Just Doing What Mother's Do.

Today I faced a huge giant.  I didn't conquer it or even shoot a stone at it with my trusty sling-shot but I looked at it for a little while.

It's my garage and every single piece of paper my kids every drew on, every card all 4 of us have ever gotten, every art project, everything.

I kept it all.

And it's all thrown in boxes and bags.  I've attempted to sort through it all and the only thing I accomplished was making a bigger mess.  I kind of did that today.  Levi's head might spin around a few times and explode when he goes in there.  I told him I worked on it.  I should have said...I looked at it then cried, ran out and drove to Sonic.  I then proceeded to super size my fries and coke and ate my worries away.

The carb-sugar-fat high hasn't worn off yet so I thought I'd put myself to good use.

This girl right here.  She melts my heart.  Her brain works in such a unique way.  She always surprises me.  I'm the mom...I can gush...this is my blog...gushing will continue throughout this post.

This is a rare photo where you can see the scar above her left eye.  I thought this was a beautiful photo despite my inability to see things like trash cans in the background.  She said "Great.  My hair is the color of dead grass." 

Picture me 8 months pregnant.  Mia had just turned two.

It was tornado season and they were spotted all over the place.  Specifically right towards our apartment.  I don't do well with bad weather.  I am better than I was but still not great.  I took the crib mattress off of her toddler bed and we got in the bathtub sized more appropriately for the Lollipop Guild.  All three of us in that tub.  Her, me, and Jules in my big huge belly and a crib mattress on top.

As soon as the threat was over and the feeling came back to my feet we got out and I was either talking to my mom or Levi on the phone making sure the threat was completely over.  Then I heard it.  The cry that trumps all other cries.  You know it.  The cry that indicates there is blood or broken bones or dark purple bruises.  This time it was blood. Lots and lots of it.

She decided to play on her bed frame because her 8 months pregnant mother forgot that she took the mattress off thus exposing all of that metal and the rusted screws.  Mia sliced her forehead on one of the protruding screws.

I got a wash cloth and smacked it on her head and told Levi what happened.   You know, since I was on the phone anyways and not watching my 2 year old.  He asked if she needed stitches.  I said that would require looking at the gash and well, that wasn't going to happen.  I can't do blood and certainly not when my hormones and emotions are 5 different places on the map at any given moment. 

Because, remember?  I was pregnant and that is why my judgment was lacking.  Got it?

Levi brought home some butterfly strips and everything healed up nicely.  Perhaps stitches would have prevented the scar but then how much fun would that be?  Not very.  Scars are cool.  Especially when your mother tells you that you got it while trying to escape a tornado.

That is mostly the truth.  Hush.

A lot of you know she struggles with math and numbers.  They are her giant.  GIANT, I tell you.  Just today as I was looking through my hoarding pile stash of memories I reviewed her pre-school end of year assessment.   She couldn't count to 10.  She couldn't identify her numbers past 7. 

In kindergarten her teacher wrote "struggles very much in math, I have to help her....she tries hard, though".  

Times haven't changed.  She is supposed to be working on her math facts.  We do...in every possible way you could ever possibly imagine.  Not happening.  We've made a game of it.  We've used flashcards.  She plays computer games. Ipod games.  Her brain FREAKS out.  This has been going on since age 4.  She, at one point, could count to 15 and identify her numbers.  Then something happened. I don't know who took the key to the math part of her brain or where it is now but I would like it back.  ASAP.  She is holding her own, though, and using every finger and toe she has.  Who needs math facts memorized when you have 20 perfectly good fingers and toes?

But in the mean time let's explore the right side of her brain.  Mia has always...always kept her emotions and thoughts to herself.  If she is upset you might as well get a chisel and hammer b/c that is what it will take to find out what is wrong.  However, since she was able to hold a magna doodle pen she would draw her feelings out and leave me notes on it.  She would literally draw a picture of what happened that made her upset.  Usually she would leave the picture for me by her bed and I'd find it the next morning.  Sometimes I would ask her what's wrong and she would go get her magna doodle, draw it all out, then show me instead of verbalize it.  Now that she can read and write she resorts to poems.  Here is one she wrote one night that she couldn't fall asleep.   She is somewhat of an insomniac.  I'm going to adjust her 6 year old spelling for you so you will understand it. 

In The Moonlight All Alone

In the moonlight where I belong.
Soon I'll be there all alone.
Soon I'll know what to do.
Soon I'll be there.
In the city not alone.
Soon I'll get there.
Soon I'll get there.
Soon I'll get there.

Like the dramatic ending?   I assume she finally fell asleep.

I spotted her artistic genius early on.  Age 2, actually.  She drew this brown blob and told me it was a bat.  I was amazed.  Mother's have the ability for that, you know?  The child might say goo-goo-gah-gah and the mother hears the Gettysburg Address.  Yeah, that was me.  But it was still a darn good bat for a two year old. 

Moving on to age 4.  Her sweet people with two wisps of hair each and spiky balls for hands and fingers.  Be still this mother's heart.

Age 5. "Cardin" otherwise known as cardinal. 

Age 5 again.  Mr. fat owl.  Love him.  I love that she could make his little feet look like they are clinging on to the branch. 

 The next 3 are age 6.  A unicorn with its mane blowing in the wind.

 I love this dragon.  He looks happy.

A neat perspective of someone kissing a cute bird.  Someone with a strong nose...

 The next three are Age 7. This is one of my favorites.  It's abstract and awesome.  She said it was a dragon.  Totally nailed the claw holding the egg. 

A very Picasso Cat in the Hat.

Then one day your 5 year old "Cardin" becomes this beautiful painting of a cardinal in the snow.

She was bored one day and drawing on a dry erase board.  She asked me what she should draw.  I said a dinosaur.   I was super impressed.

Age 8.   The best part of the day is going through notebooks.  Those of you with school aged kids know what I'm talking about.  All kinds of treasures tucked in pockets and folders.  All of the sudden their people with two strands of hair and spike ball hands become beauty queens.  Nickelodeon has certainly not had any influence on her.  But I have to wonder about these people with football shaped heads.  Can't be Nickelodeon.  Can't.  It's not.  Nope.  Uh-uh. 

This is adorable to me.  She has a purple skirt and yellow shirt much like that.

My favorite this year so far.  Don't know why.  Maybe it's the hair and how she likes wisps of "side-hair" in her eyes.  Or the cat on the foot.  Or the hands behind the back.  Cuteness.

Ok.  Gushing over.  I will always be her biggest fan and see dragons and castles where there might be scribbles and scratches.