This is last Saturday at the Hogle Zoo Carousel. We went with some friends to celebrate Ali's birthday. (She's eight- unbelievable!)
The girls in their spring/Easter dresses. Christine... you need some girls.
Here's some of the funny things Cori has said lately...
"Someday I'm going to be a good mom, that doesn't spank children....""Mom! You scared my guts out!"
"I want to be a mom just like you, except not just like you, like Cori. I want to be a 'me mom.' "
A month or so ago, Cori was sitting/laying like this in church- she made it almost until the end of sacrament awake. (She said something to me a minute or two before the closing song.) After when I was gathering up our belongings someone nearby was chuckling and pointing at her. I said, "is she asleep?" And when I went on that side of her this is what I saw. It was precious and funny. Everyone got a kick out of her.
On Sunday, which was actually Ali's birthday- after church everyone except Isaiah and I was already in the van to head to Robyn's, when I saw Ali's new white skirt on her floor in her room. I yelled at her from the door to come back and hang it up so it didn't get dirty and ruined. Her Dad tried to plead her case to get a pass on her birthday, but I said no, it's white, come hang it up. By the time Ali had come inside, Isaiah had slipped into Ali's room and hung it up for her. Moments like that are so special to me. I mean, really... The moments when the same kids who are crazy, hyper, silly, naughty, moody, defiant, squabbley, teasey...everything except purely kind- show that deep down, a truly good person is growing inside of them. Those are the moments that make me a truly happy Mom.
The other night, before it turned freezing again (I mean, come on- snow in May? Get on with it, Spring!) The moon was near full, and the evening was warm and clear. I knew Truman would LOVE to be outside, looking at the moon, and the trees, so I took him out for a walk. He did love it. He stared at the trees, and the moon, and the street lights. He happily touched the branches of low trees, and his head followed passing cars. It was a one year old's dream- to get out of the cooped up house. When we were coming back onto our property, a neighbors family was passing our house. We chatted for a little while, and when they went on their way, saying goodbye and waving, Truman waved his fat little hand and said, "Ba. Ba. Ba." Does it ever get old? The wonder of a baby's new accomplishments? I wouldn't know, but I suppose it's like a drug to me, a familiar high that comes every so often when they let go for the first time, and stand unassisted. Or when you see the light in their eyes and you know they understand you. Or when they copy the sound you are making, "Ma, Ma, Ma." Who would ever have know a single uttered syllable, and a hand movement could make me so utterly thrilled.
