Passport Problems for Anna Zane

Remember the birth certificate saga with Anna Zane's birth certificate?

Well, it appears the drama is not over.

A few weeks back we applied for a passport for Anna. We received a response today. Because she was born in the car on the way to the hospital, she is considered to have a non-institutional birth. Thus, we have to provide several original documents supporting her birth. For adoptive families, original documents are difficult to come by, but we are thankful we have three. So we are hoping this is sufficient.

However, thanks to our time in the trenches with the state government during the birth certificate process, we are concerned about the hiccups the adoption details will bring in the passport process. Mainly, our original documents from the day of her birth all list her given name at birth which is not her legal name. We changed it when we adopted her.

We plan to overnight these documents, and have asked our adoption agency to write an official letter about her adoption and any original documents they may have supporting our claim. We have 90 days to work this out.

Prayers please.

Anna-isms #6

When you ask Anna her name, she replies: "Anna Zane Worry." Always. It's never just "Anna"; it's always the whole name.

*****

She knows my first name: Em-o-wee. And her Daddy's name? Uncle Bryan, of course. She also calls her great-grandfather Uncle Gene instead of Papa Gene.

*****

When she puts coins in her piggy bank, we tell her the name of each coin. She repeats, etc. However, for dime, she often says diamond. Hey, a girl can hope. I suppose if you have enough dimes, you can buy a diamond . . . .

*****

I asked Anna: Want to put on your pants? (She likes to take them off at home all. the. time. Since it's been chilly, I've encouraged pant wearing.)
She responded: No, thank you, but thanks for asking.

*****

When picking out shoes or clothes, I always give her choices. Recently, she was pulling shoe choices on her own. Of the four pair on display, one was out of the question. As I was about to tell her that the pink strappy sandles were not happening, she looks at me dead serious, cuts me off by saying, "Mom. Calm down."

*****

When the babysitter asked her what she thought I was going to buy Bryan for Christmas, Anna said after some thoughtful consideration: A big bike. A big Bible because he's my big Papa.

*****

Anna regularly carries around a paperback Webster's dictionary that's really her Big Book of BooBoos. (Thanks Doc McStuffins.)

*****

She's really into:

• Pretending to brush her doll's teeth
• Asking for Pepto because her "tummy hurts real bad." (Due to medication from the infamous car sickness episode. Apparently the children's Pepto is candy flavored.)
• Cheese, almonds, and blueberries
• Watching shows (Paw Patrol at the moment)
• Playing house
• Gummy bears
• Unwrapping Advent presents
• Christmas lights
• The neighbor's cat, whom she calls her "pet"
• Orange juice
• Singing "Jingle Bells"

I've also written some posts on the Fort Worth Moms Blog that mention my little sweetie. Here's one about her music class. And another about our life as a transracial family. Oh and an exciting one about her potty training successes. Finally, a bit about our adoption story. Clearly, I've been busy. Ha!

Here is a pic of another favorite past time: playing in my make-up. The lone tear is left over from me making her put up my "good" blush, if I remember correctly. 

I Signed the Petition. Will You?

I met Mary Bawden through my editorial work. She is a delightful, interesting, and talented lady who's spent many years cultivating the beauty and glory of dance. She's shared a new project, a new concern of her with me . . . and now I am sharing it with you.

She's started a petition through change.org to tackle the alarming issue of sexualization of young girls in dance. This is what she has to say about the topic:

All of you know that I love dance on a deeply personal level. Dance is effective communication that transforms. Dance is powerful. Dance is beautiful…..

Over the course of the last decade, dance for young children, particularly little girls, has changed. Alarmingly, young girls are becoming increasingly sexualized through dance. If you have recently attended a dance recital or viewed any one of many reality shows on television, you have no doubt viewed choreography that exploits and sexualizes children, using sexy moves, adult costumes, and mature, sexually charged songs to make little girls look and act like mature women. 

This opinion is not just my own.  It is based on research that I have included on my website www.soultosolechoreography.org. When the beauty of dance is used to sexualize young children, it is a departure from its intended purpose. Because of this, I have decided to partner with ECPAT-USA and start a petition on change.org that brings education and awareness to  dance studios so that we can stop this trend.

ECPAT-USA, the leading policy organization fighting the Commercial Sexual Exploitation of Children (CSEC), has agreed to support this petition. ECPAT-USA seeks to end the commercial sexual exploitation of children by raising awareness of the issue, advocating for the victims, developing policy for private companies, law enforcement, and government bodies to fight the problem; they also seek to pass legislation that protects the victims and penalizes the traffickers and exploiters. They are the leading policy organization in the United States in this area, and belong to an international network of organizations that have offices in 73 countries around the world. Learn more about ECPAT-USA atwww.ECPATUSA.org.

In addition to signing the petition, to make a difference at your local level, you can access an online toolkit from soultosolechoreography.org to start a hard copy petition in your own community. Together, we can facilitate change and bring an end to the sexualization of children under 12 through inappropriate choreography and costumes! I hope that you will join me in this effort by signing the petition onchange.org.

This is the petition link: http://www.change.org/petitions/dance-studios-stop-adult-sexual-choreography-and-costumes-for-girls-under-12

This is the link to the online toolkit: http://www.soultosolechoreography.org/toolkit/

This is the link to the FB business page where you can ‘like’ Soul to Sole Choreography and see updates on how the petition is doing: https://www.facebook.com/soultosolechoreography

I would particularly appreciate petition exposure over facebook with ‘likes’ to the soultosolechoreography.org business page.  As well, I hope that you might share this online petition with others so that there will be national awareness and education in this area.

If you have any questions, feel  free to e-mail me in regard to this issue:  Bawden5@cs.com ormary@soultosolechoreoraphy.org

Baby Names for #2

Just this week:

• a friend gave birth to twin girls
• another friend gave birth to a girl
• and another friend to another girl
• and another friend to a boy (finally!)
• and finally, another friend is schedule to be induced in the morning.

(Can we say Valentines babies? Yes.)

All this baby business has me thinking about my second sweetie. If he or she will be home soon, or if the time will be longer. What he or she will look like . . . . What will be the name?

Oh wait. I already kinda know. 

When we were waiting for Anna Zane, we pored over name books and our family tree, searching for the "perfect" name, which we found, I might add. :-) 

Before deciding on the name Anna Zane, the other names on our "almost, but not quite" list were:

• Iris
• Charlotte
• Greta
• Beatrix
• Imogen
• Nora
• Claire
• Lucas
• Davis
• Bryant (for a middle name)

When we were pondering name choices, I also asked for some help from family and friends. I had all these rules about what the name couldn't start with, etc. 

So, in honor of waiting for Baby #2, let's play another naming game! I will provide the first letter of the names on our "short" list, and you make your guesses. There's only one rule: The name must not end with a long "e" sound. 

Boy names:

• S
• J
• B

Girl names:

• L
• Z
• B
• R

Now give it your best shot. Comment below to make your guesses!

Two Cute

Local photographer Shalene Roberts captured Anna Zane's two-year-old photos. And we, of course, love them. There's not too much more to say. The pics . . . er, my cutie . . . speaks for itself.

Losing Twins, Gaining Perspective

A college friend alerted me to news of the death of her infant niece and nephew recently. Her brother and sister-in-law were awaiting placement of these sweet wee ones from Africa. A dysentery-type disease spread through their orphanage and village, taking these precious lives and numerous others.

The story has rattled the mister and me. 

Is it because our hearts feel so connected to the realities--heartache and hope--of adoption? Is it because of the senseless nature of the deaths? Is it because we should be and can be doing so much more to ease suffering and poverty in this world? Is it because when I see these littles I see my own sweet girl--dark-skin beauties so deserving of hugs and kisses and cuddles?

The answer is yes and more.

Can I beg you to read this mother's post about this event and her babies? (Click here.) It is not only filled with grief, but also with comfort and calling . . . everything a healthy, hopeful perspective affords.  And be sure to click on her own link to a page dedicated to explaining the challenges this orphanage faces in terms of clean water, toilets, and beds. It all seems so fixable to our first-world minds, but requires people with creative problem-solving, people who will extend beyond their comfort zones, and people who will open up their wallets.

If you have any information about how to help this orphanage tackle its clean water issue or know of any organizations who'd join forces with the Lotz's agency to save lives, please comment on my post below or on the links provided in the paragraphs above.

The Most Unusual Week of My Life

After a rough few months of challenging call schedules, the hubs had 10 days off work. TEN. We've been thinking about and planning for these cluster of free days for weeks . . . almost like daydreaming of winning the lottery. What are we going to do with 10 days? Just imagine the possibilities.

The actual 10 days went something like this:

Day 1: Whoo-hoo the Texas State Fair. Although I've lived here for six years, I still had never attended the biggest fair in the country and right in my own backyard. (That's right, Dallas. I just called you my backyard.) Y'all, the fair is fantastic and unlike any fair. (For my Tennessee friends, this fair makes the Williamson County fair look like peanuts in both size and quality.) Please know I'm not bragging. It's more like shock. I've truly, really, honestly, never ever seen a fair so big and nice. I walked around dazed for a bit when we first got there. (Oh, and we got there by train. Anna Zane adored riding the trains across the metroplex.)

The next two hours found us cheering and gawking and smiling as our adorable daughter enjoyed ride after ride. The kid is a daredevil of epic proportions. And we totally acted the part of doting parents, not minding the money pouring out of our pockets to purchase tickets for these insanely expensive rides. It was so worth every penny dollar because she enjoyed every second of every ride.

When we finally cut off the gravy train for rides, the adults scoped out the desired fair food, which did not disappoint. We ended the day with the animal barns. In the feeding/petting barn, I nearly went psycho when I realized Anna already used up her allotted feed for the animals and was remedying this problem by fighting with a goat over the next turn in the feed bucket. She was absolutely going to take feed from his trough to put back in her cup. Child, please.

Day 2: I honestly do not remember much. Chores and a few outside projects were completed. Oh, I did shop that morning at one store who sent me a birthday coupon.

Day 3: Happy anniversary to us. Happy anniversary to us. Happy anniversarrrrryyyy. We celebrated six years of wonderful with dinner and a movie. Perfect.

Day 4: All packed up and headed to Wimberley, Texas. The Youree Three on a road trip. Our last road trip to Galveston found Bryan driving in torrential rain for hours. Unfortunately, the trip to Wimberely pretty much went the same. While we are thankful for any rain, it stinks Bryan has to drive in it both times we've tried to vacate and relax.

Day 5: "Waa Waa Wimberley" is what I was going to title a blog post about our Wimberley trip. But I've decided to contain my negativity and wrath and only post this little portion: Don't visit Wimberley. Don't get me wrong. The place we stayed--Red Corral Ranch--is delightful, quaint, fun, and had very friendly staff. It was the bright spot of our trip. But the town "square" had less than stellar shops. We also felt less than welcomed. I wasn't sure if the unfriendliness came from the fact we were taking a two-year-old into the stores or if it was because we were taking a black two-year-old. Either way, it was not a happy reception. We will not be going back.

Anna's highlight of this trip--and ours too--was the hot tub at our cabin. As you can imagine, this is the perfect swimming pool for a wee one. The first go she had on her arm floatie, but quickly figured out she could touch bottom in the deepest part. During the next swim the next morning, she was sans floatie, pushing off the side and "swimming" to the other side. She's a fish!

Day 6: As the colder temperatures peeked in and out these last two weeks, it became very apparent that little cutie was lacking in the warm clothes department. So we squeezed in a trip to an outlet mall on our way home. Thankfully, we found some good deals and garb, but it was rushed and frenzied. Little Anna was sick of it quick and tired and hungry.

When we got home, we repacked to leave for Arkansas the next day. Yes, a quick sale of my mother's house meant a last minute estate sale was in order. Such a feat seems daunting enough, but add back-to-back traveling and the unavoidable emotions of seeing your parents' belongings sorted through and sold . . . you get the picture.

Day 7:  I work in Dallas proofreading a magazine. When I'm finished, we leave for the Arkansas trip, which goes smooth and easy. Whew.

That evening, well, was a different story. The Youree Three slept in one super king-sized bed. You think that wouldn't be a problem, right? Ever slept with a toddler? She spent the first part of the night attached to my person, waking up every little bit to say "Mommy." I kept moving her back to the middle of the bed. And maybe just maybe, the last time I moved her, I may or may not have moved her closer to her father. Funny. When he woke up in the morning, he mentioned that in the middle of the night, she started cuddling with him, and he couldn't get any sleep. Coincidence, don't you think?

Day 8: Yard sale. It went really well even without prices on everything. In some aspects, it was weird watching strangers take off with your parents' belongings, but at the same time, it was comforting. This may sound a bit sappy, but it's nice to know your family's items can be of use to someone, that others will use it or repurpose it into something of worth to them.

Day 9: The traveling home day. One hour or so into our trip, Anna vomits all.over.her.car.seat.and.herself. ALL OVER. Cleaning. Stripping. Washing. Windows down. Air freshener. Pepto. Dramamine. Pretzels. Ginger ale. Help me, Jesus. (Apparently, it was a sudden case of car sickness. I am so thrilled to report the "episode" only happened once. However, now I am scared stiff to take her on another car trip.)

Day 10: Hahahahahahahahaha (crazy laugh). What a great vacation. I feel so rested.

Missing My Mom: The One Year

On this day one year ago, my mother died in a house fire. She apparently was cooking chicken when a grease fire started. She was unable to get out of the house. Did she try to fight the fire? Did she fall? Did the fire grow so quickly she had no time? I do not know. I do not know why she barley made it 10 feet from the stove before landing on the ground and then dying of cardiac arrest due to smoke inhalation and congestive heart failure.

In many ways, I am still in shock. I'm still processing this as reality. Only in August did the heavy sadness sink in. When the days grew closer to the one-year mark of our last phone conversation and the date I last saw her, I could hardly believe it . . . as if I sorta expected to be able to call her or see her on my next visit. No one should go a year without talking to her mother. Right? But I have many, many years left of not talking to her.

My mother is dead.

And when we decided to start the adoption process again, my heart cringed more deeply. I couldn't tell my mother. She doesn't know another grand is on the way.

In these moments of sadness, I also reel from another reality . . . thinking about the day when Anna Zane aches for me, yearns to tell me, wants me to know, but I can't respond because I'm no longer on this planet. It rips a mother's heart. I'll be in heaven, griping Jesus' by the lapels, saying, "My baby needs me. My baby is hurting."

But I suppose He's already responded:

"What father among you, if his son ask for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"

Marriage Counseling

This weekend I celebrate six years married to my Mister. Yes, I could drone on and on (droning to you, gushing to me) about what a catch I snagged . . . about how he still pursues my heart . . . about how he leads with stability and strength . . . about how these are the most wonderful years . . . about how I love/adore/respect him. But I won't. (Teehee. Sneaky, right?)

In truth, the many, many reasons I cherish him are summed up in this: We attended marriage counseling this year. 

(Now before you call the church prayer chain or stage an exorcism, hear the rest of the story.)

Before we married, we went through premarital counseling. Our counselor at the time mentioned the benefit of counseling throughout your marriage. And then a few months into marriage, we sought out a mentor couple to keep us accountable, pray with/for us, and to be friends we could confide in and rely on regarding our marriage. Our marriage mentors suggested attending marriage counseling every five years as a "check-up" or sorts. And then again when I joined a moms' group, I learned several other ladies had utilized marriage counseling for non-crisis "maintenance." So, we committed to one another to attend counseling--at the very least--every five years.

Friends, what a blessing it was . . . it is! We only went four sessions, but benefited greatly from learning how to get out of "ruts" and how to analyze our heart/mind before speaking. It was also encouraging to receive cheerleading from an expert and applaud us for doing something right--ha! Sometimes just a fresh set of eyes helps see elements of your relationship you've never ascertained.

My whole point in writing this post isn't too brag about how we've "got it all together" or to promote how fantastic we are. My point is to hopefully let you know that counseling, of any variety, is not the taboo, hush hush horror so many perceive. Attending counseling is not a sign of failure or weakness but a sign of commitment and loyalty and strength.

Nothing speaks love to me more than seeing my sweetheart passionate about maintaining, preserving, and nurturing our relationship. Marriage counseling? It's the most romantic gesture yet.

Happy anniversary, love.

Happy Home . . . Study

Whew. The home study is now just a memory.

And yes that sentence was waaaay more dramatic than the actual home study. :-)

Our case worker just wanted to see the new additions to the house and where a new baby would sleep, etc. (Don't worry, JHF, she loved the house.) Then, we set down for our interview. Essentially we talked about life with Anna, what we expected with a new baby, discipline tactics, work schedules, adoption scenarios, childcare, and so forth. All in all it was great!

In this adoption-is-moving-right-along news, we learned that our approval will likely come within two weeks. Holy moly! Thus, I will start our profile book this weekend. Yet, on the other hand, our case worker reiterated that placements of African American cuties have been few and far between in the last year. So our wait may be long.

While my head is telling my heart to be guarded and stick with "let's see what happens," my heart is already filling with joy and excitement and hope. I even let myself purchase two small baby items today (gasp!) in a gender neutral green, of course.

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.

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

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 . . . . )

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

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.

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

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."

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

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.

Short Films by Anna Zane

It's been AGES since I uploaded videos. Please, oh please, accept my apologies! But at last, here's some Anna Zane cuteness to start off your weekend on a happy note.

For Sale AGAIN!

I might as well open a store . . . teehee.

We have a Serta Perfect Sleeper Cushion Firm Eurotop, Fairmont, queen mattress and box springs for sale. It's only about 3 years old. When we moved back into our house, we purchased a new bedroom suite so we don't need this mattress set anymore. We're asking $200 OBO.