I really like...

*Driving alone in the car, listening to Snow Patrol's Chasing Cars really loud, and breathing.
*Listening to Deakon say his first prayer last night. It sounded an awful lot like, "Ya, Ya, Ya..." but it was sent on straight ticket to the Big Guy. I have never in my life felt him closer.
*Dropping Abby off in pink tights, a black leotard, and ballet shoes; hair pulled tightly into a bun. She just looks so flipping cute.
*Rocking my baby. He might be almost 30 pounds, and I might complain about it sometimes, but I will miss holding him close with his hand grasping my shirt. I can still rock him to sleep in under two minutes...
*Seeing my husband. Job #2 is done, and he gets to come home at night and on the weekends. We've missed him...and so has our lawn.
*Camden. I really like my sister's other kids too, but that little guy has a special place with me.
*That Abby is still young enough for the "Where do babies come from?" question to be answered with ..."Doctors and peeing on sticks."
I am hoping that lasts for a while.

Patient Perserverance.

This isn't my line, but I like it.

I heard it today while attempting to attend church husband-less (due to work). I had been dealing with a screaming, then sleeping Deak for most of my time that was supposed to spent renewing my hope and faith in God. My muscles ached, my forehead dripped of sweat, I really needed a diet coke, and my stomach growling was beginning to resemble a bobcat I once heard in a Diego episode. And, I was kinda tired - having not quite fully recovered from a 3:30 am party with the Deakster on Friday night/Sat morning. (Who knew he wanted fruit snacks, applesauce and Noggin? It took me a while to figure it out...)

I was finally able to drop Deakon off in his nursery class for the last little while, and I was relishing the few minutes I had to relax and listen. I listened to a lesson on Hope. Something I think I have come to understand pretty well over the past few years. Something, as I often say, I could not have a sane mind without. The woman who taught mentioned that Hope came after one patiently persevered during times of sadness and despair.

I took a slow deep breath and silently acknowledged my understanding. An understanding of the conscious choice one has to make in order to have Hope in their lives. You can choose to be sad, or you can choose to move forward with Hope.

Lately, I have noticed myself somewhat subconsciously being drawn to cute little toddler boys. Little guys who are close to Deak's chronological age. I relish in their cute little waddly legs trying to climb and balance, and I envy their ability to make the "Vroom" noises when they push their trucks around the living room floor. I hear them say "Thank you" and "Ball" and watch their parents buying undies with Thomas the Train at Target as they begin potty training. Sometimes it's just those little things...the ones I took for granted as Abby grew and explored at that age...the little things that can make my heart hurt.

I know Deak will get to do those things as well....just in a while. And that "while" may take longer than I may have originally anticipated. My hope just requires patience, and may come gift wrapped with ankle braces, walkers, and rap music. Patience as I watch my angel boy persevere - Because I do know he will persevere.

(Taken at 4:00 am...might I add...)

Time for Tea.

Party Number Two was kind-of a dream come true for me.

I have never been to a tea party, and thought the idea of one sounded darling.

But, I don't own a single teacup, nor do I own china...or silver...so, creating a tea party seemed a little out of the question.

One evening, a good friend and I were discussing Ab's party, and she threw out the idea of doing a tea party. I told her how Ab would LOVE that, but unfortunately for her I am domestically challenged. This friend (who shall remain anonymous:) then graciously offered she and her mother's services and tea party stuff.

And, I am not kidding about the stuff.

A few delicious bakeries, and 10 or so boxes later, this cute girl once again got spoiled with....

...this.

(Fruit Kabobs, Ham Rolls, Cucumber Sandwiches - the hit of the day, and Ham Salad)

(Petite Eclairs, Tea Cakes, and Butter Cookies.)

The Doll Table

(Top: Molly, Emily, Abby D, My Abby)

(Bottom: Tay, Abby F., and Abbie P.)

Don't think for one minute I had anything to do with the details. I merely followed directions from the most fabulous party planners I have yet to know.

The girls ate lunch, opened gifts, decorated hand sewn purses (again, not by me), played charades, had a little fashion show, and giggled lots and lots. My mom and I served the girls in aprons, and referred to them all as "My Lady." Abby kind-of got really into the bossing us around piece;) And...can I mention that by some miracle Deakon napped the ENTIRE party. It couldn't have been more perfect.

I was so impressed with the girls manners and behavior. It is pretty difficult for a group of seven year olds to be confined to party dresses and rules for a couple of hours, but they were awesome. They really have been taught well by good parents.

I am so lucky to have people in my life who are so willing to help. This is a party that will be remembered for Abby's life, and that is something I cannot repay.

Party Number One.

This cute girl...
(Who looks way too old)

was pretty lucky, as usual, and got to celebrate her birthday with two parties.

Party Number One was celebrated at the ever-popular Chuckee-Cheese with family and a few good friends. The kids had fun earning tickets, and I actually enjoyed the pizza. I grew up celebrating my birthdays at Chuckee-Cheese, so it was a little surreal to have my daughter turning seven in the same classy joint.

Ab was so excited to get a "Big Girl" bike with "no characters" from gma/gpa Payne. She has gotten so brave lately, and hopped on the bigger bike like a pro.



I just love her...

Why is July in such a Hurry????

I want it to stay forever.

I can't get enough of the holidays, parades, pools and heat. I love it all...

The fourth:

Ab did not care at all about the candy. She liked stealing it from the surrounding boys, but other than that...she was good.

The necklaces on the other hand were a must have.

Deak may look innocent in this picture...

but it is only because he was like that moments earlier. Don't judge my look...I know the fake smile is plastered...but to also note....Deakon's right hand is thickly immersed and clamped down upon my head of hair...I was being attacked.

Just kicking back and doing some clapping...

And that was just the beginning of the month...

Denial.

One can live a perfectly content life in denial.

We know those people...the ones who push their problems under the carpet and go to the grocery store to stock up on Cream of Chicken Soup. They always are smiling, but you can see, if you look closely, the thick layer of daily make-up it must require to get to that place. But, to them, the make-up is easier than feeling pain. In the land of denial, one can sit back, relax and feel okay with externalizing the hand life has dealt them.

I admit to being envious of those people at times.
Moments I wanted to pretend that Deak is just a typical three year old.
Short moments that can only last as long as a Yo Gabba Gabba episode.
Because - when you deal with reality...it requires effort. And quite frankly, I am a little tired.

There was a time when my hopes for Deak were based around he fitting in with his peer group and developing in a way society deems socially appropriate. As he has grown, I have learned how naive those expectations once were. Not because they are impossible, but because they aren't important. He is important, not society and not his friends. My dreams for Deak now involve him growing to be the happiest he can be, and becoming self-reliant. I believe it is my job to facilitate those dreams by providing as many opportunities for him as I know how, to create his own happiness.

But, it was not easy to change dreams.
It is a heart-breaking, gradual, work in progress. It is a process that has incorporated countless episodes of middle of the night tears, and moments where it has felt like reality has decided to take a strong arm to my gut. And, my gut was pretty bruised to begin with.

I am scared for Deak to go to school. Scared out of my freaking mind. I believe that the dreams and hope, although somewhat altered, I have for my son are real, and will happen. I want to keep them safely bubbled around his cute little head of white-blond curls. I don't want it to be burst by people who think it is okay to live in denial.

Hope is what I have.
That's it. No textbooks, or theories, or checklists.
Hope that has required more than I knew I could do, faith and patience....LOTS of patience.
I'm not giving it up.
Watch out Preschool Teachers.

Over it.

Over IT.

This evil pile of crap...

And...this evil room that is made for piling the crap.

I do not know how in the HELL a little family of four can go through so much freaking laundry. I hate looking at it, loading it, folding it and putting it away.

I so need a wife...

(and yes, I just did an entire post, including pictures, just to bitch about it)

(and double yes...I did need to swear to emphasize my hatred.)