I breathe...

In a few hours I leave for my first mission trip. I am both excited and afraid I may start vomiting butterflies at any given minute. Those butterflies in my stomach have been bothering me for a few days now. I have promised myself I would journal this experience. In the name of motivating myself and keeping my own promise, I thought publishing my first journal entry would keep me on track. While I may not be able to publish anything while I'm away, I promise to share more when the wifi connection allows.

I breathe…

July 12, 2011

2315 hours

Today is not the first official day of my trip, but I do feel as though it was the first day of my journey. My boys were picked up by their dad this morning, and I had to face the reality of being separated from them for two weeks. And I mean ‘face it’ like face-planting into concrete. I’ve been stressing and sweating and praying and swearing about this for two months, since I agreed to go on this trip (which, by the way, was an opportunity I’d been wanting for over a year).

The single me keeps reminding the mom me that in order to go on these amazing journeys, I have to peel myself away from my two mini-me’s. And really, I know it’s good for them and for me to do that. I read a magazine article about myself once – okay, so I never met the author but she was clearly writing about me since she was describing me perfectly – something about helicopter moms and hovering too much. Apparently it dilutes the fun of riding a bike down the street as fast as little boy feet can push those pedals and fly off the curb while pretending it’s a half pipe if there’s a parent yelling in a panic from the driveway to slow down and be careful and not cause a trip to an orthopedic doctor to get a cast in their favorite color. The boys don’t even ask what an orthopedic doctor is as they roll their blue eyes in my direction.

Watching my boys walk away, knowing it would be the last time I would kiss their pudgy, dirty little cheeks or feel their arms squeeze my neck for two weeks took my breath away. So I walked in the house and blinked back tears, not knowing if I should prepare for a small leak or Niagra freakin’ falls. Do I go grab the Kleenex box or the shamwow? But my phone rang, and it was a good friend with the uncanny ability to make me laugh. And I breathed, a tiny little breath, but it definitely felt reminiscent of breathing.

After my phone call I ran last minute errands, started packing, and left to get a pedicure and a manicure with a good friend. Actually, she is an amazing friend. She – Carol – is also the pastor’s wife and a fellow missionary. We talked, we laughed, we got pampered, and I breathed. It turns out my lungs were still in my chest after all. They hadn’t been ripped out and crammed into my boys’ backpacks with their favorite matted-down stuffed animal friends. Maybe I would be able to fill my lungs with the air of Germany as I pass through, and of Poland as I spend my time there gracing them with my redheaded spirit. Oh, I pray they have encountered redheads before in Poland…

Today...

Today the temperature reached 123 degrees in my home town. Today I walked outside and I felt the the wind blow in my face, and it was as if someone held a hair dryer directly to my skin, probably adding some instant sun damage to my already frail skin. Today I ate dinner alone as I missed my children.

Today I heard thunder and reveled at the darkened clouds, visible in our desert sky for the first time in a long time; I was beginning to doubt their existence. Today I studied and got lost in American Literature and the language of allegories and romance. Today I laughed with friends so hard tears came to my eyes.

What did you do today? Did you find balance? A way to offset your frustration with relaxation? A way to complement the day you were handed with some enjoyable activity or appreciation? Life is not always sunshine and laughter. Sometimes it is 123 degrees amongst a grey sky and loneliness, until you look for the silver lining and add your own variety of sunshine.

Grief and Toil

Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote:

She could no longer borrow from the future, to help her through the present grief. To- morrow would bring its own trial with it; so would the next day, and so would the next; each its own trial, and yet the very same that was no so unutterably grievous to be borne. The days of the far-off future would toil onward, still with the same burden for her to take up, and bear along with her, but never to fling down.

This is a passage I read nearly twenty years ago, but it didn't mean much to me at that young age. When you're a thirteen-year-old, you have your whole life ahead of you, the whole world at your fingertips. Anything is possible, and nothing is off limits.

When you get to be an adult, that can change. The promise that tomorrow will be better isn't always there. We can't lay our heads down at night, knowing we can shut our eyes on our day and somehow expect our problems to be lessened in the morning. At least, not all of them, and in most cases, not the most troublesome ones.

There are times that I look ahead and see the same problem, the same concern, facing me for weeks or months at a time. It just won't go away. And there are so many times that I wonder what the point is- I simply cannot get any stronger. I'm at full strength now, I promise you that.

But what I can do is get better. All of the challenges, the same ones I will be facing a year from now, are forcing me to evaluate those strengths I have, and my weaknesses, and figure out how to improve my life my using them both. It also encourages me to draw on my faith. Some days it's nothing more than caffeine and faith that get me through to the next.

But get through I do. And while I can't borrow from tomorrow, I can borrow from myself. Bend a little here, give a little there, and push myself past my own limits by pulling projects off the back burner, by improving and growing in things I'm already doing, and never giving up on my long term goals.

Single Parent? I got that!

Anybody who has been a single parent - I mean truly single; going it alone and doing nearly all of the parenting on your own without a second cooperative parent - knows how challenging this is. Balancing schedules, working, going to school if that's the case, taking care of kids, taking care of kids when they're sick, taking care of kids when you're sick, figuring out how to make ends meet with one income while being the sole care provider, trying to squeeze in something resembling a social life in the precious rare time to yourself when you get it.

And stress. Oh the stress. There is no reprieve, nobody else to help shoulder some of it for you, nobody to help create solutions. Most people are lucky enough to have good friends who provide support systems, but it is different than having someone in your own household, to help manage that household and its family members, with you.

The stress is like one of those pregnancy sympathy belts. But instead of a large bulge around the belly, it's a large weight on your shoulders and back. That weight is immeasurable, but harsh and cutting. Instead of weighing on your bladder, it weighs on your consciousness. How will I pay the next repair bill? How do I tell the kids we can't go on vacation because there isn't the extra money? How do I tell the kids I have to choose writing that essay over taking them to the park? Each thought, each worry, is a pebble in that pack of weight, and they add up so fast you can't even keep track of them anymore. The pack overfills and some of those pebbles fall out, but they roll right back. How do I work and afford to pay for child care? How do I pay off my own student loans and save for my children's college fund? And where one weight comes out, another replaces it. The car is paid off, but now the tires need replaced. Baseball season is over but now we need to have braces put on those crooked teeth. That weight is there and you can't take it off like you can a sympathy belt. It stays on while you work, while you play, while you try to fall asleep, while you wake up in the morning.

But as the burden to being a single parent is great, so is the reward. Me, I have boys. So I have gotten to teach my boys to cook, and taught them how to cast a fishing line. I taught them how to sort laundry, and took them to the batting cages and taught them how to swing a bat. I taught them how to thread a needle, and how to build a campfire. I took them to school their first day of kindergarten, and to their first concert, on their first camping trip, to the beach and to every frightening doctor appointment they've had. I get all the disciplining to myself, but I also get the hugs and the kisses, the laughs and the funny kid-isms.

Those rewards gives every ounce of that weight a gold filling, every cloud a silver lining, and every burden a reciprocal reward. Whether you're a single mom or a single dad, I wish you a very happy Father's Day.

Ephemeral Clouds

As anybody who knows me will know, I love to take photos. It's not often that I stop to take photos of clouds, though. We all know clouds can be beautiful, or menacing, or imaginative, depending on the mood of mother nature that day, and I have a deep appreciation for mother nature, but it still isn't often that clouds will call to me strongly enough to photograph them.

This day, however, I felt that need. Looking at this photo, I realize this photo can never be replicated. Never again will these clouds be in this same formation in the sky, with the same deep greys and vivid blues with the bursts of white. Clouds are ephemeral, changing with the hands on a clock. But where a clock will look the same twelve hours later, the sky will never be the same. At best, moments of similarity may occur, but never the same moment.

As with life. Sometimes we feel like the hands on a clock, repeating a pattern and feeling as though we are going in circles. But every second on the way is just as ephemeral as the clouds. Each moment comes and we get to define it and shape it just as mother nature did the clouds. Even when we cannot choose what happens to us, we always have the choice in how we react.

Never feel as though you're going through life and going through necessary (and sometimes unnecessary) cycles in vain. Each second provides a different view, a different vantage point and a new perspective for how we choose to see, and ultimately, create, our lives.

Dance

When was the last time you stopped to smell the roses? When was the last time you let yourself get caught up in the rhythm and the magic of music and dance?

There is an expression that says that dancing is not merely an expression of life, but IS life. What is your life? It's more than a daily commute. It's more than clocking hours for a paycheck. It's more than a t.v. guide or a fast food menu. It's about finding beauty along your well-traveled road. It's about finding purpose and fulfillment. It's about finding meaningful interaction and things which provide nourishment and rejuvenation.

So if it's dancing to your favorite song, indulging in your favorite dessert, having a long talk with a close friend, or looking for the rainbow after the rain, do what gives you life.

Dancing faces you towards Heaven, whichever direction you turn. ~Terri Guillemets

Which Way Are You Walking?

Sometimes we think we are walking forward when all the sudden we do a 180 and head right back into our past. I was faced with this situation recently, and so of course, as most of us do, I found myself contemplating the wiseness of treading back down a worn out path versus trailblazing a new one.

The fact of the matter is, no matter how much we try to live a life without regrets, there are always ways to doubt yourself. You doubt whether you should move forward, you doubt whether you should turn back, you doubt whether you should turn your back on old decisions or whether you should go back to fix mistakes. To be honest, sometimes it takes more courage to turn back, especially where you believe mistakes have been made and wrongs were committed. When you turn back, you embrace all of those things. You have to admit them, own them, and try to change them. It's not easy.

I guess in that way, it really isn't about turning back. It's about letting something good back in to your life, because where the path was already laid, you can now meander it and take more time to enjoy the scenery and make a conscious decision to appreciate everything about it more this time around.

Resolution Schmesolution (Now that's a mouthful!)

Make a resolution? Last year my new year's resolution was to actually keep a resolution. Wanna guess how well that went? This year I don't want to focus on change. I simply want to focus on what is already good. Here are a few - and I do mean few - of the things I was truly grateful to have this year:

*friends

*family

*laughter

*reasons to laugh at myself

*fingernail polish

*stain remover

*ampersands

*bubble gum machine rings

*forgiveness

*dancing in the rain

*candles that make me go yum

*flip flops

*hiking trails

*flannel sheets

*lillies

*books, books, and books

*taking chances

*mafia wars

*"my" soldiers

*midnight chats

*claritin!!!

*arm warmers

*girls' nights out

*communion

*no more meat cleavers in my house

*stitches

*vitamin e

*competent doctors

*compassionate pastors (okay, one)

*best friends

*powerful words

*monsters that make me laugh (and sigh and cry)

*aching muscles

*Bella

*text messaging

*8G SD cards

*the delete button

*flat irons

*vanilla

*beer bong tournaments

*camp fires

*Tanner's first fish and Braeden's first concert

*prayer

*the peace that comes from prayer

*relief that can only come from a rightly timed F word

*favorite restaurants

*favorite authors

*art

*This hike was on the Peralta Trail, up to Fremont Saddle and to Weaver's Needle in the Superstition Wilderness Area. The trail was two-and-a-half miles from the trail head to the saddle and climbed over 1,300 feet in elevation. Though the climb was demanding at times, the views were majestic and rewarding.

Thankful Thursday

Last weekend I attended my niece's (and my goddaughter's) 10th birthday party. All of the kids were swimming and enjoying the water, oblivious to the degrees on the thermometer, which I believe totalled 109 that day. A little over halfway through the party, I felt enormous pressure in my head and the sensation that I was going to black out. I walked inside to get away from the kiddos, and checked my heart rate, which was dancing along happily at almost 120, not minding that I was sitting still and it should have been in the 80s perhaps.

It took me a few days to get over the fatigue and general run-down feeling that I get after my tachycardia has been running wild. And I thought about what a family friend said to me that afternoon. She said didn't it just make me angry- that it must be frustrating and she knows how she feels when she can't control her body.

That's exactly how I feel. But at the same time it makes me thankful for what I do have. It reminds me that I can't control everything in life, and that is the way it should be. Then I might not remember to stop and appreciate everything that surrounds me on a daily basis. Touching lyrics to a song. The smell of my children's hair after it's been washed. The sunlight bouncing off of a cloud. The gentle rumble of the thunder in the monsoon sky. Shared laughter over the decoration of cupcakes.

Life is short, break the rules, forgive

quickly, kiss slowly, love truly, laugh uncontrollably,

and never regret anything

that made you smile... -Mark Twain

Precious Moments

My four-year-old son asked me to break one of my rules tonight and sleep in his bed. This is something I don't do unless my boys are sick or injured or otherwise need my watchful eye during the night. Mostly because I encourage them to develop security and comfort in their own beds, only coming to mine after a bad dream or when they aren't well. Partly, too, because I've learned the hard way that sleeping in close proximity to my boys means the possibility of having the wind knocked out of me when I get a kick to the rib while I was otherwise happily lost in dreamland.

But, he asked, and for some reason I felt compelled to grant his request. I told him to go to sleep, and I would come in after my school work was done, which I did. I crawled into his bed (which, just so you know, is so delightfully comfortable I'm thinking about trading in my own grown up bed for one of those flimsy looking but surprisingly comfy IKEA mattresses), and about two minutes later he rolled over and without opening his eyes, said to me, "You said you would lay with me tonight."

I grabbed his little hand and was going to answer him, but he was already back asleep. And I thought to myself, "How precious is this?" But I realize I find myself thinking that quite often. On a daily basis, probably. And that is because every moment, every breathing minute we spend with our children, is precious. Even the ones camouflaged in tantrums and tears and rolled eyes. Every moment is one to be appreciated for what it is.

It's either a moment to be treasured; to be stored in our memory so we can look back on it when our children are grown and gone. Those teeny tiny moments that come together to build their character and dynamic individuality and which form bonds between loved ones. Or it's a moment to teach our children something; how to handle their distress when the birthday gifts aren't meant for them, or that we prevent them from eating too much sugar because we love them and don't want to see them with belly aches and we want them to learn about self control and discipline, and that all good things should come in moderation. Or it's a moment for us to stop and learn from them; to see the world from their perspective, to marvel at the little things we take for granted, like a butterfly about to emerge from its chrysalis.

Above is a picture, literally from the viewpoint of a four-year-old, as he sets up a play date with his pet dragon and creates friends from his imagination. Today, take a moment, not to smell the roses, but to bend down and see them from eye level, as a child would do.

Are you ready to say goodbye forever?

It has been said that the oil spill in the Gulf Coast is the single largest natural disaster to hit our earth to date. I certainly hope it is the largest one I will ever see, because the tragedy it has caused to our ecosystem and wildlife is heartbreaking, and I could not imagine watching our earth endure anything more.

Species are being threatened into extinction, including some species of sea turtles, whose existence already hung on by a fragile thread.

If we must believe everything happens for a reason, or if not, that we should find a purpose in what happens, then please let this be a lesson to treat our earth a little- no, a lot better. It is not our right to damage what does not belong to us.

"Treat the earth well: it was not given to you by your parents,

it was loaned to you by your children."

-Ancient Indian Proverb

*The drawing was done by me, based on a picture found online. Rights to the photo unknown.

Decisions

In my last blog post I talked about writing and making the decision to put real effort into it, or whether to dedicate my time to other aspects of my life. A day or two after I wrote about it, I was still thinking about it, trying to decide what felt right in my heart. I was really torn, because right now, I don't have a lot of extra time to spend doing something which ultimately is unproductive.

So, the story continues as I sat at the mall on a day that was too hot for my children to play outside. They were playing in the kid area, making friends and burning off some energy, and I browsed through the e-reader app on my phone.

I was not looking for anything about publishing, but came across a popular e-book that discussed how to publish your own e-book. This piqued my interest, as my brother has been discussing his desire for an e-reader, and the popularity of these devices certainly have gone up since the iPad and Nook came on the market. Personally, I love the feel of an actual book in my hand, but I know our culture is a big fan of convenience as well as tech gadgets.

As I browsed through this e-book, I realized it was something I could do, and was perhaps the answer to the questions I'd been asking myself since my last blog.

So, in accordance with my personality, I typically think about decisions quite a lot before I'm ready to commit to a definitive answer. This can be a positive thing, but it can bite me right in the ass at times. The good thing is that when I do make a decision, I know I've considered it from all angles and when that decision is made, I have a lot of peace and confidence in it. The downfall is that sometimes I get so caught up in the pros and cons and what-ifs and maybes that I never feel comfortable making a decision.

This time, I was able to make a decision and put it into action right away. I had the idea, and I had the resolve. So I set my fingers to the keyboard and I wrote a novel. I spent about nine days actually working on it, and in the interest of not letting anxiety get the best of me, I have published it and it is available online already. It is currently available in only the one venue, but will soon be available on other online retail markets, including Barnes & Noble and at Apple.

My lost blog

In the past few months, I've been thinking a lot about my writing. It's something that has been part of my life not necessarily as a hobby, and not necessarily as a job, but something in between. I did a lot of writing in high school for things like the yearbook, and I certainly do a lot of writing for school. I've won a few minor poetry and literary contests, but the thought of doing more with it is daunting. Writing is a very difficult field to break into and it seems almost absurd to try, unless you are famous or have so much money that you can self-publish and be certain you can advertise for yourself.

And then I decided this; the last year has taught me nothing if not that I need to appreciate what I have. What I have right now is a lot of responsibility- the kind of responsibility that comes with being a mom, being a full-time student, being a home owner, and so on. What I have is a lot of residual frustration at the lack of energy I have after my health complications, and a lot of learning left to do about how to manage my diagnoses. (No, I didn't spell that wrong. I walked away from my fifteen or so trips to the hospital with confirmed tachycardia, vaso depressive syncope, and hypoglycemia. Whether those are all related or not, the doctors are still unsure, but I do know that I still experience the symptoms from all three to some degree.) What I have is a lot of uncertainty about how I am going to manage to finish school, do my student teaching (which, may I remind you, is essentially a non-paying full-time job), and have two children in two different schools. Braeden is going into first grade this year and I am looking for a preschool program for Tanner.

But the other thing that I have is the desire to fulfill some goals. One of which is to see if writing is meant to be a part of my future or not. When I have no more need for academic writing, will there still be a place in this world for my thoughts on paper? It's time for me to either put the effort into finding out, or put the idea to bed altogether. I'm not ready to pull the sheets over that one yet (no pun intended).

Thankful Thursday

"Prayers go up, and blessings come down" -Yiddish Proverb

It's been too long since I've done a Thankful Thursday post; my post today is simple and easy. But oh, so meaningful. I'm thankful that my blessings are too many to count, and I'm thankful for prayer. For all of my friends who pray for me in every situation. For all my friends who I see pray for one another. For the prayers that I can say for friends, and feel that even when I can do nothing else, I can do that in their favor. For prayers that I can say for strangers that I've never even met, and know that God is still listening with the same intensity as He does when I'm praying for those who are dearest to my heart. For the prayers that get answered. For the blessings that come from prayers.

Kevin, my fiance, and I were having a conversation via text message today. The topic at the moment was my health situation, because I've been getting more and more frustrated lately. Kevin said that I would be well in God's time. I don't know why God has this planned for me, but I certainly know what I can do about it. ;)

"Prayer is not a woman's idle amusement. Properly understood and applied, it is the most potent instrument of action." -Mahatma Gandhi

Life: more tests and trials

Clearly I've been absent for awhile. So much has happened in the last few months. It feels surreal when I think about it all. In a nutshell, I got engaged, I bought a house, I was homeless for two weeks, I moved into the new house, I adopted two new puppies, I transferred jobs, I continued with school, and I got desperately ill, though not in that particular order.

At times I felt like I was being tested beyond my limits, but clearly my limits are more far-reaching that I had imagined, because here I am, still standing, still breathing, still living. I'm not sure what the purpose was for this journey, but I certainly was reminded that my faith and my family will get me through any and all trials.

The worst of these was the turn in my health. Almost overnight, I went from an active working, hiking, playdate-going, girls'-night-outter, road trip-taking, photographing, crafting, studying, reading mommy to barely being able to stand on my own two feet without tipping over.

At first I mistook my own symptoms for migraines and asthma attacks. I would have these weird episodes where I suddenly wouldn't feel well, and often my throat would get very tight, I'd get short of breath, and my head would hurt very badly. As time went on, the episodes got more frequent and more severe, and I became nauseous and dizzy. Then my hands and feet started to swell and I noticed my heart would race, but I would be extremely, ridiculously fatigued.

My first trip to the emergency room led to a diagnosis of migraines. My second, to asthma. My third, I was hospitalized, because they realized there was an issue going on with my heart. I was admitted to the heart floor of the local hospital. I was released on my fourth day, without a diagnosis or treatment, and had to be readmitted the next day. I was there for three more days, and again released without a diagnosis, but this time with a plan to try to find one.

I was ordered a holter monitor by my cardiologist and was supposed to wear it for 30 days. Two weeks in, my doctor did a "tilt test" and was able to positively diagnose me with vasodepressive syncope and sinus tachycardia. Whew. I was assured that this condition, while terribly uncomfortable and inconvenient, is not life threatening. I will have it for the rest of my life, and I have yet to find a successful treatment, but having a diagnosis is half the battle, and I am very grateful for that.

Now that I look at the clock and see that it is officially Thanksgiving Day, let me also tell you how terribly thankful I am that I have been blessed with my wonderful, loving family. My fiance, Kevin, has remained faithfully by my side through all of this. Our four boys continue to be the light of my life. My mom, my brothers, my grandparents, my best friends, my etsy family, my church family- all continue to be there for me, to love me, to support me, and to guide me. I can only hope that I fulfill as purposeful a role in their lives, as they do in mine.

Ink Tattoo

On a recent trip to Denver, Colorado my friends Stacey and Eric of Ink Tattoo invited my boyfriend and I to stop in and spend the afternoon with them. I accepted with great anticipation and could not wait to meet my Etsy friend in person for the first time.

Stacey and Eric set us up with two of their very talented artists to give us tattoos. I got a cross I've been wanting for several years, and Kevin got his arm tattoo touched up, and added to his back piece. We were both thrilled with the results!




After our tats were done, Stacey and Eric invited us to their house, where we ate and chatted, sharing stories and laughter and had a most fabulous time. They even showed us around their press, where they make shirts for InkWear. We got to see some of their shoes in progress, but those are not from a press. Each pair is unique and completely hand drawn, and they are absolutely amazing. I have a pair with orange lillies and every time I wear them, people must know where I got them.

Celebrating Life

If you read my last post, you know where this is coming from. Being faced with a tragic loss forces you to choose how to look at life; become sad and passive, or appreciate everyday and take it as a gift. Not that everybody who knew Sara isn't still grieving- that process will continue on for quite some time. But it has also caused me to take the time to enjoy life and my loved ones.

Since losing Sara I have prayed every day for her and her family, that she knows how much she is still loved and missed, and that all those affected find peace and hope. At the same time, I have tried to find magic in the little moments again- something that is easily lost in the everyday hustle and bustle and the demands and stresses of day to day life.

I have taken my children camping and fishing, where we explored the wonders of the outdoors, including all the pinecones and bugs that any boy could ever want, and practiced casting fishing poles and reeling them in, but mostly reeling them in because let's face it, playing with a string that winds quickly around a hunk of metal by turning a handle is very amusing when you are three or five years old.

We went outside on an unseasonably cool summer night and decorated the sidewalk, collecting the attention of the neighbors driving by and slowing down to admire their artwork.

We turned dinner into a project, allowing the boys to heap on piles of cheese and olives and pepperoni onto dough and make their very own mini pizzas that they ate with pride and vigor.

We spent time playing in the water at a friend's house, splashing and laughing and enjoying the time outdoors (and perhaps testing the weight limits of inflatable water slides).

We celebrated birthdays, because life does go on and it's vital to recognize that each milestone deserves to be recognized, not only because it is special to each individual, but because each one is an opportunity to be with family and friends, and because every opportunity to spend time and make new memories and share your love should be seized.

To you, Beloved Sara

My last blog post was for my boys' birthdays. Just a few days after celebrating the births of my children, we unexpectedly lost another very important member of our family. My brother's long time girlfriend passed away May 19, of an accidental gunshot wound. Sara was beautiful, vibrant, friendly and funny. I was always amused at how she interacted with my brother, putting up with his antics and throwing her own right back at him.


Sara deserves some enormous angel wings just for how happy she made my brother. He loved her to pieces and I know he always will. We all will. She had an amazing heart that made its stamp onto your own heart when you met her. Sara, until we meet again. I miss you and love you always.

Happy Birthday to My (not-so) Babies

Birthday cakes, candles, wishes:

This month I wish both of my boys a very happy birthday. Here they are making their birthday wishes as they blow the candles out simultaneously on their cakes (of course Mommy made her own wishes for them both). Braeden had a skateboard cake; all too fitting since he has waited two years to be allowed to have a skateboard. Tanner had a Thomas cake since he still loves all things "choo-choo" but especially Thomas.

Tanner celebrated his birthday first, turning three on May 4th.

Here's my Braeden, who turns five today, proudly showing off his skateboard.

There go my babes. Among my wishes for them: to always find friendship in brotherhood, to learn to live side by side, and to lean on each other when they need to while respecting one another as individuals. May this wish continue to hold true.