Dark or light? A 3-year old discovers skin color

Like all three-year-olds, my daughter is a knowledge sponge. So much of the world around her is brand new and wonderful.

Much of our time together is spent talking. We discuss her various observations of the world and chat about her numerous 'likes' and her few 'dislikes'. Often, I find myself explaining new words and answering the never-ending rounds of "what's that?" and "why?".

Recently, Amelia began talking about how people look different from each other. Some have brown hair, some have red hair, some have blue eyes (just like hers, she will always say), and some have brown eyes. And last week, she explained to me (in her most serious preschool voice) that everyone has different color skin too. Some skin is dark, some skin is light. 

"Brandon is brown."

"Elizabeth is light."

"I am light."

"Mommy? Why are kids all different colors?"

To which I answer (in my best Mommy voice), "because God made us all special. Everyone is different, and that makes our world prettier."

Amelia (once again with her serious face) pondered this for a moment. She tapped her little finger against her chin in a classic thinking pose.

"Yes," she finally answered.
We have different colors in my class, and my class is beautiful."

Well said, my dear.
Well said.

They never say "I can't"

An ant never believes that it is too little.

An ant never says “that’s too big”.

When an ant has a massive task ahead, he marches forward. He relies on friends, family, and neighbors. He is not afraid to seek their help. And together, this army of ants becomes powerful. They build higher and higher and higher, until the anthill rises far above their little heads.

Whenever we are in times of need, with tasks ahead that seem too big to bear, we should be more like ants. Not afraid to reach out to others; not embarrassed to ask for help. Despite life’s letdowns and looming obstacles, we can band together with loved ones and march forward.

We are about five hundred times larger than ants… just imagine what we can do.
Together.

- - -

We could all use this lesson now and then. But today, I post in honor of a close loved one who is facing what feels like an impassible hurdle. She is not too small, nor is she ever alone. Together, we will lift her up - and over. XOXOXO

Stung

When I was 17 years old, I fell into the boyfriend trap.

I slipped away from my friends and spent every spare moment with my love of the year.

After the novelty of the new relationship wore off, I opened my eyes. I opened my eyes and saw my friends off to the side, enjoying each other’s company. Laughing. Chatting. Planning weekend activities. Activities that no longer involved me.

There was no Facebook in the mid 1990s, so I turned to the most popular high school “social media” at the time - I wrote a note. A simple note on lined paper torn from my 5-subject World Geography notebook.

    Let’s hang out this weekend! I miss you.

I folded the note precisely and slipped it to my friend as we exited the classroom. We parted ways for different 6th-period destinations. My heart skipped a beat; I did the right thing. I vowed to get my friend back.

When the final bell signaled the end of the school day, I searched the halls for my friend. I was antsy to connect with her as soon as possible. What fun activities would we get ourselves into on Saturday? I could hardly wait. But I did not find her.

Disappointed, I made my way to my gray metal locker, dialed the combination lock, and yanked it open. Yellow paper fluttered to the floor. Yellow paper, which had been previously stuffed through the upper slats in my locker door.

It was a note. Or, more accurately, a letter. Three full pages of handwritten words on slightly crumpled yellow lined paper. I flipped to the back – it was from her! Happily, I skimmed the words.

Then my heart plunged to the pit of my stomach.

My eyes widened with astonishment.

My hands began to tremble.

This was not what I expected.

My friend? Was not delighted to receive my optimistic little note. Her response? Three pages of frigid accusations. Her words held no affection. No wistfulness for our past adventures. No acknowledgement of our former closeness.

Venom.

I was stunned. I was hurt. Her words, floating through the corners of my mind, knocked the wind out of me. My pulse raced. My eyes darted around the emptying high school hallways. Tears wet my eyes as I observed other groups of friends happily chatting as they crossed the threshold towards the sunshine and eventually, to their cars.

I held it together long enough to arrive home and race up to my room. Only then did I let myself feel the sharp-edged pain of her words.

I cried. I called my boyfriend – no answer. I clung to my fuzzy brown bear, trying to find comfort in his warmth.

Maybe we can work this out.
I took a deep breath and picked up the phone. I dialed her number.

“It’s me,” I managed to squeak out. “I got your… note.”

First, silence.

The dial tone felt like a sharp smack in the face. The utter coldness broke my heart. This was someone who was once a very close friend… could there really be no affection left?

I distinctly remember this event as one of the most difficult in my teenage life. I can still feel this day. We patched our broken relationship over time, but it was never the same. I doubt she ever fully forgave me for putting a boyfriend ahead of our friendship. Nor could I ever shake the sting of her written words.

We became polite acquaintances.

The boyfriend? Long gone.

- - - - -

These days, as Amelia clings tightly to my hand in the midst of social situations, I should be glad. At least she hasn’t left me for a boyfriend yet. I hope my painful lesson can somehow keep her from suffering a similar collapse of friendship. I always remind her, “good friends are treasures.” And we thank God for all her friends in our nightly prayers.

- - - - -




Prompt: Choose a time when either the abundance or lack of affection (either by you or someone else) stands out, and show us. Bring us to that time. Help us feel what you felt.

Child Hunger Ends Here

On Wednesday, Amelia and I attended a great blogger's event, hosted by Jolly Mom on behalf of ConAgra.

She recapped the event so perfectly (with lovely photos!), so I'll just point you there.

Please check out her post,

Child Hunger Ends Here Event 

to learn more.

Bonus points if you can spot me & Amelia in one of her photos!


Also visit The Little Nook if you have kids in Atlanta! What an adorable play space.

Thanks, Piera! XOXO

An extended family summer

Get up! No lounging in bed today!

I opened my eyes to the sun peeking through the blinds and a smile stretched across my young face. It was not going to be a run-of-the-mill Saturday. Our annual neighborhood picnic was set to begin just before lunchtime. It was always a special day, one I looked forward to year after year. This year? This year was going to be even better. My cousins were visiting from Ohio and would share in the cul-de-sac festivities just outside my front door.

I scarfed down my cereal and giggled at Saturday morning cartoons. The clock ticked and tocked until, finally, it was nearly 10:30. I popped up from the floor, tossing my pillow on the couch. Then I, along with my sister and cousins, bounded down the front porch steps to watch the picnic preparations.

Back then, good southern neighbors did not settle for an ordinary neighborhood gathering. My father began loading the electric wooden bucket with ingredients to make his memorable grape soda ice cream. Moms and dads unfolded old card tables and arranged them around the circumference of our circle. Vinyl tablecloths were placed and topped with homemade salads and sugary treats. A few women took a quick drive to KFC for buckets of fried chicken with fluffy biscuits on the side. Riding lawn mowers were parked in the crisp, dry summer grass, awaiting their turn in the spotlight - the men’s lawn mower races. One year prior, we even had pony rides.

My sister and I took the lead, introducing our cousins to neighbors who whom we’d known since infancy. We kept our eyes on the food, our mouths watering as we willed lunchtime to arrive quickly. We joined in a game of kickball with several other kids, cheering each other on as the red rubber ball flew through the air after a powerful boot. We felt the sting on our wrists as boys and girls tried to burst through our wall of bodies and linked hands in a competitive game of Red Rover.

When the signal was given for the picnic to begin, the perspiring, red-faced kids were first in line. We grabbed our paper plates and scooped up potato salad, fruit salad, chips, and banana pudding. We reached into the greasy KFC buckets and selected our favorite pieces of chicken. Our plates sagged with the weight of our humongous lunches. We smacked our lips and gobbled and grinned. Despite full bellies, we returned for clean plates and attacked the homemade desserts. Cookies and apple pie, with a side dish of my dad’s grape soda ice cream. We were content and exhausted. We had sticky hands and dirty faces. The soles of our feet were black from the pavement, as we had kicked off our shoes hours earlier.

As bright afternoon turned to dusk and the card tables were carted off to garages and closets, most of the picnic sounds ceased. But if you wandered past the cul-de-sac and around my house, you could still hear giggles and little girl squeals. No bath on picnic day; the backyard sprinkler was all we needed. The droplets of water spun and flew into the sky as the last of the sunlight faded.

This post was inspired by the photo above, a writing prompt from The Red Dress Club:

"This week, we're giving you a photo to take you back in time. In 700 or fewer words, show us where your memory takes you."

  

Birthday Fun

I apologize in advance for my lack of creativity on this one, but we're still recovering from a whirlwind birthday weekend. Amelia is officially a 3-year-old. She had a great time being spoiled by grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. The weather decided to cooperate so we could gather with neighbors, family, and Amelia's BFFs at a nearby park for playtime and cake. My girl is spoiled rotten, but soooo happy!

Weekends like this remind us how blessed we are to be parents.

A special thank you shout-out to BuildASign.com for Amelia's birthday signs! Our girl loved the custom signs on her big day.

Click the photo to see all their fantastic sign and banner options.


Some highlights of our party weekend:

 
A life-size Minnie Mouse balloon!



Ready.... Aim....



FIRE!



Playground time



Yummy Publix cake - Minnie Mouse, of course!



Sugar and spice - sweet girls

Here's to a great 2011! Love you, my precious daughter.

Somewhere

She sits in the corner, all alone.
Nothing to do, no one to call her own.
All she can do is sit and stare,
Huddled in her world of bleak despair.
The world is dark, the rain pours down,
Sadness fills the air.
For when she needs someone the most,
You are never there.

I wrote this poem when I was 11 years old. I was a sensitive child, to say the least. Often struggling with feelings of loneliness and and a major lack of self-worth. I had (and still have) a supportive, loving family. My parents were (and still are) attentive and caring. But something in my pre-teen heart just felt sad.

My very best friend and I were locked hand-in-hand since age two. We were friends as well as neighbors. I could even see her house from my parents' bedroom window. The summer before 4th grade, she and her family moved to Florida. My family was on vacation the day they left. I remember feeling like I did not get to say goodbye. Through 5th grade, I was in a small Catholic school. We never had a class with more than 10-15 students. So when Christine left, I didn't have any new friends to take her space. I got in trouble quite a bit in 4th grade, lashing out because I felt angry and alone. It helped to meet so many new friends in middle school, but those hormonal years were difficult for many more reasons.

In 1986, Universal launched the movie An American Tail, a story about a young immigrant mouse who became separated from his family upon arrival to America. Throughout the movie, he faces unknown dangers and battles his fears and loneliness.

The feature song from that film is a classic. A beautiful tune performed by Linda Ronstadt and James Ingram, Somewhere Out There was my theme song for several years. It gave me hope and made me feel less alone.




I still adore this song.  Now, it makes me smile.

The next generation

I have a very special friend in my life. A friend who knows me as well as family. A friend I met in preschool. Our mothers tell us that we pranced out of our church preschool that first week, hand-in-hand, and announced our friendship. We were going to be "best friends forever!".




Thirty years later, we're still friends. Our friendship survived despite living in different states since the 4th grade. We even lived happily together in Atlanta for about a year after college. We have been bridesmaids in each other's weddings and sent baby gifts to each other's first-born children.

The first day of our sunny Florida vacation was spent with my dear friend, her husband, and her sweet 1-year old daughter. We met for lunch, visited the beach, and watched our girls play together.

It was such a surreal feeling to see our little girls play together. Amelia is about the age Christine and I were when we first met. To think that the next generation is already here... amazing. And to see them playing together? So incredible.

These girls have distance between them from the start, but I would love to see them develop a friendship. Hopefully, a friendship that can effortlessly span a lifetime.