18

To my Clairey: You are the best kind of human: accepting. You see the good in people, always. You don't care about anything but that they are a good human. And to you, every person deserves to be heard, to be loved, and to be given a chance. We could all learn from you.

You're a novelty--like a little tchotchke that everyone wants to look at and hang out with and talk to. You draw people in with that crazy dimpled smirk and they never leave. I don't even think they KNOW WHY they want to be around you--people just DO. You are bright, and sunny, and yellow and exude happiness and joy.

Out of everyone in this world, when you say that you will do this or that, I believe you. You are so connected with the Universe that it answers everything that you put out into it. You are not only a SOMEONE, but you are CLAIREY. People see that power in you. They see that drive, that belief, and that shine. I'm not exactly sure that the world is ready for you, but I know you are ready for the world. So take it.

There will never be the right words to fully describe how I love you. Thank you for still watching Disney movies with me and holding my hand. Thank you for filling my life with music. Thank you for being hope in this world.

End note: Your attitude is a carbon copy of mine, and it's freaking annoying. I hope that, one day, you have a daughter just like you so you, too, can experience the strange experience that is arguing with yourself. Sorry about that. Also, heads up: If it doesn't come out of your mouth, your face is probably saying it for you. Sorry about that, too.

All the stars,

Mommy

How is she 14?

Munch,

Just when I thought there was no possible way you could have a busier year than the last, you prove me wrong. First of all, HOW are you 14?? It seems so...crazy. And, it makes me sad; however, I couldn't be more proud of the young lady you are.

You're still doing a fabulous job of balancing gymnastics, theatre, and school, but we learned from Oliver! that you will NOT be playing a lead role before your season opens again! That was a TOUGH one! However, you somehow managed to make it work, and ended up having a fabulous run of Oliver! and a solid season of gymnastics!

Then, to my surprise, you were cast this past summer as a lead in a show in NYC. Well, I
was surprised, but NOT surprised--I always knew you were capable of doing it! For over 3 weeks, we lived in NYC out of a hotel. And, as expected, you killed the role. You were beautiful, and strong, and funny--such great comedic timing. Plus, you had the opportunity to work with and see some pretty awesome people (cough...Thayne Jasperson...cough)!

And while there, I learned even more about you: How confident you are. How sure of yourself you are. How you're a born leader, but you're also so open to learning from others. You are empathetic towards people, and you use that empathy to encourage and build up others. These are all things that will carry you so far in life, sweetheart. Always be an encourager. Always acknowledge the good in people. You are a natural at this--keep it going.

I am so proud of the young lady you are. I am already proud of the woman you will become.

I say this every year, but you truly are sunshine. You bring so much light wherever you go. People are drawn to you, Clairey. People love you, and want to be with you. It's because of who you are. It's because of the light you bring.

Please keep bringing that light. Please keep shining.

I love you all the stars,
Mommy

16. God help us all.

On 9/30, my first baby, my sweet Jenna, turned 16. And it's been downhill from there. The End.

Just kidding.

Sweet J,
When you were a baby, I often dreamed of the day you would be 16. The day you would pull out of the driveway, and go down that street without me. Well, good for me, that still hasn't happened--you

know, since you hate driving--but you're still 16.

This has been nothing short of a whirlwind year for you. This past summer, you visited Africa for two weeks. This has been your dream since you were a tiny little girl. I have to admit...I was a tad scared. Scared because you were going to be on a plane for 16 hrs, scared that you were going to be so far away, and scared that you'd be disappointed. I had nothing to fear.

You are a world traveler, my pumpshkin. You flew to NYC with your Gamma, got on a plane to Africa with a group of your friends, and conquered the world. For two weeks, you traveled all over Namibia, experiencing the Africa that you have dreamed of visiting. And I could not possibly be more proud of you. After Africa, you flew to New York--and conquered that city, too. However, I know that you were so very happy to get back to Texas and sleep in your own bed after being away for so long.

You got a car for your 16th birthday. You are a CAREFUL driver, but you have a lead foot--just like your mama. It won't be too long until you're yelling, "BITCH KITTENS!!" out the window and blaring 80s hairband with the windows open. #WeAreTheSame

This fall, you began classes at the community college, since, you know, YOU GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL AT 15. You're taking History and English. This first semester marked an important day in your life: You got your first B on an assignment EVER. It was an 87, if I remember correctly. You thought you were going to die. I thought it was hilarious. You think that you'll have a hard time getting into A&M because you got a B on a paper. You're a nut. I can't wait to do college visits with you. Any school is going to be so lucky to have you, Jen. You are such an amazing advocate for cheetahs. You are so smart, so driven, and so REAL, all at the same time. I love you for that.

You are an enigma--you truly are. You're so puzzling at times--yet, I wouldn't trade you for the world. You have such an amazing head on your shoulders, and you are such a beautifully confident young lady. Thank you for not wanting to grow up too soon. Thank you for not conforming to what society thinks you should be or do. Thank you for being who you are.

Know that these upcoming teenage years are going to be...weird. There are emotions and there are new things and there are struggles...and it's all normal. Embrace these things--because all of this is shaping you and teaching you and helping form you into the adult that you'll become. Please keep talking to me. Please keep asking me to "sit" with you while you have a snack--because I know that's when you want to talk. Please keep asking me all the questions you think are silly or embarrassing--I will answer them. Please keep being honest with me, because I will always be honest with you.

There are so many things right now that you feel, in your head, are a 'big deal.' I promise you--they're not; even though, right now, you feel that they are. I was a teenager once, and although it's been a while, I remember those same feelings. I remember those same worries. I am here to tell you all the things--even about my generically named high school boyfriends (or, if we're being honest, lack thereof). I'm here to help you get through these weird years; help you to navigate the crazy emotions and random stress. Please continue to lean on me. If you don't, I will hop into your bed at night, breathe on your face, and pin you down until you tell me things, because that's how I roll.

I hope that you always dream big. I hope that you don't settle for less, and always go after what you want. I hope that you always know how much I love you. Also, quit being a butt to your sister.

All the spots,
Mommy

Happy 15th birthday, Jen!

15.
Crap.
I'm not sure where time has gone. You were just 5 years old yesterday, and now you're 15.

Jen, when you were 4 years old, you announced that you were going to be a Cheetah Geneticist when you grew up. Your goal was to save the cheetahs from extinction. And, here we are, 11 years later, and you are well on your way.

Your drive, when it comes to cheetahs, never fails to amaze me. (I wish you had the same drive to clean the cat litter.) At 15, you have accomplished so much. I think---no, I KNOW--the highlight of your summer was going to DC and meeting with both the Smithsonian Center for Conservation cheetah keepers, and the International Caucus on Conservation. I will never forget the excitement in your voice when you called to talk about the Smithsonian keepers, and the fact that they already knew who you were. Your voice for the cheetah has traveled so far, my sweet girl. Conservationists around the world KNOW YOUR NAME. They KNOW who you are. They VALUE the work you're doing at such a young age. One day, you will understand the breadth and depth of what you're doing, and you'll be proud of yourself, too.

Everyone keeps asking me if I'm nervous for you to go to Africa next Summer. Actually, I'm not. I know that you will be in your element--with the cheetahs, with the geneticists, with the keepers--you are going to have the time of your life. I am so proud of you. You are unbelievably amazing.

I love you for being you. I love that you're not a cookie-cutter teenage girl. I love that you march to
the beat of your own drum, that you value art and music...and that you think wearing tight clothing and showing too much skin is a travesty. You keep rocking your band tshirts and jeans. I'll buy you all the large tshirts you want. But when you DO want to show skin, I will let you. Because your body is YOURS. You are beautiful in every way.

I love that you've found a home in theatre. My heart is happy that you have another family there--that our theatre people accept you and love you and respect you--and that you give those same things back to them. That's what life is about, sweetpea, living and loving and respecting those around you. Do the things that make you happy. Hang out with those that fill your heart. Love those that love you. Life is good. Remember that. And, most importantly, don't be an asshole, Jen. Seriously.

It is my pleasure being your mommy. It truly is. You make me so proud. I am SO overwhelmingly proud of you. I love you so much, that it's indescribable.

Now, please clean the cat litter.

I love you all the spots,
Mommy
xoxoxo

The Munch is a teenager!

Sorry this is late, Munch! But, here's your annual birthday letter!

You turned 13 this year. THIRTEEN. I had a hard time with 10...now you're a teenager. Sometimes, I don't know what to do with myself. You're my baby, my last little bundle, my teeny-tiny...and now you're a teenager.

Clairey, you are growing into an exceptional young lady. I'm pretty certain there is not a person that knows you that doesn't adore you, that doesn't love you...and if there is, you don't give a flying crap--that's how you roll. You are 100% Clairey: Funny, loving, and brilliant. As I've said in all of your birthday letters, you are sunshine. Our friend was right when he gave you your nickname, June. You ARE June: yellow, bright, warm, happy, and glowing. You are summer.

At 13, you have your stuff together more than most adults I know. You are at gymnastics 25+ hours a week, and you are at theatre around 20 hrs per week. And you have a full load with school, on top of that. Through all of this, you are an excellent gymnast, a stellar actress, a brilliant student, and a remarkable person.

A few weeks ago, someone made a comment to you about your priorities, and it hurt your feelings, so we had a discussion about it. I asked you, "Where do your priorities lie, Munch? With gymnastics or theatre?" Your answer is one that everyone should strive to. You answered, "My priorities are with my commitments." You explained that you are committed to gymnastics--you are at your gym every single day and working hard because you want to be an elite gymnast. You explained that you're committed to theatre--you only audition for shows during your off-season of gym, and when you know the rehearsal schedule doesn't conflict with your gym schedule. You make every single rehearsal--just like you make every scheduled gym practice. And, what I think is amazing about this, is that you give each of these commitments ONE-HUNDRED percent. I don't know many adults that give anything 100%. But you work hard. You are a positive force in the gym. And you are also a positive force in the theatre. You keep shining, Clairey. Don't let anyone dim your light. Don't let anyone tell you you're not good enough. You keep giving 100% to your commitments--keep working hard and always, ALWAYS value your commitments.

I hope you always keep your light about you. I hope you always keep your fabulous sense of humor. But my biggest hope, is that you always keep your kind heart. I am exceedingly proud of you.

I clearly remember holding your hand when you were a tiny baby, and thinking, "One day, this hand will be as big as mine...I want to remember this moment forever." 13 years later, that moment seems like yesterday. Today, as much as I make the 'grossed-out' face when you grab my hand with your sweaty, calloused, often-bleeding hands, I love every moment. I love your little hand in mine. I will always hold your hand. Now, as a teenager, and forever. You are my baby.

I love you all the stars,
Mommy
xoxoxo

Getting close to cheetah 'woman'

My amazing cheetah girl is 14. That's getting closer to cheetah 'woman' than cheetah 'girl'--and I'm none too happy about it.

Jenna,
At 14, you are still so much a little girl. And I love you for this! I want you to continue to live as a child as long as you can--because before you know it, you will be an adult. And you'll have to....adult. And...bleh.

So, play your music, draw all day, write songs, sing loudly, and enjoy it.

I love you more than my heart can hold. I love when you wake up, and quietly come up behind me

and just rest your head full of messy curls on my shoulder. I love that, even though you're as tall as me, you still want me to hug you as if you're a tiny girl--and i will gladly do that for the rest of my life. I love how you lean into me, and just 'noodle' so I will hold you tighter.

Here's a secret--you know how I always get on you to brush your hair, make sure there's no mascara under your eyes, and ensure you don't look like a homeless drifter? Yeah, THAT conversation. I actually love that you don't care; that you think it's incredulous that anyone would judge you for not brushing your hair, or for wearing a wrinkly shirt.

There are so many moments where I want to burst with pride. You, working at the zoo; your conversations with conservation leaders at CCF meetings--and when you shaved the side of your head (I know, weird). But right after we had the side-shave done, I said, "I just want you to be prepared that some people may look at you weird or judge you."
"Why?" you asked.
"Because that's a very 'risky' haircut."
"Why? It's just hair."
"True, but many people will assume you're a certain kind of person because of your hair."
"Why? That's stupid."

And my heart was full, and to be honest, I gave myself a little pat on the back for that one. Because, girl, you are the LEAST judgmental person i've ever met in my life. You fully grasp that looks don't make a person, nor do they define a person. I LOVE THAT. If more people had your heart, the world would be a better place.

You made me a mommy. You created a part of my heart that I didn't have before. You showed me a way of loving that I didn't know existed. How much do I love you? All the spots. All the spots, on all the cheetahs, and all the spots in the world.

You are my baby, and you always will be.



All the spots,
Mommy
xoxoxox

Le Munch is 12

Oh, Munch. HOW I LOVE YOU. My whole heart adores every bit of you. Those freckles, those eyes, that contagious laughter. You are love, light, and happiness in true form.

As ever, you are the most loving kid. You still climb up into my lap and snuggle...at every chance you get. People have just accepted that you are often with me--no matter where I am.

Wait, who am I kidding? You're ALWAYS WITH ME. Kid, I can't even poop without you sitting there. I mean, come on, man.

Okay.

I still love you.

Rarely unhappy, you bring laughter to all those around you. Bad mood? It's okay, The Munch is here. Awful day? No problem, The Munch is on her way.



Those beautiful, maple-syrup eyes are so full of sparkle, that people are automatically drawn to you.

And I can't blame them. You love people, and happily spread that love through hugs. When you enter a room, there is always a happy chorus of, "Munch!!" As a mom, that just makes me happy. Of course, i'm happy that people like you, but i'm even more happy that people recognize you for what you are: JOY.

Indeed, you are the happiest kid I know.


Please always let that smile lead you.


Please always see the light in people.


Please always laugh.


Please always know that Life Is Good for so many...because you're in it.

Happy 12th birthday, my little pumpshkin!

I love you all the stars,
Mommy

And i leave you with....The Llama Song.

God bless Claireyisms

The other evening, while watching TV, Clairey announces: "I'm so glad i'm not from Virginia."
"Why?" I ask.
"Because then i'd be a virgin."

I just paused and looked at her.
"Well," she continued, "I like meat, and if you're a virgin, you don't eat meat. Man, I could never be a virgin."

And...this belief remains uncorrected because that's just funny.

Everything's about to go pink

I don't write about, or talk about, having breast cancer that often. There's a simple reason why: It doesn't define me. That's not to say that it didn't affect me (or still doesn't).

I found out I had it in November of 2012--the day before Thanksgiving, to be exact. By May of 2013, I had gone through my last surgery. Over and done. Quick. I had 2 options: Remove my left breast (the one practically riddled with cancer), and go through radiation--hoping that it hadn't spread to my lymph nodes; or remove both breasts, no radiation, and hope that it didn't spread to my lymph nodes. Because of my age at the time, 38, the board at MD Anderson encouraged me to remove both breasts (there would have been a 45% chance that the cancer would have reoccurred). It didn't even occur to me that I should keep both.

On December 28, 2012, I underwent a double mastectomy. It hurt. A lot. If you know me at all, you also know I don't like to take pain meds. So I tried not to--the nurse was pushing my morphine pump when I wasn't looking. After I came home, I still didn't take much. I now have a stock of hydrocodone.

So why the blog post? Because I think "Breast Cancer Awareness" month is weird. It's strange to see pink stuff everywhere. It's strange to be constantly reminded that I had cancer every time I walk into a store. I'm going in to get milk, people. Believe me, i'm reminded that I had cancer every time I take off my shirt. And many times, even when i'm fully clothed. Imaging having a part of your body removed that you've had all your life, then it being replaced with a new one. It's...weird. It looks weird, it feels weird. No, my breasts didn't define me, but there were a part of me.

I hear of women going through a depression after having them removed. That didn't happen to me. I honestly had adopted the mindset of, "They're just boobs." That's not to say that I didn't have moments where I was upset. Not really sad, but just exhausted with the process. Particularly, for all those months when I had those horrid tissue-expanders in my chest. Lord, those things are awful. Every week, i'd go to the plastic surgeon, and he'd fill these balloons under my skin with saline. A little bit at a time, to stretch my skin for the implants. Those months, I felt ugly. My chest was uneven, hard as a rock, and oh-so-painful. Jenna wouldn't look at me; Clairey was intrigued, but honest enough to tell me that it was 'ugly.' But I already knew it was ugly.

Right after I had my last saline expansion, an amazing photographer took pictures of me. I wanted these pictures. I wanted to see what I looked like from the outside. And really, what those photos captured was more than that. Sure, you can see the raw scars, the oddly-shaped expanders...but my favorite picture doesn't show my chest at all. It's just my face and shoulders. In fact, I think it was an 'out take.' He was adjusting lighting and I was turning away. To me, I look peaceful. And accepting. And I like to think that's how I took the whole cancer diagnosis. Accepting. Non-blaming. And that's what I wish for any woman going through breast cancer. Peace. Acceptance. And the ability to kick its ass.

Photo credit: Brett Chisholm

http://houstonphotographyblog.com/

So, this is 13...

Pooh,
Happy, happy birthday! I can't believe you're actually a teenager. Since the day you turned 10, you've been calling yourself a "pre-teen." And I'd constantly tell you, "Don't try to grow up too fast!" See? I told you that it wouldn't take any time at all.

Thankfully, although you're 13, you ARE 13--in every sense of the word. And this is a good thing, because you're still a kid. You don't want to wear a lot of makeup, you will still just pile your hair on your head and leave the house--in fact, I often have to ask, "Did you even brush your hair?!" It's all good. I would much rather be asking you to go upstairs and brush that mop of hair than telling you to go wash off eyeliner/lipstick/eyeshadow. Believe me. These are the things I love--you have all the time in the world to grow up. Please, don't rush it. You only get to be a kid for so long.

You will happily wear jeans and a sweatshirt any day of the week, if it's not just jean shorts and a t-shirt. I love you for this. I love that you simply do not care. You have a confidence about you that I wish all young women had--it's so strong and beautiful. (But, yes, I still want you to brush your hair.)

 At 13, you love Marvel Comics, Ninja Turtles, cheetahs, and the band 5 Seconds of Summer. You have your earbuds in 90% of the time, and you walk around, regardless of where we are, mouthing the words to whatever song is on at the time. It's hilarious. And you don't care. You have gone from a little girl with about 2 friends that would put up with your 'cheetah-talk,' to a young woman with a cacophony of friends who adore you because you are silly, quirky, loving, and have a kind heart. These are the friends that you will grow up with.

13 is such a weird age--you're still so very much a kid, but still so very much a young woman, too. I love driving in the car with you, holding your hand. I told you, just last week, that that simple act makes me so happy. When I was a young woman, my mom used to hold my hand in the car all the time (she still does). It's such a perfect connection--it makes me happy and sad, all at once. Happy because when I found out I was having a baby girl, these are the times I just couldn't wait for. Sad because I'm now holding a hand that's larger than mine. Thank you for letting me hold your hand.

Also, thank you for letting me still love you and kiss on you in front of people. I hope you never grow out of that, because I won't. There's nothing in the world that can fix a rough day like you 'hanging' your limby-self on me. You just walk up, put your head on my shoulder, and lean into me. And you totally sit there while I cover your cheeks in kisses. I love you so, so much. More than you could ever fathom. I adore being your mom and I am so glad that you're my baby.

I really don't know what else to say. You are beautiful. I mean that in every aspect of the word. Jen, you are such an
amazing kid. You've accomplished so much in this short life, that I can't wait to see what the future holds for you. I am thankful for you every single minute, of every single day. I am so lucky to be your mom.

I love you all the spots,
Mommy xoxoxox

And...The Munch turns 11

Clairey,

Eleven.
11.
eleven.

No matter how I type that number, it still seems surreal. How can you possibly be 11? It seems like yesterday that I was in a delivery room with a team of L&D nurses yelling at me to push harder so you wouldn't be born on 9-11. And now, here we are...here I am...with an eleven year old.

The 11 years that you've been in my life have been so full of sunshine. I know I say this every year, but it's so true: You are a light. Every day, you remind me of the song, "This Little Light of Mine." You are my light, and you are the light for so many others. You are the light in this house, that's for sure. We can all be having a bad day, and your presence just makes everyone happy. You shine so bright, and so strong. Your aura must be blinding to see.

Not a day goes by where you don't smother me with kisses, and tell me that you love me a million times over. There are some silly people who say, "Oh, enjoy it while it lasts. Pretty soon, she'll be too embarrassed to kiss you!" or "Just wait until she's a teenager and wants nothing to do with you!" I always just smile; they have no idea. I can't imagine a time where you won't crawl on my lap, where you won't nestle your head in my neck, where you won't whisper, "I love you, Mama, SOOOOOO much!" in that raspy voice. Let there be naysayers--I refuse to believe them. Your gift is that you love--your age has nothing to do with it.

It amazes me how loving you are--if everybody was as accepting and kind as you are, this world would be such a better place.

When I whisper to the Universe over you and Jenna every night, the words may be the same, but they are full of meaning. The most important part: "Universe, Please bless her life like she has blessed mine..." If this is as much as I'll ever be blessed, it's enough.

I love you all the stars,
Mommy

Jenna's Christmas list

As randomly sweet and childish The Munch's Christmas list is, Jenna's is the complete opposite. Because, if you haven't noticed that they are absolutely nothing alike in any way, shape or form, this should seal the deal for  you.

Jenna has thoughtfully starred the important things--none of that haphazard shit for her. She even included a call-out at the top left--you know, in case I didn't realize what the stars were for.

The top 3 would freak out a normal person: An acrylic paint set, green doll hair, and a nude werecat doll. No, she did not ask for lotion, and there's no well dug in the floor of her room. Jenna has a shit ton (I don't know how to convert that to metric for my non-U.S. friends, but it's a lot) of Monster High dolls. What she has done, is drawn her own line of custom dolls that she now wants to create. Thanks a lot, Etsy. You suck. Thanks to you, she has these ornate ideas of creation in her head. What's going to happen, is she's going to scalp a frickin doll, then paint shitty, scary eyes on it. It's going to end in tears. And a big mess.

One of my favorites: "Bread kittens plush." Who the hell says plush? I'll bet that's a common word in the over-80 crowd, but a 12-year old?? And Bread Kittens is the most mindless game around. It's seriously about kittens that have a piece of bread on their face. Some people work on the time/space continuum, some people make games about cats and bread. Alrighty.

I see that she really wants a cheetah. Again. And she specified, not on this list, that she wants, "...the old one with the grumpy face." I can tell you right now, that I searched through all the resident cheetahs on the cheetah.org website, and none of them looked old or grumpy. I ended up sponsoring a pissy-looking girl cheetah. I figured she'd relate.

An iPhone 4s or higher: Kids and their technology. The fact that she whines about this cracks me up. I used to have to use a ROTARY dial. The first time she saw one of those, she pushed the circles and asked why it wasn't dialing. Pssshhh...Kids are dumb.

Rollerskates (no BLADES). hahaha!!! Whatever, "grace." I've said it before, but this kid is like Bambi on ice. I get nervous when she puts on shoes because it's a piece of material between her and the floor. She can't even walk without running into stationary objects--no way i'm putting this kid on wheels. I don't have enough insurance for THAT.

MH book series: MH=Monster High. Guess she's ready to read these now. She tried 2 years ago, and freaked out because one of the characters wrote that she wanted to "kiss her boyfriend" or something like that. She cried...a lot. She said that it was 'inappropriate' and that she shouldn't have read it. She made me put the book in my room so she wouldn't have to look at it.

Gift cards: Why are these on every kids list now?? That's like saying, "You're probably not going to get me the crap I want, so just give me money so I can buy it myself." Um, no.

Pilot pens: Now HERE'S a gift I can deal with. Hell, i'm feeling generous, so I may give her two packages. That's right, bitches, I'm a big spender. I may say they're from Santa so Clairey will be confused. Then I can say, "Yep, there's an elf that doesn't get to make toys. He has to make pens all day. He was bad, so Santa demoted him."

The 2013 Barbie Dreamhouse: I'm just going to say 'no' right off the bat. They have an older model already. Why the hell does Barbie need to move? The house she has is FINE. I mean, yeah, it's only a 1-bedroom, but she has a freaking condo, too--and THAT has a game room. And Jen's just going to use it for her Monster High dolls, then be bitchy because it's pink and not 'appropriate' MH colors.

To wrap this up, i'm insanely happy that, although she's 12, she still asks for toys. INSANELY. I'm all about keeping her as young as possible. There's way too much time for her to be a teenager. I will say that she has it easy--because her list is WAY cheaper than The Munch's, she will be getting 7 items from this list.

7 packs of Pilot pens. Kidding.

Munch's Christmas selections

[edit: I started this post 2 weeks ago. I'm just now posting it. WHY, you might ask? Because The Munch, for once in her 10-years, has the most expansive and ridiculous Christmas list I've ever seen.]

Every year, right around Thanksgiving, I ask the girls for their Christmas lists. I'm not sure why. I start shopping in July/August, so it's actually kind of a waste of their time. If i'm finished by October, and nothing I purchased is on their list, then they're out of luck. I'm mean like that. On Christmas morning, when they say, "Santa didn't get me anything that's on my list!" I'll generally follow up with something to the likes of, "That's because you were bad/don't help me clean/chew with your mouth open." Kidding. Kind of.

So, here's The Munch's list. Notice how some is handwritten, then there's the 'ol cut and paste method. Speaking of cut and paste--notice how most of that is from Justice. I hate that store. I hope they all burn down. We also have some index cards added into the mix. Nice.

 I'll call out the handwritten notes down the line here. First of all, let's tackle what I have circled:

A. Cut and pasted from the "American Girl" catalog. This catalog is mean. It's pages and pages of items for your overpriced AG dolls. All of these things can be bought at Target for much less money--although, they won't be AG brand. Therefore, your AG cannot POSSIBLY sit in the hair salon chair. And WHY does your doll need a salon anyways?? Let's be honest here--all the dolls end up in a pile in the corner, naked, with ratty hair.

B. Cut and pasted from an educational toy catalog.

• First, there is a sewing machine. Let me tell you, right now, she doesn't own one, but by the massive amounts of scraps all over my office floor, you would think she does. She can use mine. 
• Under that, is a ribbon. WHY? She can just use one of the scraps on the floor and wave that around. 
• There's also some kind of a "see your garden grow" kit. We HAVE a REAL, full-size garden in the backyard. She wasn't interested in watching that shit grow, so why would she want to watch a few carrots growing in a box? No.
• Walkie-talkies: She and her sister have iPhones so they can text each other from the horrid distance between upstairs and downstairs. Plus, these probably need batteries, which means, they'll work for 2 hours, then they'll sit in the junk drawer for 2 years, waiting for new batteries, until I throw them away. Of course, that will be after she removes the double-As from every remote in our house. 
• A see-through bird house. Do birds seriously use this? Let's think about it--birds build nests in trees because they're shielded and safe. Why would a bird think, "Hey, there's a random house in the wide open...great place to start a family!"
• Some kind of "put-paint-on-a-piece-of-paper-and-spin-it-around-really-fast-so-it-makes-pictures" thing. That toy got checked off the list when I saw that it involved paint and spinning.
• Yeah, that's an ATM machine. The only reason she wants this, is because she thinks it comes with real money. 
• Glow pad: She had one several years ago. She liked it so much, she doesn't even remember she had it. Nope. Not going for round 2. 
• A candy claw machine. hahahahaaa!! haaaaaa!!! Wait, let me stop laughing....NO. She's gotta be kidding. I asked her where she would keep that: "In my room," she said. I think not.

C. Another selection from an toy catalog

• The Snoopy Snow Cone Machine--I'm torn on this. I had one; I loved it. Because seriously...it made snowcones...what's not to like? Well, i'll tell ya: Do you remember how much work it took to make ONE snowcone?? And by the time you had enough 'snow', half of it was melted already, so you ended up with really cold koolaid. And your arm hurt from trying to turn the damned handle, the snow never looked like the picture, and you'd always skin your knuckles trying to clear the grinder of stuck ice cubes. We'd get this, she'd begin to use it, then ask to go get Hawaiian Shaved Ice because Snoopy Snowcones suck. It's like I can read her mind.
• Is that a 'build a hamburger' game??? WHY?
• A make-up kit: Deep sigh. This kid loves make up. LOVES IT. I have to worry about her. I'm guessing that this makeup is crap. It probably smells like fake roses, too. And it always comes in crappy colors. I don't need a 10-year old walking around with bright green eyeshadow and glittery lipstick. Smelling like a Walgreens perfume aisle. 
• A mermaid tail--This is confusing--is this a way to drown your kid? Don't mobsters use shit like this? You're basically tying the kid's feet together, then throwing them in the pool. Guess she'd really have to use her arms...it would give her good upper-body strength...i'll think about it. 
• Two bows and arrows. Tell me she wouldn't end up shooting her sister and/or the cat. I'm not ready to hear, "Moooooommmmm!!! Ca-LAIRE shot me with an arrow!!!!"

D. I need to stop getting catalogs

• A cash register. See list B, bullet 7. 
• A carnivorous plant kit. It's all fun and games until she finds out she has to feed it dead flies. She won't like that. Plus, i've seen the movie, "The Fly." Hell to the no. 

E. Justice

• Overpriced clothes that were made in Indonesia. She must have EVERYTHING that says, "Gymnast."  Pants? Check. Shirt? Check. Random white-board that will end up under her bed? Check. And is that a flat iron? What the hell. The kid doesn't even have any hair. That also looks like a coconut...not sure. I'll buy her a coconut. As long as I don't have to buy it from Justice. 

Below, is the original list. This is the list i liked--before she found the dreaded catalogs.

 

I'm just going to pick out my favorites. THESE are the types of lists i like--the handwritten, scribbly ones. And, i'm not going to correct her spelling...

8. Home Depot work shop: Is she going to set this by her nursery that she has in her room for her babies? "Hey kids, take a nap, then we'll build a birdhouse--that you can see through, because Santa didn't bring me one."

11. Big pillow that looks like mommy: Awwww....she's the sweetest kid. I do, however, have a feeling that one day, my dried corpse will end up in a rocking chair at Clairey's house. I'm tempted to get this--but have it made with a picture of me when I wake up. No make up, mismatched jammies, and a mohawk. She'd probably love it.

12. Big pillow that looks like bell: "Belle" from Beauty and the Beast. This kid still loves princesses. 

13. Big pillow that looks like all the disney princesses (sepret pillows): Screw you people, I want #alltheprincesses

14. American Girl stuff: See my AG rant above. 

15. American Girl Sage: UGH. WHHHHYYYYYY???? 

Notice the pasted cut-outs on this list--more American Girls stuff. And see the red list below? All AG stuff. That little red list, in and of itself, represents around $1k. It's probably in red because i'll have to sell my own blood to afford it.

One day, I will miss this. I will. I do love that she wants toys, but notice how she threw 'gift cards' in there, too. Stinker. 

What are your kids asking for?

[Note: Not reread for editing. I just don't care right now. This thing has been sitting in my draft folder for 2 weeks.]

This is Halloween, this is Halloween....

This year, we're not going Trick-or-Treating. Truth be told, the weather sucks, so i'm not too unhappy about this. The girls are in a fabulous production of Macbeth, so rather than racking up candy (that I'll end up trashing at Christmas), they'll be at the theatre.

However, in essence of this super-fun day, I decided to post pictures of Halloweens past. Enjoy.

Baby Munch 2003

 

Baby J 2003

 

2004 J is Pooh; Munch is Piglet (only pic I have of both of them)

 

2005 Pumpkin and Black Cat

 

2006 Tiger and Cheetah

 

2007 Puss 'n Boots and Dorothy

2008 Jessie and Jasmine

 2009 Hermione and Vampiress

 

2010 Ninja Cat and Pirate



2011 Bastet and Cleopatra

2012 Dia de los Muertos bride and Operetta

 In a few weeks, we'll be attending ComiCon--I should have some fun pics from that! :)

A Cheetah Girl turns 12

Oh, Jen. How in the world can you be 12 years old? How is it possible that yesterday, I was just carrying you around on my hip, and today, you and I are nearly the same height? How is it, that when you need a pair of jeans, you steal mine, or that I often catch you wearing my favorite t-shirt? I feel that you should still be in the toddler section, grabbing every single piece of cheetah or leopard-print fabric you can, begging, "Mommy! PEESE!! It's cheetah!" Time has gone by way, WAY too quickly.

This year, you have outdone yourself--and exceeded our expectations of you--again and again. You were so proud of yourself when you achieved your Bronze Award in Girl Scouts with your Junior troop. You love Girl Scouts so very much, and I'm so glad that you do! You bridged to Cadettes, and the smile on your face when you crossed that bridge was huge. You met your hero, Dr. Laurie Marker, and that moment remains a highlight in your life thus far. After talking with Dr. Marker, you decided to take action to help your beloved cheetahs in a bigger way--particularly after the Cheetah Conservation Fund named you 'Student Ambassador.' You contacted the National Girl Scout Council and talked with them about creating a patch to help the Cheetah Conservation Fund. You obtained approval from the CCF and the Girl Scout Council and designed a patch. I did my part by finding someone to create the patches, and right now, as I type this, the CCF is getting funding to print these patches so they will be available TO EVERY SCOUT IN THE WORLD. Each patch will come with a bundle of information on how to save the cheetahs. Jenna, you are amazing, and soon, scouts all over the world will have the opportunity to learn more about the Cheetah Conservation Fund and how to save your favorite animal. To you, it doesn't seem like a big deal--but it IS, Jen. For you, it's all about the cheetahs.

For the past 2 weeks, you've also been volunteering your time at a community theatre. Every Monday and Wednesday, you intern from 5-7pm, helping with classes. I have to admit--I didn't know how well you'd do, but you have done amazing! I have been told by the teachers that they love having you, and that you're doing a great job. That makes my heart so happy. I'm hoping that this exposes you to new things--things that you don't know you're capable of. Again, I'm so proud of you.

School is going well for you, but you're finding it somewhat difficult because it's CHALLENGING. You told/whined to me the other day, "But this is haaaarrrrddddd....school was never this hhhaaarrrrddddd!!!" Guess what--it's because school has never challenged you before. Your school work challenges ME, and there's a lot of work to be had in this curriculum. Your favorite, so far, is Art History. You loved your studies on the Cubi Series, the drawings in the caves of Lascaux, and cuneiform. In fact, you've been working on your cuneiform project for the last week. You've decided to take the Mesopotamian epic of the creation of the gods Apsu and Timat, tell it in your own words (take it out of cuneiform and write it in English), and create illustrations. Your drawings are so good, and the way you've told your story is even better! You definitely have a gift for narrative storytelling.

You're loving Literature, and your assigned book (which makes me happy)! Your book is titled, A Year of Impossible Goodbyes, and it details one family's struggle during the Korean War. You're very emotional towards the characters and their plight, and the essays you've written in reference to this book have been wonderful! I'm so proud of your writing skills, Jenna. They're excellent, when you WANT them to be. Academically, this year is going to be an overall struggle for you--simply because you're expected to do a lot of work, and manage your time with that work appropriately. Anyone who knows you understands that you + time management = lackadaisical. This past week, you did much better, so i'm hoping that we see continuous improvement. We know you can do it, and we know that you're more than capable!

You were booked for your first modeling job this year, too! You did a shoot for Academy, and you loved it! You are to be paid a pretty penny for it, and you have decided to give a quarter of it to the CCF. The rest, will go to Monster High dolls, i'm sure. And yes, I still can't believe you love these dolls so. BUT, i'm not complaining. As much as I tire of hearing about Monster High, I encourage you to be a child as long as possible. 12 is still so, so young, and you have a life ahead of you--play with the damn dolls, kid, and love every-freaking minute of it. You don't give a rat's ass if other girls make fun of you, and THAT makes me happy. You don't compare yourself to anyone else, you don't try to act or 'fit-in' in any specific area--and THAT makes me even HAPPIER. You are YOU. There is something to be said for young ladies that don't care if they're 'different,' that don't care about what brand of clothes they wear, that don't think they need makeup to look 'pretty,' that don't care what boys think of them--Girls like that grow up to be strong, independent, happy, secure women. And really...what mother doesn't want that for their child?

Do you realize how freaking awesome you are? I kind of hope you don't. Because one day, when you're in the back of a truck in Namibia, with your crazy hair in a pile on the top of your head, with comfortably torn jeans, a dusty shirt, and nasty gloves from throwing raw meat out to a snarling cheetah, I want you to be able to take a deep breath, look at that African sunset and have a revelation: "Holy shit. I am amazingly awesome."

I love you, Jenna. I love you more than I can ever tell you. I love you all the spots.
Happy 12th birthday, my amazing, beautiful, cheetah-hearted baby,
Mommy
xoxoxox

Bedtime tidbits

Sometimes, Jen and The Munch sleep in the same room. Okay, not 'sometimes,' but maybe 50% of the time. Alright, I can't lie--it's more like 95% of the time. Yes, they have their own rooms, with their own very comfy beds, but they always end up in the same one.

Last night, it was Jenna's room. Jen was in her twin-sized bed, and the trundle was pulled out for The Munch. It was about 930, and I was lying in bed with Jen, with my left leg hanging over the edge of the bed onto the trundle. Munch was hugging my leg. Every once in a while, she'd kiss my foot or my ankle and whisper, "I love you, mommy..." whilst rubbing my leg. This kid--no boundaries.

Out of the blue, Jenna asks, "Mom, what does my name mean?"
"Little bird," I answer.
"What does Clairey's name mean?"
"'Claire?' She's named after County Clare in Ireland."
"But does it MEAN anything?"
"Yeah, I can't remember...I think it means 'beautiful*' in French."

Then, from the depths of the trundle bed, in a raspy little whisper, we hear:

"Bonjour..."


(*It actually means "Bright")

The Munch is 10!

My Sweet Munch,

 

I feel like I start off each of these birthday letters the same: I can't believe you're fill in the blank with your age. But really...this year...I seriously can't believe it. TEN. Jeez, girl. TEN.  I really don't know what to say, that hasn't already been said before.

You are such an amazing kid, Munch. You are an athlete, an actress, a snuggler, a singer, a mommy's-girl, and a dreamer. You are everything because you believe you are. Your smile is contagious, your laughter is infectious, and you--just YOU--can melt even the coldest heart. People don't just like you--they LOVE you. You adopt people as your own. You have your 'favorite' people that you deem siblings. You have extra brothers (Josh and Evan), and extra sisters (Morgan, Brendis, all the 'big' girls on your gym team...). You just invite people in, and attach yourself--no  one is safe! :) Munch, you have such a big heart--I hope it just keeps on growing.

You're working so hard at gym, and it shows through the drastic changes we've seen in the past 5 months. You don't even look like the same kid! When you came to this new gym, your old gym was set to have you compete as a new Level 4 this season---you've worked your way up to a Level 6. You've picked up so many new skills in just a few short months--I think all you needed was an extra push and some tough love. It was a good move for you, and I'm so proud that you saw the need to be pushed harder and asked to change gyms. I also know that it was hard for you to leave Coach Briana--I know you love her so very much. But that's what makes you so mature--you didn't want to leave her, but you knew that you needed a different style of coaching and a different gym environment to excel. And you got it in your new set of coaches. You're wise beyond your years, kid. And I honestly believe that Coach Briana would be so proud of you if she could see how far you've come.

You're also a force to be reckoned with when it comes to theatre. Because of your gym schedule, you don't get to do near as much theatre as you'd like--but you do what you can. You were cast in your first main-stage musical (Annie), and your second (Fiddler on the Roof); you were an extra in a feature film, and filmed a pilot for a t.v. show! And through all of this, you remained just as happy-go-lucky as always. You absolutely shined in "Annie" and proved to everyone that you were worth being cast when we got a call at 1030 in the morning (before a 3 o'clock show) asking if you knew Molly's lines. You were not cast as Molly's understudy, but when Molly was sick, they realized that the girl they DID cast as the understudy was just too tall to be a believable Molly. So they called you. You ran through Molly's scenes before the show opened, and that night, you didn't miss a single line or stage direction. You nailed it! In "Fiddler on the Roof," you didn't get the part you wanted, but that didn't stop you from being the best babushka-wearing Munch there ever was! You danced and sang your heart out in every show, and even though your part was small, after each show, people would come up to you and say, "We couldn't stop watching you!" Sweetpea, you have a HUGE presence in whatever you do!

I am so proud of you, Munch. You are the most loving, caring, precious, hard-working little kid I know. You really are such a good girl--we're all very lucky to have you. I love you so very much. Each little freckle. Each little hair on your head. Every bit of you. I adore you!!

 

 

I love you all the stars! Happy Birthday, my baby!

Mommy xoxoxo

For my loves

Coming up on August 15th, is the very last, and I mean VERY last, time I will have to go to the doctor for this stupid, time-consuming, life-altering, cancer crap. And I am so very happy. You may not see it in my every day, get-up-early-to-work, get-Munch-to-the-gym, love-you-the-best-I-can ways, but it's there. That eternally-happy, glad-this-is-finally-over feeling (apparently, I like hyphens today). As we get closer and closer to November, I'm getting more and more excited that it will have been a full year since this unexpected ride began...

It hasn't always been easy, but you two have made it so. We had our rough times--with Jenna being too scared to look at me after my surgery, to Clairey being sad that she couldn't sit on my lap (for a few months!). It's been a rough ride. But we're here, we made it. I'm not afraid to admit that there were times when I cried because I was tired of this. I'm not afraid to say that there were small moments when my heart broke wondering what you guys were going through. Just to have to say, "My mommy has cancer." 

I'm so thankful for the doctor who looked right at me and said, "First of all, you're not going to die." At that moment, I knew that we could do this. I knew that anything that we had to deal with would just be a small challenge in our lives, and we would get through it together. And again, I thank that doctor for being honest, and telling me a double-mastectomy would be our best bet for a full life together. My chances of having breast cancer again, without the mastectomy, would've been around 40%. No thank you. 

Over the past several months, I've come to appreciate many things at a different level--Clairey's tiny, calloused hands in mine; Jenna's long, giraffe-body trying to shove her way onto my lap...it's those little things that I love so much--they make my heart full. And it is...my heart IS full. Even on those days when i'm feeling entirely too stressed out, that our house seems like a tornado went through it, and we're quadruple booked with my job/Clairey's gym-theatre-tv stuff/Jen's modeling...those days when I feel like there's so much that there's no way I can handle it...I breathe...and I remember that I am SO LUCKY. SO blessed.

I love this life. And I'm so glad I have you, my girls.

Claireyisms...they never stop

The Munch spent the night with my mom aka "Gamma" on Sunday night. Yesterday, as I was tucking her into bed, she says, "Mom, I love spending the night at Gamma's house. I love Aunt Nan's room [mom's guest room, where my sister stays when she visits]--it's so cozy. But it's so cold!"

"Did you sleep under the heavy blanket?" I asked.

"Yes," Munch said, "but it was still cold, so I told Gamma to get the Afghanistan."

I just looked at her. I knew exactly what she was talking about (the afghan), but I like to not laugh because, seriously, if she calls it an 'Afghanistan' for the rest of her life, i'll die a happy woman.

I looked at The Munch in a serious fashion. "Hmmm..." (holding back my laughter), "...did she get it?"

"No. She just looked at me and said, 'What are you talking about?' So I looked at her and said, 'THE. AF-GHAN-I-STAN.' She just looked at me. How does Gamma not know what an 'Afghanistan' is?!! Jeesh."

I just looked at The Munch. She was so serious. So resolute in her...Afghanistan-ness. Then, her lips pursed, her brow crinkled, and she asked, "Wait a minute...am I saying it wrong?"

:D

Of cheetah spots and heroes

My Baby J,
Yesterday evening, I can say without a doubt in my mind, was a life-changer for you. For as long as I can remember, you have wanted to meet Dr. Laurie Marker, and last night, you finally were able to do so. For years, we have been checking every issue of "Cheetah Strides" and the cheetah.org website hoping that Dr. Marker's travels would bring her close enough to where you could go see her--and finally...FINALLY...she landed right in Houston.

You looked so beautiful last night. You don't like to dress up; you're not a fancy kid. But last night, with your thick hair wrapped into a low, side-swept bun and organza flowers in your hair, you looked gorgeous. Your leopard-print feather earrings, and cheetah-spotted sandals were a nice touch. :)

On the way to the country club, you were quiet...you finally spoke up and said, "I just don't know what to say to her, mommy."
"She's a normal person, Jen. Just talk to her like you would a normal person."
"But she's NOT a normal person!! She's DOCTOR LAURIE MARKER!!"
And our ride continued in silence.

When we pulled into the country club, you were visibly excited. We walked to the front, and were greeted by a cart-boy who asked, "Are you here for the VIP event?" I nodded yes, and he mentioned how cool it was and how he hoped to catch a glimpse of the cheetahs. Of course, Jen, you took that as your cue to begin talking about Dr. Marker, and how you couldn't wait to meet her! That young man so nice--he listened to you as you went on and on about saving cheetahs--with a smile on his face. You held my hand as we entered the clubhouse and I practically had to hold you down to the ground as we came upon the first welcome sign.

We walked into the reception area, and were greeted by a lovely young woman named Kaitlin. She was tall, blonde (had her hair in a ponytail), and was wearing a cheetah-print skirt. A REAL cheetah-print skirt--not a leopard-print skirt, as you pointed out. You immediately became charmed with her. Turns out that Kaitlin volunteered at the Cheetah Conservation Fund a few years ago, and is now a PhD student at Texas A&M studying cheetahs. Being kind, she began chatting with you, and then, upon realizing that you could hold your own, REALLY began talking to you. Jen, she was so very impressed with you. She gave you her business card and told you to email her whenever you wanted, and she would be happy to talk about cheetahs with you. Then, we met another young woman named Imogene. She is at West Texas A&M and is working on her PhD studying bobcats. She invited you to come up to Amarillo anytime, and she would take you in the field with her! Baby, these young woman were overly impressed with you and your knowledge about the conservation efforts for big cats. I actually just sat back and watched you. And honestly, I tried not to cry. And then...the big moment...

You were standing next to me, just beaming, and I said, "Jen...look who it is..." You turned, and saw the back of Dr. Marker as she was hugging someone. You grabbed my arm in a death grip, and started to cry. You led me out of that room so fast! We had to sit around the corner, as you whimpered, "Mommy, mommy, I can't do this!! I can't breathe, mommy! That's my hero!!" with tears running down your face. I had to sit there and fan your face with our copy of "Cheetah Strides," and just kept saying, "Jen...it's okay, it's okay...just breathe!!" After about 3 minutes, you finally regained composure and walked back around the corner. As you did, Dr. Marker saw you. A huge smile spread across her face, and she walked right up to you, and embraced you in a big bear hug. She looked at you and said, "Jenna, it is SO good to finally meet you!" Again, I tried not to cry. I apologized to Dr. Marker for your tears and told her, "She's so overwhelmed with finally getting to meet you! She's waited so long for this to happen!" And Dr. Marker said, "Oh, me, too!" and hugged you again. THEN, then...she introduced you to several of her friends as, "This is Jenna, my very special 'cheetah friend'!" and my God, I thought your face would explode. She wrapped her arm around you, and invited you, an 11-year old, into her conversations with the other adults at the reception. She spoke to you as if you were a working conservationist, and it was fabulous. As she flitted around and talked to other people, you were going right around speaking to other adults about cheetah conservation, and every time, they'd look at me with this look in their eyes, and i'd just smile and shrug my shoulders. I don't know how many times I heard, "She is amazing!" "What an awesome young lady!" and more times than I can count, "THAT is the future of cheetah conservation!" Again...I am SO PROUD, Jenna!

 

After everyone chatted for a while, we walked outside where the Houston Zoo had brought their two cheetahs. Unfortunately, due to the rules and regulations of the U.S., we could not touch them. You were okay with that, since you've actually touched cheetahs before. We sat in view of the cheetahs, and you listened intently as Dr. Marker began her speech. At one point, she was talking about the numbers of cheetahs left in this world, and how it's such hard work to save them, and educate people about the CCF's efforts. She said, "I am who the CCF is NOW...and this young lady [and she pointed to YOU] is the CCF's future. It's going to be children like this that educate the next generation--and it's going to be children like this that educate the world about cheetahs." Your smile lit up the evening sky. At another point, she was talking about volunteering at CCF, and she said, "All of the young students that we get at CCF become 'my kids'. Here's one of my kids right here [and she walked over to Kaitlyn] and here's another of my kids right here [and she pointed to you]." Again, more smiles. But the highlight of the speech was when Dr. Marker was discussing a future without cheetahs, and she specifically called you out and said, "Jenna, can you imagine a world without cheetahs? What would you do?" and you answered, "No, I can't imagine that! I would be so sad--cheetahs are my life, and i'm going to do everything I can to save them!" This time, a huge smile--from Dr. Marker.

By the end of this speech, many of the group were walking to the front to get pictures with the cheetahs. You asked if you could go talk to some of the people. Of course, I said, "Sure," and let you go. I sat in my chair with a glass of wine, and watched you carry on conversations with three of your new PhD-student friends. You guys literally sat there and talked about cheetahs for 15 solid minutes. 

We eventually moved inside to grab something to munch on, and after you fixed your plate, you asked, "May I go outside? I need to tell Dr. Marker something..." You walked through the doors, and I sat at the table--totally out of MY element, but watching you in yours. A few moments later, you walked back in, and struck up a conversation with a lion/tiger conservationist at our table. Whom promptly teared up and said, "I'm sorry I'm so emotional, but it is SO NICE to see a child so knowledgeable and with so much passion about this! It gives me hope for the future!" Agreed.

As the night began to wrap up, Dr. Marker came back inside and said, "Could I get one last picture with my dear friends?" a few people (those that have worked at the CCF, and two of her best friends walked up) and Dr. Marker looked around, and said, "Jenna! Get up here!" HIGHLIGHT OF YOUR LIFE.

Dr. Marker hugged you goodbye, gave me her business card, and told you that she was SO proud of you, and that the sooner you can get to Namibia, the better.

All the way home, from the moonlight shining through the sunroof, I was blessed with the biggest smile I have EVER seen on your face.