Seven from Meg's seventh.

The morning was spent sharing cupcakes at school. The afternoon included lipstick and Build-A-Bear shopping with Aunt Rachel, a delivered gift from Aunt Bess and cousins Clara and Sadie, a few phonecalls, hand delivered candy from Little Rachel and Sister Moffet-her primary teacher, and opening cards from Grandma Canfield and Dixie & Rich. The evening meant family presents, a simple requested pizza dinner, and a visit with gifts from Grandma and Grandpa Dresher. Sounds like a perfectly eventful birthday for any kid! It was a nice and low-key! The few minutes of downtime seemed boring to her, but she was still all smiles and enjoyed her day!

Summing up her smiles - following are seven from her turning seven:

Listening to Matt on the other end singing his personal rendition of Happy Birthday.

Thinking there was a chance of hearing what waited inside.

Patient until Matt got home, she opened the gifts from us.

Paige quickly explained which Disney princes and princesses, that she'd given, she'd be willing to have.

Tyler quickly ran off with the musical card from Grandpa.

Blow those seven flames out before the middle ice cream returns to mush!

Edible ending.

Because She's The Star.

Meg was the "Star Student" this week at school. The teacher wisely paired up their special week with their birthday. The hustle a spotlight and birthday brings is certainly different from the mom's perspective than the kid's:

Because she was The Star, the week began with:
me balancing a posterboard through the skinny aisles of the dollarstore,
her coloring and adding favorites for the classroom display.

Because she was The Star, her requested treat to share meant:
me slicing out the countless seeds from an end-of-the-season watermelon,
her grinning ear to ear when she saw me appear at her classroom with a full bowl in hand, rather than the watermelon-flavored suckers that would have been the easy route.

Because she is the Birthday Star today, late last night included:

me making another store run for balloons, cake ingredients, dinner items, and cupcakes for school - wondering how a "low-key" birthday suddenly became such a production.

her finally sleeping as balloons were placed up the stairs leading to one present she opened this morning.

Because she is the Birthday Star today, the cake has been the project:

me thinking a layered ice cream cake would be easy...forgetting what a mess each cake becomes (hoping ganache will cover the batter's flaws and setup in time),

her coming home to the lingering smell of a new recipe having overflown onto the bottom of the oven.

Because she is the Birthday Star, the realization is:

for me that we parents go to extremes (even when "low-key") to make sure this annual day is remembered as special,

(and I hope) for her that she knows those around her love her.

When all is said and done...When she lays in bed tonight realizing that there are 364 days until it's "her day" again,
I hope she understands:

The carefully placed balloons were meant to bring a smile. The cupcakes, which took three stores to round up, were for peers who echoed teacher's "whoop-whoop" to exclaim they love having her in their class. The presents in the small pile were each carefully thought out as something that'd be enjoyed. And, the sliding cake layers were still homemade. Even if the layers didn't look pictureperfect under the candles. Even if half the balloons were sagging to the floor when you returned from school. Even if the cupcakes were "two-bites" tiny. Even if the presents were done quickly. And, even if the cake could have been replaced last minute by a tasteless store-bought...Our "low-key" attempts were all to make her happy.

We are blessed that she is part of our family.

Seven years blessed!

Bathroom's got flat walls!

A bathroom update! Tho altogether in one post, it took a few weeks of late nights hammering, mudding, and painting to get to the end of this phase.

Matt's expression in the first picture sums up this phase. His careful consideration of how things could (and would!) be moved allowed us to go from three different depths, along the wall he's looking at, to one flush wall! He spent time replacing and moving previous vent pipes and drain lines. Then, he spent time explaining to us girls the why and where of it all. Pictured Paige was just as eager to know what things look like behind the walls as I. Sure, I want to be past this point and at the step of hanging my circle mirror on the wall, but I enjoyed learning through this.

Then, drywall went up and the tub was set! Tho things seemed to suddenly close in, both Matt and I were grateful to be putting things up and no longer tearing down. There were seams and screw holes to cover, but as pictured, there was always an eager helper underfoot! In the end this drywall work looks great. Professional, really! A hard skill to master, I again applaud Matt's ability. No bumps. No seams. If he didn't have a wife who documented his every move, one could not guess where the pieces fit together!

With holes and seams patched, paint could then go on! To that, Matt said (and wrote on the wall), "Can I get a 'Boo Yeah!" for that?" The color is nothing flashy. But, when going through the potential colors of the rainbow, we nearly have everything else covered in our house (red-downstairs; orange-old kitchen nook; yellow-girls' bedroom; green-the former tile we're getting away from!; blue-our bedroom; Indigo and Violet-well, we could have gone those...). I think this off-white will be clean, fresh, and open.

* * *

Next comes the floor tile! It took a while to debate which way to lay the mini subway tile out. (My vision was to lay it parallel with the wallls...to have it lead you eyes into the tub. Matt's vote was that with it reminding him of the cobble streets in Spain you always walked across them the other way - parallel with the tub.) I'd be very interested what you vote the direction should be. With the tub, or against the tub??

Tho, I've got to be honest, a vote won't make much difference since the tile is being laid as I type!! (Yes. Two exclamations.)

Grandpa? For my birthday?

Dear Grandpa,

Mom tells me that if I ask for something specific, you won't get it for me. You raised her to know that you get the gift that the giver selects, not a list fulfilled. But, with my birthday coming at the end of next month, I still thought I'd throw a "suggestion" out there for you.

It is something that Mom won't line up for yet. It's length could become a weapon. Plus, you are the one with "love for the game." You are the one who has the connections to Oriole "bird" paraphernalia.

All I'm saying is, that a baseball bat would be far better than this picnic table's leg I've been using! Sure, I can continue to improvise. But, I promise that I would put a bat and hat to good use.

-Ty

"haf munkey"

The first entry is from the middle of last week, September 13th. Meg recorded that, "I made it to the number four monkey bars. I felt proud."

I should have remembered that playground accomplishment when I watched her illustrate her journal page a few days later. Because, to be honest, I had no idea what she was drawing. Adding one color at a time: Why a tan face and floating hand and foot? Then brown limbs extending to the already placed hands? And a black mouth joining the two sides? Perhaps a school lesson on race? Perhaps a Halloween costume plan?

It would take me until four words were printed to understand what she was putting to paper: "I am half monkey 'cause I know how to do all the monkeybars." Ah, half monkey!

Accomplishing such a feat, she asked if we could go to her school's playground and witness her skill. We did just that on Saturday. All of our little family stood back and watched her swing from one end to the opposite end. Her smile proved the emotion recorded in the first entry: PROUD!

As expected, we also smiled as proud parents. Sure, it's just monkeybars. Something she'll continue to get faster at through the year. Perhaps something that she'll tire of when the callouses and blisters get old. But, conquering this above-ground obstacle is a definite milestone of childhood! And, the fact that she took it on independently...among a crowd of peers at recess...rather than choosing to stand nervously on the sidelines is a big feat, indeed!

10 1/2 in mens and 7 in toddler

Matt's life fits the lyrics to a Chesney song, "I've been up to my neck working six days a week. Wearing holes in the soles of the shoes on my feet. Been dreamin' of getting away since I don't know..." His recent shoes don't look completely terrible in the picture above, but they were pretty bad. Time to trade for another pair of Adidas. New white for old stinky. I have lost count of how many pairs of these classic striped shoes he's purchased and worn out.

Knowing his size in his predictable style, I picked up a pair for Matt yesterday. He wasn't expecting them. If it were up to him he'd hold out another month or two, at least, getting other necessities first. I thought it'd be a nice surprise to find on his bed after a long day at work. Maybe not, since it ironically is just something to cover your feet and again head out to work in...but still. It meant I was thinking of him, and purchased those rather than brown sandals for me that I originally headed out for.

While in the shoe department, I browsed the boy section for some black church shoes for Tyler (He needs some in order to make use of some slacks hanging in his closet). Couldn't find any that fit comfortably. BUT, a few feet over I found something better. A mini-size of Matt's Adidas. Seriously so cute.

Now, we're not ones for name brand. We rarely shell out the money when a generic of similar quality sits beside it. In fact, growing up Matt would pride himself in getting several pairs of jeans for school while his brothers could afford only a single of their brand. But, Adidas are Matt's thing. When these minis were blaring a 50 percent off sign...and when I admitted Tyler is quickly growing out of what shoes he has...and needs something warmer than sandals this Fall, I was sold!

We're also not ones who hold the "you must have a son" mentality. But, I am certain that seeing matching white duds on his son's feet was one of those moments when he found complete joy in having a boy. A moment, when as the parent, I couldn't help but realizes how much these Little Ones are pint-sizes of your influence! Hearing Matt repeated claim, "those are some good lookin' shoes" made this initiation into Adidas whites seem even more exciting than eventually throwing a football out back (he's had a pair of black, but it didn't hold the same magic)! There are just some things a guy wants to pass on, I guess.

Hydromaniac in helmet

She's got the look! Who can beat a bike helmet and an off-the-shoulder misfitting Indian dressup?!? Actually, this is a repeat look. One I often watch in the backyard. The most repeated part of the look - the waterbottle. My kids are obsessed with the $.99 waterbottles. Using them for everything from "waterart" on the patio to hydrating, and all in between, it is often the first thing hunted down in the shed and filled at the hose bib on the side of the house. But, hey, easy way to get liquids in them. And, that counts for alot with Tyler's lack of interest in eating or drinking anything the past two weeks. Sometimes I intentionally sent him out with Paige with the directions to "get a bottle for him," knowing that some of the water would enter his mouth.

Paige has altered the look of her spray bottle. It has lost it's "spray" due to the lack of handle, which most likely got chewed off or broken off on one of the many times it got chucked to the ground. But, she likes the changed top. Easy to spray in the air. Easy to spray a large puddle into ones mouth for gargling.

I know I've written of our backyard bubbles/gargling tendencies. But, this girl is the champ of gargling. Her skill comes in one volume. Loud. In one speed. Fast. In one attitude. Focused. So focused that she didn't see her fellow Indian choosing to use her $.99 bottle as a war weapon.

Oh the joy!

BBQ with Aunt Kathy in town

We went over to Mom and Dad's on Saturday for a BBQ. The reason for the timing: Aunt Kathy (Dad's sister) was in town.

Some of the crowd preferred to stay inside. Close to the Ute football on TV. Others of us, who were less prone to jump from our seats and shout over every play, sat around the outside picnic tables. Over hamburgers and hotdogs, we got the latest family updates.

The kids ran around, or were passed around. With it having been five years since last in Utah, all but Meg and cousin Bryant's oldest two boys were new faces for Kathy and John to meet!

9/11 Healing Field

I didn't think we'd make it down this year, but with bored girls and a boy who was content in a moving car, we headed South down I-15 tonight. Turning off 106th South, we stopped at the same healing field we visited last year in memory of 9/11. I should have anticipated the crowd on this tenth anniversary. To say it was packed and crazy is an understatement. I should have anticipated the need for jackets. It felt like Fall, the wind was kicking the flags up at all angles, and we returned to the car just as the rain began to pour.

But, crowds and storm aside, it was a great stop for tonight. A place set aside to remember the mess of ten years ago. We paused at the feet of a new statue revealed yesterday. We paused to read a handful of the tags that dangle from each individual flag. We paused to answer the constant questions from Paige, who gasped aloud as I explained that each flag was showing each person that had died when those towers fell down. Such a pause had me realizing, again, that there will always be those who lived through it and those who will learn of it through history textbooks.

I hope we will continue to pause in remembrance, and teach our children of the pride, sacrifices, and loss of 9/11. As President Bush said back on September 11th, 2001, "Today our nation saw evil, the very worst of human nature. And we responded with the best of America."

White flag, please.

This week has been exhausting. If I could have begged for a white surrender/someone-else-step-in flag I would have. Still might.

Tuesday morning, I found myself holding a feverish boy. Fetal position in my arms. The arms that would ache by the end of the week. He would go to no one else. He and I had been up most of the night. Him clinging. Me cursing church's nursery. Figuring it best to just let the fever run its course, we waited it out until Thursday. Three nights of no sleep. Rocking all night. Holding all day. Thursday afternoon I felt like I ought to quickly call the pediatrician's office before they closed down for the day. An ear infection perhaps? Peace of mind with "it's just a virus" and nothing more?

We slipped into the one remaining opening. Ears were checked. Nothing. Throat was checked. Just a little redness. Chest was checked. A concerned look from the doctor. Uh oh. "He has pneumonia in his left lung." We left the office with meds (other than the penicillin he had reacted so badly to before) and the opinion that it would still take 5-6 days for the fever to lessen.

Ugh. Long haul.

Another several long days. He and I spent much of the weekend sitting on the hallway carpet. From there we could watch, with eyes half open, as Matt worked on the bathroom. It was the one spot he was content to be.

Fever finally broke Saturday afternoon. Before expected! He is no longer clingy. Which is good, but in turn he has gone to the other extreme. Now all his wants need to be handled at an arms distance, or he'll throw another fit. The sleep deprivation (still bad sleep last night) and lack of food have caught up to him (and me). He is beyond ornery (as am I). With reason, I understand. But, oh how I want my sweet boy back. The healthy, smiling, I can-wander-places-independently boy.

Sure hope these fits on the floor are not signs of the terrible-twos to come.

Sure hope we both get a long Sunday nap sometime today!