A Letter To My Little Miss

Dear Hailey,

One year ago today you were born. I had been in the hospital since the morning before. My water had broken early Friday morning. By Saturday morning I was very ready for you to born. You were being quite stubborn though, with your face pointing up towards my tummy instead of down towards my back, and you wouldn't budge. The doctor was worried because I had been in labor for 35 hours and he was concerned about both of our heart rates and my temperature. He decided he would do an emergency c-section.

Finally at 1:34 pm you were born. You didn't cry at first and I remember looking at Daddy and he looked quite worried. I was scared and wanted to know what was going on. I couldn't talk because of all of the anesthesia but I was screaming inside my head, "Why isn't my baby crying?" It felt like an eternity, but 45 seconds later you let out a weak cry. Later I found out that not only did you have the umbilical cord around your neck, but that you also were not breathing and the doctors were working on you trying to help you to breathe.

The nurse brought you over to us so that we could see you. Daddy held you while I looked at the precious little miracle in his hands. You instantly held my heart in the palm of your teeny, tiny hands.

A lot has changed since that day. It just doesn't seem possible that a year has already passed. My little baby girl is already a one. We brought home a helpless little infant who has grown into an independent little toddler. You learned how to roll over, then sit up, then crawl, creep, and finally walk. You move quickly all over the house and get into everything.

You love books. Many times during the day you bring me a book and hand it to me, looking up at me with those beautiful, big blue eyes and wait for me to read it to you. One of your favorite toys is always the water bottle that I am trying to drink out of. Water bottles fascinate you and love the sound they make when you shake them.

You think that Dottie is here to entertain you. You would be happy to follow her around the house all day trying to pet her and touch her paws. Dottie runs to hide under the bed or behind the couch when she sees you coming at her, smiling that mischievous little smile you have.

You love to play with Daddy. He chases you around the house and you screech and laugh and try to get away. You love to blow raspberries on Mommy and Daddy's tummies. You think it's just great that it makes us laugh.

You are such a happy, friendly little girl. You always have a smile for everyone (unless the person is a photographer, of course). You have a giggle that melts my heart.

So often I just watch you with wonder. I wonder what you're thinking about. I wonder who you will be someday and what your hopes and dreams will be. But mostly, I wonder I got to be so blessed to have you.

I am so thankful for you and I love you more than I can possibly put into words. And even though your hands have gotten a bit bigger, you still hold my heart in the palm of your teeny, tiny hands.

Happy 1st Birthday!

Love,
Mommy

The Green, Green Grass of Home

I've been feeling emotional all week with Hailey's first birthday fast approaching. Here's one more of my favorite things to read when I am feeling this way.

The Green, Green Grass of Home
by Erma Bombeck

When Mike was 2, he wanted a sandbox, and his father said:
"There goes the yard. We'll have kids over here day and
night, and they'll throw sand into the flower beds, and cats
will make a mess in it, and it'll kill the grass for sure."
And Mike's mother said, "It'll come back."

When Mike was 5, he wanted a jungle gym set with swings that
would take his breath away and bars to take him to the summit,
and his father said: "Good grief, I've seen those things in
back yards, and do you know what they look like? Mud holes in
a pasture. Kids digging their gym shoes in the ground. It'll
kill the grass."
And Mike's mother said, "It'll come back."

Between breaths, when Daddy was blowing up the plastic swimming
pool, he warned: "You know what they're going to do to this
place? They're going to condemn it and use it for a missile site.
I hope you know what you're doing. They'll track water everywhere
and have a million water fights, and you won't be able to take
out the garbage without stepping in mud up to your neck. When we
take this down, we'll have the only brown lawn on the block."
"It'll come back," Mike's mother said.

When Mike was 12, he volunteered his yard for a camp out. As they
hoisted the tents and drove in the spikes, his father stood at the
window and observed, "Why don't I just put the grass seed out in
cereal bowls for the birds and save myself the trouble of spreading
it around? You know for a fact that those tents and all those big
feet are going to trample down every single blade of grass, don't
you. Don't bother to answer. I know what you're going to say.
'It'll come back.'"

The basketball hoop on the side of the garage attracted more crowds
than the Olympics. And a small patch of lawn that started out with
a barren spot the size of a garbage can lid soon drew to encompass
the entire side yard.

Just when it looked as if the new seed might take root, the winter
came and the sled runners beat it into ridges. Mike's father shook
his head and said, "I never asked for much in this life - only a
patch of grass."
And his wife smiled and said, "It'll come back."

The lawn this fall was beautiful. It was green and alive and
rolled out like a sponge carpet along the drive where gym shoes had
trod ... along the garage where bicycles used to fall ... and
around the flower beds where little boys used to dig with
iced-tea spoons.

But Mike's father never saw it. He anxiously looked beyond the
yard and asked with a catch in his voice, "he will come back,
won't he?"

Excuse The House

Excuse The House
By Angela Rose Black

Some houses try to hide the fact
That children shelter there
Ours boasts of it quite openly
The signs are everywhere
Smears are on the windows
Little smudges on the doors
I should apologize, I guess
Toys are strewn on the floor

Please excuse the house
It's not that big a mess
But my job ain't done
Or ever will be, I guess
As long as children live
Inside these hallowed walls
Please excuse the house
I'm momma first of all

So I sat down with the children
And played and laughed and read
And if the doorbell doesn't shine
Their eyes will shine instead
For when at times I'm forced to chose
The one job or the other
I want to be a Housewife
But, first I'll be a mother

Please excuse the house
It's not that big a mess
But my job ain't done
Or ever will be, I guess
As long as children live
Inside these hallowed walls
Please excuse the house
I'm momma first of all

Please excuse the house
I'm momma first of all

Wordless Wednesday #23- Then & Now

For more Wordless Wednesday fun click here or here.

No More Oatmeal Kisses

With Hailey's first birthday coming up this weekend, I've been feeling all emotional. So, this week I'm going to share some of the things I like to read when I feel this way.

No More Oatmeal Kisses
--January 29, 1969

One of these days, you'll shout, "Why don't you kids grow up and act your age!"
And they will.
Or, "You guys get outside and find yourselves something to do . . . and don't slam the door!"
And they won't.
You'll straighten up the boys' bedroom neat and tidy: bumper stickers discarded, bedspread tucked and smooth, toys displayed on the shelves. Hangers in the closet. Animals caged. And you'll say out loud, "Now I want it to stay this way."
And it will.
You'll prepare a perfect dinner with a salad that hasn't been picked to death and a cake with no finger traces in the icing, and you'll say, "Now, there's a meal for company."
And you'll eat it alone.
You'll say, "I want complete privacy on the phone. No dancing around. No demolition crews. Silence! Do you hear?"
And you'll have it.
No more plastic tablecloths stained with spaghetti. No more dandelion bouquets. No more bedspreads to protect the sofa from damp bottoms. No more gates to stumble over at the top of the basement steps. No more clothespins under the sofa. No more playpens to arrange a room around.
No more anxious nights under a vaporizer tent. No more sand on the sheets or Popeye movies in the bathroom. No more iron-on patches, rubber bands for ponytails, tight boots or wet knotted shoestrings.
Imagine. A lipstick with a point on it. No baby-sitter for New Year's Eve. Washing clothes only once a week. Seeing a steak that isn't ground. Having your teeth cleaned without a baby on your lap.
No PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree. No car pools. No blaring radios or forgotten lunch money. No one washing her hair at 11 o'clock at night. Having your own roll of Scotch tape.
Think about it. No more Christmas presents out of toothpicks and library paste. No more sloppy oatmeal kisses. No more tooth fairy. No giggles in the dark. No knees to heal, no responsibility.
Only a voice crying, "Why don't you grow up?"
and the silence echoing, "I did."

....Erma Bombeck