The Death of Osama bin Laden

But Mom…how do people get evil? Are they always evil? Do they get born evil or does something turn them evil?

Did our soldiers get killed? Why did we kill him? Why did the President have him killed? Why are so many people so happy about killing him?

But why do they hate us so much? Why do we hate them? Why would those men do that? Did they jump out of the planes before they crashed into the buildings? Why would they die too? Why would they do that Mom?

How did we kill him? Why would they make jokes about shooting him in his eyes? Are they yelling U-S-A U-S-A because we won?

Mom, does this mean the wars are over now?

36lbs of Might

I gave Red Feather a nuzzle on Sunday, again thanking him for keeping my baby safe during her second horseback riding lesson.

It seems my just-turned six-year old has found her calling.

Hala on Red Feather

I know every little girl loves horses. I did at her age. I still do. I’m not sure what it is…for me it was that whole fuzzy, furry, lovable ‘pet’ thing…but also the power associated with a horse. I felt much more than my age when atop a horse. And my tiny peanut of a daughter…all 36lbs of her…must feel strong and sure as she grabs the reigns and clicks her heels.

36lbs and she’s telling this majestic creature where to go and what to do…and she does it without hesitation and without fear. Her tiny voice yelling “JUMP!” or “Woah!” is really enough to make you laugh a bit, thinking this powerful animal will obey…but Red Feather dutifully does as she commands, thus giving her confidence and even more spunk as she attempts to post at a faster trot.

And a cowgirl emerged.

Maybe my little girl’s love of riding won’t last long. Maybe this is another phase. But I doubt it. This is the two-year old who wanted nothing more than to ride a horse. This is the three-year old that wanted nothing more than to ride a horse. This is the four-year old that wanted nothing more than to ride a horse. This is the five-year old that insisted for her sixth birthday she was getting on a horse.

…and now she may never get off.

Stand Back

Somewhere between all my doctor’s appointments and procedures…and Valentine’s Day…my daughter seems to have found her voice.

The Princess on her Horse

It was always there, but only known to us. We had the privilege, nay, the honor, of seeing her ham it up around the house. However she always seemed to become shy if anyone else dared watch. Sure she would let it out here and there, but she always saved the real her for when it was just the four of us.

She would let others talk first, she’s the baby after all. She would withdraw and cuddle into our necks if anyone asked her name, or how old she was.

And then, almost over night, something changed. Her fear and shyness and hesitation were gone. Well, almost.

While I am glad she’s seemed to have found the courage to be herself in public and beyond, I’m also…well, scared.

Why? Easy…she’s..she’s… gah. I don’t even know how to explain it. Leave it to my only daughter to have me struggling for words.

Let’s just say the girl already has her own hashtag on twitter and *I* didn’t give it to her. She’s been known to render men helpless with her cuteness, and make her father double over with laughter with her jokes. Lately she’s been singing every sentence instead of saying it and this comes just after a spell of only speaking in her ‘fake’ baby voice for months.

But what really matters here, is that just shy of her sixth birthday, she’s starting to come out of her shell. She is starting to show the world exactly who she is and who she is becoming. Sure she still hides a bit when friends come over, and refuses to speak at her school presentation…but just give her a bit. This girl we know and love is coming out, little by little, and trust me…once she gets going, you won’t want to miss the show.

The Apple Doesn’t Fall Far From the… oh nevermind

@aaronvest @spamspam
Mom, I want a new game.

You have like 40 new games…you don’t need a new game.

Mooooooooom, but the App store says there is a new snail game, I want the new snail game.

Wait…the App store? How do you even know where the App store is? Did the App store TELL you it had a new game?

I always look for new games Mom, I feed my puffle, feed my fish, feed my reef animals, and then I see if there are new games at the App store.

Sigh.

Oh Apple, what have you done?

And Since We’ve No Place To Go…

Snow!

I’ve watched her wish for it while staring dreamily out her bedroom window.

But Mom, why won’t it ever snow here? Why? It’s winter. Winter means snow.

I’ve heard her bemoan sunny Southern California for its palm trees and sunshine, begging for just a tiny bit of white powder.

I’ve even caught her wishing on the first evening star.

It's still coming down! #SNOCAL

Last night, she and her brother threw snowballs at each other in their own yard.

Tonight I just might have her wish for a few other things.

Eureka

It’s a switch I’ve been waiting to see flip for many years now. The one where I had hoped to see my children understand the other side of the holiday season.

Of course we force them to do the things they don’t want to do. Clean out their toys before Christmas, giving bags upon bags of those toys they hardly ever play with to charity. We remind them over and over again it’s about giving, not getting. It goes on and on and you really feel as though some days you are talking to a wall. They just want the big guy with the white beard and they want him YESTERDAY and they want him to deliver all their toy hopes and dreams.

Xoxox

I remember. I don’t blame them. Hell, I still want Santa to stick a few things under there for me.

Finally though, after what has felt like a lifetime of nagging, something clicked.

I should probably start by explaining that I am very lucky to have two children who truly love each other and play together very well. They are the best of friends, and hurt when the other hurts, cries when the other cries, and laugh and love as if they share the same heart. So when it came time to pick out gifts for each other, they really, really put their minds to work.

My son, ever serious, took days. What are his sister’s favorite things in life? What could he possible get her that would be good enough? How would he make her ‘ooooh and ahhhh’ and say ‘this is what I’ve always been dreaming of’ (his words) when she opened said gift?

My daughter, ever decisive, knew exactly what she wanted without hesitation and demanded I order it right away while she counted the money in her bank to triple check she had enough. She knew how much it cost. She knew where I could find it, and that it was ‘perf-necked’ for her ‘brudda.’ And she, of course, was right.

Their gifts arrived via mail this week, and tonight they wrapped. I’ve not seen them this excited in a long time. And it wasn’t because they were getting something. It was because they were giving.

Eureka.

The littlest was begging to give her brother his gift NOW because she just couldn’t wait. And the oldest was beaming with pride because he truly had picked the most perfect toy for his baby sister.

As I sat wrapping that gift with my son he seemed to finally grasp what I had been trying to tell him.

Mom, I think I am more happy now making Hala happy, than I am when Santa brings me my presents.

Eureka, indeed.

Tangled Mornings

There is just something about the tiny things that make me love so hard it hurts. One of them? When I watch my husband brush my daughter’s hair.

photo.JPG

He’s just doing what we do every morning. Shuffling between the chaos and routine of getting ready for school, I grab my camera because we all have those moments. The ones where you stop and look around and see the man you love, carefully and almost with a bit of fright, trying to untangle the mess left by a night spent with too many teddy bears and puppies.

It’s so simple really, and so wonderful.

But there is something about that Dad-Daughter bond that I watch with my husband and little one, and I have with my father. It really is special and one-of-a-kind. The trust. The love. And just the way she patiently lets her Daddy brush and comb, a task that would have garnered shrieks had I been the one getting her ready.

I know their relationship will change. They will argue, they will be close and then not-so-close. And over time they will tangle and untangle and I will remember mornings. And brushes. And combs. And the loving hand of Dad.

How We Roll

YogiWaffles

We all have our own quirks. Some houses tell jokes. Others have game night, movie night, what have you.

Mine fake meditates in silly hats and then we all pretend to break dance with pants on our heads in our kitchen.

Help me twitter, you're my only hope #crazyspawn

Totally normal, right?