Together...for Lizzy

Dear Lizzy,

I wish I could say that I have no idea how it feels to be a 14 year-old girl whose parents are divorced, with at least one of them remarried. I wish I could say that I have no idea how it feels to have a step mother or step siblings. I wish I could say that I have no idea how it feels to see your friends finding themselves in a world that doesn't exactly fit with the finding of myself, and that we never went separate ways. I wish I could say that I have no idea how it feels to want a part on stage so badly that I could taste it, only to feel rejection when I didn't get it. But I can't say any of those things...because...life. What I do know is that all of those things helped shape me into the woman I am today...a woman of faith who fell in love with a man who had 2 wonderful children...my bonus kids...whose lives I get to be a part of. We get to do this together. And if we're really smart about it we will. We are more alike than you know. We can lean on each other. We can learn from each other. We can love each other...together. 

I can describe in three words how I felt the first moment that we met: I. Was. Terrified. I had no idea what you would think of me, and I hoped that you would like me...that we would connect. We went to the zoo in Chicago, and your smile lit up the city. Your hair was like spun gold. Your eyes were so wide. You were like a little sponge, soaking up everything around you...full of things to say, you never lacked in drama when it came to telling stories or corralling the boys. All I could see was this delightful little girl who skipped through the zoo...and you accepted me right away. It didn't take long before I wasn't scared anymore. I knew we were going to get along just fine. The boys ran ahead with your daddy, and you stayed back with me. A butterfly caught our eye, and in an instant I prayed for something. I prayed really intently for God to help me make friends with that butterfly. That was the first time I taught you anything. We were patient. I think that each of us was holding our breath as I lifted my forefinger beneath the butterfly's legs. It tickled as it walked gently onto my finger. Your eyes were so wide! We both smiled. I asked if you wanted to hold it, and you nodded enthusiastically. I coached you through it. You gently held your finger out and we transferred to the butterfly to you. And there it stayed...long enough for me to take my phone out and snap a quick picture. It is still one of my favorite pictures on the family wall...not because it was so sweet or indeed a little perfect, but because it is my first real memory of you...of us. No matter what happens, we will always have the day that we made friends with a butterfly...and we did it together. 

We've actually done a lot of things together...we have danced to "Shake It Off" more times than I can count, though it's been a long time since we danced together without caring about who was watching. We have made shells stuffed with broccoli and chicken, smothered in Alfredo sauce...a modified version of one of your favorites. We have painted, picked out decorations for your bedroom, and shopped until we dropped at the American Girl store. We were together the first time you skied, the first time you realized you loved cheese curds, and the first time you rode on an inner tube. 

We were together when your daddy proposed to me...you took the picture...and you were so happy!  You ran over to the boys and said to Jimmy, "You're going to be my brother!" He laughed and said, "I already am your brother!" You shook the confusion right out of your head and ran over to Logan and Parker Dean. You were so very happy. We were all so very happy. 

We were even together on our honeymoon. People thought we were crazy because we were taking four children on our honeymoon...but we kept telling people, "We got married so that we could all be together...so we're going to be together as much as we can!" The six of us sat together at a table and worked on a puzzle throughout the week, and we were so bummed when the week ended and there was a missing piece! We had a challenge on that trip for no one to eat the same meal twice, and boy, was that a challenge! But you did it...everyone did. Do you remember the video that you and Logan made? It was a news show about the Dickens and Frey Family Show...I can still hear you two singing it in my head. You told a story about me turning on the shower with clothes on, and jumping and kicking because it sprayed all over the place. "and then she was like this! And then this!"

The distance makes it very difficult to do things together. While your daddy and I have made every effort to have game nights over Facetime and dedicated calls at specific times, it gets more difficult the more busy everyone's schedules get. But we try...and we try hard. Technology makes that so much easier...it really can bring us together. But when we are all together in the same city, it becomes so much more important than being together...it's about connecting. We live in this world where we are all so connected to technology all the time...your daddy uses his computer and his phone to connect to work. I use mine to connect to work and the rest of the world. Logan, Parker Dean and Jimmy use theirs to connect to their friends and to each other). And you use yours to connect to whatever it is you connect to...friends, Pinterest, school...So when we are all together, connecting to each other becomes so incredibly important. That's why, at the dinner table, we ask you a million questions about your day. It's why we don't pull our phones out. It's why we take that opportunity to connect together. 

I love that you are full of drama...the good kind of drama...singing, dancing, acting. I was always on stage as a child and teenager, and I feel like I get you. I don't know how you feel about it, but when I was on stage, I always felt like I got to be someone other than myself. I could be sassy or evil or overly silly or super serious...and I was none of those things (but all of those things) in real life. I never had to share that part of it with anyone. But I had a Mama (DotDot, of course) who shared in the experience - she was always with me. She was at every show, sometimes backstage...sometimes watching with the audience. She really believed that no show was the same, and if she missed one it would be the best one. I genuinely want to be there for every performance that you are in. I have some major FOMO when it comes to missing you on stage. That is one of the things I hate most about this distance...not being together for those moments. 

And now we are here...at the place where I have to say this: I am not your Mama. You have a good, strong, beautiful mama. You are blessed in that way. You are also blessed that I am never going to try to take her place. I understand my role...I hope and pray that you do, too. I will listen to you. I will support you. I will challenge you. I will correct you. I will wake you up by drawing butterflies on your sweet face. I will make you green beans and sprinkle pancakes until you ask me not to (not at the same time, though...that's gross). And I will love you. I will always be here when you need me. While I may not be your mama, you are the daughter I always wanted but never knew I would have.

The way I see it, you were a cute little caterpillar when we first met...perfectly happy just beebopping along to Shake It Off. But something changed at some point...you started to transition. You are growing. You are changing. You are transforming into something so much more than a cute little caterpillar...you are turning into a fascinating and beautiful little butterfly. And part of my role is respecting that. Part of my role is simply admiring the young lady you are becoming. And part of my role is to help guide you so that, when it is time, you can spread your wings and fly. When it boils down to it, I am still terrified, praying every day that I can make friends with a butterfly. I hope you will let me. 

I love you, Lizzy. Even when you don't love me, I love you. Even when you don't love yourself, I love you. Because...you.

Happiest of birthdays to you, starlight.

Bean

Parker Dean Machine

Dear Parker Dean,

Last week you asked me to play the song "7 Years" by Lukas Graham. I didn't even know that you knew that song. We listened to it a thousand times when it first came out, but mostly because it was Jimmy's favorite song to sing in the car. But you knew every word...you even knew, for the most part, what ages the song mentions. When the song ended, I reminded you that soon you would be able to sing the lyrics "once I was 7 years old." You giggled. I think there was some joy in that. Today I asked you if you thought about that. You giggled again, but only because now you won't be able to get it out of your head all day. You're welcome. 

Once you were one year old...I wrote you a letter on your birthday. At that point I didn't know much about you. I knew that you loved to snuggle. You were a BIG baby...we used to laugh about your sweet chubby cheeks and turkey legs. No one would ever guess now that you were close to 9 pounds when you were born. Do you know that DotDot was the first person to see you on your first birthday? I woke up to her singing Happy Birthday on the baby monitor. I was so jealous. Now I think that is about the sweetest thing for both of you. I'm not sure if she has been able to do that with any of the other grandbabies. 

Once you were 2 years old...around this age (though I really think you weren't quite 2), you and Logan would sit in the living room while I was upstairs taking a shower. You would eat your breakfast in front of the TV watching Dinosaur Train. Then I would come downstairs and get y'all dressed for daycare, and we would head out the door. And then there was this one time...I came downstairs. No one was in front of the TV. I walked around silently, trying to figure out where y'all were. I turned the corner and saw water...everywhere. It was on the floor of the dining room. My eyes followed the water up to the dining table, where I found you sitting in nothing but a diaper in a puddle of water. I immediately grabbed you, thinking, "Get the baby to safety." As, I placed you on the floor, I realized you had goldfish scales on your cheeks...and a string of fish guts hanging from your chin! Oh, my goodness! I looked up at the goldfish bowl on the dining table to find three dead goldfish floating in the bowl...each with perfect teeth marks in them! You literally caught the goldfish with your bare hands, chewed them up, and spit them back into the bowl. "Oh, my goodness! Oh, my goodness! Oh! My! Goodness!!" I kept repeating it, as if "Oh, my goodness" was going to make it go away! Quickly I cleaned everything up. You would never even know we had goldfish in the house. I called the doctor. We were new in town, and you didn't even have a doctor yet. 

"My baby just ate three goldfish." Then there was silence. 

The nurse said, "Okay." 

"Not of the Pepperidge Farm variety, but of the swimming in the bowl variety!"

"Oh. Oh!" She said, as she tried to wrap her head around what you had done. "I'm going to put you on hold for a second."

As it turned out, there is no major issue with what you had done. We had to watch for signs of food poisoning, which you never developed. But from that point forward at the doctor's office, you became known as the Goldfish Baby.

Once you were 3 years old...we called you Parker then...except for when I picked you up at school. Because I called you Parker Dean, your classmates called you Parker Dean. You were having a hard time adjusting to Trinity after we changed daycare so that you and Logan were in the same space. You cried one night, saying, "They don't even know my name!" 

"Yes, they do...your teachers call you Parker every morning," I said, confused. 

"That's not my name. My name is Parker Dean!" And from that moment, you were Parker Dean. 

On your third birthday, we took you to the waterpark. You could always take a 3 hour nap, and that day was no different. We had to wake you up to eat cake and ice cream. You know this story...you've seen it on video a million times. Logan is like a squirrel, jumping up and down, poking you in the face, talking about how excited he is that it's your birthday. You are barely awake and Logan is barely tolerable. He tells you that you are his best buddy ever, and you respond, "No, I'm not!" He says, "But I am your best friend, though, right?" You respond, "No!" But we all know better. I know that you love him. I know he drives you crazy because you couldn't begin to understand how he is so carefree and happy and head-in-the-clouds all the time. But that is only because you are so very different from one another. God does that. He takes the best parts of the parents and builds them into a child. And then he finds other best parts and builds them into the next child. If you look very closely, what you will find is that you and Logan are a very different mix of my best and your daddy's best parts. Love him. Love Jimmy. Love Lizzy. You are all awesome little beings.

Once you were 4 years old...you decided that you no longer wanted to share a room with Logan. And we had room to spare. It made perfect sense. There was only one problem...Logan wasn't going to like it, and we both knew it. I told you that you would have to tell Logan if you wanted to move into the other room. You were perfectly cool with that. We made a plan. You two sat on Logan's bed. 

"Logan," you said, "I want my own room. I'm going to move."

He shrugged his shoulders like it didn't both him. "Which room do you want?"

"The one with the desk."

Logan thought about this for a minute, and then he responded, "Well that room is really dark."

"I know. Mommy will get me a light."

Logan responded, "It's kind of cold in there sometimes, though."

"I know. Mommy will get me a blanket."

Logan responded, "Sometimes when we play in there you get scared, though."

"I know. But I'm not scared anymore."

Logan started crying and said, "But then I will be scared!"

You see, Logan wasn't worried about you in the least. Logan was worried about Logan. You weren't worried about either of you. You were ready for the next thing. You were prepared. You held your ground. And, eventually, you moved into the other room. You were never scared or cold. You knew what you wanted and you went after it. I like that about you...you know when you are ready for the next thing. You are prepared.

Once you were 5 years old...you were in Mrs. Raben's Kindergarten class. You told me about a couple of kids in your class who told the other kids that they loved each other...a boy and a girl. You said it was "weird." I asked if there was anyone in your class that you liked. 

You quickly answered, "I only love two girls." 

"Whoa! Two girls? I'm not ready for that!" I thought.

"I only love my mommy and Mrs. Raben!" 

I figured I could work with that. I did explain to you that one day you would love someone more than you love me and Mrs. Raben, but you didn't believe that was possible.

Once you were 6 years old...it was in this year that you really began to shine. You lost your first tooth...but you didn't just lose it. You pulled it out yourself. In fact, I have never pulled a single Parker Dean tooth. You have pulled all of them! It was a show of independence that I didn't expect from you. You discovered a love of the beach, Alabama football, playing baseball, playing basketball, the Country Club, Lake Martin, sushi, pizza, a mile high Mississippi mud pie, and the Cheese Bomb burger! When you prayed at night you almost always asked God to "make us helpful to our parents" and to "let us be thankful even when it isn't Thanksgiving." You became kind and generous and grateful. When your teachers talked about you, they talked about how good you are. And they were right...you are so good! You are the child who helps me pull weeds in the garden and decorate the Christmas tree and cook...so helpful. You did not like being in trouble...you came down to my office at the church once and stood in my doorway with a piece of paper in your hands. The moment I looked at you, you burst into tears and curled up into my lap. I didn't know if you didn't want to be in trouble, or if you didn't want me to be disappointed...or both. Whatever the reason, it kept you out of trouble moving forward...for the most part.

Once you were 7 years old...this last year has been just awesome. We discovered that you are a math whiz, which is not surprising. Math is practical. It makes sense. It is right or it is wrong. You have always been drawn to Legos in a way that an engineer would be drawn to Legos. You have what is called spatial reasoning...you can see things in your head before they are built...and then you can build them. You can see how things fit together and work together. That is a great gift that you have been given. I have no doubt that you will use it to do great things. You know what it is like to struggle. Reading has not been easy for you, but we have been working on it. One day it will click, and you will be unstoppable. I want so hard for things to be easy for you. But the fact of the matter is that life is sometimes hard. And we have to work at it. Some people learn this sooner than others, and you are one of those people. That will be a good thing one day. What I do know about you is that you never give up. You will work on something until you get it. 

And now you are 8 years old...it's hard to believe, but it is true. You are good. You are smart. You are funny. You are kind. You have a love for Jesus. You are helpful. You are thankful...even when it isn't Thanksgiving. You have always been the very best snuggle buddy.

Soon you'll be 60 years old...Here are things you should always know:

• 2 rules: No ER, No Jail.
• You stay out of trouble by staying away from people who get you into trouble.
• If you get people into trouble, they will stay away from you.
• Encourage others. If you can see how pieces fit together to make a whole, you can also do that with people...use people's strengths to build something great. 
• Say you are sorry. Forgive others. 
• Love your siblings. You will need them one day.
• Keep faith. Your faith will help you through everything.
• Never stop hugging your Mom.
• Know when to make funny faces in pictures (and know when not to).
• It's okay to be disappointed in yourself. It's not okay to let your weaknesses keep you from growing. Figure out what they are and never stop working on them.
• Be thankful for what you have and do not focus on what you don't have. Hebrews 13:5
• Keep laughing. Through it all, keep laughing.
• Go make yourself some friends or you'll be lonely. It's a big, big world...see yourself as bigger, push each other to the limits and learn quicker. Remember life and then your life becomes a better one. Come and visit once or twice a month. (CR: 7 Years)

Happiest of birthdays, my one and only Moonbeam. My heart is always with you. 

Mom