Happy Birthday Lily Kathleen (19/30)

Today at 6:32 a.m. Cutie you turned 9 years old.  You often strike me as much older than your years suggest because you possess a kindness and empathy that speak of age and experience.  Of course, we know you are an old soul. An old beautiful soul.

Last night we passed on our regular read to look at journals chronicling your evolution from zygote to baby girl to young lady.  I read to you an excerpt I wrote about the moments we shared just after you were born and we both fought back tears from our eyes.  You could hear them in my voice though, and so you comforted me.  You already understand bittersweet.

When I tucked you in and told you I'd see you when you were 9, your eyes filled up.  You confessed that you just felt a little sad.  Growing up is scary and unsettling to the same extent it is fun and exciting.  I tried to lighten the mood by suggesting you just pull a Peter Pan and don't grow up. Stay 9, I suggested, Stay 9 for at least 12 months.  You chuckled.

I love each and every year of you.  It's such a privilege to bear witness to who you are becoming...to be a part of your journey...to receive your love.  It's a blessing to be your mom.  But the truth is I'd tinker with time if given the choice.  I'd go back.  I'd stop it.  I know I wouldn't fast forward it though.

The constant in all of this growing up is that I will always be here for you, loving you, supporting you, marveling at the beauty that emanates from you inside out.  Whether your 9 or 49...you can count on me to  love you wholeheartedly and unconditionally every day.  That's something I learned from my mom by the way.

Last night you asked if my mom kept my memories.  I said yes.  I have a half complete baby book like most of my generation. I may go a little overboard with journals and photos and mementos, but I know it's worth it when I see how much you cherish them all.

One thing I want to tell you that I'm not sure you'll read in any journal: when I found out I was expecting you, my second child, I prayed for a girl.  It goes without saying that more than anything I wanted a happy, healthy baby, but I confess that I put those girly intentions out there in the universe. About a month before you were born, I knew we would be welcoming our Lily Kathleen, and not our William Robert.  I knew because a lone tiger lily bloomed in a bed of ferns below what would become your bedroom window.  It was the only tiger lily we ever had in all the years we lived in our home before or after your birth, and that happened to be your chosen name.

Happy Birthday beautiful girl!  All you ever need to know is that I love you to the moon and back, and that will never change.

Always and forever, Mom

When Pigs Fly (18/30)

Today pigs flew.  Well, a pig.  Actually, a pink pig.  A pink pig on Tuesday.  I just told you yesterday that Tuesdays are my pink days...rosy and radiant and resounding!   Pink is not just a pretty color...it's a beautiful feeling.  This slightly blurry picture taken on my phone out the window of my moving car today makes me happy.  They say a picture's worth a 1000 words.  I say a 1000 words is a respectable paragraph.  Until tomorrow then.

Rainbow Rambling (17/30)

It's 8 o'clock.  The kids are in the basement playing ping pong together.  Yes...together!  Dinner is in the oven.  Chicken Parmesan.  No, we still haven't eaten.  I have come here with a glass of white to write my paragraph, and tonight it really is like pulling teeth.  It is uncomfortable...even painful.  I woke up this morning lacking patience, and this unsettled sense of nagging urgency has permeated my whole day.  It's been one of those days that I cannot wait to get to the end of.  There's no reason for it.   It's been a fine day.  It's just my mood and likely the fact that it's Monday.  Odds are that Mondays make me feel like this.  Nothing new or original. So many of us suffer from the Monday blues, but really it's the Monday greys in my world.  Tuesdays are pink days.  I usually love everything about life on Tuesdays in a steady, sustaining, soul smiling way.  Wednesdays are yellow...still buoyant and bright whether clouds or clear skies.  Thursdays are blue.  Blue like the sky...soaring not sad.  Fridays are green.  Soulfully sage and ripe with possibility and verdant hope.  Saturdays are pretty in pink again, and Sundays go from pink to blue to green to grey.

Blue Jays (16/30)

I woke up this morning and flung open all the windows and doors first thing. It is a near perfect Sunday morning: crisp, clear, quiet. It's the kind of day you want to welcome into your home...into your life. I am sitting here with my first cup of coffee enjoying the wide open spaces: both literal and figurative. Today's possibilities are dreamy and vast. I have the gift of a day bookmarked between this slow start and the worn in like your favorite jeans comfort of family time. My sitting in...the silence and stillness have just been blatantly interrupted. I hear my kids closing the doors I moments ago opened. There is such a raucous in the air. It's the jays that call the perimeter of our yard home. The sound they are alarming conjures of Hitchcock's The Birds. It's a shrill sounding shriek that has the same effect as nails on a chalkboard. They are flying in a frenzied formation. If ever there was an angry bird, the jay it is. This morning it appears they are sounding off and showing force against a hawk in the vicinity. A hungry hawk nest raiding for breakfast. This morning he'll have to look elsewhere.

This is another Mary Oliver morning.

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean- the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
how to fall down into the grass,
how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed,
how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? 

Godspeed Rosebud (15/30)

Once there was a girl named Rose. We became friends. Rose has lots of friends because she is a good friend, but I have always thought that our friendship was extra special. We have lived, loved and laughed much in the many years we have known one another. We have cried too. There have been weddings and births and deaths. There have been new jobs and new addresses. So much change and yet this special friendship remains a constant. When I think of Rose, the beautiful words that come to mind are loyal, true, strong, generous, smart, snarky and so much fun. The thing is that the stars have aligned and now Rose is blazing an exciting trail across the country. I'm happy for her and for this journey she is embarking upon...this next chapter in her life, and I'm awed by the way she is making things happen. As we gathered on this gem of an afternoon to celebrate her, it finally hit me that she is moving thousands of miles away, and soon. Alas, too far...too soon. It also hit me that I've always wanted to visit California and now I'll have a real good reason to. Godspeed Rosebud! I hope you find what you are looking for, but I know you'll never give up the search.

Grateful Friday: Just One List Today (14/30)

Today I give thanks for..

Friends who deliver homemade pies made from fresh picked berries just because.

B-day planning and shopping.  Miss Bit turns 9! next week.  I have her presents bought or ordered.  I think she's going to love them all.  They're not extravagant, but rather thoughtful and I know that means so much more to her.  We have a special birth day planned with her BFF, a special meal to order and the ingredients to bake one of her favorite cakes.  Then next weekend we'll party with the family.  Birthdays are kind of a big deal at Casa Wags.

Urban playgrounds.  We have driven by this under the bridge playground perched on the outskirts of downtown numerous times.  We finally stopped there this week to have fun on the swings.  And we did have fun despite the scowl Miss Bit is wearing in the picture below.  She wanted me to put down my camera and push her, and so I obliged.

Reading again with my girl.  I love ending the day cuddled up with her, the cats and a good book.

Boys with appetites : belly up to the bar at our favorite Italian market one pizza each after a morning of golf with one friend, and almost an entire loaf of banana bread with another.

Morning doves.  Their coo...it is beautiful, but haunting.

Raspberry crumble bars.

Netflix and Breaking Bad.  It's really so good.

T. Bone was invited to the Jr. PGA golf invitational.  He cannot go because he already has other commitments, but it is an honor as well as a testament to his character.  I know he really really wants to play in the tournament, but not more than he wants to spend the day celebrating a good friend's birthday.

No air condo all week.  Windows wide open to let in fresh air morning and night.

Hide and Seek.

Bumble bees.

Caterpillars.  Miss Bit's arrived and will eventually become Painted Lady Butterflies much to my nature loving little girl's delight!

Pretty Piggies.

His energy.

Her innocence.

Just One Paragraph (13/30)

I received my first birthday gift today. My birthday is not for three weeks, but my thoughtful friend gets excited about giving things and to wait is simply too hard. She picked out the most beautiful, flowy nightgown in the prettiest pink linen adorned with sweet rosebuds along the neckline. I love it. It's perfect. It's so me, yet it's something that I would never buy myself. I think those are the kind of treasures that make the best gifts of all. Unexpected. Unnecessary. Unbelievably thoughtful. So I'm thankful for today's gift...I'm going to enjoy the nightgown, but everyday I am thankful for the gift of our friendship.