300 days of beauty, day 35 [snuggles]

I love this girl. SO. MUCH. She is happy, vibrant, energetic, joyful, curious, and incorrigible. She went from having a cough, to completely tanking. She said no to chicken, broccoli, and a bubble bath (three favorites!) and asked to go to bed with tears streaming down her face.

My husband snapped the pic--worth capturing.

We put on her pajamas and I asked if she'd like to cuddle for a few minutes. She told me she didn't want to get her germs all over my bed. I suggested the couch and she said she'd like that. Her daddy brought her a "vitamin drink" and we had a brand new Frozen themed Kleenex box just for her. (Usually she steals the toilet paper roll from the bathroom to use as Kleenex, so this is a bit preemptive....)

Belle is the best snuggler of all of the kids. If she wakes up first in the morning, she will crawl in our bed and rest between us. I have many memories of seeing her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed chocolate brown eyes inches away from my face saying "Can I snuggle with you?"

Yes. Every time. Yes.

We snuggled and she fell asleep almost immediately. How many more times will I hold one of my snuggling sick kids in my arms? Moments to cherish. Devastatingly beautiful moments.

Belle stirred awake and said, "Maybe it's time for me to go to bed now." Her daddy carried her to her room and tucked her in. I heard, "I love you too, mommy" as I closed the door.

My house is a mess, the kitchen stacked with dinner's dishes, projects and to-do lists abound, my daughter is sick, schedules will be rearranged, the day went just okay, but I feel happy. Not perfect or together, but happy. 

Snuggles will do that.

300 days of beauty, day 23

"For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.

My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 

 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be."

Psalm 139:13-16

 

This girl.

I look at her and marvel at God's sovereignty.

I smile at my girl, born in a land-locked, semi-tropical Central American village, who loves the snow with her whole heart.

I love that she would go barefoot every day if she could, she adores rice (which is the only food we could get her to eat when we brought her home), she dances with grace and innate talent, she devours audio books, and she could spend every day baking in the kitchen.

Back to the snow--I love watching her in snow. For me it represents a path and setting so different than what she seemed destined for at birth. Her life experience repertoire would most likely not have included snow. I realize this is one superficial fact, the truth is much more profound. 

I don't know why He chose her to be plucked out of her country of birth, but I know He did. Just as I know He chose our family for her and her for our family. 

I watch her play in the snow, icicles in her raven-black hair, crusty snow on her caramel-colored skin, and glittery snowflakes clinging to her eyelashes as she swipes droplets out of her gorgeous eyes, described aptly on her birth certificate as "coffee [cafe]". And her joy, so much joy. Beautiful.

I marvel and I'm so very thankful.

300 days of beauty, day 20

My afternoon was spent with this sweet girl and her illustrious hair. No doubt that her hair represents my most unique hobby and most time-consuming, but also one of my favorites. 

A highlight of my life came from a compliment given by our sweet neighbor in Tennessee. Ms. Joe Ann, an elegant African-American woman, asked me where I had "[my] girl's" hair done. When I told her that I did Belle's hair, Ms. Joe Ann was stunned. I was beaming. I wish I could remember the exact colloquial Southern-speak she used. Sweet and priceless.

I love my girl's hair. I want her to love her hair too. It doesn't hurt to have a brother who loves her natural hair. He picked out this hair-do.

can I choose you?

Many evenings as we put our kids to bed, we're done. "Done" being a universal code parents use when they feel like they cannot do one more thing. One more question, whine, mess, request, anything will tip the scale to results that will be nothing resembling pretty. My husband and I don't like this about ourselves. We know we live in days which are very long, and years which are very short. My husband and I talk often of finding the balance between taking the "brain space" we need in the evenings without putting a wall up towards our kids. Boundaries are good for their life, but we can draw the lines too sharply at times. Balance. Illusive, yet worth striving to find as our parenting seasons change.

Several nights ago, I was tucking Belle into bed and she requested a story. Our dialogue went something like this:

Belle: "Please can you read me a story? Just me? Just one book? Please?" (She pleads quite well with her big chocolate brown eyes.)

Me: "Not tonight, time to sleep."

Belle: "Oh, please!?"

Me: "Okay, just one."

I grabbed Horace off of the girls' bookcase and read this very sweet story to my very sweet girl. I love this book. It tells the story of a leopard cub adopted by a tiger family. One day, he sets off to find a family that looks like he does. He finds a family playing in the park and spends the day with them, but realizes that just because they look like him, it does not make them his family. It's a beautiful story of adoption, displaying that families do not have to look the same to be designed perfectly.

I love my kids so very much. They call themselves chocolate, caramel, and vanilla. It is their normal. I can't imagine having a daughter who looks like me and I wouldn't want it because I wouldn't have my two beauties. I tell them often how very glad I am that God chose them especially for our family. I want them to rest in that truth. Knowing God sovereignly hand-picked them to be with us. Not just for their sake, but for ours. I don't know where we would be without them.

Belle was thoughtful as I read her Horace. In the middle she said, "I never wanted a new family." Sweet words for my heart.

When I finished and I was tucking her in (again), she looked at me and said, "Hey mom, can I choose you as my mom every single day?"

I would love that.

We bought this leopard for Belle when she was born. When she first learned to talk, she named it "Beppo" because that was as close as she could come to "leopard." Sweet memories.