I was big, pregnant, and miserable. The Girl Who Shall Not Be Named had heard that we were naming our new baby Pace. She looked at me and said rather sarcastically, “You’re naming your baby after the picante sauce?” She then looked at another girl and laughed.

I mimicked her laughed and matched her sarcasm with my best, responding, “Yeah, we just looove it so much.” Then I added rather pointedly, “No, we’re not naming our baby after a picante sauce,” and rolled my eyes. I glanced back at her and she was staring at me rather stunned. As if my head had just spun around and sprayed her with pea soup.

I immediately felt horrible and petty, and afraid that I had just given her more ammunition to try and ostracize my girl. When the time came for the bus to leave, there sat Savannah…alone. She gave me a wave and then smiled with excitement as the bus pulled out. When she returned four days later she reported that she had had a blast. I breathed a sigh of relief. Her mother’s tacky, immature behavior hadn’t damaged the trip she had been looking forward to all year.

I told Savannah about my run-in with The Girl Who Shall Not Be Named tonight at dinner. She laughed hysterically. I asked her, “Do you think it’s a blog post?”

“Oh yeah,” she giggled.

Can you tell me how a tacky, foul-mouthed, sometimes clueless mother can have such a sweet, laid back daughter?

When I stepped away for a moment while composing this post I came back to find this message,

“Hey mommy! Love ya! – S”

I love my girl.

Erased Memories

I had a scare this morning. Pat called to tell me our desktop computer at home crashed. This is the computer that houses Pat’s music for his students, my various writing trials, and most importantly, pictures of our kids.

I’ve been working to back up these photographs, but I haven’t made it all the way through yet. And the really sad thing is that this happened to us previously. The hard drive crashed and took Savannah’s first and second grade years into a black hole with it. Why the hell do I not back up my photos on a daily basis?

Maybe it was the fatigue or the rough weekend I'm still trying to get over, but the thought of losing all those pictures broke me. The tears streamed while I quietly cried into a napkin trying to keep my co-workers from hearing my sobs.

Thankfully, Pat called back in a little while with the good news that he was able to turn the computer on again. “Don’t touch it!” I barked as I dried my tears. I want everyone’s hands off of it until I can get home this evening and get those photos saved elsewhere.

We’re talking about this one…



And this one…



Oh! And this one…



Yes, memories stay with us in our hearts and minds, but there’s something about viewing them on the screen or holding them in your hands. Seeing the light in the eyes, or just how the hair curled, or how the hand rested on my shoulder, brings it all back so much more vividly.

And warms my heart just like this one that sits beside me at work for those days when I miss my kids so much it hurts.

Week 37

Tuesday morning Savannah left for a 4-day school trip. They’re studying the environment at a school camp. It’s an exciting trip for her, but I’m missing her like crazy. I still feel like I was the reason she had to get stitches and I want to smother her in affection. I probably won’t be over these guilty feelings for a long time considering I still feel pangs when I think about the tooth I helped her chip when she was 4. That was 7 years ago. I tend to hang on to things.

All week I’ve stopped and watched the pictures flash across our computer screen: Savannah with her new glasses, Sarah & Savannah on the swing, me holding Savannah as a newborn. These pictures, mixed with the pending birth of our third child, has me thinking about her birth and the absolute magic I felt our first night together.

My doctor induced me 3 days after my due date. Once he broke my water around 1:00 that afternoon it was full force ahead and Pat and I had our first daughter at 7:52 that evening. My sister Valarie was in the room with us while her husband and daughter and my mother waited in the hallway. I’ll never forget the door opening after Savannah was delivered. I still had my legs up while the doctor was taking care of things. I looked out into the hallway and there sat my brother-in-law Rick and my niece Eva, who was then 10. Their eyes were huge. I don’t know if it was more of a fear of the noises that had come out of that room, or if it was more, “Oh my God, I can see her xxx.”

While I laid there with my legs hiked in the air scarring my niece for life, Pat experienced his own bit of magic. They were cleaning Savannah up on the warming table and she was wailing. Pat kept looking over at her. I could tell he wanted to be with her, but felt he should stay with me until the doctor was done. I told him to go to her. The hard part was over. He walked over to the screaming baby, leaned down close to her ear and said ever so softly, “Hi, Savannah. It’s Daddy.” She stopped crying that very moment. Her protector was there. Maybe it was appropriate that he was the one to pick her up from school last week when she fell. Sometimes there’s nothing better than the presence and the loving words from your Daddy.



That didn’t work. I still feel guilty.

Pat slept at home that night, and I was really nervous about being alone with Savannah for the first time. She stayed in the nursery for the first few hours while I slept and then sometime in the middle of the night I woke to a knock on the door and they wheeled her into the room to eat. Her red fuzz covered head was facing me. At just a few hours old she moved around until she could get her head back and look at me as they brought her closer. We locked eyes and the sparks flew. I didn’t want her to leave my side again after that moment. And that includes this week while she’s away studying nature with her fifth grade class.

I can’t fathom how it’s possible to have this amount of love for a being. I literally feel an ache for a little bit when I remember that she’s not in her room reading, or getting ready to ask if she can play Wii.

And to think that love spread to include another one. And soon it will expand again and envelope yet another little one. Love is a miraculous thing, isn’t it? Pure magic.

3 weeks to go!

Another Installment in the Bad Mother Saga

Get ready. This one ends with a lot of blood, 8 stitches, and a heaping amount of guilt. Pass the kleenex please.

I’m notorious for hitting the snooze button. It’s part of my morning routine. When the alarm goes off, that is. Our current clock is very unpredictable. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Pat swears it’s a “user issue,” meaning I don’t know what I’m doing. I disagree. I’ve successfully set many alarms in the past 25 years, and I can figure out hotel alarm clocks in mere seconds. I don’t think it’s a “user issue,” my dear.

But I won’t drag you guys into our little spat.

This particular morning, last Friday to be exact, I awoke to silence…40 minutes past the scheduled alarm time. Piece of crap.

Anyway…I hustled out of bed and ran to Savannah’s room yelling for her to get up and get dressed while I threw something together for breakfast. I got ready for work while she ate and we were out the door in less than 30 minutes. I was really impressed with ourselves, and hopeful that we might make it to her school on time.

Alas, we pulled into the parking lot a couple minutes past the school’s start time. And there was that Nazi…errr…lady, affectionately (?) called “The Yanker,” locking up the door. She’s called The Yanker because she can sometimes literally yank your kid out of the car if she thinks they’re taking too long. She’s out there rain or shine, hot or cold. Someone’s gotta get that carpool line under control, dammit. I call her the Nazi because she refuses to cut these kids any slack. We’re two minutes late, dang it. Let my kid in the door instead of wrapping it in chains and snapping the padlock shut with brute force. I can just see her giving her best Hulk Hogan move each morning after a good yanking session.



Instead of letting my daughter through the doors, she turns and grunts, “Go down to the office!”

*sigh*

OK, I’m not that passive. It’s more like, “Damn *&^% $*&^ *&^!”

So we drive down a few feet where another tardy person is parked. I calm myself, give my kid my usual, “Bye. Have a good day. I love you.” Normally, I would sit and wait for her to get in the back doors that lead to the office, but this other tardy person was having difficulties with letting her kid go and was parked right in the line of sight, so I drove off.

On my way to work I ran an errand, stopped for donuts (which I got busted with later), and ever so slowly made my way into the office because I just didn’t want to be there. After eating a bowl of cereal, because I felt I needed something semi-healthy before scarfing fried fat, I listened to my work voicemail that had been blinking at me since I walked in…30 minutes before.

The first call was the school, “Mrs. Boyack, please call the school as soon as you get in.”

The next call was Pat, “Yvonne, why is your cell phone off? I’ve been trying to call you. Savannah fell at school. I’m taking her to the ER. Turn on your phone!”

Savannah had tripped on the school steps just outside the door and bashed her head on the iron rail…AS I WAS DRIVING OUT OF THE PARKING LOT.

How did she trip?
She was running because she was late.

Why was she late?
Because the school has a Wrestler Nazi for a guard AND the word is her mother has alarm clock user issues.

Why did it take an hour for anyone to reach said mother?
It only stands to reason…it’s because the school has a Wrestler Nazi for a guard AND her mother never turned on her cell phone.

When I arrived at the ER I was overcome with guilt as I heard the story and saw my girl lying on the bed with blood stains on her shirt and shoes. Pat said she had been covered in blood but the school receptionist had cleaned her up before they left for the hospital. I meekly handed over the previously referred to donuts. "Sorry about your head, sweetie. Here's some chocolate."

Such a brave girl. They said she handled herself so maturely. Never cried or whimpered. She just sat calmly as they tried to reach me and waited for her dad. She then talked with the doctor as he put her forehead back together with 8 stitches. It probably didn’t hurt that he was really nice and very good-looking.

Yes, Pat, I noticed.

Later Savannah went with me to the office to gather some work to do over the weekend (I have maternity leave approaching fast and lots to do to take off without worry). On the way my guilt drove us to Sprinkles of Beverly Hills where I bought my freshly sewn kid the BEST CHOCOLATE MARSHMELLOW CUPCAKE EVER! I treated myself to a red velvet cupcake. I mean, it was there, we were there…what are you going to do? Let it sit there for the person in line behind you?

All weekend I showered Savannah with hugs and kisses (and treats). I must have had a sad look on my face whenever I looked at her stitches. She would say, “Mom, it’s not your fault.” She knew I was struggling with the fact she was running because she was late.

I now have a new ritual when I drop Savannah off at school. As I drive away, after flipping the Wrestler Nazi the bird, I turn on my cell phone.

Sarah's Going Crazy

“Hey. How’s it going?”




“Do I have something on my face?”





Uh…Sarah?





Where’s your pants?



“The dog took ‘em.”


“Yeah, that’s right.”



In the meantime my oldest daughter, who used to be crazy, is working to become a proper young lady.



Gone are the days of pantless dancing.



Although she does still have a little of the wild child in her. The bangs in her eyes make her “feel cool.”



Who am I kidding? They’re all crazy!

Sweetie Turns Eleven

My baby girl, my “sweetie” as I’ve always called her, turns 11 today.

ELEVEN!

What?!

That means I’m…..

*gasp*

FORTY!

But today is not about me, even though I gave birth to this beautiful girl without drugs. But I won’t start with the guilt trip…yet. She hasn’t pushed me to that point. I figure that will come some time around 14 or 15. I don’t want to waste it and have her be immune to the guilt when I really need it.

I’ve been thinking about what to blog for her birthday for at least a week. What could I say that could live up to the love I have for my first born? The person who helped me realize my dream of becoming a mother.

It occurred to me just now as I’m writing this - I’ll list all the things I love about her. Please note, this list is far from complete.

Another note, this may be sappy.


I love Savannah for…

* the beautiful red fuzz that was on top of her head when she was born.

* recognizing her Daddy’s voice. (She was crying on the warming table. He went over and said, “Hey, Savannah.” She immediately stopped.)



* our moments together in the middle of the night at the hospital. We would just stare at each other as I held her.



* sleeping for 4 hours at a time and allowing me to get some sleep.

* for being so dang photogenic.



* for being a great traveler. (She was such a trooper when we traveled to England without her Dad when she was 4. All the luggage we had to carry through the tube. It was a nightmare, and she loved every minute of it.)

* for dancing when I play the piano.



* for her love of music. (“Music is my life, Mom.”)

* for her beautiful voice.

* for her love of animals and wanting to work in an animal shelter one day.



* for being a great helper in the kitchen.



* for being a kick ass volleyball and basketball player.

* for realizing it’s just a game when she wins or loses.

* for being a fun Wii partner…and reminding me it’s just a game, especially when I lose.

* for still resting her head on my shoulder while we watch tv.

* for being my biggest fan of both my singing and my writing.

* for having her Daddy’s sense of humor.



* for being a sweet, gentle soul.

* for being a loving big sister.



* for being Savannah, and no one else.





Happy 11th birthday!

I love you, Sweetie, more than I can say.

Things just haven't been the same in our household for the last few days. Sarah's been sick.



She's kept her chipper attitude, but her appetite has waned and she's sleeping more.



Savannah's been such an attentive big sister.

I was so worried about her last night that I slept in her room. I should say I tried to sleep. She kept waking up crying while trying to catch her breath. Her cough and congestion were so bad it would literally take her breath away.

We made it to the doctor today and discovered that she has an ear infection, but luckily the cold hasn't made it down to her chest.

We are now on the mend with medication...



and looking forward to better days ahead.