Get Rowdy, Get Tough!

It's almost September, and the kids are back in school.  We've had a couple chilly nights, but nothing out of the ordinary. Still, Fall is sneaking up on us.  The farmers are harvesting their crops, the orchards will soon be filled with cider donuts and pumpkins, the leaves on the trees are slowly changing colors and football season is upon us.

Growing up, football season meant games under the lights on Friday nights, wearing our letter jackets, cheering our team to victory.  We also had a great marching band that was sure to please at halftime.  But cheerleaders? Pffft... Not my thing.

Well, guess what? I've got a cheerleader of my very own.  If that's not funny enough to you, here's more: I am her coach.  That's right.  I grew up playing basketball, and softball, and the piano, and singing in the choir, and I am now a cheerleading coach.  Go ahead and laugh; it's pretty comical. 

Cheerleading practice started a month ago, and my girls have been hard at work, learning thirty cheers and a very detailed halftime dance.  These girls are dancers and gymnasts and tennis players and soccer players and swimmers, but cheerleading is all new to them. So we learned together. 

Earlier this week, the girls got to meet their football team for this year.  We met them after practice and I'd have to say there is nothing cuter than nine tiny cheerleaders handing out treats to 15 first-year tackle football players, who I'm sure all have hopes of the NFL in their future.  The night was filled with giggles and shyness and whispers and very little conversation between the boys and girls.



Our season officially starts next week, but tonight was a special night.  Tonight was our Kickoff Classic, where all 14 football teams got their chance to play on the varsity field, and our cheerleaders were there to cheer them on. 

Pre-game Excitement:










The Halftime Dance:





The "Hello" Cheer:



The Football Players:



V-I-C-T-O-R-Y!



My girls might be tiny little third and fourth graders, but tonight they were ten feet tall.

Alayna is Four

57 months ago, I held this in my hands:

55 months ago, I held this first picture of the baby growing inside of me:


52 months ago, I held this picture of my daughter:


 48 months ago, the day had finally arrived; the day I would finally get to hold her in my arms, and not just in my belly.


It was a Monday. I was scheduled for an induction, a week before my due date.

After arriving at the hospital in the morning, I was hooked up to the machines, and I waited. In the afternoon, the contractions were strong and consistent and the on-call doctor came to break my water.

Things changed almost instantly. I wasn't surprised when they checked me and I was seven centimeters dilated. I told them to call my doctor, as I had had two very fast deliveries in the past. (You can read about them here and here.)

They smiled and nodded and basically ignored me. And then, it was time. For real. I asked to be checked again. I was ten centimeters dilated and she was coming. Quickly. They told me that my doctor was on her way, FROM THE OFFICE.

Really? This was happening again?

Don't push, they said. Just breathe, they said.

So there I was, breathing through contractions, holding back the intense desire to push, again. There I was, cursing the nurses for not listening to me, again. There I was waiting, again.

Somehow, finally, the doctor appeared.

And just like that, she was here.


A tiny, bald, beautiful baby girl. Alayna.


The little sister Emerson had been waiting for.



***

The next 36 months turned out to be quite a roller coaster. There was a broken leg, a move to Tennessee, a move to Ohio. Through it all, Alayna was Alayna. Although shy upon first meeting, she'll quickly warm up to you and hit you with her infectious laugh. And that hair?  That hair turns heads everywhere we go.


The last 12 months have been spent living in Ohio, but with frequent trips to Michigan and a spring trip to Florida. She had her first day of preschool, enjoyed dressing as a bumblebee for Halloween, caught her first fish, debuted her first pair of glasses, and became a big sister to Nash.  No matter where she is, or what she is doing, Alayna is a character.

July


August


September


October


November


December




January


February


March


April


May


June


July


She turned four over the weekend. When I asked her what she wanted for her birthday, she answered right away: A penguin. A real, live penguin. And then she added that she'd also like a watermelon, with a knife to cut it. She is quite sensible.



Alayna has always been a Mama's girl. If I'm cooking in the kitchen, she's on the counter helping me. If I'm changing a diaper, she's there next to me, ready to assist, if needed.  If I'm painting my nails, she's there, waiting to have her nails painted, too.  If I sneak away to take a bath, somehow she's there, stripping down to jump right in. While I enjoy my alone time, I enjoy my time with her, as well. I know that soon enough she'll be too busy and too "cool" to hang out with Mom. So, I'm taking what I can get, as long as she'll give it to me.

Happy 4th Birthday, baby girl.  Mama loves you.

From Seven to Eight

When you look at that picture, what do you see?

Maybe you see the smile with missing teeth. Maybe you see the colored feathers in her hair. Maybe you see the sandy beach. Maybe you see the silver necklace.

Every picture has a story.

When I look at a picture that I've taken, I see more than the faces, or the accessories, or the surroundings. Every picture I take tells a little bit about where I've been. It's not just about what's IN the picture, it's also about HOW the picture came to be.

That picture above is my oldest daughter, Emerson. Maybe you glanced at it and thought, "Cute girl." But when I look at that picture, I see a story...


It was May, in Tennessee. The day was overcast, with only a peek of sunshine from time to time, but it was hot. I had only a couple of weeks before our move to Ohio, and I probably should have been packing boxes. Instead, I packed lunches, and sunscreen, and towels, and shovels and buckets and kids. That beach was an hour from home but worth the drive. It was a laid back day, filled with swimming and lounging and rock collecting and sand castle building.

And there was a photo shoot.

That picture at the top? That was one of twenty-five photos I took of Emerson in a span of about three minutes. Think Madonna, in "Vogue". Pose, click. Pose, click. Pose, click...

I've never had trouble getting Emerson to smile for the camera. But to have her want to smile for the camera hasn't always been the case. There was a time, not so long ago, when she was shy-painfully shy-and not just in front of the camera. Sure, from age seven to age eight she has grown in size, but her emotional growth this year has been tremendous. Some people might think all of the moving we have done in the last few years would be a detriment to developing friendships for the kids, but Emerson has embraced it. Somehow, she always seems to find herself in the center of it all.

With new friends in the neighborhood...

And with MORE friends in the neighborhood...

With family and friends at the pool...

With her Brownie Troop at a tea party...

With school friends at the Daddy/Daughter Dance...


If she ever runs out of friends? There is MORE than enough family to go around.

With cousins at the cabin...

With MORE cousins at the cabin...

With a cousin she gets to see quite often...

And with a cousin she doesn't see often enough...


And if the friends run out and the family is too far away? Well, there is plenty of entertainment to be found in our own little family.

From the big brother...

To the little sister...

There is always someone waiting to play...


I take a lot of pictures, more than a thousand per month. There are pictures of smiles, and frowns, and tears, and laughter, and silliness, and sleepiness. Each one tells its own story.

The story behind this final picture? It's on a new beach, in a new state, with a new photo shoot. It's a story of triumph. It's not just about Emerson surviving the past year, it's about how she conquered the last year.


 


Happy 8th Birthday, Emerson!