Sep 30, 2010

Nine. We have celebrated your birthday NINE times...

I can't say the word "nine" without being reminded of Ferris Bueller:
"He's been absent NINE times..."
"Nine times?"
"NINE times."

--sigh-- Today is Jenna's 9th birthday. --sigh--
I don't know what else to say.

Guess i'll give it a shot....

Today is the day i became a mommy for the very first time. Today is the day that i held a precious baby in my arms that sprang from MY loins and thought, "HOLY SHIT. HOW THE HECK DID I DO THIS?" At the same time, I was looking at this little baby and feeling such an amazing love, that I didn't think it was possible. For nine years, I have been a mommy. A fixer of boo-boos, a healer with hugs, a butt smacker with wooden kitchen spoons a teacher of "right" and "wrong," and so much more. I remember how much I adored my mom when i was little (and how much i still do)--how I would hold on to her neck and wish that I could stay there forever--I am amazed that I have been in that same position for nine years now. All thanks to this sweet baby girl that started it all...

My sweet Jenna-girl,
I owe you so much more than inducting me into the role of "mommy." I owe you my life and my heart. When you were born, I realized why God put me here--and I saw God, for the first time with clear eyes, when I saw you. You were born a faith builder...a tiny savior of my heart. Nine years later, I could use a tiny savior of my sanity, but that loss has been a combined effort of you and your sister both. But I digress...

Watching you grow has been such an awesome experience. Your mind works like no one I know. Sometimes, you're a total goofball; and sometimes, you say things that are so astute for your age that I sit there in stunned silence. And then I change the subject to...flavors of yogurt or something...because I'm comfortable with that.

You are a grown woman in a child's body, which is often quite confusing. You will quite gladly sit and lecture us on the possibility of cheetahs becoming extinct and/or eradicated in Africa by the farmers, but will have a meltdown when I tell you to clean the cat litter. You will discuss, in great detail (and i mean GREAT DETAIL), every aspect of the science experiment you led in class that day--down to the type of goggles you wore and how you developed your hypothesis--but will pout and whine when I tell you to go brush your teeth. It's like you have a switch somewhere that we can't find. One setting is "adult" the other is "run-of-the-mill 9-year-old." I do my best to only pop you on the butt with the wooden spoon when you're in "kid" mode; spanking another adult would just be weird. Well, there ARE exceptions,, we'll wait on that conversation.

Still today, seeing the world through your eyes, continues to be amazing. I absolutely love how you can find beauty or interest in ANYTHING. Do you know how many "special" rocks you have gifted me with? I'm sitting at my desk, and I can see two--I know of at least another in my drawer, and one in my car, and another in the get the picture. And all these rocks, although just "rocks" to some, are treasures to you. You'll say, "Mom! Look at this rock! Look how it has lines through it! See how they sparkle?!" or "Mom! Look how this rock is greenish! I've never seen a green rock! It must be lucky!" I love these treasures, Jen. I love how you give them to me. I'll die an old woman, surrounded by special rocks.

Right now, you and your sister enjoy irritating the hell out of each other, and beating the holy crap out of each other when you're not irritating each other. I know you guys are really close in age, but jeez almighty, just knock one another out, will ya? Where was I going with this? Oh and your sister bicker constantly...then at night, you'll sneak into her room and kiss her and tell her you love her. I've been the big sister--i know it's hard. But, despite the constant arguing, you are a good sister. You are setting a great example for Clairey, and I am so proud of you. I-AM-SO-PROUD-OF-YOU.

I love you, Jenna-J. More than you will ever, ever know--at least until you have a baby of your own (or a cheetah). You are my heart, and you will always, always be my sweet girl.


Sep 12, 2010

Ah, stop!!

What the hell? She turns seven and starts falling apart?! Clairey lost her first tooth last night at approximately 11:30 pm. There was a lot of crying on her part. The kid was scared. Jeesh. She stopped wiggling it, put her hands together in front of her face, and prayed, "Dear Jesus, please let my tooth fall out without hurting. Please help me to not be scared. Amen." Presh.

Here's my sweet little munch. One tooth less:

Sep 10, 2010

7. No, really...SEVEN.

Today, The Munch turns 7. Did you get that? Here, allow me to spell it out for you: S-E-V-E-N. I'm sitting here typing this, and I'm pretty sure i'm having some sort of cardiac arrest. There is no freakin' way my baby can be seven. THIS is Clairey:
Not this:


THIS, not so much:

Seriously, what the crap happened? When did THIS happen? And so, the letter begins:

Munch/Little Bit/Presh,
WHEN did you grow up? When did i close my eyes for so long, that you went from a tiny little baby, to a...well...a tiny little 7-year old? I really feel like I set you in your crib yesterday, and today, I woke you with kisses on your 7th birthday. Jenna didn't turn seven this fast. You must be really advanced. You fast-grower-upper you.

Have I told you how amazing you are? How I tell everyone in the world how I want to eat your sweet little face? Yes, they all look at me like i'm weird, but hello, if they had the opportunity, they'd want to snack on you, too. There's something about those freckles, those deep hazel eyes, and those shiny little teeth that are just so snackable. But those things aren't what make you so amazing...

You have the uncanny ability to draw people to you like moths to a flame. People adore you, Clairey. You have this beautiful gift of infectious happiness, that just spreads and sweeps over the masses. Your face, your smile, your charm are all overpowering. You are a gift.

You are so outgoing, and such a character. Your sarcasm is developed well beyond your years--you never fail to amuse me. I could seriously charge people to just listen to you talk--you're freakin' hilarious. And your dance moves--oh my gosh--brilliant. You love to put on "shows" and dance and sing--either with your sister, or without. You did your first theatre production this year. You had to audition with a 1-minute monologue and a song of your choice. You chose your own monologue, a chapter from a "Junie B. Jones" novel; and wanted to sing Michael Jackson's "Smooth Criminal" as your song. I had to draw the line there. Although, it WAS beyond hilarious... You ended up going with "Popular" from the musical, "Wicked." Good choice. Everyone loved you. The owner of the theatre dubbed you "Shirley Temple." That won't be your last production at that theatre, I'm sure of it.

You're still in gymnastics, and doing brilliantly. On the way to gym on Thursday, you told me, "Mommy, I love Jesus and gymnastics." :) Sweet baby. And you said that you've been praying to move to the next level. I hope Jesus answers your prayers--you deserve it.

Clairey, there's nothing else to say--I just simply adore you. Every time I think I couldn't possibly love you more, my heart opens that much more, and I do. I still sneak into your room at night, brush your crazy hair out of your face, and cover your cheeks in kisses. I still put your sleepy little hands in mine, and kiss your palms. You will never in your life, be able to understand how very much I love you. My heart is so full of love for you, and it will never run out. You will always be my baby, my munch, my little bit, my presh.

Happy Birthday to my precious girl,
Mommy xoxox