First Day Photos

Monday was Anna's first day of her new "big girl" two-year-old class at her school. She loved her new backpack and was still insistent on carrying her lunch bag. When we made it to class, she walked right in, easy breezy. Ms. Mindy reported that Anna did very well her first day and looks to be the class leader. **proud mama**

Giving me the big cheese before we drive to school.

She's really interested in taking pictures with her camera. She HAD to capture a shot of her new blanket (which she adores). This "blanket" is scraps from Joann's (a whole $3 investment). Mimi graciously connected the pieces and added a trim. Ta-dah, "my pink bank-ket."

And another one for good measure.

And what's better than a foot rub after a hard day? (We have the Thompsons to thank for her unending requests of "Scratch, my heet (feet)." Thanks a lot.

Four Years Without a Father

Today marks four years since my father died. Perhaps, this is old news to you, but it is still fresh to my heart.

Whether one had a close relationship with her father or not, living without a dad feels strange. Birthdays that were always celebrated are now just days. My Christmas list keeps getting shorter because death keeps stealing my loved ones. And milestones--happy and sad--contain a small sting. My dad never knew Anna Zane, and he certainly won't know about our new addition.

Brain cancer took my father, but I am reminded that sin is the main culprit. Sin is why we have death. And our lives after the death of a loved one will always carry a hint (or a huge helping) of loss because death isn't what God intended. It isn't natural, not really.

Yet, my verse-of-the-day calendar reminded me today: "God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God's work from beginning to end" (Ecclesiastes 3:11). And that's what I call comfort.

Anna-isms #5

Boy, do I have a lot to tell you.

Let's start off with a video. Nap time is getting more and more interesting as she's getting older. About once or twice a week, a nap doesn't happen. Sometimes this happens instead:

Anna Zane is a wee bit crazy about clothes, putting them on and off herself. If they are pink, it's a huge bonus. She adores pink anything. Anything. Why God didn't make more veggies pink, I'll never know.

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In July, the Thompsons visited. As usual, Anna and her cousin Gracyn took a bath together. They'd been in the big tub for about 30 minutes with me checking on them every few minutes or so. When I came in to let out the water, dry them off, etc, the girls started picking up the bath toys. Gracyn holds up something (the size of a small rock), and asks, "What's this?"

"Looks like poop," I reply.

Gracyn quickly drops it. Looks at me as serious as can be and says, "I need to wash my hands."

Obviously, the poo belonged to Anna, not Gracyn. These things happen ya know. We, the grown ups, laughed and laughed and laughed and laughed.

I wish that was the last poop story. It's not.

In our usual routine, I talk to Anna through the monitor in the morning, telling her I will be up to get here in just a few minutes . . . like five at the most. This particular morning she asks if she can get out of bed. I always let her. (She's in a toddler bed now.) Being a big girl in a big girl bed, she's really into doing big girl things (a la the clothes fiasco from above). I walk in to find she's "changed" her diaper . . . her poopy diaper. She did successfully get it in the diaper pail, along with some smeared poop all over the handle. There's poop on the dresser drawer handles because she had to get the wipes--duh. She has about 10 dirty wipes in the floor. She has on a new pull-up, which she put on while leaning against her bed, specifically her pillow. Smeared poop is all over the pillow.

Y'all.

(And I thought this poop story was bad . . . . )

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In August, she put corn up her nose during dinner. Since Bryan was there, I was free to panic. (During both the sesame incident and the eye laceration, I was sans Mr. Medicine. Of course, he was at the store for the sesame and met me at the ER; but the eye . . . .) Thankfully, Bryan got it out after a few tries. Imagine the lecture we gave her.

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When I've asked her to do something (like pick up a toy, etc), she's responded a few times with, "Mom, I'm busy.

Driving down a hill the other day, she told me, "Mom, go haster, haster" (translation: faster). The girl likes speed. We're seeing an amusement park trip in our near future. During the simulated movie at the Science and History Museum, I just knew she was going to be scared. Nope. Wanted to sit in the seat by herself and loved every minute of it.

I hear this 1 million times a day: "Let me do it by myself" or "Let me try."

Bryan wants to call her Anita because she also says this, somewhat in a stutter, over and over: "I need a. I need a."

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Speaking of our independent daredevil, she said goodbye to the baby floatie and did this all in 1 hour:



Last, please enjoy a few songs by the wonderful Anna Zane:

 

Baby Youree #2?

It's with a lot of excitement and a hint of anxiety that the Youree Three announce we hope to become the Youree Four.

We initiated the process for domestic infant adoption in late July. At this point, we submitted our application and will have our home study in less than two weeks. According to my calculations, we could be a "waiting family" by the second week of October (at the latest). This means a placement could happen from that point on.

Hope Cottage is again our adoption agency of choice; however, this go around we've narrowed our match points. In other words, at this stage, we only want to be matched with an African American wee one. And this is where our bubble burst just a bit. When we communicated this to our case worker, she told us the placements of black children have been few and far between in the last 1.5 years.

(Wait. I just realized I need to make a family profile book. Yikes. Better get on that. . . )

When I talk about our sweet Anna Zane, especially with others considering adoption, I always express how I believe that God plans/creates the child for any family, no matter how the child comes to that family--birth or adoption. Yet, it is the uncertainty of being on this side of the adoption process that challenges my belief. For a minute, I was consumed by the dread of the "what ifs." But I really, really do believe that whatever God plans for our days, including our waiting days, is good . . . to its depth, it's good because He is good.

Will you pray for us, cheer for us as we walk this adoption journey? While I do plan to blog more about this adoption (in hopes to be an encouragement to others), if you wish to receive more regular email updates, please include your email address in a comment below.

Whoo-hoo, here we go!

Retelling the Weekend: A Funeral, Family, and Delayed Flights

Tonight you'll find me sitting quite tiredly on the couch. Zzzzzzz.

I traveled to Tennessee for my grandmother's funeral over the weekend. It was a sweet time of visiting with family and a sad time of mourning those missing from the gathering. While I certainly am sad my grandmother passed away, I sometimes wondered if my tears were more for my parents who weren't there. It's times like that when the pain of who's missing feels stronger.

After the graveside service on Monday morning, family and friends enjoyed a meal together. This is the third time in four years I have gathered in this room for a memorial meal, being there only 9 months ago for my mother's burial. Sigh. I've buried my father, my mother, and my grandmother. Surely, I've reached my funeral quota for awhile.

Below are pics from the luncheon:

This is the best shot I got of all my first cousins on my father's side. This is a feat!

These are the flowers sent in Anna Zane's name:

My twin and I. If I was told once, I was told a gazillion times that I looked like my Aunt Charlotte (which I will NEVER complain about; she's a pretty lady!). I was really surprised when I talked to her over lunch and learned she was getting the same comments!

Special thanks also to my dear, dear friend Lori, who drove all the way from Nashville before dawn to attend the burial service with me. It meant so very much. When I said goodbye to Lori that afternoon, I traveled for a quick visit with my aunt and uncle (mom's brother) before I got on the plane. As I got in my car to leave their house, I received a text that my plane had been further delayed. 

Long story . . . very long story short, my 6:20 p.m. plane arrived in Knoxville at 12:40 a.m., and I was not on it. The agents thought--as did I--that the flight was going to be cancelled. Even though it ended up taking off around 1 in the morning, I wouldn't have enjoyed getting home at 3 a.m. just to drive 30 minutes to my house. Now my direct flight was a layover in Chicago with a 55 minute turn around time in which I had to go from gate H to gate K. Of course, on Tuesday, my Knoxville plane arrived 30 minutes late, leaving me roughly 20 minutes to make my connecting flight. Bryan, who saw that my flight was late into Chicago, called the airline while I was en route. They told him I'd never make my connecting flight so he rebooked me on a later flight. When I landed in Chicago and jogged to my gate, arriving just in time, the agent said my boarding pass was no good now. Sigh.

BUT he put me as #3 out of 26 on the standby list, and I MADE THE FLIGHT! Whew. Home at last. Talk about an emotional weekend.

Here's my aunt and uncle who saved me, and allowed me to stay the night on Monday. We had a great visit!

I'm ever so thankful that I attended the weekend events, but I am ever so glad to come home to my dearest man and sweetest girl. (Kudos to Bryan. He had roses, creme brulee, a chocolate bar, and ice cream waiting on me at home. AND we went out for dinner!)

My Mamaw: Zella Christine

Yesterday, I lost my grandmother; Mamaw White passed away at an impressive 90-years-old. I'm now somewhere in the midst of travel and child care arrangements and processing the loss.

Mamaw was the only grandparent I knew in my adult years. My other grandparents passed away before I turned 21. She washed my clothes in college and fed me enough meals to feed a country. I have fond memories from childhood of going to the basement freezer to pick out a treat (ice cream, of course). I enjoyed her taking me to KFC, playing paper dolls, looking through photo albums, napping on her couch. And will always appreciate how she embraced my husband and daughter.

I miss her.

Her passing also marks a new chapter of life for me. I have no living parent or grandparent. Those who, perhaps, cared the most about your birth, your life are no longer here on this earth. This is a really odd concept to wrap around my mind. Yet, I have a sneaky suspicion God will be as faithful to me in this as He has in every other area of life. He's cool like that.

You can read my grandmother's obituary here. If you wish to express condolences to my family, you may direct those to:

Mynatt Funeral Home
mynattfh.com
4131 E. Emory Road
Knoxville, TN 37938

The visitation will be at the funeral home Sunday from 5-8 p.m. with the funeral beginning at 8 p.m. The graveside service will be Monday at 11 a.m.

Anna-isms #4

It's officially Texas summertime. We hit the ol' triple digits this week. Often, when we get into the car, Anna says, "Mom, turn on the heater." She's a little confused. She's also told me, "My feet are hot. I need socks."

Yesterday, Anna played with a baby doll for 1.5 hours. This is a never-before-feat for her. It was darling and sad. Darling because it was so cute. Sad because she acted so old, like a little girl. Where's my BABY? Anyway, I got quite the startle when about 30 minutes into the play, I hear her calling the doll "my sister." Um, excuse me? Does she know something we don't?

Anna pats her hair and says, "My hair growing pretty."

She's always (ALWAYS) wanting Ms. Lisa, Bryan, or me to "close your eyes" so she can say, "surprise!"

While she doesn't like to eat cake or cookies, she bakes batch after batch in the bathtub. I've never pretended to eat so much purple cake . . . .

She loves to play hide-and-seek. She loves to be startled (laughs so hard after she jumps). She likes TV more than I like to admit. And she adores watering the garden/flowers while wearing her princess skirt along with the occasional twirl.

Sigh. I adore her, heater-sister-pretty-surprise-cake-princess Anna.

And here's a bonus: I blogged again for Fort Worth Moms Blog today: fortworthmomsblog.com.

It's all about how I've tackled the toddler tantrums. Yes, yes, that sweetie does stomp her feet, yell, and cry a few tantrum tears now and then.