Letter 42

Dear Shea,
Sweetie, you are a foodaholic. I'm pretty sure your dreams look something like a Katy Perry music video and it's starting to show in your waist line. Tonight, we had spaghetti for dinner (a favorite when Papa is at school for the evening... since it's not his favorite). I can always count on you eating your weight in whole grain noodles, but tonight you out did yourself. Ha!
I wasn't planning on writing you a letter about this, but I was inspired after revisiting your high chair. Having got you and Linc cleaned up and ready for bed, picked up the living room and packed another box for the move (That's right! We move in less than a week to our new place- more on that later, I'm sure), I finally made it back into the kitchen and started laughing when I stood over your seat. I had completely forgotten about your diaper in the high chair. Yup. diaper. When you finally declared that your belly was full and let me know with the flick of your wrist in the air (gotta love sign language with a toddler who won't/can't talk!), I found that you had stuffed your diaper with food. Talk about a to-go box!


I love you Shea... and your confetti spaghetti.

Letter 41

Dear Lincoln and Shea,
A week ago (oh my! Has it really been a week already?!), we enjoyed our annual tradition of knocking on neighbors doors and asking them for candy. That's right, Halloween. It's strange how strangers will just open their door and give you candy. For FREE. It's also kinda sad that you always get candy. What if it was normal to get either a "trick" or a "treat"? Actually, don't think about that; there would be groups of kids screaming on some small porch because they were denied their fun size sugar lump.
I love Halloween because, no surprise here, I love dressing up. It's fun being anything you want for a day! Although, it's not always something I want to be.... Papa and I have a tradition that started our first Halloween married. We decided to alternate each year on who would get to choose the costumes. The first year was kind of unanimous, since we both wanted to be Adam and Eve (though, it was technically my pick).

The second year, 2007, I had a big ol' belly and played the prego card, demanding that I get to pick the costumes, again (your papa is so good to me!). And, of course, it was only appropriate to go as the bun in the oven and the bun maker!


In 2008, Papa regained his rights to choosing the costumes, and this time he had the task of dressing a third body. So fun! We went as the CUBS CURSE. (Go White SOX!)
Pat was Steve Bartman, I went as the 1969 black cat that circled Ron Santo at Shea Stadium in 1969 (where the Cubs blew a nine game lead) (Side note: I love that this happened at Shea stadium... considering the following year we would have our own little SHEA!)



In 2009, I got the opportunity to dress our party of FOUR! Loving themed costumes, we went as the "Wizard of Oz" crew. Linc, you were my tin man, Shea my not-so-courageous lion (especially at only a month old), papa was our scarecrow (though he was too scared to actually join us. read: had to work) and I was Dorothy!


This year, 2010, we went as the NFC North. As in, their literal mascots. (Notice Papa always picks sports related themes???)
Pat was a "Meat Packer", Lincoln a "Lion", Shea a "Bear" and I was a "Viking". This year was one of my favorites because my little boos where able to enjoy it! Lincoln, you were walking/ running to the doors with your treat bag wide open. Shea, you wanted to walk (but let's face it sweetie, you are still slow and there was candy to be had) but were mostly content eating what candy you had picked up in the first three houses. Ha. The weather was perfect (50's) and we were with great company. All in all, a great day!



To both of my Halloween genes, I love you!

Letter 40

Dear Shea,
You love the vacuum. I'd like to say that's because I am bringing you up in a godly fashion and you're learning from my example to be a keeper of the home (Titus 2:3-5 Baby!), but I think it's just the lights that attract you. Not to mention, your fundamental need to take out every toy in the toy box is not easily disguised by your great interest in domestic duties.
It's also possible, you are in war with the vacuum. Every time I pull it out, you come waddling into the room and follow me with every to, fro and overlap stroke. Sometimes, you get into a staring contest with the machine; I wait, with great amusement, but eventually determine the Bissel is beat and move around you. Other times, you'll sit down exactly where I am about to vacuum next. Perhaps you'll be a social activist when you are older (?); because, I swear, the way you own that small square footage of carpet beneath your bum is like one who owns a tree they have chained themselves to.
Actually, now that I think about it a bit more, maybe you hate the vacuum. Wait a minute, that can't be. You are my daughter aren't you!!?

Bloom for the vacuum... I love you!

Letter 39

Nevertheless he left not himself without witness, in that he did good,
and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons,
filling our hearts with food and gladness. Acts 14:17

Dear Lincoln and Shea,
There is something special about fall that makes it so easy to fall in love with. It's weird how I can love leaves only when they are dying and falling to the ground or appreciate crisp breezes when they are accompanied by the smell of pumpkin patches, left over corn in the mazes and hot apple cider. Of course, it could be the smell of Halloween candy and the reintroduction of pumpkin spice lattés (or anything pumpkin.... donuts, pancakes, muffins, pies, shakes....mmmm) that really woo me. Either way, this season brings a sense of welcome nostalgia for all the fall activities my parents had for me in autumns past.
Even though California didn't really have all four seasons, we still managed to have annual pumpkin carvings, bobbing for apple nights, and leaf piles to welcome the colder temperatures.
A lot has changed in the last 20 years, but I'm glad that tossing leaves into the air and filling little bellies with candy corn (and, gasp! pumpkin peeps! Why didn't peeps know they should have been year round favorites when I was little? I had to wait for those cadbury commercials to air before I dared dream the stores had stocked up on my favorite marshmallow treat) is still tradition. It's still the time of year where we pull out our cozy sweatshirts and fuzzy boots and spend time crunching leaves beneath our feet instead of time. We wait in anticipation for the Macy's day parade to march (literally) down Times Square with the oversized balloons and fancy celebrity guest with sparkly mics. OKAY, maybe you two don't have that anticipation yet, but I will teach it to you as we build the tradition of watching the said event together. Even as I write this, I can hear a highschool football game going on just down the street; another reason for fall fever, football. Of course, the best part about fall is spending it with the ones you love and acknowledging God as the author behind such beauty.

Hoping to install a love for fall,
I love you

Letter 38

(WARNING! graphic photos in post)

Dear Lincoln,
We shared an ambulance ride yesterday. The ride itself wasn't that bad; it's the before and after events that were a bit difficult. You, Shea and myself were beginning our bed time routine with some tickle torturing (Normally this is Papa's pleasure, but I keep the tradition alive on Monday and Wednesdays when Papa is in class at Marquette). Shea was squealing as she attempted to climb up the couch away from "the claw". You, in a deep cackle, ran away from me and threw yourself against the back of the couch. I've seen this happen again and again. Usually, you fall to the side into a pile of pillows. Other times you fall into my lap, and sometimes, you even fall off the couch. I knew none of those things happened when I turned my back to you and grabbed Shea. I heard this deafening crack and cringed. You had hit your head on the table. I held my breath and forced my head to turn in your direction. I heard your cry before I saw your face. Then I saw blood. Nothing could have prepared me for your face and your obvious fear. I grabbed Shea and put her on the floor and then scooped you into my arms and ran to the kitchen. The blood had already soaked your eyebrows and was flowing from a deep gash. Shea cried. You cried. I repeated over and over that it was going to be okay. I repeated it over and over because I needed the convincing.
I grabbed a towel and held it to your temple. I frantically tried to call 9-1-1. I knew you needed stitches and that we had to get to a hospital asap. Your crying continued and my panicky fingers made it difficult for me to make the call (stupid new phone!) but eventually I was telling a dispatcher of our situation. Within minutes rescue had arrived and the lights on all the trucks halted your crying. I called Grandma O to follow me to Aurora with Shea and asked Grandmama and Master Gramps to meet us there. You went easily into the hands of the EMT's and they stopped the bleeding and loaded you into the "cool truck". I filled my Mary Poppins bag with any magical thing I could, dressed Shea and then handed her off to GrandmaO as she pulled in.
When I stepped into the ambulance, you had been given stuffed animals and were acquainting yourself with the truck.

When we got to the hospital the nurses did their thing and you did yours: act adorable while they talked to you and scream when they tried to touch you.

Even I had a difficult time trying to get you to calm down. We looked at books, sang songs, ate M&Ms and Skittles, but it was only after I kicked everyone out and we worked on Bible verses that you regained composure.
When they put on your wrist band with your information you played with it and I used it to make small talk. When I asked you what it said, you told me it was for Monkey Joes! HA! Ironic. The only association you have with wristbands is jumping around.

When the doc came in, he said you were going to need 4 stitches. Yeah right. You won't let someone come near you with a pair of scissors for a haircut... there was no way that was going to happen unless they literally knocked you out. He looked at the gouge again, nodded and then requested Dermabond (the glue) to be brought in.
After struggling to keep an anesthetic on your gaping cut, and then struggling to bear hug you still while the doctor glued you shut, I was quite exhausted! The nurse offered you a popsicle for being so good and I laughed at how relative that term is. We walked out of your hospital room and into the waiting room. Just like that. A rite of passage complete.

Your Papa and I spent a little more time with you that night saying prayers before putting you to bed. I don't think we've ever felt more grateful for you.
As I write this, I'm overwhelmed with how much I love you!

(Lincoln this morning)

Next time we're tickling and "splitting our sides" let's not "split" anything else, okay sweetie.
I love you!

Letter 37

Dear Lincoln,
It always amazes me what habit or word you will chose to copy from your papa and I that we unintentionally teach you. Sometimes, it even scares me. I am often reminded, only after I say something that I wish I had not. And though I am afraid you will pick up my wasteful words and practices, I am also most grateful. When I see me, spilling out of you, I am able to work on correcting the both of us.
James 1:23-24 talks about a man who looks in the mirror only to walk away and forget what he looked like. I can be like that. Read the word, study it, save it to memory, only to find myself walking away from that reading without being a "doer" of what I have read.
But knowing that you are a reflection of me, makes me want to be a better reflection of Christ. When I worship in the house or drive to the store, I want to give you something worth imitating.
I say all of this to you today because of something quite simple. When going to blow your nose, you wanted to use the tissue just like papa. Neither him nor I had given any thought or direction on this particular habit. You simple studied us, and wanted to be like us.
It's so very humbling. And exciting.


In this picture: Pat was doing a wii fit workout and after having watched him several times Linc decided that he too would work out... by grabbing a wipes container and standing on it like Papa.

I love you my little light weight that imitates

Letter 36

Dear Shea,
I wanted to let you know that you had a fabulous first Birthday Party!! It was a little over two weeks ago, but I wanted to make sure you knew how adorable you were and loved by so many!
I decided mid-summer that I wanted you to have a cupcake party. You are so sweet and those cheeks are so cute they are practically edible. Plus, I fell in love with a cupcake 1st b-day bib and got a little carried away with the theme =)
I decided to make you a dress. I don't know why. Probably because I saw the cupcake material at Hobby Lobby and figured it'd be easy. Ha. Even if it wasn't, I knew it would be one of those gifts that came from the heart and made your day a little more special.



Of course, you're the one that made it cute



Papa and I gave you your big-girl car seat for your birthday and you loved it! The first few times we went somewhere in the car, you fell asleep immediately. Ha!



On the day of your party, we packed the house full and let everyone "Oooo and Ahhh" over you. We had a cupcake decorating area and your incrEDIBLE cupcake cake on display.



We ate food and you opened presents



Then you blew out your first candle



and ate so much cupcake I think you turned into one



After all that fun, it was right to the tub



and into warm pj's, with cupcakes, of course.



I guess you could say you "took the cake" "tu SHEA"

I love you my little one year young!