June 7

This is how I found Isaac when I got up this morning:

Lounging on the living room couch, beloved dog trio by his side, watching Brady play a video game on the TV. (And possibly trying to hide a bowl of chips he'd smuggled into the room.)

Yep, my kiddos are living their best lives on this second day of summer vacation. And for that, I am thankful, because rested kids are more patient and tolerant kids.

June 6

This evening Abby and I took the short drive to Shadow Cliffs for the Senior photo session I promised her last year.

John, a friend of ours from church, is an amazing photographer and offered to do the shoot. His lovely wife and daughter served as his crew as we embarked on a two-hour stroll through the park that concluded just as the sun dipped behind the hills. There were laughs and outfit changes (including into a dress that Abby made specially for the day!) and water involved. And a real-live cheeseburger, too.

It is such a blessing to have talented friends who are willing to share their gifts, so tonight I'm grateful for the Houston family.

June 5

Lots of kids like macaroni and cheese. According to most parents I know, most kids go for the Kraft variety from the box, but not mine; mine prefer homemade. And once they get it into their little heads that they want some, the requests become relentless. In fact, Brady told me a few days ago that he wanted a vat of it. So that's what I made tonight: a vat of mac and cheese.

In reality, the "vat" consisted of two boxes of pasta, four cups of milk, half a cup of butter, eight tablespoons of flour, and six cups of cheddar cheese. (Which, for the record, is a LOT of mac and cheese.)

And they gobbled it up like they hadn't eaten in days (which is totally not the case because they have, in fact, consumed two full loaves of bread in the last 24 hours. But that's neither here nor there).

Anyway, on to my point. Kids (at least my kids) can be picky eaters, so it's always a blessing when they enthusiastically consume what I serve them. So for that, I am grateful.

June 4

What. A. Week.

I began the week with a high school senior, an eighth grader, and a fifth grader, and I'm finishing it with a college freshman, a high school freshman, and a newly minted middle schooler. When classes begin again in two months, Abby will be in Chicagoland, Isaac will start at Abby's now-alma mater, and Brady will begin at a school we've never attended. It's overwhelming. It's tiring.

But it's also wonderful. I've spent much of today being exhausted (because exhaustion is a natural byproduct of seeing your beautiful daughter graduate from high school and then picking her up from the post-party at 3AM, as I've come to realize). But I've also taken a few moments to look back at these three amazing people's lives to date, and I am so grateful for all I've seen.

So in honor of these creative, joyful, introspective, intelligent, inquisitive, thoughtful people I call three of my four children, I'm sharing first and last day door photos: the top is Abby's first day of preschool and her high school graduation day; the middle is Isaac's first day of preschool and his last day of middle school; and the bottom is Brady's first day of preschool and his last day of elementary school.

I am thankful for these years that have passed and thankful to be their mom. And I can't wait to see what else God has in store for them as they begin their next educational adventures.

June 3

Abby graduated from high school tonight. 

It's such a surreal feeling that I have to write it again to convince myself that it's real: Abby --my first-born, my only girl, the big sister, the one who long ago dubbed herself my Broke Little Best Friend Who Thinks I'm Rich-- is finished with high school. 

She donned a cute white dress and we dined on takeout from Chipotle on the new outdoor furniture that was delivered yesterday. (Thank you, Costco.) Then she perched her purple cap (which she decorated with tiny fabric flowers) atop her head and slipped into her Amador purple gown and an array of neck accoutrements. (If you're wondering, said-cords were for yearbook, biliteracy certification, and Young Life. The fourth item was a lei that a neighbor of ours very kindly and unexpectedly bought for her to wear. Thank you, Ashlee!) 

She filed into the stadium with her peers and we cheered when we saw her pass by. They called her name and her English teacher --Mr. Paktaghan, who taught her both sophomore and senior years-- handed her a diploma (holder. The real deal comes next week sometime) and she crossed the stage and shook hands with the trustees and other district bigwigs. She turned her tassel. We took photos on the track with Adam's parents, who joined us for the occasion. And then she changed and went off to Grad Night, where I hope she's having fun as I type and try to untangle the web of hopelessly knotted thoughts in my mind.

You all know me well enough at this point to know that I'm rarely at a loss for words; I think this blog is a testament to that truth. But in these waning moments of today, I'm close to it, not because I don't have anything to say, but because I have so much to say that I can't seem to formulate a cogent reflection. But because I am me, I'll see what I can do.

I am so, so grateful to God for gifting us with Abby 17 years and 7 months ago. She's smart and sensitive and witty and thoughtful and beautiful and she has an amazingly good heart. She works hard and always strives to do what's right, even if it's not what's popular or what she wants to do. And she's a survivor. I watched her lose her best friend when she was just seven years old. Managing those feelings was virtually impossible for me as an adult, but even as a child, she handled it with a level of grace and maturity that I still don't fully understand. In some ways, she's my hero. And I'm grateful for her example. (And yes, Lambie was there in the stadium taking in the ceremony.)

So yes: Abby is a high school graduate, and I couldn't possibly be prouder of her. Congratulations, bestie. Great things are in store for you because there's a phenomenal plan for your life. And I can't wait to see where the path takes you.

June 2

This "little" guy of ours was officially promoted to high school tonight.

Isaac and his fellow eighth graders assembled on the football field at Abby's school and, following a lickety-split 34-minute ceremony, were officially proclaimed high schoolers. Just like that.

Of course in reality, it took much more than a simple half-hour ceremony to get to this stage. And honestly, as I sat there in my little white chair in the stadium this evening, I couldn't figure out how we got here so quickly. I mean, wasn't he my chunky-monkey 20-pound six-month old just a few years ago? Wasn't he just in speech class with Ms. Denise over at the preschool last year? And all of that notwithstanding, didn't he just finish elementary school a few months back?

I think it's probably always like that for moms: our babies are always our babies, no matter how many hits they get in the game or how many times they lug the garbage cans from the curb to the backyard without being asked. And we're always proud of them and praying for them to grow and change into the best people they can be. At least, that's what I do. And somehow, I doubt that I'm alone in that quest.

So tonight, I'm grateful for this kiddo and for the ways he's made my life better over the course of the past almost-14 years with his humor and sweetness and determination and kindness and patience and that endless stream of bedtime I-love-yous that are oh-so-predictable and oh-so-beautiful all at once. Congrats, Bup! Keep being you at Amador.

June 1

It's a big week for my girl, and tonight she headed off to her last dance class.

For 14 academic years now, she's attended Jazz N Taps for weekly lessons. Although she's not a team girl, she's stuck with the rec program, which allowed her to dabble in tap, ballet, modern, and (her probable favorite of late) musical theater. 

As she was preparing the leave this evening, she asked if I was going to take her picture by the front door like I do on first and last days, and I said sure. And to make it a little more special, I ran to the garage and --miraculously-- located and retrieved her first-ever recital costume for the occasion. (And believe me, God's hand was in it because finding things in the garage is no easy feat.) So she smiled and held up that Good Ship Lollipop outfit and my mind's ear could hear her up on stage, belting out the lyrics in her crackly little voice like the little diva she was back then. The memory inspired a moment of intermingled amusement and sadness.

The emotion of the week hasn't really hit me yet, but this last class of hers is meaningful to both of us, I think. I was a dancer when I was growing up; tap was my Main Thing, and I even taught my own classes and choreographed my girls' routines during my senior year of high school. Although I knew I wasn't dance-as-a-career material, I still enjoyed it and I loved my time at that little studio in Damascus.

And I always knew that if I had a little girl someday, I wanted her to take dance just like her mama. And so she did. We even danced together on that stage as part of the Mother/Daughter class for five years, which --my inability to body wave aside-- I'll never forget.

So yes, tonight I am grateful to God for the miracle of those years and for all of the glittery, sequined memories -- hers, mine, and ours.