Two things have happened recently which has made me feel slightly dazed at the speed in which Lily is growing up: first, my sister pointed out that her oldest, Austin, is 9 years old and therefore halfway done with his time spent living at home. This fact is unbelievable to me. As the first nephew (or niece) that I ever had, his arrival and his babyhood is something that I will always remember. I loved visiting or babysitting him and remember whole days when I got to keep him while my sister and her husband went to football games. The first time I babysat him, he was just a baby, and we were in Greenville and I pushed him in his stroller all over our area of town. He never would take a nap for me, but he would cuddle with me. He couldn't talk or walk yet and he had cradle cap. I remember because I called my sister asking what the buttery substance was on his head. I then remember keeping him and Anna after she was born and Austin was a sweet toddler. We watched submarine videos together because that's what he was fascinated with at the time. I knew so little about babies at that point that I put Anna to sleep in her baby bath-tub. I can't comprehend that half of the time before he leaves for college is over. What happened?!? Where did that baby with cradle cap or that boat-loving toddler go? When did the time start to go by so quickly?

The second thing is that Allison and Anna were over today. They are almost exactly a year younger than Lily. It blows my mind to know that it's been a whole year since Lily was doing those things that they are doing now. It feels like it was just last month. And next year, who knows what Lily will be doing?

Yesterday, I was rearranging some things we have on the bookshelf in Lily's room. One of them is a figurine of a mom holding her daughter who is probably about five years old. I got it as a gift when I was pregnant with Lily. My mom said to me "Before you know it, Lily will be that age." I sort of thought she was nuts! And yet, today I was talking about Lily's third birthday party. I know it's still a long way away, but the fact I am even thinking about it is crazy. Her third birthday?!? It feels like just yesterday that I was bringing her home from the hospital with no idea what was in-store for me. She cried almost the whole night the first night home and that was over two years ago.

I need someone to tell me how to make time stand still. Or how to remember everything, every detail, every cute thing she does, every look, every mispronounced word, everything about this age. I used to feel happy with each passing month, each milestone. She was such a difficult baby that I was ready to be far away from colic, crying, reflux, torticollis, constant medical appointments, etc. I certainly don't long for those days again, but I am so enjoying these days, despite the temper tantrums and the complete refusal to behave when it actually matters, that I am now feeling sad as she gets older and figures out how to say things and do things for herself. I love the piece from Anna Quindlen below. Unlike her I do feel sorrow from time to time that she is no longer my baby and that if you ask her if she's a baby, she responds "No, I'm a girl." I just want to find a way to hold on to or at least remember these days forever. Before I know it, she'll be 9 years old and I'll be thinking she's halfway done at home. My mom would probably add that then before you know, she'll be having her own babies.

Parenting Memories by Anna Quindlen

All my babies are gone now. I say this not in sorrow but in disbelief. I take great satisfaction in what I have today: three almost-adults, two taller than I am, one closing in fast. Three people who read the same books I do and have learned not to be afraid of disagreeing with me in their opinion of them, who sometimes tell vulgar jokes that make me laugh until I choke and cry, who need razor blades and shower gel and privacy, who want to keep their doors closed more than I like. Who, miraculously, go to the bathroom, zip up their jackets and move food from plate to mouth all by themselves. Like the trick soap I bought for the bathroom with a rubber ducky at its center, the baby is buried deep within each, barely discernible except through the unreliable haze of the past.
Everything in all the books I once poured over is finished for me now. Penelope Leach, T. Berry Brazelton, Dr. Spock. The ones on sibling rivalry and sleeping through the night and early-childhood education, all grown obsolete. Along with "Goodnight Moon" and "Where the Wild Things Are", they are battered, spotted, well used. But I suspect that if you flipped the pages dust would rise like memories. What those books taught me, finally, and what the women on the playground taught me, and the well-meaning relations--what they taught me, was that they couldn't really teach me very much at all.
Raising children is presented at first as a true-false test, then becomes multiple choice, until finally, far along, you realize that it is an endless essay. No one knows anything. One child responds well to positive reinforcement, another can be managed only with a stern voice and a timeout. One child is toilet trained at 3, his sibling at 2.
When my first child was born, parents were told to put baby to bed on his belly so that he would not choke on his own spit-up. By the time my last arrived, babies were put down on their backs because of research on sudden infant death syndrome. To a new parent this ever-shifting certainty is terrifying, and then soothing. Eventually you must learn to trust yourself. Eventually the research will follow. I remember 15 years ago poring over one of Dr. Brazelton's wonderful books on child development, in which he describes three different sorts of infants: average, quiet,and active. I was looking for a sub-quiet codicil for an 18-month old who did not walk. Was there something wrong with his fat little legs? Was there something wrong with his tiny little mind? Was he developmentally delayed, physically challenged? Was I insane? Last year he went to China. Next year he goes to college. He can talk just fine. He can walk, too.
Every part of raising children is humbling, too. Believe me, mistakes were made. They have all been enshrined in the, "Remember-When-Mom-Did Hall of Fame." The outbursts, the temper tantrums, the bad language, mine, not theirs. The times the baby fell off the bed. The times I arrived late for preschool pickup. The nightmare sleepover. The horrible summer camp. The day when the youngest came barreling out of the classroom with a 98 on her geography test, and I responded,"What did youget wrong?". (She insisted I include that.) The time I ordered food at the McDonald's drive-through speaker and then drove away without picking it up from the window. (They all insisted I include that.) I did not allow them to watch the Simpsons for the first two seasons. What was I thinking?
But the biggest mistake I made is the one that most of us make while doing this. I did not live in the moment enough. This is particularly clear now that the moment is gone, captured only in photographs. There is one picture of the three of them, sitting in the grass on a quilt in the shadow of the swing set on a summer day, ages 6, 4 and 1. And I wish I could remember what we ate, and what we talked about, and how they sounded, and how they looked when they slept that night.
I wish I had not been in such a hurry to get on to the next thing: dinner, bath, book, bed. I wish I had treasured the doing a little more and the getting it done a little less.
Even today I'm not sure what worked and what didn't, what was me and what was simply life. When they were very small, I suppose I thought someday they would become who they were because of what I'd done. Now I suspect they simply grew into their true selves because they demanded in a thousand ways that I back off and let them be. The books said to be relaxed and I was often tense, matter-of-fact and I was sometimes over the top. And look how it all turned out. I wound up with the three people I like best in the world, who have done more than anyone to excavate my essential humanity. That's what the books never told me. I was bound and determined to learn from the experts. It just took me awhile to figure out who the experts were.

Centennial Olympic Park Fountains

We went there today with Ramsey, Robin and Marley and had a fabulous time. Lily was very uncertain about the fountains at first, but soon decided she loved them...as long as her Daddy was out there with her!

The view.

Ramsey and Marley, Lily and Bryan. Marley had a different take on the fountains...particularly after one shot her right in the face.

Lily dancing in the fountain--the girl will dance anywhere!! It's weird, b/c I'm not like that at all. :)

We all had to clear off for the "show" which was basically the fountains set to music. With it empty, you can see the Olympic rings better.

Hair Cuttin' Time!

I haven't had a hair cut since December 2007. I had one right before we moved to Mississippi and that was it. I needed one very badly and had Bryan measure my ponytail one night since I know you only need 10 inches to make a hair donation to Locks of Love. My ponytail was 16 inches long and so I decided to go for it! I brought some moral support as anyone whose known me long knows I'm not good with hair cuts. I can already hear Cheryl's (my college roommate) response to this statement! Anyhow, we went this morning--Bryan got to cut off the actual ponytail and we've saved it to mail it in. I love the new 'do! It's a lot shorter than anything I've ever had and I'm still getting used to it, but I think it's cute. Lily saw me for the first time after the cut and said "Pretty, Mommy!" I think she had some promptimg from her Daddy. Now she keeps asking me where my hair went!

Kissy Face!!

Lily likes to give hugs and kisses a lot...especially when I'm distracted doing something else. I was on the internet and she decided it was the perfect time to hug and kiss Mommy. How could I say no to that?!?
She has also discovered that jumping on the bed is the funnest thing ever!! She pushes all the blankets, sheets, and pillows off and just goes crazy! I caught her mid-jump. Actually, I think she was landing after a particularly big jump.

Fourth of July

We went over to Rickey and Sherry's on the Fourth, as we do every year. It is a lot of fun! We gave Lily a late nap that day so that she could stay up a little late--she got to stay to watch all of the fireworks. She LOVED them and is still talking about them. Her Papa (Bryan's Dad) took her down to the end of the driveway so she was closer to them. Bryan and Shawn were the ones shooting them off and so she really enjoyed watching her Daddy. She is still talking about how loud they were and how Papa took her to see them.

Fun in the Sun

We've been spending a lot of time at the pool this summer. Here are a few pics I took of Lily last week. It's hard to get them because, once her suit is on, she wants to get in the pool immediately. She wears floaties and, with them on, doesn't even really want or need too much help from me. I know that soon we'll have to actually do some lessons so she can learn to swim and not just float, but for right now, she is enjoying this independence. Our pool has "adult swim" for a few minutes every hour and we have to get out--it's pretty much my only opportunity to take a picture. This day we got to the pool during adult swim, so I got to take a few pics before she got in. Here she is laughing b/c I want her to look at the camera and she's refusing!

Christmas Card Time Already!!

First of all, I'm sorry I've such a hiatus from blogging--we've been busy around these parts! I got mad b/c blogspot wouldn't upload some videos I wanted to post from the beach and so I didn't feel like doing anything else with it for a few days, but I've also been working a lot including at one of the other Northside campuses. We've been busy with playdates, the pool or hiding inside from the heat! Anyhow, let me finish the beach pics...

The only time my parents have all of their grandkids together is the beachtrip each summer. My mom always takes that opportunity to take a picture for her Christmas card. I bought these great coordinated outfits this year. And, of course, my child is the one who makes the picture "colorful"!! I find it utterly amusing, frankly!!