1. Last summer Will lost his beloved Roar, a "lovey" lion he had cherished and adored since he was just a few months old. Will and I looked everywhere, multiple times, but Roar never turned up. Have you heard the saying, "nothing is truly lost until your mom can't find it"? Well, this mama couldn't find Roar and felt awful about it. And although Will tried to convince himself and then pretended he didn't miss Roar, I could tell that deep down the loss devastated him.
A few afternoons ago the kids asked if they could get out their sleeping bags and "play sleepover". I agreed, left them to their sleepover, and made a phone call for work. Midway through the 45-minute conversation the possibility of Will's sleeping bag as a "hiding spot" for Roar crossed my mind. The minute I hung up the phone I hurried to Will's room. He was playing in the sleeping bag, so my hunch seemed unlikely to be right, but I suggested Will check the foot of the sleeping bag for Roar anyway. "He's not in here, Mom," Will assured me as he pawed around down by his feet. And then, in what was one of the most beautiful moments I've witnessed as a mother, Will's face lit up as he pulled Roar out of the bottom of his sleeping bag.
Will and I sat wrapped in a hug on the floor of his bedroom, crying tears of both joy and relief. Roar came home, and I doubt Will will let him go anytime soon.
2. Three members of the Aggie basketball team - fresh off their fantastic run in the NCAA Tournament - and one of the TAMU yell leaders made an appearance at the kids' school. I have no idea if student athletes at other universities give back to the community the way these Aggies did, but either way, I feel lucky to live in place where such a strong connection exists.
3. On a related note, at the end of last week Tom gave a talk at the University of Iowa, our alma mater. Prior to his visit, Tom jokingly asked those coordinating his visit (who are friends and colleagues, which is why it was alright for Tom to joke around with them) to set up a meeting with Fran McCaffrey, the Iowa men's basketball coach. When Tom arrived, the joke was on him.
Tom and Fran probably high-fived a couple of times...
4. On Sunday we celebrated Spicy McSpicerson's 7th birthday with donuts for breakfast, a picnic lunch at the park with friends, a playdate, Rosa's Mexican food for dinner, presents, chocolate cake and ice cream for dessert, and Garfield cartoons before we turned in. Thank you to everyone who called, texted, and/or mailed/brought over cards, presents, and balloons - Hallie appreciated every ounce of love sent her way.
Thank you, Rebecca, for making this Garfield shirt for Hallie!
Rockin' some of her new birthday swag!
SEVEN!
5. Lily and Grandma have come from Wisconsin and Illinois for their annual cram-as-much-activity-into-a-weekend-in-Texas visit! Between Thursday afternoon and Monday morning we hope to attend Tom's department picnic and soccer tournament, attend Science Night and the book fair at the kids' elementary school, try Core Yoga at the gym, bake and decorate Hallie's birthday cake and cupcakes, have lunch with both Will and Hallie at school, pick up and package Hallie's birthday party favor cookies, attend Hallie's dance recital dress rehearsal, attend Will's soccer game, host Hallie's birthday party, and hopefully make a trek to the outlet mall. Oh, and dress the girls in matching outfits every minute of every day.
Disclaimer: it's Hallie's birthday week, so this mama is feeling intensely sentimental, extraordinarily grateful, and a wee bit emotional.
On Easter Sunday my Facebook and Instagram feeds exploded with pictures of large family gatherings and holiday celebrations. Moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas, aunt and uncles and cousins...reunited, if even for just a few hours, in honor of a special day and in spite of the crazy that inevitably comes out when families get together.
Tom and I - and our extended families - work hard to stay connected despite the 1,000 miles between us. Annually we see one side for Thanksgiving and the other for Christmas, we visit both extended families in the summer, and the grandparents travel to us at least once in the spring or fall (and sometimes both). But because the journey requires an airplane or driving for multiple days in the car, we don't spend the rest of the holidays - New Year's Eve, Valentine's Day, Easter, Memorial Day, Labor Day, Halloween - with family.
I had previously thought of us as the minority, celebrating at home with our little foursome because we don't have family here. (To be clear, I'm not complaining. I appreciate the intimacy of our holiday celebrations.) It struck me, however, as I wrote last week's post about our new Easter tradition, that I was wrong. We do have family here. We have the family we chose.
We met through preschool, elementary school, and existing friends. We became friends, and then over time, we became a village.
The other day a quote came across one of my social media feeds. I don't have the wording quite right, but it said something like "the village has enough idiots...I'll raise my child myself, thankyouverymuch". In that moment I felt horribly for whoever wrote that statement, because they clearly don't have a village like mine.
My village works because we built it slowly, on a foundation of friendship using bricks of kindness, honesty, support, acceptance, and love. (And with a little wine on top.) These gifts - and not necessarily just blood - make people family. And the four Ferri are lucky to have found family here in Texas.
These people - my village, my Texas family - make every day a holiday.
The last of the birthday photo session pictures include our boy Tux. Unfortunately Hallie and I took these pictures first, meaning that when Tux finally tired of smiling for the camera and ran off, I had to spend 10 minutes picking all of the black and white cat hair off of her velvety dress.
I put today's post - Hallie's birthday tribute - up a day early so it would post on her actual birthday. You can read it here. Or you can just enjoy a few more pictures of her below.
And here we are again... It never gets easier, does it? I have tremendous gratitude for her health and happiness and seven full years on this earth, but I can't ignore the minuscule pang of sadness I feel every time she - my baby - celebrates another birthday.
I began to write this post almost four weeks ago on a Wednesday afternoon. Thanks to spring break the kids and I had spent more time together than usual that week, and after a rough morning I thought writing about how much I love my Halligator might give me a much-needed attitude adjustment. As I rested my fingers on the keyboard and waited for the words to flow, I realized that nearly everything I wanted to share about Hallie could be perfectly summarized in a short story about that rough morning's Zumba class.
Over spring break our gym hosted a family-friendly Zumba class. I asked the kids a few days prior if they wanted to go, and when they answered in the affirmative, I talked frequently about the event so they would know what to expect. "They'll turn off the bright lights and turn on disco and black lights! There'll be colors bouncing off your clothes while you dance! You'll love the music - it's fast and loud and they'll play songs you know and can sing along to! It'll be great exercise and you can show off some of your awesome dance moves! You can wear your new sneakers and one of my workout headbands!" Hallie seemed excited, especially when we arrived and one of her friends had also come to dance with her mom. The lights went out, the music started, and the dancing began...and in less than 15 seconds Hallie shut down. Tears welled up in her eyes as she ran to the edge of the room and slid down the wall into a little ball on the floor. Worried she'd already sustained an injury, I left the dance floor and squatted down in front of her. "Why are you crying? What happened?" I asked. "Everyone is looking at me and I don't know the moves!" she sputtered into my ear. I tried to explain that no one watches anyone but the instructor during Zumba and that lots of people - including Will - didn't know the moves, but Hallie wouldn't budge. She sat alone for nearly 20 minutes, until a song she LOVED blasted through the speakers and she timidly joined me on the dance floor. As that song, and then the song that followed, went on, Hallie's smile grew and she began to emerge from her shell. A few songs later, the instructor divided the class down the middle and asked each half to face the other. Hallie took one look at the new configuration, in which at least 10 adults and kids could clearly see her, and immediately retreated to her spot by the wall. I let Hallie sit for a few more minutes, but after giving her time to wallow I asked her to join me for the final two or three songs. She flat-out refused, stubbornly informing me that I had been wrong and people absolutely had been watching her. At this point I told Hallie that if she chose to skip the cool down (because cool downs are very important post-workout), she was also choosing to skip her playdate that afternoon. Wearing a face so angry it could have won her an Oscar, Hallie stomped back onto the floor. She not-so-politely declined to actually participate though, so instead of dancing and stretching she just stood there, moving only when it looked like she might get stepped on by me or Will. Back in the car, Hallie once again explained that she'd felt uncomfortable because other people were watching her when she didn't know the steps. She also reminded me that I'd made her mad when I requested she join me to cool down. And then she said she'd had a great time and that she loved me. "Typical Hallie," Will said under his breath and with a crooked grin on his face. I couldn't have said it better myself.
As I wrote the story, and then again as I read and reread it, I thought the same thing: typical Hallie.
Hallie likes to know ahead of time what to expect, as well as what will be expected of her. Every evening we talk through the following day, from what clothes she'll wear and who will walk her to school to what activities we have planned for the afternoon and whether or not Daddy will come home in time for dinner. A prepared Hallie is a happy Hallie.
Hallie questions herself, and often refuses to try new things out of fear she won't immediately excel at them. I worry she might miss her life's calling or, on a less grandiose scale, miss out on adventures, experiences, and the opportunity to visit new places and connect with new people.
Hallie reacts explosively when something upsets her or rocks her boat...and exuberantly when something pleases or pleasantly surprises her. We have learned over the years that her emotions cannot be tamed, that we have no other choice than to let her feel every last one of them, from jubilation to despair to outrage. She needs to express - and release - what she feels inside. (In a manner that doesn't hurt her or anyone else, of course.)
Hallie recovers from the negative emotional eruptions, but at her own glacial pace. The process can't be rushed, though after a certain point, a hug can make all the difference.
Hallie loves music and dancing. Both give her a sense of freedom, allow her to safely release her stress and anxiety, and seem to heal whatever in her feels broken.
Hallie is stubborn like an ox - even more so, perhaps. I hope and pray this stubbornness serves her well; that it rears its head not just when I ask her to pick up her room or go to bed, but when the time comes to choose whether or not to follow her peers (figuratively) jumping off a bridge.
Hallie may always tell - or show - us how she feels, but how she feels at any given point in time is as unpredictable as early spring weather in Texas.
Thankfully, when all those other "feels" fall away, her great big heart is still overflowing with love.
Four years ago I began the tradition (2012, 2013, 2014, 2015) of sharing a song - one that reminds me of her and encompasses what I hope for her as she grows older - with Hallie on her birthday. I actually chose a different song, but when I heard "Try Everything" for the first time...as the cool down song in our family Zumba class, ironically...I knew it was perfect for Hallie this year, the year she turned seven.
I messed up tonight, I lost another fight I still mess up but I'll just start again I keep falling down, I keep on hitting the ground I always get up now to see what's next Birds don't just fly, they fall down and get up Nobody learns without getting it wrong I won't give up, no I won't give in 'Til I reach the end and then I'll start again No I won't leave, I wanna try everything I wanna try even though I could fail
Look how far you've come, you filled your heart with love Baby you've done enough, take a deep breath Don't beat yourself up, don't need to run so fast Sometimes we come last, but we did our best I won't give up, no I won't give in 'Til I reach the end and then I'll start again No I won't leave, I wanna try everything I wanna try even though I could fail
My sweet girl, once again, this song is for you. As you make your way out into and through the world, don't let unexpected twists and turns or your fear of making mistakes keep you from missing out on the beautiful adventures life will undoubtedly present to you. Everyone fails. Everyone falls. That's how we learn and grow. Use your enormous heart, your unbridled passion, your fiery temper, and your stubbornness for good. Fight the good fight, and stand up for causes and voices that represent hope, compassion, and peace. Try everything, find what you love, and never let it go.
Happy 7th birthday, Hallie Claire. Mama loves you.
1. Guess who won our NCAA Basketball Tournament bracket competition? Little Miss Toothless! (Hallie worked ridiculously hard to get her second front tooth out before dance pictures last Friday afternoon.) I can't wait to spend an upcoming Friday night playing games at Chuck E. Cheese, eating Spoons for dinner, and watching My Little Ponies on the iPad!
2. Last weekend my five-year-old niece, Lily, cut off and donated her extraordinarily long and beautiful hair. I'm so proud of her, and thrilled that her actions inspired Hallie to want to donate her hair as well. Unfortunately I don't think Hallie's hair will ever grow long or thick enough to donate... (And doesn't Lily look adorable with her new short 'do?!)
3. Last Saturday we participated in The Big Event for the fifth year in a row. (Here are links to the posts I wrote about each year's experience: 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015. 2012 gives the best overview of the organization and day of service, but 2015 has the best story.) After four trips to Lowes, 55 bags of mulch, and five hours of work, our lawn looks pretty darn fantastic!
4. I survived my first pedicure in nine years! I have incredibly ticklish feet and don't enjoy how it feels when anyone - myself included - cuts or files my fingernails or toenails, so I haven't allowed anyone near my toes in almost a decade. (Somewhat embarrassing but relevant fact: because I HATED doing it myself, my mom cut my fingernails and toenails until I moved away from home for college. She may have also cut them once or twice on college breaks and when I moved back home for a couple of months after graduation.)
Sorry for the one-footed pic - I have severe plantar fasciitis in my other foot and at photo-taking time said foot was wrapped up with an ice pack.
5. Happiness Highlights:
The ONE good (well, fabulous) picture taken
during our dance photo shoot. Could these
four sweet friends GET any cuter?!
All three of my "babies" having a sleepover.
Officially official!
And last but not least... In keeping with her tradition of letting her true feelings shine through no matter where we are or what we're doing, Hallie had a little bit of a meltdown as I tried to take a quick picture of her with her friends. My happiness here comes not from seeing Hallie unhappy, but from the story these two pictures tell. In the first picture, Kara and Avery are smiling and posing for the camera. But in the second picture, both had realized that Hallie needed them and moved in to support her. I hope they can always be there for each other the way they are now.
