Good News, Bad News?

Yesterday I was given a super rare special treat: I had the entire day off from daycare. I still had an hour of tutoring, but it was at 8pm, after the children had gone to bed.
Since Christmas shopping for Spitfire isn't something I can do while she is with me, I have had a difficult time getting the gifts for her that I've had my eye on. With the day off, I was able to get quite a bit of my shopping done before she came home from school.
Once she was off the bus, I nursed Dash quickly and we loaded up into my husband's car (he had taken the van to help keep the miles off his aging car) and headed down the road to Taco Bell for a quick lunch before driving on out to Leesburg to finish the rest of the errands on my list.
One errand on my list was for something specific for my husband that can't be bought online and I didn't get it done.
Why? Because while I was accelerating into a left hand turn at a stop sign something broke on the undercarriage of the taurus. I heard it. It thumped, rattled, and I could see it bounce behind me in the rearview mirror.
The intersection was not at all busy but there was no safe place to pull over and grab the part, which appeared to be some kind of bolt roughly the size of a pre-schoolers fist.
As I turned into the Taco Bell parking lot, it was painfully obvious that something was wrong as I could hear something moving in the undercarriage of the car. There's a repair shop in the same shopping center, so I parked the car, walked in with my two littles, and explained what had happened. Since the diagnostic is a flat fee, I had them take a look at a few other problems, too.
Might as well do it all at once, right?
Just a few weeks ago we kerplunked $350 into the car for an issue involving the battery that had made his car just stop dead in an intersection. Five days before that we'd put $500 in new--and very necessary--tires.
That part under the car that started clanking around is the sway bar. It's a suspension part that balances the car when turning and yes, one of the bolts that holds it in place was gone so they're going to replace both end links. The brake light issue turned out to be a problem with a master cylinder but I know zero, zip, zilch about that one other than they'll be flushing the brake fluid once the sensor is fixed.
Total for the repairs is just a hair under $840. We've started doing some repairs on our own, but a quick youtube search and watch let me know these were well out of our league. The the repair shop gets our money today. Boooooo.
I wanted to sell the car this last summer but my income was at a minimum and buying a new car under those circumstances didn't seem even remotely prudent but it is looking light we really should have done that. The car has cost us $1700 in a matter of 4 weeks. Even if we had a car payment of $300/month, that's almost 6 months of payments.
So I guess the good news is that no one was hurt but the bad news is that some of those Christmas gifts I bought yesterday morning may have to go back, unless the students I tutor need quite a few more hours in the next 5 weeks. .  . which doesn't seem likely.

Come Unto Christ

On November 1st, a member of our bishopric asked me to speak on November 14th in Sacrament meeting.  I agreed, knowing that it had been over 4 years since I had been given that assignment and knowing the Dash is now old enough to sit in the pew with my husband and be perfectly content without me.

The only thing that scares me more than speaking in Sacrament meeting is giving a Relief Society lesson.

The topic I was assigned was "Come Unto Christ". My heart jumped in my chest because it's a subject I hold near and dear, especially after the events of the last few years, but an added emphasis after some policies were changed in the church that caused quite a disruption. 

I sat down this last week and put my talk together. Each time I tried to pull quotes and stories from here and here, my mind would go blank.  The following talk is what was presented, with a few minor moments of ad libbing in part because I was having a hard time seeing some of the words on the page.

You know those Sundays where you sit down there on a bench or a seat in the back and think, “wow, she’s a really good speaker”?

That won’t be what you’re thinking today. If my assignment had been to teach the congregation how to use the Law of Cosines to solve a triangle or how to find the roots of a 5^th degree polynomial function, then I’d have felt as calm as a cucumber and you would have been well-taught, walking out the doors having feasted on the awesomeness of my mad math teaching skills.

But Sacrament meeting isn’t designed for math lectures, so I’m going to do my best with the topic I have been given. Just hold tight and keep me in your prayers because I may not make it through this.

Every once in awhile, when I have something that is weighing heavily on my mind, I compose letters in my head addressed to whatever or whoever is bothering me. I have never written any of these “letters” out for mailing, but have on a few occasions added them to my journal. Over the last few years, I’ve written more letters than I care to admit; some of them have been to my mother, who passed away a few years ago, a lot have been to other family members, and some have been to the doctors who were responsible for the death of our son 19 months ago.

These letters don‘t remove my burdens by any means, but they do allow me to see a clearer path towards forgiving others, forgiving myself, and understanding the role the Savior has in my life. Sometimes as I write these letters in my mind, I can feel the Spirit guiding me, bringing specific thoughts to the forefront of my mind. And when I do this, when I allow him to carry these burdens, I am learning how I can come unto Christ.

Coming unto Christ is an extremely personal journey for each of us. It’s not like taking the Sacrament, being baptized, or making temple covenants, where others are there as witnesses in one form or another. It’s also not something that you can do once and then never do again.

It took me several days to decide which direction I wanted this talk to go and I’m not entirely certain I picked the right direction. I knew I could rely heavily on several talks that Elder Holland and Elder Oaks have given but I decided that I wanted to talk a little more about some key moments on my journey towards coming unto Christ and staying with him, even though Elders Holland and Oaks are far more eloquent than I will ever be.

The music video to go with the theme song last year is beautiful. If you haven’t had a chance to watch it yet, it’s worth the 5 minutes. Part of the lyrics go like this:

He’s the One who healed the leper, and who brought the dead to life. He’s the One, who fed the hungry, and who gave the blind their sight. He’s the One who walked on water, then He brought them safe to shore, and whenever you may need Him, He’s the One you’re looking for. So let Him in, and He will take away your pain. When you feel His love you’ll never be the same. Come unto Christ. Come unto Him, and by His grace be made holy again. He’s calling your name. He’s waiting for you with arms open wide. Come unto Christ.

I love the simple imagery in that first verse as well as knowing that Christ didn’t just heal those who were physically blind, or hungry, or the leper but He has always done these in a Spiritual sense, too.

Dallin H Oaks taught that “His Atonement reaches and is powerful enough not only to pay the price for sin but also to heal every mortal affliction. The Book of Mormon teaches that “He shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people” (Alma 7:11; see also 2 Nephi 9:21).”

This is where things get a little personal. During my sophomore year in college I experienced a significant amount of depression and with it, entertained the notion of suicide, although I knew that ending my life was something I could never actually do. After several months, I recognized that I needed help and asked to speak to my bishop. I was fortunate enough to have a bishop who had converted to the church after having completed his training as a Presbyterian minister as well as having received a doctorate degree in psychology and marriage and family therapy. He had sought those degrees with every intention helping his congregation emotionally as well as spiritually. I met with him a few times a week at first, then once a week, then once a month until I moved out of that ward. It was this bishop who reminded me that the pains Christ had suffered weren’t just physical, but emotional as well and that the Atonement allows all who are hurting to seek comfort and healing from him.  

I grew up with music in my home, so during this time in my life, one particular hymn was on my mind.

                Master, with anguish of spirit

            I bow in my grief today.

            The depths of my sad heart are troubled.

            Oh, waken and save, I pray!

            Torrents of sin and of anguish

            Sweep o’er my sinking soul,

            And I perish! I perish! dear Master.

            Oh, hasten and take control!

                 

So that’s exactly what I did. Through some good old fashioned therapy and hours in prayer and study, I let the Savior show me a glimpse of my divine worth. I let him take the rudder while the winds around me blew and when the storms started to calm, I stayed by His side.

Fast forward 16 years to June of 2014. As my daycare children all slept, I was swept away in an acute tidal wave of grief over the loss of our son. It had been less than 3 months since his stillbirth and I was already pregnant with Eliza. That day I was angry and frustrated and I felt very alone. I desperately wanted to know how my son’s existence would work as far as eternal families go. I had been feeling his life within me for over 3 months before his death and I knew he was gone because of the void left behind when his life, his presence, was no longer with me.

According to the law as well as church policy, children are only considered as having lived if they take a breath outside the womb and Jackson never had that chance.
Was that short time in my womb his only chance at life on earth?
Will he be born to a different family because he didn’t take a breath in the body we had provided for him?
Could he have another chance with our family if we ever had another boy?
I had so many questions and no answers.

As my grief overcame me that afternoon, I knelt near my bed, sobbing so hard I feared I would be sick all over the floor and I prayed.

 Hard and as silently as I could manage

 For comfort

 for peace

 for answers regarding the spirit of our stillborn son. I told my Heavenly Father that nobody around me understood what I was going through. I had lost my only son and I was hurting. And as clear as if it had been said out load I felt the words, “I know. I lost my Only Son, too”.

With those simple words, I no longer felt alone. I quickly saw the parallels between Jackson’s death and the Savior’s.
Without the loss of our son, I would never have found the doctor that helped me bring Eliza to our family. He died so that she could live.

I still didn’t have answers to any of my questions after that prayer (still don’t), but for now, that doesn’t hurt me anymore.

I had come unto Christ, on bended knee, and he healed me. I will bear the grief of losing him for as long as I can see, but like a scar, it no longer hurts the way it did before.

My scripture study and regular prayer have kept me on a path towards my Savior so that when the larger trials have come, He has been ready to help me carry my burdens.

Some time ago I came across a short cartoon narrated by a doctorate of social work. In the cartoon, she demonstrates the differences between sympathy and empathy.

Imagine you have fallen down a hole. It’s dark, you’re cold, you’re overwhelmed, and you don’t know the way out. Sympathy is someone standing at the top of the hole saying, “Whew, that’s tough. At least you have a sandwich.” Empathy, on the other hand, climbs down a ladder, listens, makes an emotional connection to something painful in her life, and says, “I’m sorry. I’m here. You’re not alone.”

Empathy from another helps you feel better, but it doesn’t get you out of the hole. Christ goes beyond empathy.  He doesn’t just come down the ladder to give you a hug and let you know you’re aren’t alone.  When our Savior says, “Come unto me” it is an invitation, an invitation for us to follow him because he knows the way out of that dark, cold hole and he knows the way up and into His light. But you have to trust him and then follow him, even when the way is long and rocky.

Earlier this week I asked my 9 year old daughter if she knew what it meant to “Come unto Christ.”

She said, “No?”

So in keeping with my tradition, I wrote a letter to her in my mind that night. It’s been 5 days and my memory is fuzzy, but it went something like this:

My Dear Kathryn,

When I asked you if you know what “Come Unto Christ” meant, you said you didn’t know and I felt like a failure as a mother.  It seems like such a simple thing to talk about, even if it sometimes feels hard to do.
To “Come unto Christ” is an invitation God has given to you. You have two choices: you can accept it or you can ignore it.

Unlike an invitation to a birthday party, this invitation never expires but if you ignore it, you may have a hard time finding it again.

“Come unto Christ” means sharing the things that cause you pain with him so that he can heal them.

“Come unto Christ” means following the example he set of loving those around you and forgiving others.

To “Come unto Christ” means taking a deep breath when you are overwhelmed and letting the Savior help you get through your problem.

To “Come unto Christ” means that you want to be like him.

If you feel lost, hungry, weary beyond understanding .  .  . If you simply don’t know what to do. Come unto Christ.

To do these things, you will need to continue to study your scriptures. Learn the stories while you are young so that as you grow up, you can study what they mean and find new guidance and comfort in the words you have become familiar with.

You will also need to pray. Don’t just try and get it over and done with, but spend time thinking about what you want to say and then listening and feeling the response. It is unlikely that you’ll hear an audible voice answering your prayers, but you’ll feel the words and they will change you.

To “Come unto Christ” means to live a life different from most of your friends as you follow the commandments.

To “Come unto Christ” means listening to the prophet and apostles and then praying to know if the counsel they are giving is true.

To “Come unto Christ” is to live a life full of joy as you make use of the atonement and lay your burdens at His feet.

I testify that I know my Savior lives. I know this is His church, and the only way to eternal salvation is through Him. So whether life is going well or trials are keeping you down, come unto Christ. He is the only way to eternal life, so I'm not going anywhere.

I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen.

Journal

Over the last few months, I have begun to refer to Cognita Spirare as my online journal and, given the change of direction it has taken over time, that's probably a more apt thing to call whatever it is that I do here.

Dash's first Halloween has now come and gone. We attended the Udvar Hazy Air and Scare again this year and loved every minute of it!

We also attended a few other events that gave the girls the excuse to put on her their costumes.

Cedar Lane Harvest Festival

Nursing while passing out candy

Ward Chili Cookoff

There have been a few firsts in this household just since Saturday and most of them involve our Spitfire.
Late last week she discovered that her front bottom teeth were loose.

 I assumed incorrectly that she'd be like her big sister and it would be weeks before her tooth came out.
This is the last picture of her with all her baby teeth intact.

She complained that it was hurting as church ended on Sunday so I took a quick look. It was incredibly loose and I knew it was coming out that night! She let me take one attempt with a paper towel, just gripping it, but that didn't work. Next up was to tie a knot around it with dental floss. On the first little tug her tooth went flying.
She was a little upset because it hurt a bit and was bleeding, but fascination over the gap quickly took over!

It may be sheer coincidence that The Reader lost a tooth that morning, but it was a fun coincidence!

The tooth fairy had double duty at our house that night! We do $5 for the first tooth and $1 for each tooth thereafter. I had $8 in my wallet so everything was great, right?

Except that I had forgotten that I had given Reader the cash for her school lunch account on Friday. Whoops! That realization at 3am resulted in a quiet but frantic treasure hunt through the house for change. I managed to scrounge up just enough for the tooth fairy to leave  the promised funds. Spitfire was excited to see so many coins and that made me feel a little better.

The next change occurred the very next day. It was decided that with such nice weather, overcast but pleasant temperatures, we'd hike up the hill and let the girls get their hair cut. Spitfire went from this:

To this: 

She loves it because it doesn't tangle. We left the house 5 minutes early this morning for the bus because I didn't have to brush her hair and put it up. It was really nice!

Spitfire and Reader both finished their school fundraiser last week as well. This year they had a Fun Run and gathered donations for each lap they ran. Spitfire ran more laps than any other female kindergartener!

On the much-less-exciting list, I met with Dr. H yesterday. I am pretty sure I ovulated last Wednesday. I had all the secondary signs Sunday-Tuesday and my opk was almost positive Wednesday. I think it was catching the tail end of my surge since it got progressively lighter over the next 24 hours. I started lovenox shots Friday using some that I still had laying around. Dr. H wrote out a prescription for more as well as for progesterone, which I started last night using the last 2 suppositories I had left from Dash.

I will take a pregnancy test early next week and then again next Wednesday. If they're negative, as I expect them to be, then I'll stop the progesterone and wait until at least early April before we do anything ttc related again. This is our one shot month for now because of the schedule we have for late summer and all of fall. I simply can't risk being pregnant and due for delivery during that time.

Our chances are less than slim, but better than zilch, so I'll take it. This is probably one of the only cycles where I have a definite "Thy Will, O Lord, be done" feeling. I'm really okay with however this turns out. When our ttc window opens up again in April-ish, that attitude will likely change. I'll be 36 by then and as far back as I can find, no woman in my family on either side has ever had a child beyond the age of 34.

When I was 32 I was already struggling with diminished ovarian reserve, so my biological clock is running very short. Dr. H did say that if more than a few months pass, she recommended that we go back to Shady Grove to talk about using some meds again to help with ovulation. It was nice to see that she was understanding and didn't want to see me waiting months and months to seek treatment.

I feel good about all of it. I'm not exactly optimistic about this one cycle, but hey, what can you do? I was not about to stop nursing my baby to make my period show up again. Nursing her means more to me than having another baby. She deserves everything I have to give to her here and now and we worked through far too much to "set her aside" for another and doing anything more than I've done would feel just like that.

9 Months Old

My adorable Dash turned 9 months old last week. Time sure keeps flying fast!
She has 4 teeth now and is eating a wide variety of foods.
Today was her well baby visit and the stats are in!
Dash weighs an even 22 pounds and that puts her in the 90th percentile by age.
She still gets a vast majority of her calories from my breastmilk with less than 100 calories a day coming from table foods.
Her head circumference measured 18 inches, which is also 90th percentile.
If Dash was sized like the Reader, her height would be about 95th percentile. Nope! At a mere 28 inches tall, that puts Dash in the 50th percentile for height. She is average height just like my Spitfire.
My adorable, chunky Dash is 98th percentile for her weight-for-length though. Ha ha ha ha! Soooo chubby!

One Small Conference Thought

This weekend was General Conference for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It's a weekend filled with counsel given by the prophet and apostles of the church. During one talk (sermon), the topic was motherhood. The following meme was created:

It is a beautiful thought, one that I have felt and seen in action with mothers I know. When I heard it again this weekend, an experience came to mind from last year. I spent hours crying after we lost our son, even while pregnant several months later with our daughter. At one point, as I was sobbing so hard I had run to the bathroom in hear of vomiting, I mentally screamed to my Heavenly Father that nobody understood what I was going through. I was alone and in pain. I had lost my only son and although I was pregnant again, why did Jackson have to sacrifice his life for me to have Dash?

Then as clear as day I could feel the words, "I know. I sacrificed my son so that you might live."

My Heavenly Father knows the pain I went through.He knows. The crying changed as my heart was filled with love and an understanding so deep it seared my soul. For one brief moment, my Heavenly Father was crying with me, giving me strength as I saw beyond my pain and had a glimpse of what being a Heavenly Mother is like.

Eight Months

Time is flying way too fast and I know that I say that too often!

Dash is now 8 months old and continuing to grow like a weed. She barely fits into the size 12 month t-shirts and definitely needs size 18m pants and onesies.

Dash developed a weird spot on her arm in August. It started as a pimple thing and I thought it was a bug bite. It grew, scabbed over and peeled, then healed up as if nothing had ever been there. About 2 weeks later, a similar spot showed up on her tummy.

There are now several spots so I’m going to be taking her into the doctor early this week, hoping that she knows what is going on.

Spitfire has completed 4 weeks of kindergarten now and is having a wonderful time! Her favorite part of the day is when she comes home and gets to share the jokes her teacher tells them while they wait for the bus.

“What is black and white and red all over?” – A zebra with a sunburn

“What do you call witches that share a bedroom?” –Broomates!

“What are skeletons afraid of?” –dogs!

Her reading continues to progress, too. Each day we spend a few minutes going through a set of site word flashcards and she is enjoying those, although she seems to remember the longer words such as “pretty” and “ride” better than “the” and “and”.  As a teacher and a mom, watching her get a word is so much fun!

Reader is having a fabulous time in school, too. Her teacher is flying through the material faster than expected and that is keeping my daughter from being bored. She recently scored a 94% on her math test and a 100% on her Virginia Studies test.

Oh, and Spitfire got the first Citizen of the Month award! She is so very excited to have been picked and it really makes me wish that I could see what she’s like in class each day.

My efforts to continue family scripture study have continued and we’re succeeding most nights. We’re somewhere around 5 nights a week, I believe.

Tonight we were reading in Alma 27 and the topic of the Anti-Nephi-Lehis came up and Spitfire asked if they were the people who had buried their swords and laid down to die. I was surprised that she had remembered not only their name, but also something that set them apart from other scripture stories we have read. She also asked how everyone knew they were dead if they all laid down together.

That question was a little harder to field, not wanting to go into the gory details, but I admit that it was surprising to me that she was paying close enough attention to recognize what was going on. She generally sits on the floor, flying Toothless around in her arms.

But she’s listening!

Multiple times this week I have wanted to talk to Mom. The anniversary of the death of one of our little girls is tomorrow, although we didn’t have confirmation until the next day. It has been 3 years since we lost her; 3 years since I sank into an emotional pit I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to escape. The PTSD has resolved itself with some significant help from my Heavenly Father and with Dash as well as learning my triggers and how to manage them as best as possible.

 I wonder what Mom would have told me during the years of pain and my inability to control some of my responses.

I wonder if she, beyond the veil, knew Dash before her birth.

I wonder how often she comes to comfort me in my sleep and how often she comforts Dash, too.

I caught Dash staring intently at the photo of Mom that sits on the shelf in her room. It seemed as if Dash was having silent communication with my mother and I didn’t want to interrupt whatever Dash was experiencing. The presence of another in her room was palpable even before I realized that she was looking and then nest to the photo.

Dash is a peaceful child. I hear comments from family and friends often regarding how happy and calm she is. She is happy and content day in and day out, with the rare exception when she's overly tired or hungry, but those are quite rare.

I said before she was born that she was my calm after the storm. She is a true rainbow baby; our miracle after devastation.

With that knowledge comes the fear that one of my children will be taken from me before they reach old age. As I thought about that fear earlier this week after reading a news article about a baby killed in a car accident, I began to think about the adults in my life who lost children at various ages.

My grandfather and grandmother lost their youngest son when he was 18 years old. My husband’s aunt lost her son before his first birthday. My great-grandmother lost her daughter 7 days after birth. My maternal grandparents lost multiple children in the second trimester of pregnancy. My aunt lost her son while he was in his twenties.

Losing a child happens more often than I think most people realize. I have heard (and even said) that a mother should never have to bury her child but thousands of years of history says otherwise.  I am not alone. Life is fragile so I do what I can to treasure even the mundane moments. I try each day to appreciate what I have in my life and thank my Heavenly Father for each of my daughters.

New Year, New Routine

Earlier this week I had that special moment many mothers have where they put their child on the bus for the first time to send them off to kindergarten.
Had it not been for an adorable 2 year old who was screaming, "I want my Adam*!!" as her brother climbed on the bus, I would have been in tears.
My middle child has been my soft spot as I mentioned a few days ago. She looked so grown up getting on the bus with an air of confidence to rival any experienced bus rider. It's only the first of many times she will leave the nest and I will cry and celebrate each one.
We hit a milestone this week with her, too. The milestone has been several years in the making and one that we're really excited about.
My Spitfire has learned how to read!
She is still in the early stages, but she can now confidently sound out words and is beginning to recognize a few by sight. She wants to read each night. Just six short months ago she was uninterested in sitting down to listen to us read a book, much less to try and connect sounds to form words.

With the start of school-for-2 comes a new routine for our entire family. It is taking extra effort to get Spitfire to bed on-time and the Reader (my oldest) still wants to stay up and read as long as it is light enough to do so. The sun is setting earlier each day, so this hasn't been too much of a problem.
Sleep is something I value quite highly! My husband and I developed the habit of putting Reader to sleep around 7pm each night when she was a baby and we have stuck as closely to that as possible, with each school year pushing back her bedtime by about 15 minutes.
Spitfire and Reader share a bedroom, so having them go to bed at the same time would be ideal, it just isn't practical since a 9 year old really doesn't need as much sleep as a 5 year old. If you want to read studies and recommendations on pediatric sleep needs, take a look here and here.
We're currently 0-4 for getting Spitfire to bed at her designated 7pm bedtime, but one of those losses was getting her to bed at 6:30, so that counts for something I suppose.
Perhaps tonight we'll hit the 7pm bull's eye?
One new thing we added to our routine this summer is scripture reading. Some nights we only have time for a couple of minutes and other nights we've spent half an hour reading together. On the abbreviated nights, we have turned to listening to the scriptures now that our mobile devices have the audio file so readily available. Since Spitfire is still quite young and the vocabulary isn't what she's used to hearing, we stop frequently to explain a little of what is being read. Last night I knew that Spitfire needed to go to bed early so we listened during dinner. It was peaceful, something I needed after having a rather difficult day with work.
It was a desire of both my parents and my husband's parents to have regular family scripture study but neither couple managed to make it a family priority while their children were young. I am hoping that even though Spitfire is still young, and Dash is pretty much oblivious, we can make this a pattern in our lives. For now, the younger children aren't getting much out of the scriptures themselves but they will learn that regular scripture study is important to us and the hope is that it will become important to them, too.
Most evenings I finish work around 5:15, which means I have 105 minutes to feed my children, have them get into their pajamas with their teeth brushed, get their clothes laid out for the next day and lunches or snacks made, and then spend a few minutes reading together. It isn't much time! I need to find a better way of getting meals done quickly since my time is so limited. I know the crock pot should be my friend, but even getting that put together during my day hasn't been easy.
The sleep thing seriously makes me wish my little girls didn't have to catch the bus a full hour and a half before the high school starts. The teen biological sleep clock studies drive me nuts. Teenagers can adjust their sleep times--just ask any Latter-day Saint high schooler who has had seminary at 6am. Can my 5 year old do that? No, because we simply don't have enough time in the evening to put her to bed any sooner.
And we don't even do extra curricular sports!! When I think about the number of families in our community who have their elementary school kids in soccer, baseball, football, dance, and art classes, it makes my head spin. I am half convinced that many of the discipline problems at school could be curbed if the younger students were able to get another hour of sleep each night. I know the impact on my own children and those in my care is significant.
Here are a few pictures from the first day of school that I wanted to share.
My little babies are growing up!

Last day of School, June 2015

First day of School August 2015

The Reader, 4th Grade

The Spitfire, Kindergarten

Hey, Wait for Mom!

Is Spitfire somewhere in line?

Yup, she's there. The 32nd student on the bus from our stop.

Half Day Kindergarten means greeting the Reader at the end of her day.

Dash is now 7 months and counting. 

*name changed for privacy