Five Months

Dear Ella,
You are FIVE months old!! I can't believe it... it seems like only a heartbeat ago you were my secret wish, the baby I didn't think I'd ever actually have and now you are here and FIVE months old.  I know all mothers say it but I truly believe you are the sweetest little baby to ever take a breath.  You have filled up my heart and this family in ways I will never be able to put into words.  The closest I can come is when I insist that I knew something was missing and now there simply is not.  You are here. We are complete... and we love you so very, very much.

You are about 14 lbs and we like to joke that you have no idea that you are a little baby.  You "didn't get the memo".  You seem to truly believe you are just like your big brothers and sisters.  It would have been nice if my last baby had stayed a baby just a little longer then most... but instead you have not allowed anyone to cradle you in their arms while you were awake since you've been 5 weeks old.  You like to be part of the action and you love, love, love all the action that your siblings create.  You like to sit in your bumbo chair right in the middle of their play (the more chaos the better).  You sit surrounded by Lego's and cars while the "big kids" play elaborate games around you but you seem to believe that you are an integral part of the game.  If they forget to pay attention to you for a few minutes you let out a little yell, not a cry - a very deliberate little yell and they all quickly fall in line.  "Yes, Ella!"  "Look, Ella!" and you smile your big gummy smile and melt everyone's hearts.

I love the way they love you.  Those brothers and that sister of yours love you in a way I never could have even imagined.  I mean, I knew they would love you.  They are all very affectionate, kind children but you have opened up their hearts in a whole new way.  While Kirsten is at an age where she can be short tempered with the rest of us, she can sit and rock you for ages with the patience of a saint.  The boys like to tell the rest of us about how they love you more then they love the rest of us.  After a few dozen "I love you Mommy but not as much as I love Ella"s, I taught them to say "Ella is a baby so she needs a little extra love."  They do not ever express affection to anyone else without making it clear that they love you more.  It is so, so sweet.  They are attentive and gentle with you and you are their GREATEST audience.  You laugh, and laugh, and laugh at anything and everything those silly boys do and it just melts me.

The only time you cry is when we are in the car.  You HATE the car.  But when we are not in a motor vehicle you are just the easiest, happiest baby I've ever met.  You like attention (and you're not afraid to let us know if you're not getting enough) but you are completely satisfied as soon as one of us smiles at you.

You are a great eater and a great sleeper and you always have been.  (I told you, you really are perfect.)  You like to sleep all swaddled up "baby burrito" style.  We wrap you up tight in special "swaddlers" every night and the only time you wake up is if an arm happens to get free.  (Then you wake up crying and confused, staring at your flailing limbs, annoyed that your sleep was interrupted.)  I'm not sure how we're ever going to get you to sleep without being bundled but I'm not worried about it... in fact I love this one last "tiny baby" detail and I'll probably be annoying you by trying to swaddle you up the night before you start kindergarten. :)

You like your stroller, the water, and sitting in your excersaucer.  You are quickly gaining control over your hands and arms and starting to grab everything around you.  You have rolled over a few times, but you generally stay completely still while you sleep.  You still sleep right next to me, crammed into your bassinet.  Even I think it's starting to get ridiculous that I still stuff you into that tiny bed.  I say I keep you there because I don't want you to wake Kirsten up when you wake up very, very early (5ish every morning) but really it's just because I like being able to reach you from my bed.  I like listening to your quiet breath and peeking at your sweet face when I roll over.  I am getting ready to "make the move" and your sister is SO excited for you to start sleeping in the "girls' room" but I am also cherishing these last nights of sleeping with my baby at my side. 

Kirsten and I LOVE to dress you.  I think it may be our favorite part of the day.  We pass over comfortable onsies and choose tutus on an almost daily basis.  I figure your tutu years are limited so I'm going to take full advantage while they are here. :) 

You are finally starting to get some hair.  You have very fine hair covering most of your head now, and we still have no idea what color it is going to be.  It is too light to be brunette, but too dark to be blonde.  It is not RED like your brothers' but we are thinking there may be a strawberry tint... it's pretty much anyone's guess at this point.

You don't have any teeth yet.  I don't think I'll be able to say that much longer... you are teething A LOT and I am thinking your first tooth may break any day.  I cried the day I found Danny's first tooth.  I loved his gummy grin so much it just broke my heart... this is not going to be pretty.

We all call you "Ella Marcella" and ask you "who's a good baby? who's a good baby? You are! Yes you are!" ... (both ala Matt) and  I sing my own version of "you are my sunshine" to you every night.  You give us all BIG, sloppy, open-mouthed kisses all the time BUT you won't give them to anyone else (much to Grandma's dismay).  I just love it (not because I don't want you to kiss Grandma).  I feel like you know exactly who you belong to.  You get it.  You are ours and we are yours.  You love us and you know that we love you.  You have it all figured out.  It does my heart good.

I adore you sweet girl.  I wish more then anything that I could freeze this moment in time.  Our little family is so happy and having a baby does my heart so good.  However, I've learned from your siblings that as you grow so does the love... so I'll just cherish these baby moments as much as I possibly can while they are here.  You are so very, very loved.  Thank you for making us complete.

Love,
Mommy

Mother's Day

Hello Poor Forgotten Blog.  I've missed you and I'm back.  No promises, no commitment... but back for now and happy to be here.  It's a bit overwhelming to pick up and start again... where to begin?  I'm going to just begin with today.  Makes sense right? 

It's Mother's Day.  It's my favorite day.  Ever.  On Mother's Day I feel like a five year old on Christmas morning: crazy excited, happy about everything, and astonished at my luck.  It's the day I look at the people that live in my house and feel absolutely amazed that they are mine.  I remember that when I was six all I ever wanted was to be "a mom".  I used to lie in bed an daydream about what it would be like.  (The daydream was a bit unrealistic... I remember fantasizing about painting the outside of my house with my future husband in overalls while our children played in the yard.  Yea, not all dreams need to be realized.)  BUT the mom thing... I LOVE the mom thing more then I could ever put into words.  So much more.

So, on this Mother's Day I want throw out some things that I need to remember forever:

• My kids blame everything on leprechauns.  Everything.  If something is messy... leprechauns.  Missing shoes?  Leprechauns.  Spilled Milk?  It was the green guys. 
• Danny announced what was in every gift bag before I even sat down at the table this morning.  (The excitement isn't all mine on Mother's Day... which makes it so much better).
• I have a baby.  A new baby.  Stupid thing to put on a list right?  But I want to remember how it feels right this second to look at my beautiful baby... swaddled up like a little burrito in the swing next to me.  All day I've been staring at her thinking about how last Mother's Day she was, literally, just a wish.  My secret (kind of desperate) wish.  And now she's here.  MY baby.  I am so blessed.
• Matt likes to tell everyone that he loves us "this much"  (fingers spread apart) but he loves Ella "THIS much!" (arms spread apart).  "She's new so she needs more love."
• The above made Danny cry big, fat, pathetic tears. 
• Kirsten earned a dollar for "babysitting" tonight and entertaining the boys.  She did it by having them sit criss cross on the bed and watch her style Barbie's hair. 
• My daughter is about to go to Middle School, my sons are about to go to kindergarten, and my baby is still brand new.  There isn't a way to describe what this feels like.  Hopefully putting it on the list will help me remember the feeling.
• I am the luckiest, most blessed person I know.  I am so grateful that if I REALLY think about how happy I am I start crying the "ugly cry".  It feels so good.

Love.

It breaks my heart.
Love. (period)
That's it. Just love.
It's the subject, the verb, the adjective, the adverb... it's everything.

Love.
It's motherhood
Children
Family
Belly Laughs
Giggles
Tears
Dimples
Hugs that are too tight
Kisses with extra-puckered lips
Secrets
Lessons (hard, hard lessons)
Pizza on random Tuesday nights
LOTS of math (4th grade math is hard.)
Singing (loud and off-key)
Reading I'll Love You Forever and not being able to get through it without tears (and not "sweet tears", big loud hiccupy, sobbing tears)
Giving an Emmy worthy performance during the 516th reading of Green Eggs and Ham
Songs after bath time
Snuggles at 5 am
Pinkie promises (over silly nothing, and very important everything)
Uncomfortable conversations
Being there. (Wherever there happens to be.)


It's now
It's then
It's someday
It's always
It's forever (the real, tangible forever)

It means there will never be enough words... so why try?
Love.
It says it all

Love.

Brotherly Love

"I love you man!"



"Yea, you're not so bad yourself."

Rub-A-Dub-Dub 3 Cousins in a Tub!

Dear Other Mother,

It's hard to make me really angry. I don't "do" angry very well. I'm a passive person. I hate confrontation. I avoid it at all costs. But I will never, ever avoid it with your or your child. Consider yourself warned.

It was just a scratch. Just a scratch that reached from her delicate little elbow, down the entire length of her forearm and half-way across her perfect second finger. "Just a scratch" that swelled, angry and red. "Just a scratch" that cut across her perfectly smooth skin with little beads of blood fighting their way through. "Just a scratch" that a ten year old boy put on my daughter. Not by accident. Not in a sports situation or during playground craziness.

A scratch that was meant to get her attention. He has a "crush" on her. She was talking to the girls outside of church... giving him very minimal attention. So he "lightly hit her arm" and then SCRATCHED her to get her attention.

Another girl (his SISTER) went to get an adult. The adult got his mother. She told him to apologize. No one said a word to me. Until halfway home from Sunday school when my little girl told me a boy hurt her. I am stunned by this. STUNNED. That this woman, this MOTHER, felt no need to talk to me... to apologize... to assure me it would never happen again... nothing.

Maybe I'm overreacting... but I don't' think I am.
In fact, I'm willing to put myself out on a Mom ledge and say I'm not.
Because it's not okay. It's NOT okay for a boy to put his hands on my daughter. It's NOT okay for her to be hurt and then for it to be pacified because he "likes her".
ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? That is one of the most disgusting excuses I've ever heard. So excuse me, mother who thinks it's okay for your TEN YEAR OLD SON to hurt girls, don't feed that line to my daughter.

Don't you DARE imply to my daughter that if a boy likes her he might hurt her... that it's okay if he didn't mean to hurt her. Maybe you're only looking at the here-and-now. Maybe you aren't concerned about the future... five years from now, or ten, or fifteen. I AM.

I am doing my best to raise a strong, confident girl who will know that it is NEVER, EVER okay for anyone to put their hands on her.
I don't ever want her to make an excuse for someone putting her through pain.
I want her to know her worth.
I have devoted years and will devote many, many more years of my life to teaching her that people who "like her" or love her will treat her like she is precious and will protect and care for her.

I'm not "one of those moms" who overreacts at every little thing. I'm really not. I picked up my three year old from preschool on Friday to find a swollen eye and bloody spot on his cheek. THIS was a playground "accident"... a learning experience. Another three year old who hasn't mastered impulse control hit him (four times!!) with a bucket. I kissed him. I put a band aid on his face. I lathered him with Neosporin and Mederma . I did not overreact. I told the teacher "they are only three"... "these things happen" (and I took comfort and satisfaction in her anger and assurance that they would not let it happen again.) I did not overreact.

(...And for the record both of my three year old boys can explain to you that "girls are delicate" and that "boys have to be careful with girls".)

However, if your obnoxious son, or anyone else for that matter, EVER puts his hands on my daughter again I promise to overreact.
I promise to make a BIG, HUGE deal about it.

Start parenting.
Start talking to your son about boundaries, and appropriateness, and maybe even the definition of assault.
Talk to him about how to be a gentleman.
Teach him how to show a girl he likes her without hurting her.
Teach him to be kind.
Teach him to be witty.
Teach him something!!

And if you can't manage this, just teach him to keep his paws off my daughter because I won't dissipate my anger with blogging next time.

Merry Christmas!

Lots of updating to do soon! I'm hoping to "catch up" this year before next year starts :) Get ready for lots of random posts!

But today is full of wrapping, & baking... getting ready to soak up the people I love the most for a few special days. Happy Holidays!

My Uncle

Family.

I am very blessed to have a wonderful family. I have a loving husband. I have beautiful children. I have amazing parents. I have a sister, cousins, aunts, and uncles. I’m lucky to be a Ward and even though my last name might have changed the Ward blood that pulses through my veins means I GET IT. I get family. I know what it means and what it’s worth. And I believe that started with Jimmy.

Jimmy made family a verb.

It’s not a noun. A noun can be passive. It can just be there in the background. Jimmy made sure that Wards knew that family is never passive. It’s never “in the background”.

It’s what you DO. It’s being there. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

Family is laughing and arguing. It’s Baptisms and Thanksgivings. It’s long train rides to visit little brothers in an orphanage. It’s carving out a little part of the world, keeping it safe, and making it sacred.

Over 50 years ago Jimmy made a decision to be a family. There was nothing passive about it. He did it on purpose. He decided that no matter how difficult a road it might be, or how many odds were stacked against him, he was going to keep his little family of brothers together. Maybe not in a physical way, but in the way that really matters.
I believe that decision was the driving force ….

Four brothers that Jimmy decided would remain FAMILY. The four Ward brothers each had successful careers and happy marriages. These four brothers were the devoted fathers of 10 children (and I have been blessed to be one of them). Four brothers who watched the 10 children make their first communions, play baseball, graduate college, get married, and begin raising a new generation of 25 children (so far).

Three of those children are mine. Jimmy’s decision over 50 years ago has shaped my little family in so many ways. I truly believe my journey to motherhood… to Kirsten… began when Jimmy was 18 years old.

Today I’m sad. But when I think about Jimmy I’m going to smile. I’m going to remember the pure delight he took in watching my son’s temper tantrum last Christmas… the letter that my dad wrote to Jimmy while he was in Vietnam… thanking him for money and politely asking him to send more … I’m going to remember how he called Kirsten “the baby” for so many years and how filled with love and pride those two words sounded. I’m going to continue trying to be like Jimmy… continue holding the people I love close… continue thanking God for the DECISION of family he made and the gifts he gave us all through that decision.