Conversations with Kennedy

While watching Snow White...

Kennedy:  Pie Ho!  Pie Ho!  Pie hooooooo!  Mommy, the Pie Ho's are home!

Me:  Boog, it's Hi Ho and those are the seven dwarfs.

Kennedy:  Yeah, Pie Ho's.

Kennedy:  I'm so mad at you!

Me:  Why?  What did I do?

Kennedy:  Go to time-out right now!  You not my friend anymore!

Me:  Well, that makes me sad.  I really liked being your friend.

*** Roughly ten hours later.

Kennedy:  Night, night.  Don't let bed bugs bite.  Love you.

Me:  Night, night.  Sleep tight.  Don't let the bed bugs bite.  Love you more.

Kennedy:  Love you most.  Mommy, be friends again?

Me:  Of course.

Me:  Pose like a model and I'll take your pic.

Kennedy:  Okay.  Cheese!

Receptionist at vet's office:  Hi!  What's your name?

Kennedy:  Kennedy.  I'm a big girl.

Receptionist:  I can see that.  I love your boots.

Kennedy:  Thank you.  I love you.  Go Big Red!

Miya

Someone has been sad in the H house.



Okay. A lot of us have been sad around these parts.  Like, scary ugly crying for over 24 hours kind of sad. A sadness that isn't easily covered up and, therefore, two year olds play the part of mother and wipe away tears, rest their head on shoulders and say things like, "No more tears."

This same two year old has also turned into a mother hen to the saddest member of the group and in between bossing her chickadee around and forcing games of chase-me-on-my-trike-or-I'll-run-you-over-and-pull-your-tail, she's hugging, loving and smothering her big chick back to health.

It's been almost two weeks since our family was backed into a dark corner and asked to choose.  On the menu: a) put Miya to sleep or b) elect to have a very expensive spinal surgery and have a 95% chance that we'll get to watch Miya walk, run, and love again.

We chose the latter.

And, indeed, she is walking, running and loving once again.  A miracle of sorts, considering almost two weeks ago she was paralyzed. 

As for Marley, she's still sad.  The glimmer in her eyes is lost and she sulks around the kennel Miya is confined to.  She doesn't understand why Miya can't come out and play, she's confused as to why her sister's gait resembles a drunken sailor, and she's certainly jealous of all of the attention, special treats (aka medicine hidden in chicken stew), and coddling furry sister is receiving.  As a result, she looks at us with sad eyes, follows me around the house like it's her job, and is acting out like a toddler who is adjusting to a new sibling that's just been brought home from the hospital. 

The doctor told us it's going to be a long six-month recovery, but so far Miya's a little four-legged miracle who wags her tail every time we pass by her kennel and is beyond patient with her number one visitor -- who, by the way,  loves to visit even after visiting hours are over.

All Tangled Up

Rapunzel:  I’ve been looking out of a window for eighteen years, dreaming about what I might feel like when those lights rise in the sky. What if it’s not everything I dreamed it would be?
Flynn Rider:  It will be.
Rapunzel:  And what if it is? What do I do then?
Flynn Rider:  Well, that’s the good part, I guess. You get to go find a new dream.

We had had our trip to Denver on the books since August. There was so much anticipation leading up to the extended weekend that I was afraid the hype of ghosts and goblins, garnishing cupcakes with mounds of orange and black sprinkles, cold nights sipping hot cider, a sewing soiree with Holly, and promises of pumpkin patches and candy hunts would not live up to the vision I had implanted in my head.

But when the day finally arrived and we hopped aboard a flight that promised to deliver us in the hands of dear friends and snow-capped mountains, I felt confident that this long anticipated weekend would be everything I dreamed it would be. 



And I was right.

It was mid-flight that Kennedy revealed a few of her dreams.  In no particular order, she rattled off her dreams of playing tickle monster, hide-and-seek, painting, dancing, and taking a bath with Wynnie.  Oh, and trick-or-treating, of course.

Two year olds dream big.

It was at Wynnie's school carnival where we discovered that Kennedy is starting to lose her shyness towards strangers.  And strange places.  With a confident gait, she made her way from room to room, eager to see what game or craft awaited her arrival.

And there was even zero hesitation when a black cat offered to mummify her.

Hayrack rides and trick-or-treating go together like hot chocolate and Baileys -- which is why it was a necessity we combine the four.  Of course, the latter had a height requirement and all under five feet tall couldn't ride the HC and B coaster.

Although, from the look of some of the pictures, one would think one shortie in particular slipped herself a few swigs. 

This year Kennedy knew the name of the game and all of its components.  She knew to go to the houses with the porch lights ablaze,  she understood the magic words necessary to relinquish the candy into her custody, and she got that a "thank you" had to be handed out in order to part ways with the candy distributor.

Rapunzel:  Something brought you here, Flynn Rider.
Call it what you will… Fate… Destiny…

Flynn Rider:  A horse?

In our case, it was a plane that brought us here.

But one could speculate that fate had a hand in it too.

Yesterday. This and That. And Tomorrow too.

Yesterday. 

Yesterday was a day plucked just for me.

Yesterday, I received a gift that's been on my wish list since around early July. 

Before I stepped into the shower, I grabbed my phone and checked the weather.  As I wiped sleep from my eye and squinted at the numbers on the screen, I realized that I had just unwrapped a big present.  There in my hand read the numbers "6" and "8" with a small circle to the right of the 8.  68 degrees.  68 DEGREES! It wasn't quite as exciting as reading "Pregnant" on a test stick, but at the time it sure felt like a close second. 

With imaginary ribbons and bows strewn across my bathroom floor, I did a celebratory dance into the shower and washed up as fast as I could because time was of the essence.  If I didn't hurry, it would go down somewhat like Cinderella -- the clock would strike and all would go back to normal. 

With that, I pounced on the opportunity to breath in the cool air that would soon fade with the ascending sun and get out and enjoy what I've been longing for after weeks and weeks of 112 degree weather.  So, I fetched Kennedy from her crib -- stopping only to change her diaper and grab a granola bar and some water -- and wrestled two excited dogs into their collars and leashes and off we went for a walk. 

As cars hustled by to deliver their occupants to work and school, the dogs pranced and Kennedy sat in the back of the wagon eating her granola bar and pointing out every cactus.  And I was sandwiched in between the prancers and the cactus enthusiast and couldn't have been more happy with the way my day had begun. 

*************


The plants in our backyard have been blooming like crazy.  Kennedy took notice within minutes of being out back and got to work on deflowering the poor things.

(This was one of the last pics I took, as she had picked every flower and the fun was over)

But she had good reason to pluck and pick and pick and pluck -- Queen Miya was in need of a bouquet of course.
 



And surprisingly, it was all smiles for Queen Miya when her adoring florist shimmied up behind her.

Because She is fond of Her, but Her is less fond of She and, therefore, glances back are imperative as to ensure She is not up to any of the usual shenanigans.

************* 

When I speak of rain around Kennedy, a reflex goes off in her arms and -- like a doctor hitting that sweet spot on a knee -- her arms fly up and she looks like she's front and center praising the Lord during a Sunday morning sermon.  Girlfriend loves her some raindrops.

*************

Note: Wild, unruly hair can't be tamed by applying a headband to the head, but it sure does up the cute factor nonetheless.

*************

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'm hopeful for more flower picking weather, for my real life legs to look as long and lean as my shadow stilt legs do, and for a daughter who continues to look up to me.

Numbers and exhibits bring us up to date

1. Saturday morning tradition.  B.A.B.  Bookstore after breakfast. 

2. Marley burned her paws on the hot cement while swimming all day.  Nurse Michelle had to apply ointment and bandage her up.

3. I laugh so many times each day and it's all her fault.

4. She wants to be Rapunzel for Halloween.

5. This little girl and I have our first flight sans the daddy soon. 

Some say Kennedy needs a haircut. 

Exhibit A:

But Jen and I agree that she has amazing volume going on. 

And the 80's band hairdo totally fits the attitude.

Exhibits B and C:

1. I got my hair did.  Bangs and darker.

2. Mac is growing like a weed.

3. If I cut her hair, this would become extinct.

4. We're sad that the two bigger kids are back in school.

5. Going number dos on the big girl potty = mission accomplished.

6. Still no allergy or aversion to chocolate.

7. Girls' night out done right.  In bed by 10:30 and woke up feeling like I never indulged in appletinis and red velvet bread pudding.

Dancing Queen

Remember my shy girl?

The one who begs to be held in new places with new faces.

And old places with old faces.

She disappeared tonight.

Poof.

Gone.

Instead, girlfriend got her groove on.

By herself.

Or at least without a dance partner over the age of two.

In front of a live band.

And a crowd.

For an hour.

I was proud.

Oh so proud.

Sunset swim.

Do you ever watch a sunset and immediately become aware of your breathing, your heart thumping -- your existence?  I've seen a lot of sunsets in my 34 years and yet they always bring this magical feeling of self-awareness. 

There's just something about an orange sherbet sky that gets to me -- reminding me to live the life I love. 


Pre-swim:

Post-swim:

So, when the sun begins its descent down from the depths of heaven, we celebrate.  It's a celebration of being able to swim.  Without a swimsuit.  Or a hat.  Or an umbrella to shelter us.  Or living in fear that the sun's rays are giving life to new freckles or simply turning our skin into leather. 

Sunset swims are also good for getting that night's dinner off thy cheeks, chin, fingers, ears and any other crevasses spaghetti splatterings can work their way into.  It's kind of like the bath before the bath.  And sometimes it just ends up being THE bath.

And sometimes a sunset swim acts as our daily dose of calisthenics.

And I must stress that stretching is important.

 

Because, let's face it,  no one wants to pull a hammy in the midst of nudist wagon pushing.

Two's company.

 

But three's a crowd.

An iPhone weekend.

:: We welcomed baby Mac into the world last week.

 And this past weekend we got to pass him around, kiss his tiny toes and stare at every facial expression a newborn has to offer.

Mac is Jen's new baby and he's all sorts of cute and scrumptious wrapped into an eight pound bundle of joy.

:: We traded in breakfast cereal at home for bagels by the splash pad. Usually when I bring Kennedy to the splash pad, it's in her swimsuit and she spends more time glued to the side of my leg than she does actually touching the water.  But bring her fully clothed and give her a vacant splash pad and she goes a little batty.

:: When the pool gets boring, shove yourself into a water table, no?

:: Sunday started off with overcast skies and a temperature that lured you outdoors.  In the midst of watering the plants, it hit me -- we should go hike.

 A mountain. 

Like, Pinnacle Peak Mountain.  

 

As luck would have it, we arrived at the foot of the mountain just as the clouds had begun to evaporate, unveiling a blazing sun. Kennedy was so excited to go hiking despite her having no clue what hiking meant, so we stayed on course and put our muscles to work. Multiple times we asked her if she wanted to stop and go back to the car and multiple times the answer was, "No. Go see more rocks." By the time we got back to the car, the thermostat read 105 degrees. Not once did she complain and not once did I regret this somewhat crazy idea of mine.