I Miss ...

... the feel of her back in her tiny footie jams.
... watching the Beagle lick and lick and lick her face.
... finding pacifiers in my handbag.
... bibs.
... buying diapers & wipes at Target every Friday.
... washing crib sheets.
... being in complete control of another human.
... her fuzzy hair before it was blond.
... buckling her into her infant seat.
... watching her fall asleep in her exersaucer.
... reading books without 89 questions.
... the sour smell of baby puke.
... the hours I spent, just looking at her.
... having people stop us in the grocery store to comment on her big eyes.
... those fat, fat thighs.
... keeping her from putting everything in her mouth.
... watching her fascination of NaNa evolve.
... having a baby.

Picture

As a parent, you often wonder what traits and characteristics your children will inherit from you.

Like, will the lil' dude have a fascination with words?
Will smell be her biggest trigger of memories?
Will she be type-A personality?
Will she speed read?

At this point, it's clear she's becoming a little like her Mama.
I hope she takes that as a compliment.
Just as I do, when people compare my Mama and I.

When she was at Camp Grandma in June, she took this picture of her Grandma G. when they were at the playground.
As my Dad said when he forwarded it to me, the lil' dude took this all by herself! And it's probably the best picture anyone has taken of your Mom!



My Mama famously hates having her picture taken.
But look at that genuine smile for her granddaughter!
The lil' dude, snapping portraits at three.
Yep, a little bit of her Mama indeed!

A Day at the Beach

The girls in our house sure do love them some beach days. My entire summers as a kid revolved around when I could be in the water; lakes, rivers, pools, mud puddles (sure, a little redneck, but true), the rain. Apparently that desire hasn't left me.

Combine that with the Dad's solid career as a lifeguard at the town pool where he spent his days being loved by little girls, and hated by the bigger ones who had to unplug their noses on his watch, and we have ourselves a fish for a daughter.

(Who, yes, failed her first grown-up swimming lessons. Good lesson in humility for all parties.)

We camped last month with our people, and patiently waited for the skies to cooperate with our need for water. When the sun finally broke, and the wind was the last things on our mind, we headed for the sand.





It was freezing, but her screams of delight probably had less to do with that, and more to do with joy.



She even shucked her rash guard, exposing all that skin, wanting to soak up as much love and sun as possible.



She wore her old, too-small water wings, and retrieved from the waves just like a good little puppy would. Not that it elicited any weird looks from other beachgoers or anything ...



While the real puppy pretended his wasn't tethered to his Mama's ankle instead of asleep under the truck.



Sandcastles were built for tiny fairies and mermaids to live in.



Tattoos were appropriately covered with SPF so no fading would occur.

That photo is in the running as my favorite of all summer.
Much like those sunglasses that were brand new that day (mine) and never made it back from that little trip.
So, lil' dude, I hate to keep doing this to you, but you now owe me $4 for those.
Cheap sunglasses?
One of the best perks of summer.
For obvious reasons.



And then, because even sunshine burns if you get too much, all good things came to an end.

There's nothing better than post-swimming pig out sessions because you're ravenously hungry.
Your hair is wet and smells like lake.
Your fingers and toes are wrinkled.
Ears, full.
Smile, huge.
Spirit, restored.
And you sleep the best sleep ever.

The Face of the Off-Season

A few weeks ago, the biggest Timberwolves fan I know brought the littlest Timberwolves fan I know to see some team members in a caravan fashion right here in town. Anthony Tolliver, Wayne Ellington, and assistant coach Darrick Martin represented the squad.



The guys were met by a gym filled with tiny humans.
Tiny humans with big questions, like one little girl's:
Why are you guys so bad at basketball?
Oh, yes she did!
But, the players laughed it off and turned it into a lesson about building teams through blood, sweat, and tears.
And 20 year olds from Spain. (We're comin'!)



But do you know who this little face was most excited to see?
Not Anthony.
Not Wayne.
Not Darrick.
Maybe KLove or Beasely if they had been in attendance, but they were not.
So who, then?



The freaking mascot, Crunch.
Hey, at least it wasn't the cheerleaders.



This is her howl face.
Howling right back at her beloved woodland canine creature in the NBA mesh.



And, when life couldn't get much better for the three-year-old Timberwolves fan, in the off-season, on a rainy Tuesday morning, the gym erupted with more of that crazy Crunch and his crowd-pleasing antics.



Which, rocked her face off.

Wordless Wednesday

Open Letter to Mother Nature

What do you get when a three year old is faced with 14 days in a row of rain?
Some pint-sized weather angst, that's what.




















Look at this face, Mother Nature.
Let's hope July is a lot better.
Less rain.
Less umbrella-wielding Ninja skills.

And, if you're keeping track, lil' dude, I am adding my $11 umbrella to your tab.
Although, it was worth it to watch you kick the shit out of it.
From the dryness of the garage, that is.

Independent

While the favorite man in our lives turns 33 today, you are making the world a better place at your grandparents', where you are spending the week reveling in Daddy's hometown, Grandpa's treats, and Grandma's adoration. Your weeks spent at Camp Grandma are some of your favorites of all time, as they should be. We are grateful for them, for you and your will-never-miss-us attitude, and the strange quietness that is our home when you're not in it.

Grandma sent me these photos just this morning. Since I packed you up two evenings ago, I have been missing your perfect little face, giant eyes, sweaty hugs, and ridiculous catchphrases. It was so good to see you having fun in the 4th of July sun!











But what I wasn't ready for is how damn huge you appear at that parade. I mean, in that lawn chair? I died. Who is that girl? Where did those long legs come from? Where is your stroller? I can't get over it! At least you had NaNa by your side, so I was able to recognize my baby girl amongst all the girl and general person in these photos!

Don't ever do that to me again!

And, holding your own sparkler?
I mean ... I remember when you learned how to hold your own bottle.
That was a feat.
This?

I can't wait to see you Friday.
It would be okay if you reacted the way you did when I picked you up from Camp Grandma last month.
When you clung to me for 10 minutes straight, glued to my chest, petting my hair, and saying Mama, Mama over and over.
Because that was awesome.

Have fun ... be good.
Mama loves.