She Can't Read Cursive

When my girl was 3.5 years old, we moved her to a big girl bed. She finally had out grown her toddler bed and I purchased an adorable white, twin sized headboard second hand, but it needed a frame. It was just after the first of the year; almost all our ‘extra’ money spent and our finances squeezed. I had quit my job 4 months earlier. I was not emotionally ready to return to work following my cancer treatment. I was physically feeling great, but I was experiencing the emotional fall out of it all. It was a very, very difficult choice to leave my career. I had a wonderful job. And I knew it. It’s easy to walk away from bad situations, but challenging to walk away from something good. And it was good. Just not good for me in that moment. I saw a bed frame on an online marketplace for cheap. $15 cheap! I contacted the seller and arranged pick up. As I was driving there I began lamenting my fears that God was going to start pulling my blessings again. I had made it through...

Gah.  I don't know why I thought it.  Or said it.  Gianna and I were cuddling in bed one morning and she said "Mama, I wish I could wear Bitty around like you used to wear me." Like a dodo, I replied "Well, I could probably make a carrier today for you." Her eyes grew three fold.  I knew this would make her so happy. I convinced myself it would be simple and I'd sew it in a jiffy. Nevermind I didn't have a pattern and hadn't used my sewing machine in about 2 years. I found some coordinating material and tried to make my own pattern.  I quickly came to my senses and hit The Google. With a free pattern downloaded and printed out, I was on my way to being the most amazing, best mom anyone could ask for.  Two hours went by and I was still cutting the fabric out and trying to follow this tutorial.  Gianna was getting impatient; looking for something to occupy herself while I was getting progressively more irritated. I suggested she work on her numbers...

Three Christmases ago, I had asked my dad if I could have the nativity my mom made. It’s ceramic and handpainted with such detail. There is shading in the creases of the clothing and contouring on the faces. She had painted patterns on the cloaks, thoughtfully complimenting but not matching. My mom always said she was “crafty”; she was really an artist. I adored this nativity that sat atop the cabinet each Christmas. I loved getting it out of the Christmas Trunk and setting it up ‘just so’ with my mom. I brought it to my house so I could pass the love and tradition to Gianna. We carefully unpacked it and set it all up. I told her over and over and over that we don’t play with this nativity because it is fragile and for eyes only. She had a soft nativity I had made her and I made it very clear THAT was the play nativity, not THIS one. Well, you can probably guess where this story is going. She just couldn’t help herself. She wanted to ‘take care of the animals’ and in m...