first best friends

Jack is rough with Lila…rough with her like she’s one of his buddies on the playground. This is equally frustrating and endearing.
We tell him repeatedly that “she’s a girl”, “she’s smaller”, “she’s not as strong as he is”…but it doesn’t resonate with him because he doesn’t see her as smaller, weaker, different…he sees his best friend who he wants to wrestle with because to him, that’s about the most fun thing to do and he wants to do that with her.
Frustrating. Endearing.

I see her run up to him with open arms, begging to be picked up and hugged…Jack obliges, only to release her to fall down into the grass. And before I can yell, she bounces up and continues to chase him around and around. I’ve never met a little girl tougher: she’s had her fair share of bumps and bruises (see: glass stuck in her hand!), and she rarely complains.

I know their relationship will teach Jack to treat girls kindly and equally (like he would his sister, once he realizes that you can’t wrestle with her so hard).

I know their relationship will teach Lila to hold her own with the boys, and to push back and be strong, and to know that she can always call on him and he will be there to protect her.

I know their relationship will remind me that they are one another’s first best friends. That at the end of the day, it’s them against the world. I LOVE that they will have each other to rely on for the rest of their lives. That bond they share is so important to me… Be good to each other, Jack and Lila…

teacher appreciation…

I was feeling overwhelmed with ideas (thanks pinterest) and short on time…this worked out well and the gifts came out pretty cute.

Galvanized buckets with ribbon handles (from the Target dollar spot), a potted vinca, and a “thank you” pennant”. I bought all of the buckets I could find and only with there had been more: they’d be great little catch-all's around the house.

“your voice is small, but don’t ever stop singing”

My girlfriend sent me this video, and I loved it. It’s good advice for mother’s of daughters (or sons)…things to remember and teach them about the world and themselves.

“If I should have a daughter, instead of “Mom”, she’s gonna call me “Point B,” because that way she knows that no matter what happens, at least she can always find her way to me. I’m going to paint solar systems on the backs of her hands so she has to learn the entire universe before she can say, “Oh, I know that like the back of my hand.” And she’s going to learn that this life will hit you hard in the face, wait for you to get back up just so it can kick you in the stomach. But getting the wind knocked out of you in the only way to remind your lungs how much they like the taste of air.

…I’ll always keep an extra supply of chocolate and rain boots nearby, because there is no heartbreak that chocolate can’t fix. Okay, there’s a few heartbreaks that chocolate can’t fix, but that’s what the rain boots are for, because rain will wash away everything, if you let it…

There’ll be days…when you open your hands to catch and wind up with only blisters and bruises; when you step out of the phone booth and try to fly and the very people you want to save are the ones standing on your cape; when you when our boots fill with rain and you’ll be up to your knees in disappointment. And those are the very days you have all the more reason to say thank you. Because there’s nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it’s sent away.

You will put the wind in winsome, lose some. You will put the star in starting over, and over. And no matter how many land mines erupt in a minute, be sure your mind lands on the beauty of this funny place called life.

And yes, on a scale of one to over-trusting, I am pretty darn naïve. But I want her to know that this world is made out of sugar. It can crumble so easily, but don’t be afraid to stick your tongue out and taste it.

“Baby,” I’ll tell her, “remember your mommy is a worrier and your daddy is a warrior, and you are the girl with small hands and big eyes who never stops asking for more.” Remember that good things come in threes and so do bad things. And always apologize when you’ve done something wrong, but don’t ever apologize for the way your eyes refuse to stop shining. Your voice is small, but don’t ever stop singing. And when they finally hand you heartache, when they slip war and hatred under your door and offer you handouts on street-corners of cynicism and defeat, you tell them that they really ought to meet your mother.”

(taken from a speech given by by Sarah Kay)

Lila, let’s read this to each other every so often…(once you start to read, that is). I think it will be good for both of us…

jack is my hero

Yesterday, I had a bad day. That’s a relative statement, because everyone I know and love is happy and healthy and safe…but it was a no good day, nonetheless.

It started with some not so hopeful news about our on-the-market house. And from there, it just went down. Between meetings from hell and miscommunication about picking up the kids, I was ready for the day to be over. But when I got home, the bad mood and crappy day seemed to fade.

I took pictures of the kids. Lots, actually. For Mother’s Day, I want to make myself updated silhouettes of the kids so I was set on getting good profile shots. Lila’s were a challenge. I must have taken 30, but I knew I had a keeper in that bunch! Then I took pictures of the kids goofing around, making funny faces and laughing so hard that they were falling onto one another with full-on belly laughs that brought a smile to my face. I knew my bad day was over. I knew things were only going uphill from here.

Then I took Jack’s pictures. And reviewed. Reviewed. Revi…my pictures were gone. The pictures of Lila’s profile and the kids laughing together and from spirit week at school, and those from the previous week, and the week before that. Gone. And I lost it. I cried. A big, red-faced cry. I was mad and angry and frustrated and tired.

Then Jack patted my back. He said, “It’s okay Mommy, you can just take more pictures.” He was there for me: when everything came crashing down, he became my knight. And although I know I’ll never get those pictures back, it wasn’t really about the pictures anyway. I think I just needed a moment of release. The memories in those lost pictures, of the kids’ unconditional love for one another, reminded me that my crappy day isn’t something that I will remember in the long run. Lucky for me though, there will be thousands of belly-laughing, sibling-loving moments to come, capture, and relive.

I wiped my eyes, and we read our nightly books, and I told him how thankful I was that he was my big guy and how much he helped me…how lucky I am. Then he requested I sing “The Lucky” song, for which he had to resituate himself to sit properly in my lap like a baby, which I will allow as long as he wishes. It was an off key rendition, but I sang and rocked him.

It was the least I could do after he became my personal hero for the night…for my ever, actually.