A Birthday at the Races

A few months ago Dave and the girls were at Golden Gate Fields watching the Kentucky Derby.

He texted letting me know that he had just put a deposit down for Kayla's 11th Birthday party.

I scoffed.

"Just trust me," he said.

But I don't trust people at the track.

And I felt like it was an odd choice for an 11-year-old girl's birthday party.

But Dave was excited.

Kayla was more excited.

So I ran with it.

In all it's seedy glory.

The girls arrived around 10 am to fluorescent lanyards.

To lessen kidnapping probability.

And donuts and decorations courtesy of Ashlyn.

Kayla opened her gifts.

So many horse figurines.

So much fun for her.

We carpooled over the bridge.

More adults than kids.

On purpose.

I needed a 3:1 ratio to feel comfortable that we'd all return.

The girls loved riding down the escalators to the paddock before each race to check out the horses up close.

We all filled out race tickets and placed "bets" on which horse would win each of the seven races we saw.

Kid winner received a Breyer horse model.

Adult winner received a Starbucks gift card.

This made the grandmas very excited.

That's my mom leaping and fist pumping.

In between horse races were dachshund races that I think they found more interesing.

There were also questionable wiener shirts.

And questions about wiener shirts.

"Just look at the puppies, girls."

There was an awesome all-you-can-eat buffet.

Hot dogs, hamburgers, fried chicken.

Macaroni salad, cole slaw, baked beans.

The track knows how to do food.

It was about this time that I was taking one of the girls to the restroom, waiting outside alone.

"Jess, is that you?"

A high school friend.

"Yes.  I'm here for my daughter's birthday party."

"No...  Really??"

"Yes, really."

I had grandiose cupcake plans but was quickly reminded that fondant is seedier than the track.

Diddam's plastic horses to the rescue.

Box chocolate cake and canned chocolate frosting.

Her favorite.

The seventh race was Kayla's special birthday race.

We got to stand at the rail near the starting gate during the race and go into the winners circle and take a picture with the winning jockey afterwards.

Amazing.

And so very exciting.

Worth all the seediness and anxiety.

Track, you really know how to party.

Our horse loving birthday girl had the day of her life. 

Hey June.

Summer is upon us and I'm frantically trying to fill our schedule.

And I'm 99.9% sure I'll regret the week we have golf camp in the morning and VBS at night.

But I always err on the side of a packed summer schedule.

To replace school.

Because I really like school.

Ashlyn woke up last month and decided everything is a race.

Brushing teeth in the morning.

Getting to the car.

Getting from the car to the house.

She is the second fastest person in all of first grade.

"I take the inside lane like Secretariat, mom."

And I just have to say.

It's SUPER annoying.

Her pointer finger is up all the time.

Yes, Ashlyn.

You win.

#1.

No one cares.

Except for Dave.

He bought her new running shoes.

Kayla is preparing to graduate fifth grade.

And there are just SO many events.

And I have been terrible at keeping track.

I was about to bring treats for Field Day today.

But that's next Monday.

Today is set-up for tomorrow's pool party.

I also drug my family, empty promises of a swim party and two refrigerated dips to Millbrae for a BBQ on Sunday.

That's really next Saturday.

So basically, I'm not to be trusted until I sleep through the night for more than two days in a row.

Also, I made the mistake of downloading the game 2048 on my phone.

So the hours I should be sleeping are spent mindlessly swiping numerical tiles.

Pretend you never read this.

And don't download it.

Or your calendar will be all screwed up like mine.

When she's not eating pizza, the baby spends her days trying to rip out our cable box.

She has 6 teeth and we just had to lower her crib because she's standing.

And by we I mean me.

It's a blue job but I took one for the team.

Her personality is starting to emerge and she is sweet and spunky.

Friendly but sometimes shy.

She's crawling like a professional.

And never stops moving.

She woke up early from her nap and I'm stuffing her face with Yogurt Melts to be able to finish this post.

Life right now is full and fun and busy and sometimes hard.

But good.

So, so good.

I am thankful.

I'm a calendar committee's worst nightmare.

But I'm still thankful.

Phoned-In Frozen Party

When you're a pastor's kid and your birthday falls on Good Friday,

I'm sorry but your celebration suffers.

She can add it to her therapy manifesto.

Ashlyn turned 7 a few weeks ago.

She had two requests.

A trampoline park and Elsa plates.

Ask and ye shall receive.

Before we get into the party I planned in five minutes,

let's talk Ashlyn at 7.

She's smart.

Determined.

Tall.

She's missing most of her front teeth.

She talks non-stop.

She loves first grade.

At her annual IEP meeting with the school district I learned of a group of boys she orders around.

A special needs posse, if you will.

"Edwin, please get my FM."

"Joey, please tell me when Mrs. Savory (her speech therapist) comes to the door."

"George, I need my lunch, please."

Her teacher made sure to let me know she always says please.

Like that makes it OK.

She is one strong (and bossy) cookie.

We love her so much.

We also love the rainbow discipline chart.

And bedtime.

More for the manifesto.

Back to our party of the century.

I booked the place online.

Ordered a cake and balloons from Safeway.

Hijacked a favor idea from a friend who hosted a Frozen party a few weekends before.

And her leftover, two-week-old cotton candy.

That she drove 400 miles up Highway 5.

So. MUCH. therapy.

Conceal don't feel.

And you know?

I don't think anyone noticed.

And I was reminded once again.

It's not about the details.

It's about the company.

Kids love old cotton candy.

Happy Birthday, Ashy girl.

Banana Slugs, Marie Antoinette and the World's Best Cookies

A pretty new blog makes me actually want to blog.

Take that, Soviets.

Last night, we attended Kayla's JUNIOR HIGH orientation.

I can't hardly believe it.

But I am really excited for her, too.

I survived my awkward years.

I loved them, actually.

Mostly because I didn't realize I was awkward until later.

She went to Outdoor Ed last month.

I asked her to write a post about it and this is what she came up with:

"Outdoor Education was awesome.  But the fact that the beds were hard and had waxy, plastic coverings made it feel like you were sleeping on melting candles.  I saw two varieties of deer, bats, millipedes, pigs, a scorpion, a junco, a stellar's jay, nine banana slugs (including the one I put on my nose) and a lot of moths."

And I think I'm just going to leave it.

It's camp in a nutshell.

Waxy beds and banana slugs.

She is my favorite writer.

End of fifth grade calls for lots of fun activities.

Marie Antoinette took names during a class History presentation.

"Why so serious, Kayla?"

"You'd be serious, too if your head was chopped off, mom."

She looked like a tore up Dolly Parton by the end of the day.

I didn't realize wigs need hair spray.

And the two-sizes too big dollar store bridesmaid dress didn't help.

It's milestone central around here.

She has two teeth.

She crawled for the first time on Easter Sunday.

And she slept through the night.

Once.

She's babbling a TON.

Good news.

Ashlyn's not blind.

Bad news.

She lied to the school nurse during her routine eye exam.

And again during a second follow up.

"I WANT glasses, mama."

"They're cool."

No.

Hope ditched Wednesday service for an impromptu church BBQ.

My favorite.

It was 87 degrees in April.

Also, my favorite.

This is me doing my child's homeschool homework while they are at public school.

I'm sure there is so much wrong with all of this but I can't really put it in words.

I do know that peregrine falcons are the fastest animals on the planet.

And my girls rock the public speaking triangle.

One last thing.

I need you to make these cookies.

I'm on my 17th batch in as many days.

Really. 

You won't be sorry.

Well, you might be a little sorry.

Blame the Russians.

Behind the {New} Name.

A few years ago I wrote a guest post on a friend's blog about Ashlyn.

It sparked a little idea in my head to change my blog name.

And then life happened.

And I was overwhelmed at all that would be required to make the switch.

So it remained on the back burner.

And then Russians hacked my blog with questionable ads.

So I took it as a sign from the heavens that it was time.

My grandmother told me it was time, too.

"Honey, thank you for such a sweet story about Holland's birth.  But why are you selling Viagra?"

I'm blaming Putin.

Anyhow.

I'm so excited about this change.

More excited than she is about sweet potato puffs.

And thankful to my friend Katy for understanding my little vision.

And creating this most beautiful new design.

Without me even having to say much.

She is brilliant.

If you subscribed to my old blog and want to continue receiving posts, you'll have to resubscribe.

I'm sorry.

Take it up with Vladamir.

You can click on the "behind the name" tab below the header to read more.

When God is doing one thing, He's doing a million.

   

My Baby Girl and I

I had lunch with a new friend last week.

Who happens to be a photographer.

She snapped these pictures of Holland and I.

And they are such treasures to me.

Had I known she was going to share her skills, I probably would have brushed my hair a little more.

Or at all.

Worn earrings.

And not dressed my baby like a boy.

But such is life right now.

Not much time to primp.

Or worry about what my kids are wearing.

I'm lucky they are dressed.

But, really?

All that doesn't matter.

I just want to remember being with her.

In God's glorious creation.

The way she makes me smile.

A few frozen minutes that seem to float in time.

A tiny part of a season that passes all too quickly.

I am so thankful for these moments captured.

And for friends that take the time to capture them.

Our babies are our best gifts.

Photographs with our babies are a close second.

6 Months.

She laughs when I yawn.

So she's laughing lots lately.

Our baby has decided she's a night owl.

I know it passes fast.

And she nurses and falls right back to sleep.

So I cherish it.

And yawn a lot.

A funny, little personality is starting to emerge.

She makes this silly grin quite often.

Dave says Kayla used to do the same but I don't remember.

Because I'm up at 10 PM, 12 AM, 2 AM and 4 AM.

She is rolling much more quickly now.

And just starting the pre-crawl booty rock.

I think she's going to be fast once she takes off.

I'm hoping that skill takes a few months to perfect.

Because I'm too busy yawning to chase after a baby that moves.

She had her 6 month check up yesterday.

50% in weight and 85% in height.

Tall and lean.

All that power rolling has thinned her out a bit.

And this is my favorite picture of her so far.

I love her smile.

She's such a happy, easy baby.

She's social and friendly and a big, giant flirt.

Taking her new world in.

All day and all night.

Happy 6 months, little girl.

I love you.

Yawn.