Hawaii Memories

I've been to Hawaii several times in my life, and somewhere in my brain I thought that it would be a magical adventure to take my kids over there to show them the amazingness of it.

It did not disappoint.  Though, I could not wrap my head around the fact that they didn't seem appropriately fascinated with the color of the water, or the lushness of the mountains.  It's like they're kids or something.

I tried my hand at surfing one afternoon.  It didn't go suuuuuuper well... meaning, I didn't actually ever get up.  But I'd like to try again because I feel like there's something in there that I'm going to love.

Early on in the trip, McKenzie lost both sets of glasses.  This was a bit of a problem because she is quite blind without them.
"Brian, can't you do something?" I asked.  Being married to an ophthalmologist in this situation seemed like it could work in our favor... and, sure enough, he was able to order a set of contact lenses to the nearest Costco.  She popped those babies in and, look at that!  There are her eyes! 

There was one time that I found myself staring at her as she stared off into the distance.  Her eyes!  I love being able to see her eyes.  A silver lining of the ocean taking away both sets of glasses, I say.

It really was no surprise that she lost her glasses... during the week we were there, the waves were big and powerful.  Just look at the height of the water on that wave about to  rush up the sand!

Hm... actually, maybe you can't tell because there's not much perspective, but you'll have to take my word for it... that wall of water is pretty high.  Carson and McKenzie took a day or two to get over their fear of those waves, but soon, they were surfing them like pros.

And once I taught them to just lay in the sand and let the wave push them all the way up the beach, they couldn't stop.

They got beat. up.

With their pockets filled with sand.

Timothy stayed on the sand for the most part.  Which was a blessing because there was no way he could have enjoyed those waves.  They would have swallowed him whole.

One of my favorite things was playing in the sand with TK.  I'd grab a handful and transfer it over to his pudgy hands and then he'd transfer it back to mine.  "Put. in. T-T's han?" Yes, put in Timothy's hand.  "Put. in. Ma-ma's han?" Yes.

Eventually the kids got tired of the sand burns and turned their attention to exploring.

One day, Brian and Eric went zip lining (a selfless and awesome present Katie and I got them for Father's Day, ifIdosaysomyself), while Katie and I took the kids out to a nearby, amazingly beautiful beach.

It turned out to be a rather stressful endeavor, and this was the only picture I got of the whole evening.  The waves were massive and powerful and, while incredible to watch, scared me to death since I have a two year old (who believes he can conquer anything by himself (including the ocean)), a five year old (who will do almost anything, in or out of his own comfort zone, to hang with the older kids), and an eight year old and an eleven year old (that, while good swimmers, have little ocean smarts when it comes to currents and waves).

At one point, Carson jumped into the cavity of a rock that was appropriately named the Toilet Bowl because the waves coming in and out of the small space caused the water in the cavity to rise and fall and swirl.  It looked downright dangerous to me. Since Katie wanted to jump in, too, I stayed with the little ones outside.  Five minutes later, Katie emerged from the cavity holding the back of her head and looked at me with such a terror in her eyes that my mother instincts kicked in like an animal and I turned ferociously towards the toilet bowl to find my son.  Carson was thankfully just a few seconds behind her, eyes large, breathing hard, and a face that could only be described as 'failing composure'. They had gotten caught in there when a giant wave filled the cavity more than they had anticipated.  The rapid rise of the water threw both of them up in an uncontrolled swirl where Katie hit her head on a protruding rock, and Carson started clawing for his life.  Seriously.  He clawed the rocks so hard that he bent five of his fingernails back to the point that they were bleeding when he came out.  Thankfully, there were two young men sitting on the sides of the rocks who were able to reach in and grab Carson's hand to pull him to safety.  Carson tried to put on a tough guy face, but when I wrapped him in a giant, fierce hug, he fell apart to sobbing, which is so uncharacteristic of him that it shined a little light into his heart and showed me just how scared he had been.  My own tears started flowing and we walked along the beach for a couple of minutes to talk it out and get control of ourselves.  I spotted McKenzie in a dangerous place alongside a rock the size of a monster truck, laughing as the waves pulled her in and out, towards and away from the rock. In my mind's eye I could see all the currents and undercurrents that were swirling around that rock and it scared me thoroughly.  McKenzie! I yelled Kenz! The waves were so loud. Maaaaaaa - Keeeeeeen - zeeeeeeeeee!!! She looked. She saw.  I waved her in. Please don't play so close to that giant, jagged rock.  And stay where you can touch--- I know you can swim, but stay where you can tou--- KENZ! Stop arguing... this is non-negotiable.  Stay. where. you. can. touch. At about this point, I realized that I hadn't seen Miles in ...

Oh geez ... when did I see Miles last?!  Miles!

The beautiful waves completely lost their beauty at that point and just looked like Death.  I sprinted down the beach towards the crowded section 50 yards away where I had seen him last, leaving behind an emotionally fragile Carson, a feeling-rebellious and overly confident but tentatively obeying McKenzie, and Timothy, who was safely in the care of Katie, though, also two years old and playing in dangerous waters.  Miles... Miles... look for Miles... too many rocks... I can't see.  Look for the curls.  Look for the red.  Listen for his voice... For heavens sake, don't look panicked even though you are. 

And then there he was, playing in a tiny, one-kid-sized cove, happy, all by himself and completely unaware that all the rest of us had been 50 yards down the beach for the past twenty minutes.

I inhaled a breath of relief that came in a bit shaky and called for Miles. "It's time to go," I whispered in his ear as, for the second time in under ten minutes, I wrapped one of my sons in my arms and gave thanks to God for protecting him.

We went back to the same beach later - just the grownups and biggest kids - and happened to catch a fun scene where a family was lighting off fireworks on the big rock.

It was much, much more enjoyable that way.

But the best thing about Hawaii, for me, is always, always the ocean.

Not being in the ocean, necessarily, but being next to the ocean.  In fact, conditions have to be pretty perfect in order for me to enjoy being in the ocean.  Because, if you know me you know, I have this weird, rather unhealthy fear of sharks.  It's a big deal.  So if the ocean is not crystal clear, I get all sweaty and panickey when I'm in it.  "So, why are you okay when the water is clear? Do you think that, if you saw the shark coming, that you'd be able to get away?" Katie asked in an I-love-you-but-you-know-that's-kind-of-crazy tone.  Um... well, yes. Yes, maybe?  Actually, I think I just really, really, really, really hate to be surprised and would rather see the shark coming and prepare for the bite rather than just ... BITE, you know?  Maybe?  Maybe not.  Anyway.  I haven't spent much time analyzing why I feel the way I do on this subject, but the fact remains, I don't like being in murky waters because, sharks.

So, snorkeling.  Remember how the waves were pretty intense the whole week we were there?  That made for some pretty murky waters, but I was determined to go snorkeling anyway since we were in Hawaii, and I actually love snorkeling in Hawaii.  So I went.  Katie, Brigham and I went.  And I did okay.  I didn't love it, but the water was clear enough that I could see... enough.  So the next day, I wanted to take Brian - mostly because Brian went snorkeling in Miami and was blown away with the coolness of it, so I was excited to show him just how awesome snorkeling could be. I mean, Hawaii, right?!  So I went.  Eric, Brian and I went.  We got past the rocks and the surf and started swimming towards the open water in search of sea turtles, and this time the water was much murkier.  You feel so alone when you're snorkeling in murky water, you know?  You can't really see anything and you can't hear anything except for your own breathing in and out, in and out, in and out of the snorkel. My head and my chest began to tingle in the moments-before-panic way that they do, and I tried to talk myself into some sense of logic. Lindsay, stop.  There are no sharks (sharks!) right here.  Just get out a little more (sharks!) and maybe the water will clear a bit.  Think of the sea turtles and (sharks!) the colorful fish... You'll be able to see (sharks!) the bright coral and the awesome (sharks!) rock formations under the (sharks!) water, but it didn't work very well and I found myself having to stop and take my head gear all the way off to breathe every couple of minutes.  The guys came back to me the third time I stopped to see if I was okay and I tried to laugh it off because, embarrassing.  Once I assured them that I was fine, Eric started swimming away and I whispered to Brian, "Hey, will you just hold my hand?  I think I'll be okay if you hold my hand."  So we swam, side by side, hand in hand, and I listened to myself breathe - it was easy to listen to it because my throat was so constricted that every time I inhaled it sounded like a gasp, and every time I exhaled, my vocal chords vibrated into an audible hum. Gasp! Hummmmmmmmmm. Gasp! Hummmmmmmmmmm.  Gasp! Hummmmmmmmmm. Three more minutes of that and I decided that I was actually probably not okay and that I should go back.  The guys were kind and offered to escort me back to the beach but, that's lame, so I put on my big girl panties, waved goodbye and swam back to shore just as fast as my flippered legs could take me. I sat on the rocks for a couple of minutes to compose myself again and started laughing, right out loud to no one but myself, about the silliness of the whole situation.  I looked around and felt happy because I'd been wanting a chance to explore the rocks at Sharks Cove anyway (um, also, the name of the cove we were swimming in?), so I replaced my flippers with water sandals and started to climb.  Oh. My. Goodness.  The most beautiful views you ever saw.  Waves crashing into the rocks; powerful currents, swirling colors of blue ranging from deep to almost white.  It was breathtaking in the best sense of the word - unlike the snorkeling that was breathtaking in the not-so-best sense of the word.  I was happy that I had turned around.

This next picture is not a picture of my rock climbing excursion because I didn't take a camera along on that one, but this one at least shows you the colors... now just imagine beautiful, jagged rocks and the spray of waves... incredible.

We had a full week of activities, and the last night we were there happened to be the 4th of July, which was awesome because, fireworks in Hawaii?!  Katie and I went to the stores to find the best fireworks we could and, after loading up our cart with the few fireworks we could find, came home to light them.

We waited the hours before dark, promising the children that we would get to the fireworks just as soon as the sun went down.  Finally, the time came and we took all the fireworks out to the driveway where we quickly learned that every single package we bought was filled with, not fireworks, but poppers... which was rather disappointing to all of us.  Apparently fireworks are rather restricted in Hawaii.  Darn.  But Katie found a beautiful solution to the problem when she laid a towel out on the grass and gathered her girls to her sides.  "Just look up," she said.  "Those are natures fireworks."  I pulled my own towel out and joined her with my own kids and we sat and watched the beautiful stars twinkle in the sky.  A (very) occasional shooting star brought excitement, and I felt lucky to be there in that beautiful place, surrounded by people I love, watching the heavens though the palms.

Summer Birthdays

This guy turned six over the summer.  Hard for me to believe since, you know, mothers can never believe that their children are actually growing up.

We pretty much rocked his world when he found this in the driveway.

I super love McKenzie's and Carson's faces turned towards their little brother, obviously excited for him.

The bike was definitely the hit of the day, though it was strongly rivaled by these:

Ten packs of gum.  Just for him.

That night, he requested Cici's pizza, so off to the land of macaroni and cheese pizza we went.

The lot of us were exhausted, but Miles was like the energizer bunny.  Birthdays are fun like that.

We came back home and finished off the evening with a great cake,

and celebrated a bit more that weekend at the sky zone with his buddies McKenzie, Carson, Timothy and Jackson.

Less than two months later, it was Carson's turn to celebrate.

Nine years old.  Really and truly.  I also refuse to believe that.

For the past three birthdays, Carson has found himself just two weeks into a brand new city... which means that there are no friends to celebrate with.  He has been such a good sport about it, and we have taken care to make his birthdays extra special with family events and family magic, so I don't really even think he's noticed that much.

But this final move was different... still just two weeks into our brand new city, we found our pool looking like this on the day of his party:

Packed with kids. With friends.  I can't even count the number of times my heart caught in my throat as I watched them all play.  I won't dive into all of the emotions behind why this move has been incredible for us just yet, but that pool full of kids is one glimpse for you.

We ate pizza,

Played water balloon volleyball,

ate doughnuts from a string,

(or, in Kaylee's case, tried to eat the doughnut from the string)

and sang happy birthday just before we ate the cake that Carson imagined up himself.  "I just want a regular, rectangular, vanilla cake, with strawberry frosting, and frozen, chocolate whipped cream in the center."  Well, okay then.

The next day (Sunday) was his actual birthday, and he was absolutely thrilled to find that Nana and Poppy had sent these along for the occasion.

And Brian and I made all his dreams come true with this penny board (which I had to Google to even find out what it was when he told me that's what he wanted).

We love you, Carson!

Remember the good, and be happy

Mmmmmmm... my kids.  Whenever we move I feel grounded amidst the chaos of New come the first June 11 in that new city.  I can't put my finger on exactly why...

I mean, I'm sure it has much to do with remembering our little stillborn son and pulling out my faith, in full view, of the sealing powers of the temple.  It follows me everywhere, that faith.  And those sealing bonds that will keep my family together simply exist, always, unchanged, never faltering or fluctuating in their strength as my own emotions get thrashed about on the washboard of change.

For the past several years, we've all piled into the car on June 11th and headed to the nearest temple.  We bring a dinner and picnic on the lawn while I read excerpts from the journal that I kept during those weeks we were losing Jess, and in the months and years after.  This journal is one of my most prized possessions.  It captures many of the moments that I hold dearest to my heart, many of the feelings that have shaped me into who I am today, and many of the details of a painful, beautiful, and cherished growth spurt of faith.

I still see Jess in my mind's eye and wonder, sometimes, about who he is and in what ways he would have changed the dynamics of our family if he were still with us.  That's one of the hardest things for me, actually... losing Jess before we even got to know him. It leaves so many unanswered questions.

But I'm grateful to have a little link to the heavens.  It's taken me ten long years to get to this point, but, this year, our day was filled with Happy.

This family is my everything, of course.  I'm sure most of you feel the same way about your own.

I just couldn't imagine a heaven that would be anything like heaven without them in my life.

Locked In

*Here's the deal with this post... 

I wrote it a long time ago 

(Like... a year and a half ago), 

and somehow it never got posted. 

Hm. 

Turns out my Post List needs a deep cleaning every once in a while, too. 

Anyway, it's a great story, and rather timeless. 

So.

Anyway.

Disclaimer over.

-----------------------------

I know.  It's hard to know what you're looking at above, so let me help you out.  It's a picture of a police car in a small, Miami parking garage (my small, Miami parking garage) taken through the seats of a mini-van (my mini-van) with its lights on Full. Stinkin'. Blast (I know cop lights don't actually have different levels of 'blast', but it seems more dramatic to say Full Blast, and they were terribly annoying and so warrant such dramatic phrasing), that had come in response to someone dialing 911 (I dialed 911) because their infant was locked in the car (it was Timothy).

Brian wanted me to write this story months ago (since it happened months ago), but I had just changed the title of my blog to Harvest Beauty, you see, and I was set on recording only those things that I found beautiful.  Or at least good.  And this whole experience of Timothy getting locked in the car just made me angry and frustrated and kind of made me cry.  So, I refused to type it out.  But... time has done it's magical thing and removed me from the situation so, there it is.  Beauty!  I see it now.  It really can be seen as a beautiful, remarkable, and tender tale, we just have to get through the angry stuff, too.

First of all, let me mention that this whole Locking The Infant In The Car thing has happened before.  I, personally, was not directly responsible for either instance, let's be clear - but no need to point fingers at my other children... like Miles.  Or Carson.  Ahem.  Also, okay.  IguessIshouldn'tleavemykeysinthecarwhenIstepoutforasecond.

Anyway, this Time Before that I'm talking about, toddler Miles happened to lock himself in the car when we were living in North Carolina and after a quick call to the police, the officer came up the road with his lights flashing and siren blipping and jumped out of his car with his handy slim-jim. The whole thing was taken care of (relatively) quickly and (almost) painlessly and I learned that in cases where there is a child in the car, the police will break into the car free of charge.

So I didn't panic this Present Time when infant Timothy was locked in the car because, experience.  But then I did panic because I realized that I was in a parking garage this time, and that my phone was in the locked car along with the garage gate opener (which is relevant to this story because, although you can get out of the garage without the garage gate opener, you cannot get back in to the garage without the garage gate opener (so, you see, I didn't dare leave the garage to look for a phone because I would then be locked outside, away from the baby, you know)).  I circled around the car a couple of times and muttered to myself 'Um. I don't actually know what to do...' before I turned the corner of the garage and found the good news that it was garbage day! (which is relevant to this story because on garbage day the garage gates stay open for the whole morning) and there were a couple of men pushing the building's giant garbage cans through the gates and up a small hill.  I ran to them.

"Excuse me! Hi, do you speak English?" I asked one of the men.  Always a good first question to ask in Miami.
"No..." but then he pointed to his partner and so I directed my question to him.
"Hi.  Do you speak English?"  He nodded, but said, "Si," so I knew right away that his English was going to be limited (it was).  I explained my situation as best I could and ended up just using my hand as a phone and repeating the phrase "Phone?  Can I use your phone?  Please?"

"Si."

I dialed 911 (because, who has the police number memorized?) and within 1 minute a police car came barreling up the street, lights and siren blaring.

One good thing about Miami: there is always a policeman close by.

He pulled into the parking garage behind my van and, thankfully, turned his sirens off but, unthankfully, left the red and blue lights on to bounce along the walls and low ceiling as a sort of sickening strobe.  The young officer stepped out of his vehicle and assessed the situation.  He pulled on all of the handles (tried that), and watched Timothy (who was not happy) for 5-10 seconds.  I was patiently waiting for him to grab his slim-jim and get this whole process over with.

"Well, ma'am," he concluded, "the only option I have here is to break a window."

Shocked silence came from my face and then, "What?!"  Clearly I had made a bad decision in calling 911.

"The doors are all locked, and this is an infant situation," he informed me.  Well, I hadn't realized...

"Surely there must be another option," I said.  "Do you not have a slim-jim or something else that can help you unlock a car door?"

"No ma'am," he replied.

"Well, how about I call a locksmith instead, then," I decided.

"That is not in the child's best interest, ma'am.  Even if I called in a speed order to the nearest locksmith, it would take him over half an hour to get here because of traffic."  Curse Miami.  "I have called in reinforcements, so another police officer should be here in a minute."  Reinforcements?  For a child locked in a mini-van in a covered parking garage?

"Does he have a slim-jim?" I asked.

"No," he replied.  Well then how in the world is he going to help? I wanted to ask.  But, respect, so I didn't.  The reinforcing officer pulled into the garage (leaving his own swirling lights on to add to the ambiance) and came to assess the situation.  He pulled on all the door handles (tried that) and watched Timothy (who was still not happy) for 5-10 seconds.  He was slightly older than the first officer, but both were younger than me (when did I get so old?!).

The younger officer briefed the older one 'infant has been in the car for approximately 5 minutes, so I'm going to break the window.'  'Alright,' the older officer said, 'but when you do, break this one here, furthest from the baby.'

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," I interjected.  "I do NOT want to break this window."  By this time, we had attracted the attention of a couple of the maintenance guys who worked in our building.  None spoke English (of course), but they figured out the situation pretty quickly and communicated to us that they knew someone who had a slim-jim.  The phones came out, the calls were made, and we waited for their friend across the street to come.

"Ma'am," the young officer said, "the infant has been in the car for 10 minutes now.  I am going to have to break this window."

"Just wait a minute," I replied.  "Let's see if these guys can help us another way."

"Well, but this is an infant situation, ma'am---"

"I know," I interrupted with a little snark in my voice, "the infant's name is Timothy, and I'm pretty sure I care about Timothy's well-being even more than you do.  Give us a minute."  In a rather ironic gesture, the officer put his hands up by his ears, raised his eyebrows, and backed away.  I wasn't sure how long I could keep him from shattering that window... which, while solving one problem, would create a whole slew of other problems.  To make matters worse, Timothy was unhappy.  And I kept seeing a little red halo of curls sticking out from behind various support pillars - Miles was scared. 

In no time, we had a team of four maintenance men working together on one side of the van to pop the lock, and two police officers pacing impatiently behind it - rather too excited about the prospect of breaking a window, in my opinion.

The maintenance men did not, in fact, end up having a slim-jim, but they had a whole bunch of crude, hand-made tools that looked promising.  After a few minutes, however, it became glaringly clear that the tools were not. working.  Not even coming close.  I started to lose hope that we would get out of this situation without a broken window and felt my shoulders sag.

"Carson," I called across the garage, "come here, bud."  He trotted over and I took him behind the other side of the van, stared into his eyes and slowly whispered some instructions.  "Will you please go find McKenzie and Miles and take them behind the elevators over there, kneel down, and say a prayer that we can get Timothy out of this car without breaking the window?"

I was caught in Carson's eyes for a moment... such a deep, rich blue... I watched them light up with a quiet excitement, a small smile played on his lips, and he started softly bouncing up on his toes as he whispered slowly back, "we already did."  His soft words washed over me and I fought the wall of hot tears that threatened to spill out.

"You did?" I said with a warm, proud smile.  He nodded vigorously and a little giggle escaped his throat when he saw the emotion in my face. "Thank. You." I impressed, and wrapped him in a giant hug.  We try to teach about the power of prayer and the love and mercy of God, but mostly we wonder if anything we say is getting through.  But my kids thought to pray before I did.  Later I felt a little chastised (in a helpful way), but in the moment I was just. so. touched and proud of them.

"Ma'am?" Great.  Here we go again.  "The infant has been in the car for 20 minutes now.  Is the reason you don't want to break the window because of the cost of the replacement?"

"Well," I thought.  Not really.  It's mostly because of the pain-in-the-butt process I will have to go through to get the window replaced.  I homeschool four children and, I don't know if you've noticed, but getting anything done in Miami is an insanely complicated process.  It would take me a full day, my husband is not around to help, so I would have to keep four children entertained, by myself, in the crowds and abrasiveness of Miami, in the process.  Frankly, it sounds like a nightmare.  And, I know you're concerned about Timothy's stress level at the current moment, but I assure you that 15 minutes after we get him out of the car, he will be calm and fast asleep in his crib, and when he wakes up he will have no lasting effects from this.  Trust me that his stress from crying in the car for 20 minutes is nothing compared to the stress he'll go through if he is dragged around for an entire day, missing both of his naps, and being wrestled to the bone because he can't get down on the dirty mechanics shop floor since he can't walk yet. But I couldn't say all of that because the thoughts weren't actually coherent words, so I just said, "yes... and just the hassle of getting it done," which was the wrong thing to say because the look he gave me was clearly a look of 'you would put 'hassle' above the well-being of your child?'

"But Ma'am," he said raising his eyebrows judgmentally, "the infant---" he pointed though the windows of the car.

"Don't," I interrupted with a finger in his face.  "Don't you say that I'm a bad mother." Okay, so I was getting a little heated.  Maybe it was the blaring lights.

"I didn't say that," he defended.

"But you were thinking it.  I can read your eyes.  I am Timothy's mother, yes, and I am concerned for him and am watching him very closely, but I am also McKenzie's mother and Carson's mother and Miles's mother, and I have to act in the best interest of the entire family.  Trust me that breaking that window is not in our best interest yet.  If Timothy starts looking bad, then circumstances will change but, aside from being upset, he looks fine right now."  Hooray for words that come out right!  But then I could tell I had overstepped my line and that I had played my last card.  He was getting irritated with me and I decided it was now in my best interest to be cooperative - respecting the officers and handcuffs and all....  I had made my position clear.

Meanwhile, the maintenance guys had not given up.  They were trying all sorts of things to get that door open!  They had hangers and large plastic thing-a-ma-jigs and chisels and towels and wire cutters and wrenches... they were pulling out all the stops and I was so entirely grateful for their willingness to drop everything else they had been doing to help my family.  It was just that... they weren't really even getting very close. 

"Alright, Ma'am," the officer said.  He used his 'officer voice' this time which made a slight chill run up my spine (which I'm sure was the intended effect), "It has been 25 minutes.  In 5 minutes, I am going to break this window."

"Okay," I cooperated.

Carson stood by with his fingernails in his mouth and McKenzie stood next to Hiding Miles trying to soothe him.

"Please, Heavenly Father," I whispered for the hundredth time.  The maintenance men were turning frantic.  They hummed about and threw tools and bent wire with renewed vigor.

"2 minutes."

Timothy was screaming, I was almost in tears, the maintenance men were scrambling.

"1 minute."

The lights were blaring.

"30 seconds."

I'm totally not even joking.  The officer was literally staring at his watch and counting down the seconds for us.

"10 seconds. 9... 8... 7..."

It was like the ending to an intense basketball game.  The clock was ticking, the team down by 1 has the ball.  The maintenance man in charge of the wire at this point knew he had one last shot.  He pulled up at the lock with a force that rubbed a gorge into the door frame and just as the officer said,

"2 seconds,"

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!  The lights of the mini-van started flashing with the officers' lights and the noise of the horn blasted in our eardrums.  The anti-theft system!  They had popped the lock!  The kids, the four maintenance men, and I jumped in the air with a triumphant yell while the two officers dropped their shoulders.  You guys.  It sounds like a movie scene but I am not. even. joking.  They dropped their shoulders in disappointment!

There were hugs for the maintenance men and handshakes for the officers, and then I had to stick around for a minute longer while Fire and Rescue came to 'assess the infant'.  Timothy stopped crying almost immediately after I picked him up, and his oxygenation levels were perfect. 

So.  Lessons.

#1 - DO NOT CALL THE POLICE if your infant is locked in the car in Miami.  I guess Miami cops are used to high-intensity situations, so they might blow it totally out of proportion. 

#2 - It was the prayer and the faith of my children.  I believe it.  I watched those maintenance men struggle and stumble and fumble with that lock for 20 full minutes and, trust me, it wasn't ever very close to popping.  So, what are the odds that the latch would take and the lock would pop at the very. last. second?  I think the last second trick was Heavenly Father's way of letting us know that his hand was in this one.  If He had helped the lock pop early on it would have been easy to just dismiss it as a good, rigged tool.  But it wasn't.  They were clumsy, rigged tools and they just weren't working.  I think we would have figured it out eventually, but time was out.  And herein lies the beauty.  How lucky we are to know that there is a God who cares about our situations.  Who watches out for us and who hears and answers our prayers.  How lucky I am for the faith of my children, because honestly, mine was lacking.  I had resigned myself to a broken window - but those kids held on to their faith that God would help.

And He did.

And, just as predicted, Timothy was calm and napping 15 minutes later and doesn't remember a thing.

The Way You Grow

I can't even tell you how much this kid makes my heart sing.  The older he gets, the more I fall in love with him.  He is such an interesting person - full of sweetness to melt your heart, and a temper to raise your eyebrows.

He thrived in Kindergarten last year.  And made some awesome friends along the way.

Graduation day was kind of hard for him.  It was hard for me, too.  Geez, you'd think they'd remember a mama's heart when they chose Taylor Swift's song Never Grow Up to have these little guys do their graduation walk to.  Have you heard it?  Google it.  You will cry.  At least through the first bit.

I never figured out exactly why Miles struggled through it, but he spent the whole day with a stoic look on his face that just looked sad to me.

Maybe he was tired.  Maybe he was picking up my 'Change is Hard' vibe even though I was trying to present the 'Happy Graduation Day!' vibe.  

I'm not sure.  But regardless of the reasons for our melancholy state, we made it through with a few extra hugs.  And even managed some genuine smiles along the way.

Change is hard, no matter how you look at it.  But the good thing about change in relation to Miles is that I am so darn excited to see who he grows up to be.  I think it will be powerful.

Carson was easy this year.  No graduation ceremony, just another awesome year in the middle of elementary school.  He grew so much during second grade - not really in stature, but in ability.  His reading took off like a rocket, and it was so fun to see him find even more confidence in himself.  I absolutely love this boy.

Halfway through the year he decided he wanted to cut his beautiful, long, blonde hair.  I swear he grew two years over that night.    

He worked hard and made it on the A-B Honor roll - we were so proud of him!  He was fake-exhausted by the end of the year, though.

What a great kid - sensitive and so kind... 

And McKenzie.  My McKenzie.  She broke my heart too, growin' up and graduating from elementary school and all.

The night before her graduation, she asked if we could curl her hair.  And she was so, so excited when it unrolled the next morning like this.

I hope she always, always feels as beautiful as she does right now.
Because she is such a beautiful person.

Do you remember that feeling as a kid that came as you were searching crowds for your mom?

And then you spotted her, and all the sudden your heart relaxed and you felt ready and confident for whatever it was you were there for?  I do.  And now, here I am, somehow in my own mother's position... and oh how I love to be that anchor of comfort.

She did a fabulous job of walking up on the stage to receive her awards.  She didn't trip or anything. She's one smart cookie, you know.  Straight A's and the highest reading score in the entire school.  By a lot.  Basically, she's amazing.

Amazing, and beautiful, and responsible, and a hard worker.  This girl is going to go far in life... she really, really is.