Smiling Mom

Ya, with all this bla-bla-blaing about my son I may have for­got­ten to men­tion my daugh­ter.  She’s frea­king ado­ra­ble.  Seriously.

And her per­so­na­lity has totally blos­so­med this year.  She’s funny, ado­ra­ble, and about the best 2 1/2 year old I’ve ever seen.  (Oh, and please don’t be foo­led into thin­king that I believe this will last fore­ver!!  She’s a girl.  I’ll pro­bably need daily anti-anxiety pills by the time she turns 14!)

Anyhow, she just had her first hair­cut.  Eek.  I know.  Cut­ting her curls ranks right up there with pulling my toe­nails out one at a time.  It’s an acti­vity that have not been loo­king for­ward to.  But it was time.  Her baby hair had to go.

BEFORE

Notice the super long curl in the cen­ter of her back.  We called it her tail.

At about this point eClaire said, “Look Mommy, only big girls get haircuts!!”

So proud of herself!

All done!  CRAZY Dif­fe­rence, right!!  Right?  Seriously, can you tell a difference?

After, before, after.  Dif­fe­rence?  Well as her mom, I feel like I all but sha­ved her head.  She’s so thri­lled about her new do that she called both her Dad and Non­nie to tell them,”  You’ll never guess what I just got!!!  A HAIRCUT!!”

So… it was a suc­cess.  I’ve got some ado­ra­ble curls stashed in an enve­lope to prove it.

Since both of our chil­dren were under a year we’ve have them par­ti­ci­pa­ting in once a week swim les­sons.  A year ago when Hubby hurt his shoul­der, all our swim­ming fun came to an end.

Having kids close together in age has so many pros, but in the case of swim lessons…not so much.  Two swim­ming babies equals the need for two parents to manage.  With one parent down for the count, we chose to take a break.

This past sum­mer we spent many hours in or around water.  It took us no time to rea­lize that our much enjo­yed break from les­sons has put our kids behind the curve in the pool.  It still requi­res two focu­sed parents to swim with our 4 and 2 1/2 year old at all times.  BC, at this point, should be a bit more inde­pen­dent than he is.  With his per­so­na­lity, deter­mi­na­tion, and drive, he has poten­tial of being a great swim­mer in no time at all.  Yet he’s not.

Recently BC’s deve­lo­ped some pretty bad habits such as his intense love for the doggy-paddle. (Head up, bent arms, feet kic­king below the water) And although this new found skill helps him get to the side of the pool in an emer­gency, it’s the antithe­sis of how he should be swimming.

In addi­tion to BC’s new found love for the paddle, eClaire has taken this year to step out of her fear­ful shell that she once lived in and now is out­going, exci­ted, and con­fi­dent in and around the water.  She kicks with ease to the side of any pool.  Her tech­ni­que looks good and she has shown more pas­sion for swim­ming than any other sport or acti­vity thus far.

Armed with this know­ledge we took the step of calling up our local swim club.  Their fall swim les­sons are already in full swing, but for­tu­na­tely for us, their hap­pe­ned to be two spots open for my kids at the per­fect time on the per­fect day!  Hurray!!

Star­ting this week, our kids res­tart their swim­ming edu­ca­tion and both Hubby and I can breathe a sigh of relief kno­wing that our chil­dren are once again lear­ning the skills nee­ded to become water safe.

So, no BlogHer for me this year.  Maybe next.

Ins­tead I had the plea­sure of seeing all my exten­ded family, remi­nis­cing about my grandma, and catching up on old times.

I have a big family. A big Mor­mon exten­ded family.  We are not.  But I often feel that even though I was not rai­sed in the Mor­mon faith, I was rai­sed somewhat Mor­mon.  Mor­mo­nism is more than a reli­gion, it’s a cul­ture.  I was rai­sed with the Mor­mon cul­ture.  And I think I am a bet­ter per­son for it.

My hus­band and I don’t often take pic­tu­res together any­more.  So I am attemp­ting to remidy that.

Notice the earrings… thanks Fussy.  I LOVE them!!

And the shoes.  Well, let’s just say that a girl who, a day before BlogHer, learns she can’t go to BlogHer, MUST do some retail the­rapy.  Mine was in the form of a trip to Ross Dress For Less…  The shoes?  Ya.  they cost less than $18 AFTER tax.  BOO YA!

Dear Grandma Bryan,

So wri­ting this let­ter is pretty hard for me to do. Not because I don’t have fond memo­ries, I do!  But because I fear that I won’t be able to tell you elo­quently enough just how much I love you and how gra­te­ful I am for the life I’ve had.

I have lived a very bles­sed life.  A life filled with love, lear­ning and accep­tance.  I have grown up with the bene­fit of having a two-parent hou­sehold.  And, ama­zingly enough, my parents have loved each other throughout the good and bad times.  How lucky am I to have had this experience?

My mom is an ama­zing woman, a woman you rea­red.  A woman who you single-handedly rai­sed to be an adult.  For this I am eter­nally gra­te­ful.  When I look at you and your life, I see a woman who was for­ced into a life where you were requi­red to become a sin­gle parent well before your time.  You wor­ked hard and rai­sed three beau­ti­ful chil­dren who were, essen­tially, the same age.  I can’t even ima­gine!  But you did it!  You did it all while wor­king full time, paying a mort­gage, and pro­vi­ding your chil­dren with the things they wan­ted and nee­ded.  I admire you so much for this.  It must have been such a cha­llenge at times to keep it all together.

I have vivid memo­ries of Christ­mas Eve at your house from years ago.  I remem­ber all the cou­sins get­ting together to open pre­sents, eat din­ner, and play.  (I always wan­ted to eat at the bar! But usually had to sit at the kid’s table) We use to have so much fun.  I know this was a won­der­ful time in your memory as well, having your house filled with the sounds of laugh­ter and family.  One memory in par­ti­cu­lar that I have is when I recei­ved a huge Bar­bie head for a gift.  This head was equip­ped with lots of makeup, a girls dream!  So ins­tead of the inten­ded use, Bar­bie, I deci­ded to make up myself, my clothes, the car­pet, my cou­sins and just about anything I could find.  Need­less to say, the makeup disap­pea­red from my Bar­bie head by the next morning.

Each Christ­mas Eve as we drove home, I remem­ber watching the moon in the sky and searching for Santa’s sleigh.  These are memo­ries that I che­rish each Christmas.

I also remem­ber many days spent with you pic­king black­be­rries, peaches, and oran­ges.  I loved pla­ying on your jun­gle gym in the back­yard and pla­ying hide and seek with Jeff, Shauna, and Kathlyn.

But now, as I write you this let­ter, I’m hol­ding my daugh­ter, Ella, in my arms and rea­li­zing that it is because of you and the family you’ve crea­ted, that I am bles­sed with the life I have.

You have wor­ked hard, so hard.  You’ve lived a life filled with family, The Hea­venly Father, and friends.  You’ve crea­ted many knick-knacks to remem­ber you by.  Both my chil­dren have a blan­ket, made by you.  And each holi­day I take out my deco­ra­tions, the por­ce­lain Christ­mas tree, Hallo­ween cat and hat, Eas­ter bun­nies, and think of you.

And when I speak my daughter’s name, Ella, I am remin­ded of my his­tory, your mother, you.

Wri­ting this let­ter is extre­mely hard.  Time is never enough.  I don’t feel like I’ve had enough time with you, and neither have my chil­dren.  You, like­wise, didn’t have enough time with Grandpa Bryan.  But you will!  You are about to embark on a whole new jour­ney one filled with eter­nal love and hap­pi­ness.  For you, I’m exci­ted.  But for me, sel­fishly, I feel sad as our time together begins to come to an end.

I love you Grandma.  I love you.

And I thank you so much for the life I’ve had.  I have been so blessed.

With my love,
Nanette