New Bed for Heather

Heather hasn't wanted to get rid of her bunk beds. She told us she likes the height and ability to see her whole room at night. Recently I asked her again about switching. She is sixteen now and is 5'7-1/2" which seems so tall for the twin bed. She also wakes up a lot and has frequent headaches. That may be unrelated, but I asked her about getting a bigger bed so she could be more comfortable. She agreed. We made it happen this month. We stripped the beds, photographed them and listed them on our LDS Garage Sale FB page. They sold within a day. Off to Sam's to get the new bed. She is so happy with her new bed and all the roominess. Now we have to reconfigure her room when we have time. Who knows when that will be!

Selling the Play Set

It is time. We've had to come to terms with the fact that although beautiful, our play set has been sitting vacant in our back yard for quite some time. Gone are the years of activity when neighbors, family and sisters escaped to the swings or the fort. Gone are the hours of water play, swinging and climbing. The girls are adult-size now, and it's hard for them to even fit through the openings in and out of the structure. I've held onto it longer than I should because a little piece of my heart is out there in the backyard, tied to the play set.  Thank goodness for pictures.  

We invited our closest neighbors over to say good-bye. Here they are years ago and then now. Time has flown.  No kidding.

The morning the new family was to come and remove it, I went outside to take pictures. I took pictures from every angle blinking through tears. I wanted to remember every moment, every giggle, every smile and squeal of joy. Oh my heart. I'm still teary typing this. After I said good-bye, we went off to church. When we came home, it was half gone. And then gone for good. The yard is empty now, but we will always have our memories. We hope the new family (cute little boy and girl whose mommy is from Scotland where the parents met) will enjoy it just as much as we have.

Remembering...

My friend, Marta, posted this observation on her blog today in reference to the ever-changing toddler years...

it's true–i know–i am pulling at our moments and greedily pocketing them. every day there is something worthy of writing down and i try to nip it into memory. but then, swiftly it is taken by another toddler sweet-ism and the second makes me forget the first. these moments are like clean clothes pinned to a line in the breezy backyard. such a breathtaking scene, even in its ordinary-ness. though we are too busy playing beneath the waving material that i can rarely breathe in the pure beauty of it. and before i know it, suddenly a strong wind comes and we create a new game of picking the loose clothing up. a new and happy memory is already in the works.


Tears so easily flowed as I read her post.  I am sitting in my empty house after getting the girls off to school.  There are days where I long for those slow-moving, easy days of the toddler and preschool time.  Where getting out the paints was the big event of the day, and where fuzzy, pajama-clad cuddles were the norm of the evening routine.  It is going too fast.  It's true that each new experience and stage is fun and exciting.  It makes you forget for a moment about what has just passed until very quickly you realize that a year has gone by.  And then another.  I am again reminded why being a grandparent will be such a gift and the only way I will get to experience holding a tiny person in my arms who will mean the world to me all over again.

Heather will be 13 in just two months.  Jenna loves independence.  We have challenges and personality clashing moments, but those are not the things that stay with me.  Luckily, both of my girls still find me for hugs.  The long kind where we each take a deep breath and savor a moment.  Like Marta, I am also greedily pocketing the present moments.  There isn't much time to mourn with these beautiful young women in my house who still bring so much joy.  But every now and then, on a quiet morning alone, I remember those little cheeks, the silly giggles, and the sweet kisses of my babies.

Growing Up

Tomorrow, my very first baby girl will be 12 years old.

I am not sure I'm ready. No, I know I'm not ready. I want more time. There are words that have more meaning to me as I look at the past 11 years and try to grasp at the last few tendrils of my daughter's childhood innocence. Brief. Momentary. Fleeting. My girlfriend, whose two oldest daughters were passing through the phases of getting married and having babies at the time we talked, reported something to the effect that pre-school and elementary school years last forever, middle school is over in a week, and high school is over in a day. I am beginning to get the picture.

There is little I can do to stop this tide. It is coming, and I need to roll with it. However, with each passing phase, we mourn. I am in mourning. It is bitter sweet, and necessary. Up to this point, I have lived and loved with my eyes wide open, and although I know I have done a lot with my little girls, it feels normal to wonder if I could have done more. I have had appreciation and joy in each phase of Heather's development so far. I think what I'm feeling today is that it simply went by so fast. Too fast.

I usually learn from these little mourning phases that it is not too late and that she isn't off to college just yet, and then I happily do something about what I'm feeling. Sunday night after a full day of business at church, I put the girls to bed and sat on the couch for a few moments alone. It was after eleven (we are so naughty about bed time right now), and found myself missing my girls. It was one of those days that goes by in a rush, and you realize that you didn't make the most of love that day. I went into the girls' room to give some lovin'. I climbed Heather's ladder and told her I wanted to have some snuggles and tell her I love her. She was very cute and for fifteen minutes, straight, she related all she had been doing in her Pokemon DSi game that week. Fifteen minutes, non-stop, no breaks. All I could do was look at her, nod my head and give a well-placed, "mm-hmm" now and then. I finally had to ask her if she could tell me the rest tomorrow since my feet were losing circulation standing barefoot on the bunk bed ladder. Before I climbed down, I asked her if she was holding that all in her head this whole time to which she replied, "Yes! Thank you for listening to me. It feels good to talk about it because you listen to me and xxxx makes fun of me when I talk about it." And then she hugged me.

Because she's a pre-teen, she'll die of embarrassment that I shared that story, but it is now precious to me. The experience tells me that even if she doesn't need me for the usual climb-in-my-lap cuddles that were prevalent before she got too tall to do so, she still needs me to listen. I am hoping (and praying earnestly) that I will be able to interpret this new phase resplendent with eye-rolls, short-tempered answers and oddly timed outbursts, and know how to love my little girl in the ways she needs me now.

We'll see how it goes. I will need lots, and lots of advice, so thank you, in advance.

A Boy Called

It is February 15, 2011, and Heather is 11.7 years old. Her friend called tonight who also happens to be a boy (a boy!). They have been friends since Kindergarten and have not been at the same school for 6th grade. It was interesting to hear them chat (for an hour!) about who is doing what and remember when. I'm not sure how I feel about this. Boys calling for my daughter. Isn't it too soon? Tell me this is too soon.