1175. staring into the eyes of a beautiful Barred Owl near my balcony.
1176. strong friendships
1177. neighbors
1178. my church
1179. Frito pie
1180. retweets
1181. plans to see friends this Summer
1182. vacation plans
1183. "I'm excited to read your book. We need that." -Adorable A's Marvelous Mommy
Everly
I wish I could remember seeing you for the first time. I'm trying to think back...way back as far as my mind goes (which isn't really that far, if you think about it) to my first memory of you. I can't think of it for sure.
I do remember sitting in my little rocker with a baby doll while you were in the big rocker with my baby sister. I do remember you peeking through the doorway as I "cleaned my room" and smiling and clapping. I do remember a lot from when I was very young. You were always there.
You were the prettiest of all mommies. Your hair changed a lot. You wore bright lipstick to church. You wore a stretchy grey headband when you cleaned and big t-shirts when you painted. We painted a lot.
You were also the smartest of all mommies. You knew all the words to every song in the world. You had a beautiful voice (I am still holding out to inherit that from you.) You were the best at reading aloud. You knew what order the colors went in the rainbow and who built the ark. The important stuff.
You were good at everything. You made delicious cinnamon toast. You danced to Belinda Carlisle when you vacuumed. You made us giant hair bows. You made people laugh. You laughed.
I saw you go through hard times. I see you go through harder times looking back with a different point of view. I've seen you cry. I've heard you pray. I've hurt your feelings. One time I cut my hair in school and lied about it.
You took me out of that school. You gave me a journal. You told me to write in it every day. I was passive-aggressive (that trait can be in a post about Daddy.) I would write, "Hi, G2G, Bye!" You stopped making me write in my journal every day. I started writing.
You made a felt board for all our flat, fuzzy friends. You put soft pink wallpaper in the laundry room and let me scream in there. You made me chocolate milk when I refused to drink it white. You combed my hair and smothered me in Baby Magic. (I finally stopped using Baby Magic when I was twelve, but I still like the smell.)
You read me the classics. You made me learn to tie my shoes. You cut my grapes in half. You plugged in Moon Angel. You taught me how to clean the bathroom (I remember you saying "elbow grease." I was totally confused.)
You bought every math curriculum under the sun. You tried every method. You let me take breaks.
You ordered huge boxes of books. You gave me "The Borrowers" for when I got a little older. You sent us out to pick wildflowers before Daddy mowed. You made laundry smell like heaven.
You made every holiday fun, even when we lived in the middle of nowhere. You let us pick out a new Christmas ornament for the tree every single year. You wrapped our birthday presents with Dillard's-level skill. You rolled our socks.
You made the yard beautiful at every house we lived in. You attracted birds and babies. You wore a furry leopard belt and big plastic sunglasses. You drove a green suburban. It was cool.
When you would tuck me in at night, you smelled like Avon strawberry lip balm. You would give me the empty tubes to play with. You gave us a puppet theater. You took us on nature walks.
When I got a little older, you taught me how to sing like Cyndi Lauper (the most important part being, to use whatever-WHATEVER-is on hand as a microphone.) You taught me to cook and clean and hold a baby. You taught me how to grocery shop, choose an outfit, be a hostess. You didn't teach me how to drive, but it is your fault I put both feet on the pedals at Driver's Ed.
You have taught me much.
I could go on and on and on with memories I have of you, Mommy. Memories from when I was two to when I am twenty (the looking-ahead type of memory) but the best thing is, we're still making memories together.
I love you so much and still want to be like my brilliant, glamorous, talented mother whenever it is I'll grow up. Happy Mother's Day, Mama.
Everly Caroline
Or really, if you're almost nine.
{Though that would be impossible for me to believe.}
This isn't to say that Jubilee is "on-track" for her age or that the books she enjoys are "must-reads" for little girls who turn ages at the end of May. This is to say that my family loves to read and Ann Voskamp just inspired me to write about books again.
Jubilee Is Currently Enjoying:
Tumtum and Nutmeg: Adventures Beyond Nutmouse Hill by Emily Bearn
(I haven't read this one with her, but I've loved hearing her retellings. Sounds silly enough for a little day-dreamer and it's about mice...which I love to hear.)
Caleb's Story by Patricia MacLlachlan
(I didn't want to like MacLachlan because her books have a very serious, somewhat sappy undertone, but to be honest-they are some of my favorites and reading them with Jubilee often moves me to tears. Recommended!)
Addy: An American Girl (Series) by Connie Porter
(It's about "the olden days" and a "brown girl." What more could Jubilee want?! And I like the way racism is presented-gently and clearly.)
Winnie The Pooh by A. A. Milne
(Mommy is reading this one aloud to Jubilee before bedtime. Milne's characters never get old and Shephard's illustrations are priceless. This is a classic that can be enjoyed from infancy to adulthood.)
What did you love to read when you were eight-almost-nine?
Everly
