Leaving the Shire and Other Adventures

I've been procrastinating writing this for days, which is interesting because I'm excited to share about this photo which was 3 years (or even 31 years) in the making!  But it's also hard, because it means I'm moving forward.  But it's time to end this chapter.  When I heard The Hobbit was going to be made into a movie I had a crazy idea- to WAIT until the final film was in theaters and then watch each movie, one night after another.  This was CRAZY because I am a BIG LOTR fan!  I saw each one at the midnight premiere!!  I've sat through 2 LOTR marathons, 1 of those was EXTENDED VERSIONS at my own Dad's 45th birthday party.  But I am ESPECIALLY a fan of The Hobbit.  I consider it "my book" for a couple reasons.  First, my Dad read the entire book while my mom was in labor with me.  Seriously!  Also, when I was older he read it aloud to me with incredible voices and energy.  And he described to me with a proud smile on his face, the Halloween costume he had as a 6th grader- Thorin Oakenshield, blue cloak and all.  The connection between us and this book even inspired the title of my published personal essay, "There And Back Again With Daddy."  So it makes sense that I would want to be able to enjoy those movies in the most ideal way, one right after the other.  

Beyond all these reasons though, I think I was waiting because I didn't want to start a journey I wouldn't be able to finish with my Dad.  We had traveled through the Shire many times and I didn't want to begin a journey when my father was still alive but have to finish it without him.

In fact, the night we finally watched the first film, one we waited 3 years to see, I was a horrible, cranky, mess.  I kept finding myself thinking "What would have Dad said at that moment?" or "Dad would have laughed at that part."  It was like all the holidays I had experienced the past year without him were easy because I had celebrated each one without him at some point already in my life.  And the really important moments, like Sophia's baptism, I knew he was with me then.  But this was the first time I was doing something simple, yet significant, that I felt he should be there for...and he wasn't.  I didn't blame him.  It was just hard.

Then I had that thought I've often leaned on for support "Daddy wouldn't want you to feel that way.  He would want you to be happy."  So I was able to take a deep breath, kind of relax, and start to enjoy the film.

The little details touched my heart as they reminded me of the sweet experiences of reading the book with my father.  Bilbo forgetting his handkerchief.  Longing for his Hobbit hole.  The songs of the dwarfs.  The presence of Beorn.  I could go on and on.  I had gone on that literary journey over 2 decades ago, and yet it was all fresh in the front of my mind and heart.

After 2 fun nights watching the first couple films at home, we headed to the movie theater for the final film.  I'll admit I was holding back some tears as I walked up that ramp into the theater.  This was it, it was finally happening.  The last movie was here and my Dad wasn't...  It was now my journey to take.  It was time for my own adventure.  I had my sweet husband there to travel it with me.  It was time.

In all honesty, of course the book was better than the movies!  But the films were still fun and I'm glad they were made.  It was quite the visual experience! But the best part might have been the end.  The song playing during the credits was called "The Last Goodbye."  It was the end of an era of amazing cinematic adventures, and they definitely recognized that.  But it was also an end to a chapter in my own life.  Not that chapter where my Dad had died.  That was over.  I had been living with that for a year.  The end of the chapter of mourning and hanging on.

I had needed that time.  It was an important process of growth and self-discovery.  But now it was time to turn a new page.  It was time to move forward.  Here are those lyrics...

I saw the light fade from the sky
On the wind I heard a sigh
As the snowflakes cover my fallen brothers
I will say this last goodbye

Night is now falling
So ends this day
The road is now calling
And I must away
Over hill and under tree
Through lands where never light has shone
By silver streams that run down to the Sea

Under cloud, beneath the stars
Over snow one winter’s morn
I turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me
I cannot tell
We came all this way
But now comes the day
To bid you farewell
Many places I have been
Many sorrows I have seen
But I don’t regret
Nor will I forget
All [who took the road with me]

Night is now falling
So ends this day
The road is now calling
And I must away
Over hill and under tree
Through lands where never light has shone
By silver streams that run down to the Sea

To these memories I will hold
With your blessing I will go
To turn at last to paths that lead home
And though where the road then takes me
I cannot tell
We came all this way
But now comes the day
To bid you farewell

I bid you all a very fond farewell.

Growing up it was ALWAYS tradition for our family to sit in the movie theater until the credits were done (way before producers started putting fun, silly clips at the end.)  We sat through them mostly so Daddy could see where the movie was filmed.  For some reason he really liked knowing that, and there was no imdb.com back then.  In honor of tradition, I had planned on staying until the end of the credits.  Chad even expected it.  But after that beautiful song, things changed.  I realized I already knew where this movie was filmed and that really, I didn't need to stay.  I'm my own person, and I can do things my own way.  It might seem like something small, but it really was a huge step to go to that movie, enjoy it (almost tear-free,) and then walk out of that theater with my husband before the credits were finished rolling.

I thought I had done it.  I was finally moving forward!  But in reality I was still a tad stuck, because I wasn't ready to write about it.  In other words, I wasn't ready to reflect, process, be completely done and move on.  Because then I would be moving on without him and I would have to figure out this next chapter in my life without him too.  And what would that be?  What would I do next?  For so long I've been dealing with his being sick, his demise, then his death.  That was a big part of my life, and perhaps even a crutch to keep me from moving forward on other things I've wanted to do in my life.  I was finally comfortable in this place of coping and enduring.  But now it was time for more than that.  It was time to go on a new adventure and leave my comfortable, figurative hobbit-hole.  It was time to embrace that fact that I didn't have a handkerchief.  My Dad always had one in his pocket for me to borrow, but that was no longer a possibility.  It was time to face dragons and find gold.

I'm closing that book and leaving those great memories of Daddy to start a new adventure.   In this new book I don't see him.  I feel him sometimes.  He communicates to me at times.  But for the most part, he is writing his own story somewhere else and I am writing my own here.  And I am going to "wear a sword instead of a walking stick!"

I started this post saying that picture took 3 years to happen because that's how long we waited until all of the Hobbit movies were out for us to see consecutively.  But it took 31 years of experiences, love, and faith to finally HAPPILY see them and then move forward.   And I did it.  And I am moving forward, through leaps and bounds because J.R.R. Tolkein was right, "The road goes ever on and on."  I am entering worlds I didn't fully see before.  It will still be a journey, but it is worth every day's efforts.

My new adventures include really living in the moment and enjoying the good times with my family.  My new adventures include laughing with my husband more, and at myself more too.  My new adventures include having greater faith and letting go and jumping out of my comfort zone- I will break the dishes and crack the plates!  My new adventures will be a myriad of house projects as we try to finish our renovations.  And I am eager and excited!  But don't be surprised if you see my front door painted green.

Love,
Eva

P.S. “There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.” 
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit

Melting Down and Standing Back Up Again

We went to a holiday arts activity at WSU last month and even though they are smiling here, it was not all fun.  My little Sophia had a "moment."  I like to call it this because really, we ALL have them.  "Moments."  Adults may gossip when they are frustrated.  Maybe it means venting on Facebook or indulging in that quart of ice cream.  We all have our own ways of throwing "acceptable" tantrums in society.  But for her poor little body and overstimulated brain a "moment" means completely falling apart at those ever fragile seams. "I don't know what to do!" "They're looking at me!" "I just want to give up!" These are some of the things she yells and it is heartbreaking.  I hurry her away from the other kids who are looking scared, and tell Michael to keep an eye on his brother, then she collapses in the corner.

I try to hold her but she won't let me.  How can this sweet little face not want me to hug her? How can this social sparrow feel like "there's too many people in the room"?  How can the same little hands that drew this bunny and Christmas tree now be clenched in fists, as she sits on the cold floor, sobbing?

 

I take a deep, slow breath and demand she does too.  I don't want her feeling like this, like she's a failure.  I won't let her.  She refuses.  Then she agrees to try the breathing but does it fast and quick to get it over with.  So much for that.  So we go through the next steps.  Rest.  Water.  Food. Processing mentally.   Luckily the WSU Art Department had a great array of snacks and bottled water.  First I convince her to drink some  water.  Then I manage to split a banana with her.  I take a bite and then she will, back and forth back and forth as we both sit on the linoleum, criss-cross applesauce.  I keep an eye on my other two at a distance, grateful they are behaving and we have some friends from the ward who are here as volunteers to help keep an eye on them.  

Then Sophia and I process.  We talk about how if she gives up and we leave now we will both feel sad for what she missed.  But if she tries again, with help, she will be successful.  I have to explain this about 4 times, during which I misunderstand her, accidentally finish off the banana and she is in tears again.  I take a few more slow, deep breaths.

But then something amazing happens.  We both stand back up again.  And, together, we finish what she started.

Being a parent is never easy.  Neither is being a child.  Yet, God has asked us to be both.  No one is born able to walk.  We try.  We fall.  And we stand back up again.  That is His plan.  It is what makes us stronger.  Throw a special physical, mental or emotional need in there and things get even trickier.  But the victories are also that much sweeter.  They really are.

It is truly humbling to be the mother of my kids.  Their challenges and frustrations bring me to my knees before my Heavenly Father as I ask Him "How am I supposed to handle this?" and I search my heart for answers.  I'm grateful not every moment is like this.  But I AM grateful these moments are there because they show me we BOTH CAN get up again.

Love,
Eva

Connecting & Crying With Laura Ingalls Wilder

Yesterday I found a kindred spirit who also loved her bearded, Papa.  Someday I will write here daily and make entire posts out of the "aha moments" I scratch down on random slips of paper or my mental chalkboard.  But till then, it's when I make the time and for this I AM making the time.  It seems fitting that yesterday of all days this happened, the same day I had just taught my own Creative Writing students about the impact of writing.  I explained how some don't believe the author to be the author of the book.  Instead, the reader is the author because they are going to interpret the story their own way.  What might be meaningless to one person might be brilliant to someone else because it connects with them differently.  Last night, I had a connection.  Here is my journal entry about it...

I was really blubbering tonight (have been a lot lately) but how could I not lose it while listening to this violin (that could have been part of a Civil War reenactment) play Auld Lang Syne and while reading these words: She looked at Pa sitting on the bench near the hearth, the firelight gleaming on his brown hair and beard and glistening on the honey-brown fiddle. She looked at Ma, gently rocking and knitting. She thought to herself, 'This is now.' She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago." 

You can watch the video here...

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iTEFeKESCmY&list=PL9912A544D3A8353C

The kids rushed in and gave me hugs, and asked why I was sad. And I was honest. "I miss my Dad." I don't know how to not miss my Dad. That's like asking someone not to miss the stars, or the majesty of colors in a sunset. It's asking someone not to miss the safest, warmest love they've ever known, because a Father's love is like no other. We're coming up on our first Thanksgiving without him here sitting with us. Last Thanksgiving was the final time my whole family was together, and my emotions are constantly just under the surface. And though I know he is doing greater things now than I can possibly imagine, and that I will see him again some magnificent day, the daddy's-little-girl side of me wants him visibly here, right now. It will be a year at the end of January since he passed. A year that I have not had his green eyes to stare into. A year that my daughter has not had the chance to play and pull on his beard and see him smile. Or see my son just rest next to him in bed, reading him books. I'm grateful he's not bedridden anymore, but he's so painfully missed some days. 

The other night my Michael came out from his bed crying terribly, saying he missed Grandpa. That's when your own faith is tested, when you have to explain on the spot what you believe is true and why it keeps you going. Because it does. It really does keep you going and keep you strong. And yet, there is still a touch or sometime a monsoon of sadness in a moment, because you were so lucky to have someone so precious, and then in a breath have them gone for a while. 

One of my favorite album pages of us

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, And never brought to mind? " No. I will remember him. I will remember him fiercely, and keep his memory alive and wonderful for my kids. That is the easy part. Just like Laura Ingalls Wilder put it, I have had so many gleaming, glistening, cozy "nows" with my childhood family, and then my good husband added in and then my sweet kids too. And I know we will make more all together some day, in a new, beautiful place. Till then, I will remember his brown hair and beard. I will remember his Civil War music, and relish the fact that my kids love the simple violin with it's free melodies too. I will hold my mom extra close on the days she wears the sweater she knit for my Dad. And I will think to myself each day "This is now." And I will make it a "Now" worth remembering.  

Love, Eva

"30 Memories of Daddy"

My Dad would have turned 55 last Monday if he were still living.  It's amazing how much peace and calm you can feel when you know someone has lived an incredible, worth-while life and that they are continuing to do great things in the next chapter of existence.

7 years ago my sisters and I collaborated on a birthday present for Dad called, 30 Memories of Daddy.  Even with his illness he worked hard interviewing, scanning pictures and slowly typing up histories of his parents.  The Mom Book and The Dad Book were the fruits of those labors, so we decided he needed his own book.  Each of us contributed 10 memories or lessons we learned from Dad.  Here are mine...

Dear Daddy,

Happy 48^th Birthday! Thank you for spending it in my boring apartment, so I could enjoy your sweet company on your special day. I'm honored! :)

Since this will be the first year your 3 girls are out of the house, I thought I'd share with you some lessons you're taught me through the years and reflect on some especially wonderful moments. You've definitely been one of the key people in helping me grow my roots and wings. I wanted to make sure you knew...

1. Two of the greatest lessons you've taught me were when I was only 5 years old, but I still use them daily. One is that we don't have to correct others when we notice they've done something wrong. If you hadn't taught me this, I probably wouldn't have had many friends. Instead, you encouraged a sensitive, encouraging, humble attitude towards learning. Your influence has made me a better teacher.
2. I also remember you telling me that teachers make mistakes and that there would even be times I would be smarter than the teacher. This idea pushed back the limits that educators, friends, or even I had previously set for myself. I felt empowered. Thank you for erasing those boundaries and always sitting in the front row of my education, emotional growth, and life's performances.
3. One of the favorite nights of my life will always be the Civil War Ball. I didn't have the fanciest dress and I didn't know all the traditions or historical customs the other girls did, but I felt like the luckiest one there. You helped me have fun. Your lighthearted attitude, the way you spun me as fast as you could around and through the other dancers, it all helped me feel confident and classy. Everything about that night was magical and comfortable at the same time. I guess that's how I'd define a true, loving father-daughter relationship: magical and comfortable at the same time. Safe but still rushing- like being thrown into the air so high but always having the safety of strong arms to land in and hold you. Thank you for that night and for twirling me every day of my life.
4. I wish that I could take credit for being a high achiever. But now that I've been on my own, I know that I don't naturally accomplish a lot without proper motivation (i.e. the grade, award, public recognition, a scoop of Baskin Robbin's ice cream...) Thanks for helping me set high goals, not because I needed to compete with others, but because I was capable of reaching that high. You have always been a great example of living life to its fullest.
5. “Books are our friends.” If I ever do get published, become famous and have a blog people read regularly, I know this quote from you will be on my homepage. From how to physically treat them to how to absorb their knowledge, you have been an example of respecting and seeking out truth. Thank you for this priceless gift.
6. You helped me find my femininity without losing a sense of adventure and play. Thank you for helping me see how these two sides intertwine. From the Roll-up game to wearing appropriate clothes to church, you showed that there is a time and a place for everything and helped me see the difference.
7. Another moment I'll eternally be grateful that you were there beside me was when I missed my flight to SVU. I was so scared. Life was ready to keep moving, but I wasn't. Thank you for helping me “stick with the plan” that eventually led me to my wonderful, sweet husband. For that act alone, I owe you all my happiness.
8. It may sound funny, but thank you for respecting animals and teaching me to do the same. Whenever I saw people squishing ants or torturing worms, I knew you wouldn't agree with their actions because you saw all of God's creations as having value (even the mosquitoes in Bolivia.) It's funny, but that little truth affected my decisions of whom I dated. If a guy thought messing with animals was funny, he was not for me, because I knew you wouldn't do that.
9. Without you I might never have listened to Queen, Elton John, Fleetwood Mac, Kansas, Boston, John Taylor, or Cat Stevens. I probably would not appreciate Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Without you I may have gone my entire life without reading The Hobbit or Marvin K. Mooney Will You Please Go Now? If you hadn't been my Dad, I might never have learned about Mole Day. Thank you for opening my eyes to so much good stuff.
10. I think the most important lesson you've taught me is to never make the same mistake twice. Learn from it. Change. And keep trying. I remember the first school report I lost to the abyss of accidentally deleted computer files. I remember sitting on the edge of your bed in tears, looking at the blank computer screen as you explained why I needed to save more often. You said the report would be easier to write the second time (which it was) and that I hopefully wouldn't let it happen again (I haven't.)

It was in that same spot on the edge of the bed that we watched each other play Tetris, I saw you studying for school and when you once spoke to me about making decisions. That year Halloween fell on Sunday. You said you had taught me right from wrong and had let out a little bit of rope that couldn't be taken back. Even though I didn't like it, it was my turn to decide how to spend the holiday. I knew you respected me because you let me make my own decision.

Many times since then I've figuratively sat on the bed of indecision, weighing the arguments of both sides, trying to choose. Thank you for teaching me all you could and helping me learn how to teach myself. Thanks to you, I'm never perched too long. I've been given the tools I need for this life. You've taught me, encouraged me, strengthened me and I know that no matter what, you'll always walk beside me.

I love you forever.

Happy, Happy Birthday!

Love, #1

(We enjoyed watching Star Trek: The Next Generation together, so that's where the #1 reference comes from.)

Oh, Daddy, how you are missed!  But you are also so sweetly remembered.  I could easily write another 10 memories right now, and maybe sometime soon I will so I can always remember who I come from and my children can know you too.  Keep on having adventures and someday we will join you and make more memories together.

Love,

Eva  

More Than Special

This is my daughter, Sophia.  At first glance people don't know she's been diagnosed with ADHD, Oppositional-Defiant Disorder, and High-functioning Aspergers.  It's hard for me to even type those words because that's not what I see when I look at her either.  I see a vibrant, artistic, smart, caring, creative, sometimes crazy-loud & other times overwhelmingly shy, silly, thoughtful, beautiful, Christ-like child of God.  I know she's not perfect.  She's my daughter, so just like she's seen the worst of me, I've seen the worst of her.  But her "worse" is innocent, trying, frustrated, confused and yet still, her best in that moment of challenge.  And I'm so proud of her for trying everyday to fit in to this square world when she is a star.  

She did these art projects this week completely all on her own- no prompting from me...

Half of them she made because she loves art.  The other half she made because she loves me.  She wanted to cheer me up.  I can't think of anything more sweet or selfless for someone to do than take the time to create a piece of art out of their own creativity and with their own hands, just to help someone else feel happier.

Yes, she may not always be socially on target. She may not completely understand personal boundaries.  And we are still working on getting through the tired afternoon without a tantrum.  But she IS my sunshine.  She IS a joy.  She remembers stories I told her years ago with amazing detail, makes up songs while we drive to the grocery store and sees beauty in the simplest things.  

She fills me with wonder every day.  

It is a privilege to be the parent of a Special Needs child.  Some people who know me and Sophia may not think we fit in this category, but you don't know the things we struggle with behind closed doors.  Still, I would not be as strong or patient without her in my life.  She understands I get tired some days of the distractions that keep her from brushing her teeth even though I've been reminding her every minute for the past 10.  She knows I get frustrated and feel like an inadequate mom when I've put her to bed at 8:30 and she's still up 3 hours later.  And she may have ended up crying (loudly) at day camp this week because she couldn't make a Loch ness Monster out of beads as "perfect" as she wanted it to be.

But she also knows how to help.  She also understands that taking care of peoples' feelings is important.  When she prays she asks that our family can have help choosing the right and having the Holy Ghost in our home.  When she is her best self she cleans my room and decorates it for me with streamers, art and her favorite stuffed animals.  She holds me extra long when we hug and loves looking at the freckles scattered across my cheeks.  

And, I love looking at hers.  I love her.  I am so thankful she is in my life and I am lucky to call her mine.  Like anyone with a Special Needs child knows, "Special Needs" simultaneously is and isn't what they are.  Because they are so much MORE than a label or acronym.  

And yet, they are definitely, gloriously, special.   

Love, Eva 

This Is Why We Do Hard Things

I'm going to let the pictures tell this story...

 (Imagine Sophia singing her own theme music here.)

(Looking down while whispering "Almost there.")

"I'm Queen of the world!  I'm Queen of the world!!!!" 

 

Doing it for a second time!

After seeing Sophia, Sammy decided to climb his own mountain...

...and did it!

So did Michael.

Then they climbed one together.

This is why we do hard things.  This is why we don't give up.  This is why we keep going even when there's a risk of falling.  This is why we leap even when we aren't sure of our footing.  It's so that at the end of all the uncertainty & fear, when we've finally made it to the top, we can celebrate and shout at the top of our lungs like Sophia did, "I'm Queen of the WORLD!"  It's so we can feel alive!  It's so we can feel the rush of excitement that only comes from moments like when we finally learn how to ride that bike or complete a piroutte, moments that are fewer and farther between as we grow older.  This is one reason I'm so grateful for children.  These pictures are unedited, pure, victorious joy.  And that joy is contagious.  It's the reason why after Sophia climbed her mountain, Sammy & Michael climbed theirs.  And it's why I keep climbing every day too.

Love, Eva

Mommy Milestones

Last week, after much asking and asking from puppy-dog eyed children, I agreed on having a family sleepover in our living room.  It had already been a very busy week and day, so the late-night fun was conditional on their having good behavior as we ran to a few stores to pick up some snacks and a movie.  It sounded so simple, so fun, but considering how exhausted we all were even I knew I was probably asking for too much.

 As we drove, the tiredness of the week caught up with them (and me) and soon the bickering ensued.  I don't remember what it was about.  I do remember fighting the urge to yell like crazy.  I mean, I never actually want to yell but I do want them to listen to me and for the fighting to stop, and screaming that at them for some strange reason sounds like a good idea sometimes.  But of course it's not- it's exhausting!  It's sad!  And I never have energy after that and it's terrible for them.  I made a threat about losing the sleepover because if they were this cranky, I didn't want them to be even more cranky the next day.  But inside, I wanted so badly for that sleepover to happen!  I needed some fun family time!  I knew I just couldn't flip out...  

 I won't give you the complete play by play of having to stop for gas in the heat, run through two stores with WAY too many toys and candies by the checkouts, and a minor showdown between me and a toddler over defacing a food display, but let's just say we were ready to be home.  As they (and I) became annoyed with each other yet again as we hit every red light, I realized with all of our running around in the afternoon they had never had dinner.  Whoops.   Maybe that had something to do with the stress we were ALL feeling.  I started to empathize and see things from their tired, hungry point of view.  Then I heard them tickling each other and even that was bothering me for some reason...probably the low blood sugar.  As I felt the urge to let off a LOT of steam coming over me again, I made a choice.  Instead of rationalizing an explosion, I pulled over.  I pulled that hot, cranky van over into a parking lot and parked.  I took a few deep breaths.  I explained how when they are rough-housing it distracts me, it's not safe and makes it hard for me to drive.  Those precious kids, my most valuable loves, apologized and said they understood.  That was it.  No explosion.  Just an explanation and then moving on.  Then we went home and had a sleepover!

 And I'm so glad things turned out that way, because if I had given in to the "I'm the mom and that's why!" beast, I would have missed out on this adorable bed Sophia put together for me.

And I wouldn't have heard Sophia say "Mom?  Can I read you a story?"  This sweet little one who sometimes doesn't think she is a good reader, when she is the grandest storyteller I've ever met.

 I would have missed her beautiful, wild, curls dangling in the light of her Flashlight Friend.

And her cute little finger trying to keep her place in the dim light.

 We all wouldn't have giggled at Frog and Toad's silliness.

 I would have missed seeing her adorable nose as she looked down to read, 

her vibrant smile,

 and the precious way she holds her tender chin in her palm.

 We wouldn't have all laughed at how it looked like her unicorn was trying to read too.

Her innocence and curls touch my heart.  The child-like wonder of my kids heals my soul.

 I need moments like this.

They cleanse me.  Recharge me.  They help me discover new depths and layers to myself.

 They remind me of why I do what I do, and keep trying even when I don't do a good job.  And sometimes, I don't.  But when I can slow time down and live in the moment, it's rich with beauty.  When I can get closer to what's really happening and simultaneously step back and look at the big picture, I am real.  I am honest with my kids.  I am understanding.  I am amazing!  I am a powerful force for good.  I am a mother and I am proud of who I am and who my kids are.

 And when we do take that higher road in parenting, when we are selfless and put what's important first, it's so important we recognize that.  We need to feel proud of ourselves.  We don't have cheerleaders.  We don't get report cards.  There is no paycheck.  But it's not needed when these beautiful, organic moments are ours to cradle.  These Mommy Milestones make everything worth it, because they remind us WE are all still growing.  They show WE are learning.  That we are also getting our training wheels off, tying our shoes and starting to master this experience of Motherhood.  And we don't only love our kids in that instant for their accomplishments and progress, we love ourselves too.  And that achievement helps everyone.  Love, Eva