If you are not quite two...

...it doesn't matter if you wear pants...

 ...or blow your nose ever...

 ...or have a disgustingly dirty face and baby mullet...

...because when you flash that grin, it's all Mom can do to keep herself from eating you.

Don't Pick It!

Libby is absolutely obsessed with stickers! Today she is wearing about 25 stickers in various locations on her body.
And don't even think about trying to remove them...she will scold you, ”Don't pick it!” The green heart sticker on her hand has been there for four days. Yes, we have bathed her. I'm assuming it has formed an impenetrable bond with her skin. Disturbing.

Safety First.

Nevermind the lack of knee, elbow, or wrist pads. Nevermind the lack of helmet. Nevermind the fact that she's rollerblading in the middle of the street in front of our house.

Please note that my child, who up to this point hated reading to the point of weeping and wailing at the mere mention of it, cannot seem to put her book down long enough to rollerblade! Hallelujah!

Jumpah!

There in the middle (the only one with facial hair) is my dad. No, not my dad. My daddy. 

This picture, taken at Christmas bring tears to my eyes. I have the best daddy in the whole entire world. He doesn't want you to know it, but he's a big ol' softie. I mentioned ages ago that if he grew his beard out "like Santa," we'd come for Christmas. He made sure to call and remind me of that fact around Thanksgiving. He kept his word. So did we. 

The above picture represents 8/19ths of his grandchildren. I like to pretend that he likes my contributions to that number the best. Each of his grandchildren would probably tell you that he likes them best. That's the kind of awesome Jumpah (Lucas's name for him) he is. 

Love you Daddy. Miss you so much!

(I'm told the beard was removed promptly after we left).

Fantasy Vacation

 I have always maintained that roadtrips with my children do not qualify as vacations. The kids may refer to them as such, but the adults involved are never fully relaxed and therefore are not, in fact, on vacation. 

In case that wasn't clear: Any excursion where you bring your children along is not a vacation, it is a trip. With the possible exception of a Disney Cruise (where they take your kids away for the majority of the day). Don't even get me started on how badly I want that!

At any rate, we took a trip. For the Christmas holidays we traveled to Pennsylvania and stayed at my sister Jenny's house. My entire purpose for taking this trip was expressed to my husband several times: I just want to go knit with my sister. 

 And so it was. And it was good. 

Of course we did a lot of other things too. It literally took the entire of Christmas Day to open the presents for 9 children (Jenny has four, herself) and 6 adults (my Mom & Dad were there too!) We went shopping. We ate a lot of amazing food. We scolded each other's children...

We sat and talked endlessly. If I squinted really hard I could almost imagine that it would always be this way...

10 Years.

 Recently, my oldest daughter, Abbie, celebrated her tenth birthday. This baffles me. She isn't supposed to be ten. I'm not sure what she is SUPPOSED to be, but it isn't ten and it isn't a fourth grader.

 But I suppose if you're going to be ten, you couldn't be a better ten. She's the kid who is liked by everyone. She's the kid who other parents say things like "Abbie is welcome in my home ANYTIME" about. She's the kid who doesn't give me a moment's worry about her grades. She's the witty, hilarious kid that everyone wants to be friends with, including me. She's the helpful, empathetic older sister, the tremendous girl who thinks of others before herself and puts her trust in the Lord. She is a reminder to me of why we were sent here to this Earth...so that we could know of the Godlike power of creation and the ability to love someone so unconditionally. And yes, in the ten years I've known her, I've learned that. 

Happy Birthday to my dear daughter, who made me a Mother.