Letters to Nowhere

I have a file on my computer. It is getting filled up with angry/sad letters to J. He will never receive these letters but sometimes it is therapeutic to pretend I am able to give him a verbal smack upside the head. I would actually do it if I thought it would do any good, but I am trying to be done doing him good. I tried my best. Now I am trying to focus on doing me and my children good. Tonight I wrote a letter that started out angry and ended up sad. Addressing him in such strong terms (even in letters he will never see) still feels strange because we were not a couple that fought. Aside from the small spats and disagreements, I don't ever recall yelling at him until the day he made the decision to leave his family behind. Most of these letters contain pretty much what I said to him that day with a few additions. Some things bear repeating, I guess. Yes, I cussed more than once and the letter included an awful lot of "why's?" because try as I might, I still am struggling to figure out how I got here and why it has to be like this. For the majority of my marriage, I would have bet my oldest child that my husband would not leave us no matter what mistakes were made. I trusted a little too blindly. I still feel like I am in shock every morning when I wake up. Slowly throughout the day, I get a little more accustomed to the idea if not accepting of it and I rarely go to bed without a burdened soul. It's like having your heart break every day all over again. I am really anxious for the day that doesn't happen.

It seems like there is always something to get through. The Christmas season is something I don't ever want to think about again, January had a few pitfalls, and I have been dreading Valentine's day weekend with all my heart for months. Every year for the last 9 years, (with the exception of last year) J has given me roses. I will miss them this year. I will miss the giver even more.

Tonight found me sitting on the kitchen floor in tears (don't stress mom and dad. I'm ok, just grieving. I'm told I am supposed to :-) Every few days, things catch up to me and I just need to stop in my tracks and cry. Last week was Junior's birthday and it happened to fall on a J visitation day. I had suggested a week or two before that we do something together with him so we could both enjoy his day and so he wouldn't have to worry about us (which he does. I overrode my own grievances and had J join us for both Halloween and Christmas Day so the boys could share it with him and Junior often references how cool it was to have dad "in our house" on those days). Needless to say, the day came, J threw a party for him and 'mom' was not invited. Having dropped Junior off at school that morning at 8:30, I did not get to see him on his big day until 9 p.m. I will admit I miss J, but I am not dying to be around him since it's fairly humiliating for me. But I was disappointed to miss Junior's entire birthday. It was even more depressing to remember that none of this was my choice or the kids choice but we get to be the ones who suffer. My son didn't get to see his mom on his birthday. My oldest is 6 and my youngest is 8 months old. It will be this way for the next 17 years and 4 months.

And I have absolutely no control over that.

I only get to control how I act and sometimes it is the hardest thing to override what I want to do or what would feel satisfying (i.e. excluding J from seeing the kids on "my" holidays). My standard is what the kids need and right now they need to see their dad as much as possible to be able to feel secure. I still feel like even if we are now separate units, they need to know that we are united for them. I will continue to do that. But I am not going to pretend that it is not hard and I am not going to pretend that it doesn't really hurt when that intention is not reciprocated. I still haven't reconciled that the one who once loved me most is now doing the exact opposite. I haven't reconciled that my children don't have a father who put them first. For some reason, I want to continue to believe that he is just going through a selfish phase. Every day is a little more disillusioning.

I spent the day helping a friend whose 18 month old (girl/boy) twins were admitted to the hospital with respiratory problems. Considering this friend has devoted almost as much time to me as her own children over the last 6 months, I was absolutely thrilled to be of service to her (and I just so happened to have a kid free day!) Both babies know me pretty well by now and although I wasn't as good as mom, each let me cuddle and love on them while the other one was getting poked and prodded (they had a really rough day). When their dad made it to the hospital, little Gracey lit up and lunged for her daddy. She put her tired head on his shoulder and relaxed in a way I hadn't seen her do yet. She is a daddy's girl and I am always touched when I see her relationship with him. However, it always inevitably follows that I am sad for my own little girl. J loves her. It's obvious when he looks at her. She will love him, but she will never run to meet him at the door after work like the boys always did. She will run to open the door to him twice a week and every other weekend. He will not be there to intimidate her Prom date or take her on impromptu daddy/daughter dates or tuck her in at night or be a constant example in her life. Someone else might be doing those things for her by then, but not her dad. He has chosen to view her growing up and the boys growing up with a limit even though I know he loves them. It hurts that that is acceptable. It will never feel acceptable to me. And it still doesn't make sense.

So, tonight was a night that I held it in until the kids were asleep. Then I cried. Then I wrote a strongly worded letter to J telling him (again) just how all this makes me feel and put it in the file. And I felt a little better. Not a lot, but at least I was done crying for the night. My therapist references my grieving process often. I know I have a ways to go. I know this because I have not even gotten to the point where I can imagine living without this pain or where I can imagine that living without J will not be painful. Part of me is scared to be without it because having the pain be gone means I have to accept that the life I have been building for the last decade, and that I wanted so much, is over and done. My children's one shot at a united family would be gone. The only man I have ever fallen in love with, my best friend and a huge part of my past, will be really, truly gone. A quarter of my life will have led to this (and being honest? I am not a huge fan of this life.) I will have to accept that at least for awhile, I am financially dependent on a man who no longer loves me and who will only consider me a financial burden. It's humiliating even if it is right and necessary. I have to accept that I now share my children with a man I don't know anymore and that for the rest of their childhoods, it will be this back and forth schedule that I hate. It's a lot to let go of and a lot to accept.

So, for today, I am back on my feet. I carry the grief of all these things we are losing every day but it doesn't always overwhelm me. Some days, some weeks, some minutes are worse than others. One foot in front of the other and one day at a time has never felt more uphill. But I am trying to keep space in my heart for the hope of gaining something back for us. Something I can't even see right now. I trust that God compensates. I really do. But I am not done grieving. Letting go is not a simple as it may seem even when someone has hurt you. There are a lot of gray areas of compartmentalize. There has definitely been some bad in my marriage, but if there also wasn't a lot of good, this wouldn't be so difficult. If there wasn't so much good too, I never would have believed that we would have a shot to fix things. I will never believe that this marriage could not have been saved with work. But again, it was not my choice. The letters I write will not go anywhere. Ever. That's a good thing (if I may say so, you do not ever want to get an angry letter from me. I'm pretty good at them. A talent I never knew I had :-) But it helps to say it even if he doesn't hear it.

Sometimes.

This is my brain on drugs!

We have all been sick. Nothing big, just annoying body aches and sniffles that keep us up at night (and keeps me wiping three noses besides my own. Blech!) A few nights ago, I treated myself to Nyquil to help me sleep. Of course, Sis who had slept almost the entire night before when I lay awake sniffling and coughing, woke up at least four times. On the fourth trip in to her room, I narrowly missed walking into the door jamb. Rather than pick her up and carry her with me to make a bottle, like I usually do, I opted to not risk her life and left her howling in her crib. I unscrewed the lid on her bottle and measured out the formula while I waited for the water to run warm. We have the Ventaire bottles that also unscrew on the bottom and at some point, I had taken both the top and the bottom off the bottle without realizing it.

Three scoops of formula in and fill it with water. It took me a minute to realize that the bottle wasn't filling up. With frustration that increased with the shrieks coming from up the stairs, I realized that I had taken the bottom off of the bottle. My solution? Put three more scoops of formula in and try filling it up again. When I realized again that the bottom was off the bottle, I think I cussed and probably called myself some name or other. What kind of idiot does that twice? In went three more scoops before I remembered yet again that if I wanted to make an actual bottle to feed the drama queen, who was at that moment shrieking at a level that suggested I was 'ruining her life,' I needed to put the bottom of the darn thing on. Not just recognize that it was off. I found and reattached the bottom (when did I take that off? when?) and finally made a successful bottle on the fourth try. I stumbled back upstairs to Sis who actually whimpered with relief when sustenance came into view (as though she had not had a bottle two hours before...) and all was quiet again. When I came down the next morning, it took me a minute to register why there was spilled formula all over the counter and in the sink. I was on the verge of rounding up the usual suspects (ok, suspect (singular) Bubba is the only one who would make a mess like that) when I remembered. Oh yes. Right.

The next night, I figured I would still take medicine, but I would be ready with prepped bottles that were neatly lined up on the counter. It was a good idea, but falling down the stairs did plenty to wake me up on that particular trip. Bruised hip, bruised ego and wrenched shoulder as I valiantly tried to catch myself on the banister. Can you all picture it? Good.

So, no more Nyquil for me until my children are old enough to not need my assistance in the night. I'm off the sauce. Drugs ruin lives people! And around here, they ruin perfectly good formula.

Let this be a lesson to you all. Learn from my mistakes. Don't drive, operate machinery, mix baby formula or attempt to walk down stairs while under the influence.

It's just not worth it...

For My Boy

Dear JS,

Six years ago today at 3:29 in the afternoon, you finally arrived, looking so much like your daddy that we decided to give you his name (and then just call you by your middle one :-). I still remember holding you in my arms and wondering why I spent so many months wondering what you would look like because, of course, you were you. So familiar. You were our dream come true and we couldn't keep our eyes off of you. You were 8 lbs. 12 oz. and every nurse that picked you up talked about how big you were, but you felt tiny to us. I was delighted that you got your daddy's eyes (and so sorry that you got my ears :-) Dad said you were the prettiest baby in the nursery. You made squeaky sounds with every breath that went out and we thought it was adorable (it was slightly less adorable when we had to move you to your own room three weeks later because you were so noisy in your sleep). We couldn't believe they let us take you home. You were ours, ours, ours!

I never minded getting up with you in the night. You were so good natured that it took you awhile to cry. I would hear you "talking" and get you from your crib in the dark. As we walked into the light of the front room, your eyes would be wide open and you would be trying earnestly to get both fists in your mouth at the same time with loud smacking noises. I would wrap us both in a blanket in the rocking chair and those quiet, cuddly nights are now some of my most precious early memories of you. We often wondered through your first year when parenting would start to get hard because you were so easy going.

We adored you from the start. You were such a happy boy (with the exception of 'The Great Tantrum Phase' you had at around 16 months. No one who knew you then will ever forget it :-) We all emerged though, and you were back to your sunny self. No day was complete with out one of us saying "Man, I love this kid..." or without dad remarking that you were "painfully adorable/cute."

1st Birthday - Feb 2005

Summer - 2005

2006

You have always been so incredibly smart. From the minute you could grip a crayon, you have been "curring" (coloring) and I have folders full of your drawing and painting projects. It took you awhile to accept that baby brother was here to stay, but the minute you did, you became his best friend (and worst enemy at times). I am so proud that you are the oldest for your brother and sister to look up to. You have been very patient with us as we work on figuring out how to be parents.

Christmas - 2006

Spring - 2007

Nothing is more fun for you than getting to be silly. You always look for reasons to laugh and make others laugh. Half the time, I think you are headed for the 'stage.'

This is what you get when you mess with Dad - Summer 2007

You have such a tender heart and make a lot of sweet gestures. Since you were two, there has not been a spring/summer go by that you do not bring me flowers from the yard everyday. You are so pleased when you are praised. There is a sweet humility about you that I hope never, ever leaves you. You seem to naturally be kind and sweet, but surprise us all the time with your level of toughness in many areas.

So sad he "didn't get to fight Captain Hook" on the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland - Spring 2008

2008

You are a curious boy. You love to ask questions and love even more to teach me about things. You have already learned that the answer to life's many questions can be found on the Internet and at least once a day we are looking up pictures of something you have questions about (honestly, what did parents of curious kids do before the internet?)

First Day of Preschool - February 2009

JS and Sis - July 2009

You have a very loyal heart. Not even your old buddy Raffi has ever been completely forgotten. You got to take birthday money to the store and bought a present for Bubba as well as yourself and you always save a part of whatever treat you get at school for your brother or your dad (not me yet, hmmm). You "save" Sis multiple times a day from going anywhere near the outlets in the living room (even though she would have no clue what to do with one if she was allowed to go anywhere near). And spend a lot of time entertaining her and trying to make her laugh. In return, she adores you. Bubba wants to do whatever you do and go where you go. You give lots of hugs and 'I love you's' and I don't think a day has gone by since you learned to write that I haven't gotten a love note of some kind.

January - 2010

Junior saved the seed from the apple he ate. He wants to plant an apple tree in the yard and use the fruit for the apple recipe based restaurant he wants to start in our kitchen. It will be called "Apple Shackel"

January - 2010

You make me proud. You make me want to be a better Mama because you deserve the best of everything. You have always been a joy and an 'old soul.' Dad and I are amazingly blessed that you are our boy and always will be. Your brother and sister are lucky to have you be part of their lives. You are kind brother and an amazing son and I am grateful/amazed every day that I get to be your mom. We love you.

Happy 6th Birthday!

This time last year...

I'm a big "this time last year" person (if you hadn't noticed) and it is something I have done as long as I can remember. It's one of the things that makes my situation so hard. I'm a 'rememberer' and it's been less than six months that I have been doing this gig all on my own (eight since Ground Zero). It sucks to think of what we were doing as a family at any point the year before. It all feels so different now. Because I have Sis, I am torn between wishing the time would go by faster to speed that healing that everyone promises me it will bring, and wishing it would slow down a little because my baby is growing too fast. Part of me really wants to hit the year mark so I can start being glad that I am not where I was "this time last year." I have to believe that it can all get better.

All day I have been thinking about how this time last year I was on the first day of a cruise to Mexico with 40+ members of J's family (courtesy of my amazing in-laws). I had planned, made lists, prepared, packed, worked late (just one more article...) and thought endlessly about sand and sun for weeks and months beforehand. We were finally there. Customs cleared, bags unpacked, beds jumped on. It felt like such a huge relief after preparing for so long (and that is small potatoes to the work ma and pa-in-law put in to get such a big group organized.). I can still remember how lucky I felt to be at the start of a fun trip with my little family and how much I looked forward to a break from the regular routine with J. I was six months pregnant (and we knew a little girl was on the way) but I was feeling good. I didn't fear the future. In fact, I was looking forward to it. For the moment, all was right with my world. I felt like we were on the verge of 'getting it all together' in many ways.

It was an amazing trip. It really was. The boys still talk about things they did "on the big boat." Tonight as the boys and I looked over the pictures I took, I had to review a few of my favorites in honor of one of the best vacations I ever had and our last genuinely fun time as a family. The day after we arrived home, all hell broke loose both with J's work and in ways I didn't get to see until later. The months following were mostly a game of damage control and keeping up and being more and more pregnant. I thought I would rest after the baby came :-)

Junior swears he saw a sea lion. Maybe he did...

My handsome date (he has grown so much in the last year).

Bubba is just cool! Always has been.

Cabo San Lucas - Great Grandpa and Junior looking at the Carnival Pride from the beach (my favorite picture of the entire trip.)

As dressy as I could get with my limited maternity wardrobe. This picture probably would have been better if we had all been looking at the same camera!

I looked at these pictures and I missed that "me." Ignorance sometimes really is bliss and although the situation I was in couldn't have lasted forever, I miss that heady feeling of optimism for my future. The feeling of thinking we could tackle anything because we were a "we." It's been almost exactly eight months since I felt anything but fear and sadness and uncertainty. And I have been "I" for just long enough to start forgetting how it felt to be "we" in the everyday things, but not long enough to not miss it in the very core of my soul on a million levels.

However,

I have every hope that no matter what my situation is, by February 1st 2011, I will have gotten that feeling back.

Just watch me...

We represent the lollipop guild...

Sis had a big week. In addition to being sick, she cut two top teeth and will mimic some of our sounds ("ba, ba, ba" brilliant child...). She has also figured out a kinder way to wake me up instead of hollering. She twists in her crib and kicks the mobile attached to the side until she makes contact with the 'on' button and I get to wake up to 'twinkle, twinkle little star'. (Scared me to death the first time).

Her biggest achievement is that she has taught herself to crawl (backwards anyway, she still throws herself forward and face plants into the ground for the moment when attempting 'forward,' which always delights the boys). The bummer is that now I have to keep more than just a square foot radius around her clean when she is sitting. Maybe I can justify a really nice vacuum in honor of my little floor cruiser (give me enough time and I can justify any of my purchases).

Choosing Your Choice

You're invited to come eat off my floors. They have never been so clean. For the first time, in probably the history of my adult life, my floors are all clean AT THE SAME TIME!!! Same goes for the rest of my house (sort of, the kids got ahold of it today and all I know is that it is clean underneath). Corners previously unvisited for years have been ruthlessly attacked and cleared of all dust and detritus. Carpets are shampooed, cupboards are cleaned and oiled, twenty thousand loads of laundry folded, yucky space behind the toilet sanitized, closets straightened, sofa steam cleaned, kids clothes organized and outgrown clothes folded and packed into the basement. It only took me 10 hours (with a short jaunt to Arctic Circle to get the kids off my back to "do something fun").

The occasion?

I faced J in a courtroom this morning and I have been dreading it for weeks. Obsessively cleaning my house felt like a way to try to put some order in a life of things I have not gotten to control for a long time. I wasn't that surprised when I didn't actually feel better. I have not filed for divorce. I'm letting him have keep particular honor since I feel like my soul has already been crushed enough and I haven't been able to bring myself to tear down the rest of this marriage foundation regardless of how little he is acting like a husband. Although I do reserve the right change my feelings on that point at any time. Why should he be the only one who gets to make selfish, devastating decisions for this family?

Wow...sorry. I should delete that since my goal was never to make this a snarky, husband bashing forum. I'm going to leave it though so we are clear on just how crummy this morning was. I'm not feeling nice or kind or charitable today. Like I said, we were in court this morning (temporary separation agreement) and I struggled. All I could think about was our wedding day and how in the world we got to this point. All I could remember was how nervous I was kneeling across from him at the altar in the sealing room wondering if I really had made the best decision for my life.

While J was still here, he told me he remembered lying in bed the night before our wedding also in some amount of conflict about getting married in the morning. 70 miles away, I was doing the same thing. I want to make it clear right now that I don't believe that either of us made a wrong decision to get married. I knew I loved him, we were best friends and had been for years, I taken the matter to prayer and knew it had potential to be a good path and lead to great things. The issue wasn't whether or not it was fundamentally right or wrong. The love was definitely there (even if he has now convinced himself otherwise). The thing is, in this culture, marriage is not just a life commitment. It's also an eternal one. My feelings as I lay in bed the night before and held his hands across the altar were not about whether I had picked the right person. It was about whether I had the faith and devotion I needed to continue to "choose my choice" and whether he did as well. I have no doubt that this also was the crux of the feelings that he now attaches such sinister significance to, even if that is not how he chooses to recognize it. I don't think many people do. I haven't talked to a single person that also did not lie awake the night before eternally committing themselves to someone without some conflicted feelings about the ultimate implications of such a huge choice. It's no small thing to have chosen someone worthy to be the other parent to your children. No small thing to chose one person to grow old with and to meet the challenges life throws. It's no small thing to hope that that someone is going to always choose you and the best thing for your family. Romantic or not, everyone knows in their soul that marriages have the potential to go bad even if you don't think it will happen to you. Divorce rates don't lie.

The last few months have killed the romantic in me. I know now that 'Love' is not something you fall into. It is a result of an attraction coupled with a conscious choice. Choosing someone involves sacrifice and putting the other person first. I believe love can be a gorgeous thing, but it is not something that comes for free. Those who take enough of the right steps go on to get married and those who don't, break up. Those who continue to chose their partner continually build their relationship and die still "in love." Those who marry but choose to not stay committed "fall out of love" and find themselves years down the road regretfully telling their spouse "I love you but I am not IN love with you" or "we aren't compatible" and chalking it up to that magical something never having been there in the first place. After all, once you fall in love, don't you stay there?

It's not a bottomless hole, people! It's steps, and you have to keep taking that next one.

The other thing I remember about my wedding day? Looking in his eyes, thinking about how much I loved him ( and oh boy, did I love that man) and consciously making the choice to be loyal in every capacity when I said "I do." I did not look back or have a doubt my decision since that moment even though he gave me more than one reason in the duration of our marriage to "fall out of love" with him too. I never forgot my choice and choosing him sometimes took more effort than I thought I would ever have to make with the "love of my life." I see now that constantly renewing my commitment caused me to love him more even when my heart hurt. I guess I assumed that on the deepest level, he would continue to choose me too. Sucks to be wrong.

In the earliest years of our marriage (pre-kids) we were giddy with our new life and each other. "I am so lucky I get to have you forever" was a common theme in our notes and letters and love talk. We would have baffled conversations about why other couples were struggling. "It's so easy!" we said. "All you have to do is continually see to the other person's comfort, right? Everyone gets their needs met" (yes, we were young, but the logic is still sound. Also, that theory is endorsed by Pres. Hinckley...) I chose him every day and through every bad patch even while I know I wasn't perfect. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in good times and in bad. That portion of the traditional marriage vows are not just suggestions, but guidelines. They suggest that you need to recalibrate your level of commitment through everything life throws at you, and decide to do it together. My friend has a framed quote on her wall that says "Choose thy love, love thy choice." I think that sentence is so wise, I am considering petitioning the first presidency to incorporate tattooing that on the back of the couple's hands as part of the wedding ceremony. Apparently we all need constant reminders.

Somewhere along the line J stopped choosing me and living with that knowledge every day makes me feel like I would rather physically remove my heart with my bare hands than have it hurt like this (dramatic you say? I mean every word...). I will be the first to say I was not a perfect wife, but I feel like I tried hard. I can probably list my faults better than he can even while I don't believe anything I did ultimately caused what he did. True love isn't something you "fall into." It's a reward for consistently choosing each other. For whatever reason, he gave up on that and I don't think he is likely to find it where he is looking now. I sometimes wonder if all my devotion was wasted in the long run. I don't get to have the "true love" anymore. "A perfectly attentive wife" is the best description I got from him when once it was "you are the last thing I think about before going to sleep and the first thing I think about when I wake up." What did all that "choosing" get me except the basic knowledge that I did the right thing? Will it make it that much harder for me to feel like committing to someone else is ultimately a crap-shoot? Maybe I'll get lucky next time? There is always this tricky little factor called agency and I have been more than schooled in the effects it can have on others when someone chooses selfishly. As loyal and forgiving as I could be, it just doesn't feel right now like it did me any good. I don't have lots of guilt on my soul, but I don't have a companion either. Righteous indignation, no matter how justified, is poor company in this quiet house. Being so loyal has definitely made un-committing to him that much harder as well. Nothing he did during our marriage haunts me nearly as much as his final choice not to choose his family. I can't imagine a time when my soul won't be raw from that knowledge.

As with so many things, I am mostly trying to take the advice to stay in the present and focus on the now rather than the "maybe's." It's hard to do when you are a planner like me. I always kind of want to know what is going on. Having such an unsure future and a unhappy present is hard to deal with. It makes me feel like nothing will change now. I guess I know I wouldn't do anything differently if I had to do it all over. That is some comfort.

Can I give some unsolicited advice? Make your choices count. Choose your love and keep choosing them. Falling in or out of love is in your control and the recipe for success or failure is very simple. Don't assume that because you made the decision to get married that you are bullet proof. Agency. Choice. Your level of love is up to you. In a healthy relationship, both partners will reciprocate, but even if he/she is not, do it anyway. Don't let the fact that things are easy at first fool you. Loving someone isn't hard. Staying in love takes more effort and that is the way it should be. Nothing that is that worth it should be without effort. The hardest things are often the most rewarding.

This morning, I felt like a failure. It doesn't matter that I didn't choose to end my marriage. I get to share in the failure of it forever. I have to take on faith that the loyalty I exhibited for so many years will someday not be the cross I am carrying every day. I hear it gets better than this?

Let's get this party started...

Bubba didn't want to get to close. Junior staged the shot by "being scared" Convincing, no?

We trekked south to ‘P town' (provo) this weekend to start the celebrations for Junior and (cousin) Will, whose birthdays are only 3 days apart in February. I say 'start' because (at least in our home) I don't think my kids have ever had fewer than 2 parties between family celebrations and now friend parties (and now we can toss in that Junior will also be celebrating with dad at some point as well). We should just designate a birth month instead of a birth day because that is about how long it lasts around here. The kids aren't complaining though (and actually, neither am I. Who complains about partying? Not to mention the kick I get out of creating parties in general) Also, if there was ever a year that my kids have earned a little extra attention...

This year Grandpa and Grandma treated the grandkids to an evening at Pirate Island Pizza and we will definitely be back. The place was like Pirates of the Caribbean without the ride and it was really pretty awesome. Especially if you have a little pirate fan like my Bubba (who has not. stopped. talking. about. it!)

I have a fun family and as we get bigger, we don't get together nearly often enough. There is not a place to hold us all when we are together anymore. We have graduated to having family functions at the church or the school where mom teaches.

Here is some of the fun (we missed you Jeff, Kate and Bek's families...)

Bubba (genuinely) kicked my trash at air hockey. It's all he wanted to play. Britny, we will be over to spend some quality time with your air hockey table soon...

Wren and Bubba - Frenemies forever!

Junior and his best friend/cousin Lily. These two have been best buds for years.

Sis celebrated cutting her two top teeth and feeling much better in general by helping finish off Junior's birthday ice cream. Seven months old and already a devastatingly beautiful heartbreaker! She's going to be trouble in about sixteen years. (By the way, all major tests came back negative. She tested positive for a virus that was harmless enough as long as her fever broke and stayed gone, which it did!)

Sarah and Grandma

Mak and Dave (who grew a pirate beard just for the occasion.)

Abby and Jen

Junior got a balloon parrot from the balloon guy. This is his pirate face (In case you couldn't tell). Good grief, I love this boy!

Of course Bubba's choice was a sword. I stoppped him from some serious playing to get this picture. This is the look I get when he is humoring me. I see this look a lot!

Aunt Mak always comes through with good looking birthday cakes/cupcakes.

Junior has been asking for a jack-in-the-box for over a year now, but mean old mom couldn't bring herself to pay $25 for a new "vintage" one at the store. Grandpa finally found one for $1 at the Thrift Store and it was even a monkey for our 'monkey man.' It was a genuine hit with all the grandkids (to our surprise. I thought for sure it would be one of those things that he thinks he wants until he gets his hands on one - kind of like the $60 Wowee Baby Lion he got for Christmas a year or so ago which he dreamed about for weeks before promptly abandoning it forever mere hours after it was opened). Before you think it is strange that my almost 6 year old wanted a jack-in-the-box, please note that his other request was a lava lamp (request indulged by Grandma, of course). Some boys want transformers....)

This is how we spent the afternoon. The boys wouldn't budge from the counter until the lava lamp started bubbling (3+ hours!) and no other activity I suggesting was anywhere near as enticing. When that first bubble broke, they definitely felt like it was worth the wait (I'm too cynical, I guess. I thought it was a little anti-climactic for how long it took to heat up. My attitude probably also has something to do with amount of fights I had to break up during the wait. They entertained themselves by bugging each other.)

Happy first party Junior and Will (wasn't it just a year or so ago that we were celebrating Will turning 2 and I was days away from having Junior? Now Will is about to be baptized and Junior is old enough to want 70's style bedroom decor) Sunrise, sunset...