Special

Most days when I look at her, I forget. I don't think about Spina Bifida, her shunt, her cathing, or her legs. I just see her -- Brooklyn -- and the beautiful spirit that she is. The way she now gives tight-around-the-neck hugs, her silly games of peek-a-boo, her fake "cries" to get attention, how she raises her little finger for "one more" book, and the way she adores every single thing her big sisters do.





But then there are other days when the tears fall fast and quick -- and I'm not really sure why. Days like today when I remember what she's been through and how it just isn't fair. How another rock star friend of hers has to go in for another surgery, and it just isn't fair. They are only children.

They are only children. 

But what's amazing about all of this is that it only takes one more look at her -- at that little impish grin -- and I forget all over again. I have written before about how I don't know if I could love her without hurting a little, and I think perhaps I was wrong. Yes, I hurt for her, but most of the time I just see all of the joy, the love, and the beauty she has brought into our lives. Part of that is because of her Spina Bifida and all that has taught us, but most of that is because of who she is...something that has nothing to do with her Spina Bifida at all.



Her determination is what is allowing her to succeed far beyond any of our expectations. Her gentle spirit is what has her therapists wrapped around her little finger. Her playful attitude is what captivates her sisters' attention when they could very easily ignore her.

When people talk about their diagnosis not defining them...I get it. Now I get it. This girl is so much more than the scars on her back, her head, and her feet. She is Brooklyn.



And that is what makes her special.








Making it Work...
dress and legwarmers -- Target, Kendall hand-me-downs
shirt -- Cherokee, niece hand-me-down
shoes -- Pedoodles, Kendall hand-me-downs
headband -- Adornemegirl

About Face

Kendall and I had a date with my camera yesterday, and I had every intention of getting some great good shots of her in my favorite dress for Small Style. But as with all things Kendall, she ended up being a goofball, and I couldn't get a good full-length shot of her. But boy did I get some close-ups, and I am in love with every one of them.

Just to be clear, when I say I am in love with them, I am not talking about the photography. I am talking purely about the subject matter. I realize I am looking at these through a Mommy Lens, but seriously, this girl is just too darn cute. I could have posted about 20 pictures, but I did my best to edit it down to my very favorites. All of them give you a glimpse of the many things I love about my Middle. She is a ham, but she also has a very tender heart.

Here are some of the many faces of Kendall:


The Face we call trouble




The ever-famous "Sharpay Face"




The Face that melts Jeff's heart




The Face that makes me giggle



The face that melts my heart




The face that makes me wonder where my baby went



The face that speaks for itself



The face that I will always remember





Oh yeah, and the dress...

(Christmas splurge: ZAZA Couture via Zulily)

Go

He misses me. I can feel it.
I miss Him too.

Why does this life always seem to distract me from the things that are dearest? Why is it such an effort

to stop

when it's really all I want to do.

But I keep going -- we all do -- because sometimes stopping just isn't an option and because sometimes

we are afraid to.

Does it prove something to everyone else, to me, if I keep going? What is on the other side of busy? Perhaps I am afraid to look.

What does He think? Is He trying to tell me to stop, or is He giving me the strength to keep going? I'm not sure.

It doesn't feel right -- eyes burning, stomach churning, patience fleeting -- yet the train must keep running.

As least for now.

What does He think?

Maybe I should take the time to stop and ask Him. I mean really ask Him.

I think I will.

~Linking up with Just Write...

Sanity

This, my friends, has been my sanity lately. I love, love, love my morning coffee. Like a lot. I actually find myself looking forward to my cup of coffee as I am getting into bed for the night. (Is it just me?) Of course, that may be because it's not technically night any more when I slide under those covers, but I'm pretty sure having a cup at 1am or 2am would really not be a good idea.

I have to say that things have been a little hectic around here lately, and my head is all cloudy. (Too much coffee, perhaps?) But it is really bothering me that I haven't posted anything yet this year. I have a whole "2012 word" post written in my head, but more work is beckoning me tonight, so it will have to wait a few more days.

Until then, I'll leave you with a photo of few other things that keep me sane. Well, most of the time! ;)

Enjoy your Monday coffee, everyone!

The Photo That Should Have Been Our Christmas Card

Well, I didn't send out Christmas cards this year -- those stamps add up -- but I did manage to get a photo of all three of them in their Christmas outfits. And I literally mean a photo, as in 1 take, on the way out the door to church. Not bad, 'eh?



Hope you all had a great Christmas!

Making It Work...
Emma: shirt - Children's Place, skirt and leggings: via Kohl's (gifted); scarf - Justice
Brooklyn: shirt, skirt, and sweater - Children's Place, Emma hand-me-down (see Emma in it here and Kendall in it here... too fun!); red shoes -- I wish you could see them! -- Pediped, Kendall hand-me-downs
Kendall: dress - Gymboree, Emma hand-me-down

Indulge

In case you haven't noticed, this blog has an identity crisis. I think that if Simon Cowell were to critique this blog, he would call it "indulgent." And it is. The tense, the tone, the perspectives are all over the place, depending on how I am feeling that day. One day I'm using medical terms with a "Brooklyn Update," other days I'm showing off our latest fashion attempt, and yet other days I'm all deep thoughts, writing poems and stories that my heart needs to get out. Honestly, this all-over-the-placeness kinda drives me nuts, yet I think that's why I like it.

I think.

You see, I have a problem with blogs. You might find that interesting since I have one, but until Brooklyn, I never really dove in and tried to "make it" as a blogger. Not that I'm trying to "make it" now, but more on that in a minute.

First of all, I think there is a fine line between sharing your story and making it a circus. How much should people really know about your life...about your children's lives? And how much do I want them to know? I'm still not sure I know the answer to that question, which is why I am hesitant to share a lot about Jeff and my other two girls.

Blogging somehow makes you an authority -- or at least people perceive you as such. And I am SO not an authority on anything. Please don't think for a second that I have all the answers -- or that I think I have all the answers. I for sure do not, and, honestly, I need just as much help as any other Mommy struggling to find balance. Most nights I lay in bed wishing for a "do-over," holding myself back from running into their rooms to apologize and hug and not rush this time that I know I will miss all too soon.

And although I know this blog is very "Brooklyn heavy," there is a reason for that. I hope you don't think that this indicates that Emma and Kendall are any less important than Brooklyn. Of course, that just isn't true.  I do my best to make them feel just as special in our everyday lives because they are. I'm sure I fail a lot in those attempts, but I know in my heart I am trying.

Honestly, I think I am more comfortable writing about Brooklyn because I feel I get a little "grace" in that journey. It's new and it's fresh and it's different than most people's journeys, so I feel like bad days are a little more forgivable than my bad days with Emma and Kendall. The failures with a 4 year old and 6 year old are just so much more obvious, and I'm not sure my heart is ready to admit that I am not as good at this Mommy thing as I thought I would be. It's hard, and it's a work in progress.

Basically, I use this blog to gain perspective. I vent, yes, but I try to do so in a way that is positive because that is how I deal with things. I refuse to become bitter. At the same time, I don't want to create a perception of our lives that isn't true. We are not perfect around here. Far from it, in fact. There is a fair share of yelling, melt-downs and regrets. Maybe too many, but I am working on it. Always working on it.

I struggle to find an identity on this blog because I really don't know what it is supposed to be. What God wants it to be. I have readers, yes, but I have no idea why. I think most of it is because of Brooklyn, and I'm okay with that...I think.

I mostly struggle with what I should be writing. There are many inspiring blogs out there already (Kelle Hampton just plain rocks), and although I have opinions on parenting issues like sleep and food, I know that every family has their own way of doing things and my way isn't necessarily better. It just works for us.

I have my faith, yes, but I hesitate to get too "preachy" because my Bible background isn't as strong as I think it should be. There is a responsibility (I feel) associated with throwing out Bible verses. I do it when I feel led, but I don't want to force it or contrive something that is for myself -- and not for Him. Yet I often feel like He wants me to do more with this, which is confusing.

And then, of course, there is my real writing job...but that's a story for another day.

So what is this blog? Is this my testimony? Is it just my way of dealing with this season of my life? Does it/could it/should it mean anything more than that?

I have absolutely no idea, and until I do, I guess I will just continue to indulge and wait until God gives me an answer.

Freeze

I can feel the chill finding it's way through the cracks of the storm door, but it doesn't seem to bother her. As she leans in, trying to press her head against the cool glass, I hold on tight to her stander so she doesn't tip over.

She has the most beautiful profile. I have always hated mine. It's the nose that goofs it up for me. But her nose...it is absolutely perfect.

Open fisted she bangs, bangs, bangs on the glass, desperately trying to get her sisters' attention. Kendall sees her and quickly comes up to the door, eyes peeking out between hat and scarf.

Brooklyn is giggling as Kendall approaches, and she starts jerking back and forth in her stander in excitement. Kendall opens the door with a snow-covered mitten and gives her baby sister a snotty kiss on the head.

"Careful," I say as she closes the door. Tiny fingers in door jams is one of my biggest Mommy fears.

Emma is now looking for Kendall, and the two decide to play in the driveway as Jeff sweeps away evidence of the first snow. The girls are dancing and don't seem to mind that there is merely a light dust covering the ground.

I look back at Brooklyn. She is watching them closely, smiling and cooing and I swear wishing she could be out there with them. There is a pang in my heart, and I wonder if she knows. She can't possibly, right? Not yet.

Please, not yet.

I am not ready for that day. The day that threatens to take her innocence, her joy. I will do my best to not let that happen, but there will be sadness. This I know.  Jeff and I have often said we'd just like to freeze time, to let her be this age forever.

I decide that there is no reason she can't feel the snow beckoning her from behind the glass. I lay her down, get her out of the stander, and let her sit and watch the girls while I try to find a snowsuit. I quickly search through bins, only to discover that it must be in one of the bins I lent to my sisters.

Defeated, I look around at the mess I've made and see the shoe bin. I've been meaning to pull it out since Brooklyn got her casts off and decide now is a good time to go through it.

I lug the blue bin over to Brooklyn and, together, we sift through the shoes and find ones that will fit over her AFO braces. Some work, some don't. When we are finished, she is left with a pretty good shoe supply, including a pair of red shoes Kendall only wore twice. I leave them on, even though they clash with her pink outfit.

I hear the garage door open and the scuffling of boots and unzipping of snow pants. The girls are asking for a snack and the hot chocolate I promised them. I ask Brooklyn if she wants a snack, and she eagerly signs "eat" with an anxious "tst, tst, tst."

We all head to the kitchen, and I cut up some apples and scatter Cheerios on Brooklyn's highchair. She gathers them and stuffs them in her mouth all at once. I give her "the look," and she just grins, knowing exactly what Mommy's gonna say.

"One at a time, Brooklyn..."

I pour freshly made hot chocolate into mugs and top them with stale marshmallows. I warned the girls that they were stale, but they decided that stale marshmallows were better than no marshmallows at all.

I couldn't agree more. I just hope that someday, she does too.