Joie Turns Thirteen! (Warning: Long)

This morning I woke up thinking of the pictures of Joie's 8th birthday--her last with her first family.  (Truth is I think of those pictures each year on Joie's birthday.)

Joie left this morning for a week of Beehive Camp, but after she left, I went on a digital hunt for the pictures of that day.  

No luck.

But something in me still wanted to see those pictures.  Eventually, I remembered that at some point someone had scrap booked those pictures (and many others) for us, so I found the scrap booked version... (But if anyone has a digital version of these pictures, please, please, pretty please share...thank you very much.)

For today I'm sharing pictures of pictures in the scrap book.  (Just go with it.)

And looking at those pictures can't help but make me think about how five years ago today, our beautiful girl woke up celebrating her birthday with another family.  Nothing in her face in these pictures says, "I know in 12 days I'll be saying good-bye to all of you."  

But that is exactly what happened.  You never know, people.  Hug your family.  I know I hugged this beautiful girl before she walked out the door for camp this morning, and I'll be hugging her again when she gets home.  And after looking at these pictures, I wonder how we ever got out of the habit of two hugs...one for me, and one for her first mommy.  When did we stop doing that?  When do you ever not need that any more?  That thought and those pictures made me want to run up the mountain to where she was camping and hug her again--a birthday hug for both moms this time.

And now the pictures:

The breakfast in bed tradition that she remembers so well...

And of course, the presents...

And cake, including help from little sis licking the bowl...

Wow.  Aren't you glad Ruth took a lot of pictures?  (I am.)

As I look through them, I can hear Joie telling me the stories of those pictures (way back when we first looked at them together).  

She talked about how messy Audrey was when she licked the cake batter from the bowl...

And it breaks my heart to think of that first year she was with us, when she woke up on her birthday, sitting in bed waiting for breakfast in bed that never came, because her new family was clueless about birthday traditions.  Sad.

I also think of the next year when we tried breakfast in bed only to have it end in an uncooperative sibling melt-down and no future attempts at breakfast in bed.  (Maybe we should try it again next year...or is it a tradition that has passed?  The pictures make me want to try.)

And that Eragon DVD in one of the pictures...  I remember sorting through DVD's a year or two after she came to live with us and wondering how we ever ended up with an Eragon DVD.  Mystery solved.  

And she still has that white horse (the one in the blue package).  At least I think she does.  The last time I saw it, it was pretty beat up definitely well loved.

So, so, so many memories.  Thank goodness for memories.

But there's more to this story...  While I was flipping through scrap book memories, I found some other pictures...

...Pictures of our family with Joie the day she was born.  

Want to know something amazing?  I don't have any other pictures of us with any other nieces and nephews on the day they were born.  In fact, Joie is the only niece or nephew we ever went to see on the day she was born.  Tim and I both come from large families, and when babies are born, both families tend to give the new baby space for a few days.

But I remember being so excited for Ruth that Joie was born that I couldn't not go.  I don't remember exactly why.  I've thought maybe it was because Ruth had actually been at my house when I went into (early) labor with Jeran.  (Translation:  She was with me when my water broke, folks.  We had a bond.)  

Regardless of the reason, we were there with Ruth and Nick that day, and forever we'll be thankful we didn't not go...

Because if we hadn't gone, we would have missed this...

Aunt Mary holding Joie

Megan couldn't get enough of her new cousin.

Jeran, on the other hand, was about as interested in Joie as he is in every baby...

And proof that Nate once thought Joie was the coolest thing on the planet.

(Photos courtesy of Uncle Tim, who was there too, and also held Joie that day...and I can't help but notice the kids are all in pajamas...makes me wonder what time of day we went, because I'm also looking quite comfy in that huge white t-shirt.)

Life is full of twists and turns.  None of us knew back then that after eight short years with her family, she'd be spending the rest of her life as Aunt Mary's and Uncle Tim's daughter...as Megan's sister...and as a sister to Nate and Jeran as well...and now as a sister to Gabby, who needs Joie as much as Joie needs her.

But here we are in 2012, celebrating 13 years of Joie's life with donuts for breakfast this morning before she left for Brighton Camp...

I love that smile.  I remember pictures the first year of Joie being in our family, wondering if she'd ever get that smile back...

I remember when her mouth would pose in a smile that really wasn't...  

That smile is a gift--evidence of a life of healing, and of love that lives inside this girl that won't ever die.

Because she's Joie.  

And folks, she's officially a teenager.  

(She woke up at midnight to create her own facebook account before leaving for camp.)

And there is an awesome birthday present waiting for her when she gets back.  (Hint:  She couldn't take it to camp, but she might be texting you soon!)

Wow.  Looking forward to many more years with this girl (who will for sure get two huge hugs when she gets home:  one from me, and one from the mommy who couldn't hug her daughter today.)

Eleven...

Every day we get to spend with Gabby is a gift.  Last night when we drove to Juniper to visit Nate, we took a few minutes to blow out candles with Gabby.  She is not a fan of cake, so she wanted a "watermelon cake."  

Happy Birthday Gabby Girl!

And when I say every day is a gift, I mean Gift, as in huge, out-of-our-hands, amazing Gift.

Sometimes I wonder how in the world we ever got to share our lives with this incredible girl.  Certainly the real-life series of unfortunate events that brought her here don't escape our attention.

She could still be surviving on the streets of India.

Really.

And she could have ended up anywhere...

But she's didn't end up just anywhere.  She's here.  

And we love her and love every day she makes us laugh and shares her amazing insights on life.  There's a lot of wisdom packed in this one little girl.

Did I say we love her?  (Jeran left at 6:00 a.m. for scout camp, but is coming home tonight to celebrate and go back again...  And before he left he came back inside and said, "Can you tell Gabby Happy Birthday for me, since I won't see her until tonight?"  Awwwwww.....  I'll have to remind myself of that next time they're fighting.)

All Gabby wanted for her birthday this year was a Real Salt Lake jersey and jacket, which she got, along with a ticket to an RSL game, which she's hoping to cash in soon.

And we got an ice cream cake tonight, because even though she doesn't like cake, she does like ice cream, and as much as she loves watermelon cake, she wasn't sure about watermelon cake two days in a row.

Happy Birthday Gabby!

Dear Ruth

Dear Ruth--You would have been 35 yesterday.  When I told Joie, she said, "No offense, Mom, but you're old."  


I am old...at least older than you.  I'm old enough that I remember your dark brown eyes, and cute dark brown curls as a baby, and that your hair didn't fall out.  And I'm old enough to remember your huge smile, and how much I adored you when you were born.  I was eight years old when you were born, and I carried you around and called you, "Dolly" because I thought it was horrible that my parents would name such a cute baby, "Ruth."  (I thought Ruth was an old lady name.)

Ruth, it was too soon for you to leave us.  I wish almost every day I could see you again, and hear your voice again--to hear you talk about your girls.  I know they were your world, and I loved the way you told stories about them.  So many times since you died, I've wished I could sit down and talk to you about Joie.

Better yet, I wish you could just be here, being Joie's mom.  When I see her do and say things I tell myself that you're watching, and you know, but it's just not the same not having you here--not seeing your face light up as you watch your beautiful daughter grow.  Sometimes (especially in the beginning) I feel you near, whispering to me what to do.  I feel like I'm raising her with you, even though you're not here, but I wish we could just sit down and talk...and at the same time I know if you were here, we wouldn't be raising Joie.

When Joie was little, I remember you telling me you loved the song, "In My Daughter's Eyes," by Martina McBride.  Now every time I hear that song, I cry because every day I get to look into your daughter's eyes is a gift, but it's a gift I wish was yours.  The song ends with:

When I'm gone I hope you see,
How happy she made me,
For I'll be there,
In my daughter's eyes.


It's almost like you knew, and you were telling me.

I do know how happy she made you, because I could see it in your eyes every time you talked about her, and I do see you (and Nick) in her eyes.  I also hear it in her voice.  She talks like you.  Sometimes it's just the sound of her voice, but it's also in her mannerisms and in the phrases she uses, and in the way she thinks.  It cracks me up sometimes.  As I watch her grow, I know you'd be so proud of her.

Ruth, your life touched so many people.  Yours was a heart of friendship--something I know was a gift to everyone who knew you in the short 30 years you lived on this earth.  After you were gone, that was one thing I heard over and over again about you, and I know it's true.  You had the heart of a true friend.  I might have taken care of you when you were a baby, but when you grew up, you took care of me, through your love, through listening, and through your heart.  I wish I could still talk to you.  I miss our conversations (and my kids miss all the stories you used to tell on me).  Can't you just come back down and talk?  Just once?

I love you, Ruth, and I can't wait to see you again, and to really, really feel one of your hugs again.  Keep watching over us, because I know you do.

Love,
Mary

Fruit and Being Forty-Something

Yesterday we picked these from our tree...

And those were just the ones we could reach...about 6 or 7 gallons of cherries.  Most years we only get a few cherries.  One year we had worms.  Many times the frost kills the blossoms.  And since we inherited this tree when we bought the house, we're happy to have cherries when we get them, but usually only a little disappointed when we don't.

And the tree itself has (at one time or another) has been all of the following:  a climbing tree, a home to nesting birds (and other critters, I'm sure), a quiet spot of shade, the canopy over a special flower garden, a great hiding spot for hide-n-seek, and a source of fun piles of leaves in the fall.  It's also been home to a treehouse, and if Gabby can convince Nate to help her, it will be home to another treehouse before the summer is over.  I guess you could say even when it's not producing fruit, it's still a fruitful tree.  We love our cherry tree.

Yesterday was also Tim's birthday...

Tim is no fuss about his birthdays.  He never makes requests (even when I pester him) and we have to sneak in surprises we think he'd like (like the awesomely detailed car he's now driving).  He even managed a little fuss for the sake of celebration, and surprised the girls by taking them to breakfast.  Later we made him his own personal cherry crisp (with a bigger one for us) and he let us sing to him...see how thrilled he is?  He's really a lot happier without the fuss, but he does it for us.

So where am I going with all of this?  As it turns out, this all ties together...

Harvesting cherries on the same day we were celebrating Tim's birthday had me thinking about the connections between how I feel about him, and how I feel about our tree.

In his lifetime, Tim has been a fun, willing place to climb and wrestle; a gentle home to children who need a place to rest their heads; a quiet source of  protection; the canopy over a special, blooming family; and a one-man source of entertainment and play.  I'm not so sure his leaves fall off in the fall, but he is starting to lose some hair.  Does that count?   

But back to fruit...  Yesterday while I was picking cherries, I thought of the phrase, "...By their fruits ye shall know them."  (Matt 7: 16)  In that phrase, Jesus teaches us that you can tell what kind of person someone is by their "fruits," or by the outcome of their life.  Hopefully Tim lives another forty-something years, and God willing, I plan to be  around to enjoy all those years with him, because as much as I love Tim, I also love the fruit of Tim's life.

When I met Tim, my love and admiration for him grew as I got to know him. He talked about some not-so-fruitful years, but above all else he was kind, funny and thoughtful, and I loved the connection we shared.  I had dated a lot of other guys--enough to know that I needed the real, kind, sincere affection that was in Tim's heart, and Tim's heart alone.  I had faith in that loving, kind, generous heart, and still do.  One sister-in-law posted on facebook for Tim's birthday that he is the "heart of the family" and I couldn't agree more.

Again, what does this have to do with fruit?  Yesterday, from the fruit of the tree in our backyard we got this:

And this:  

We also got 8 mostly full gallon bags of cherries for our freezer.  Yum!  (And yes, we own a cherry pitter.  If you own a cherry tree, you must own a cherry pitter.)

And Tim?

In the last week, he has been working midnight shifts...only one word for that:  brutal!  But going back to shift work means we have him here at home again, and not traveling.  He chose family over comfort.  That's just Tim.  And in the past few weeks, his fun energy has actually lead the grumpy teens amazing kiddos in accomplishing a huge number of home and yard work projects.  He's also started remodeling our bathroom (yeah!) and even involved the boys in teaching them how to drywall and mud.  On the second night, he let Nate drywall alone because Nate wanted to try it on his own.  Tim said later to me that he knew he might have to fix it with mud later, but he wanted Nate to learn.  (Turns out Nate is a natural.)  Then to top it all off, on Friday (Tim's last day off before he started another round of midnight shifts), Nate forgot his sleeping bag for camp.  He was at a scout training prep camp near Evanston, and it was supposed to be cold that night.  Tim knew Nate might try to be the tough guy and not say anything to leaders, so while I was working, he loaded the girls in the car and drove Nate's sleeping bag to him.  They didn't get home until that evening, and I was worried the girls might have been upset about having to spend the day in the car, but Joie and Gabby told me later, "Dad said he likes to spend time with his girls," and they told me how much fun they had on their road trip.  

I could go on and on, but I know if Tim reads this he'd also want me to keep it real.  Life isn't all smiles.  Some days we find worms in the fruit.  Some days frost kills the possibility of fruit.  That's life.  And when it happens, of course we're disappointed.  We'd prefer season after season of beautiful blooms and gallons and gallons of fruit...or at least that's what we think.  It seems like it usually takes some bad seasons to make us reach and grow.  

So here's to fruit...

And seasons of what seems like no fruit...

And to trees that are filled with fruit, even when there isn't fruit in the branches...

And here's to Tim...

And many more harvests...

And here's to forever.

Fourteen!

Today this beautiful girl turned 14!

Blossom wants that cupcake!

Tonight Tim is camping with the boys, getting ready to fish early tomorrow morning, but before he left we pulled off an awesome birthday surprise... 

(Hint:  She's wanted a ukulele forever...well, at least since Christmas.)

Grandma Campbell gives grandkids books for their birthday.  Megan asked for books about how to play the ukulele (planning to purchase her own ukulele with her hard earned money).

She's been a happy camper this evening...

Happy birthday, Megan!  We love you!

Sixteen

Reality check:  I have a 16 year old.

What a ride!  Way back in the day when it was just me tagging around with him I was pretty sure nothing could have prepared me for the strange mix of awesomeness and stress that I came to know as parenting.  I was just learning about my mom instincts then, and dismissed the feeling I was having that his life would be challenging.  It was difficult to look at those blonde curls and bright blue eyes and imagine anything but bliss.

And thankfully there has been bliss along his challenging road of life...but those challenges I knew instinctively would follow him did.

A few years ago what seemed like just a year of really poor health turned into an autoimmune nightmare, and lead eventually to the diagnosis of PANDAS.  (See here for more information on PANDAS.)  Ours was a relatively short (6 month) road to diagnosis and treatment, and I remember reading everything I could about this condition, including phrases like "debilitating," and "encephalitic-like symptoms."  I remember the curled up withdrawn child who seldom left the couch, and the hours and hours spent in the school counselor's office trying to explain to them that what we were seeing wasn't my son...  And I remember the poor-social-work-mom-who-can't-admit-her-son-has-a-problem look on their faces as we tried without success to get accommodations in place that would help him.  I also remember feeling incredibly thankful for simple things like antibiotics, and doctors who would pursue treatment of a condition which (at the time) was still a little of a gray area.  I remember what it felt like to see my son come back after being lost in the catatonic fog he'd been in for months, and the subsequent years of challenges climbing back from neurological darkness.

Fast forward to 2012...  A few mornings ago I went downstairs to wake him up.  As I walked into his room it hit me that the constantly growing mound of human being that was buried under blankets in my house would only be there for a few more years.  I just stood there for a minute before waking him up (don't tell him), and committed that moment to memory...  The tilt of his head, the mashed hair, the toes sticking out the end of the blanket...even the stinky teen boy room smell.  

Seriously, I can't believe he's mine.  I texted Tim (who left for work this morning before I woke up) and said, "I can't believe we have a 16 year old!"  

He texted back, "Yes, and he is a great kid."  

And he is.  

And we are blessed parents who are celebrating a little more this year than other years because in Nate's life there is a lot to celebrate this year...  Like pushing himself to do this...

Cross Country

...Which was brutal for him because he started out with leg problems, but persisted, and now Megan can't even keep up with him on their runs.

Then there was dragging mom into his brutal world of wrestling (see here and here).  

Then soccer...  (See here.)  And as it turns out, after the extra help in the beginning of the season, Nate went on to score a total of 6 goals for the year.

And scouts, and church, and even youth leadership training (Silver Moccasin)...

And driving and hanging out...

And happy tears (mine) through all the above.

...Not because of anything exceptional, but because this can-do kid, who seemed a few years ago to have lost it all, never gave up.  

Have you ever thought how amazing it is to see the human body in motion?  Or to see a mind engaged and excited about learning and activities?  And I'm more than a little impressed when he walks down the hall and grabs the chin-up bar and pulls himself up...over and over and over.  Trust me.  The human machine is a miracle, and a healed human machine is even more miraculous.

So, so, so much to celebrate...

Third Time's The Charm

Look who's driving!

Yesterday Nate walked out of the DMV with his very own learner's permit.  (Gulp!)

As it turns out, my driver's license was expiring on my birthday this year, and what better birthday present than a mother-son date to the DMV? 

As per the unwritten DMV rules of the universe, getting a driver's license has to be a difficult, and this year was no exception.  New legislation in Utah requires all renewal and new applicants to provide a birth certificate, social security card, and proof of address/residence.  I thought the new rules only applied to new applicants, so Nate and I showed up at the DMV on Wednesday afternoon with all his necessary documents in hand.  He was good to proceed...  Obviously, I'd get to return later.

Learner's permit applicants take a test of basic driving rules.  They are allowed to take the test no more than two times a day, as many times as they need to pass the test.  

Nate took the test once the first day...

Then twice...

He'd have to go back again later.

Bonus!  Two mother-son dates to the DMV.

Yesterday we returned to the DMV with my necessary documents in hand.  I stood in the renewal line.  Nate took the test again.

I had all the necessary documents, but my birth certificate was a copy.  Fail!  I was getting a bad case of DMV reject-a-phobia.

Nate on the other hand, finished his test.  The worker at the desk gave him a huge congratulatory smile and said, "Third times the charm!  Do you believe that?"

Nate said, "I do now!"  

Then I drove him to near his school...and he drove me the rest of the way there.  (Gulp!)

I grew up in Idaho and got a license at age 14.  After putting my own son behind the wheel I posted on facebook:   I feel the sudden urge to thank everyone who ever taught me to drive...  I grew up driving on the farm, but to whoever handed me the keys and a license at 14, I can now say I understand that look on your face.

But back to my license dilemma...  I needed an original copy of my birth certificate, which I was lucky enough to find, so I went back to the DMV.  As I returned to the DMV I was sure that the third time would be the charm for me also...

Until my phone rang.

Gabby was sick and had thrown up at school.

I left the DMV to go pick up Gabby.

Later that day I returned to the DMV...Third time that day; fourth time in two days.

Third time's the charm...sort of.

As they handed me my renewed license, I thought to myself, "I will not return to the DMV for four more years..."

Then I realized that in the next four years Nate will get his license; Megan and Jeran will get their permits and licenses; and Joie will have her permit and possibly her license.  

The DMV and I are about to get to know each other very well.  (Gulp!)

Splash!

I don't like being the center of attention.  I don't like everyone looking at me.  My family knows if we go to a restaurant on my birthday they don't tell the server it's my birthday.  (And it isn't my birthday yet...at least for a few more days, but Tim is leaving town again so we celebrated early.)

But back to the rules of birthday restaurant behavior if you're hanging out with me...

Rule #1:  Don't tell the server it's my birthday.  Rule #2:  Don't tell the server it's my birthday.  Rule #3:  If you break Rule #1 or Rule #2 you won't be with me at my next restaurant birthday celebration.

In a nutshell:  strangers singing to me and strangers looking at me while my face turns 5 shades of purple and red = extreme discomfort.

Anyone else with me?

But tonight wasn't my night to sit in comfort.  I've been saying I want to get out of my comfort zone more, and tonight as our server approached the table, my 13 year old looked at me and rattled off some kind of diving board analogy, and all I really heard was, "...and sometimes you get pushed off the high dive."  


Five minutes later a small group of servers was at our table with my birthday dessert bravery treat and in a few short seconds, the song was over and everyone in the restaurant went back to eating...

Push!  


(Huge splash!)

And I shared my bravery treat with everyone.

How's that for risk taking?

(I know...I'm a baby stepper.)

Sibling Fest

Seven out of 12 siblings in one place at one time.  Becky posted on facebook, "rare occasion."  Indeed!

I think there were 8 of us together in one place at one time last summer at a family reunion.  Maybe front porch pictures need to become a tradition every time we're together.

Parents being home and a nephew's baptism drew us all together.  

The bonus was an early birthday surprise.  When we walked in the house (after a lot of drama getting there and being an hour later than planned), everyone was there and started singing to me...they were kind enough to make candles optional!

I love my family and miss the ones who weren't there.  There are a lot of advantages to being in a large family.  As adults, one of the drawbacks is rarely being able to gather that many people in one place at one time.

Anything over 50% is automatically a sibling fest!

My Mad Cake Making Skills

My sister Becky had a birthday Sunday.  We won't say how old she is, but according to Gabby, she's 21.  (Becky, you're young and gorgeous, but 21?)

Becky threw a 40th b-day party for her husband Friday, which we were unable to attend, but it started me thinking...maybe I could surprise her by showing up on her birthday.  

I contacted her husband and put a plan in action...

The only request was a sort of odd cake...

All four members of Becky's family have birthdays between mid-January and the first week of February.  Her husband told me that by the time her birthday rolls around she's always sick of cake and asks for a veggie tray...

Easy request, but kind of boring, so I got creative...

A little frosting...

And layers and layers of veggies...

And voila...cake!

Fun surprise.  Fun day... 

(And selfishly, I loved the adult time, which I don't get nearly enough of with all the traveling Tim is doing.)

Happy 21st (however old you are) birthday, Becky!  

Nick's Birthday Present

Every time I see these pictures, I'm struck by the contrast between the life and energy in the pictures and the date stamp on them.  These pictures were taken at Joie's 8th birthday party, 10 days before she lost her family.  It was a salon party where all the girls got up-do's, then played some games.

Pin the Tail on the Donkey

Nick helping Audrey find the donkey.

I love how Nick doesn't just look like he's being a good sport.  He's enjoying himself.  He loved his girls.  They were his world.  They had no idea that their time together would soon come to an end.

Today Nick would have been 33 years old.  As our morning unfolded, Joie hadn't thought about it, and in the morning rush I forgot to tell her.  She's been sick for the past two days with strep, so it was a slow morning for her.  She was distracted trying to pick out what she wanted to wear to the jr. high back-to-school dance this afternoon, and not focusing on packing her lunch, eating breakfast, and getting ready for school.  

I tried to be patient about redirecting her, but it was my turn to drive carpool and we couldn't leave late, so frustration was winning out.  She still didn't get my hints, and instead started whining and picking on Gabby.

And she still wasn't ready for school!  Five minutes before walking out the door, I was helping her throw together a lunch and said, "I'm sorry, but if you can't get yourself ready for school, you can't go to the dance!"  (Big of me, I know...pushing her buttons.)

Somehow we managed to have family prayer and pull out of the driveway on time.  The other kids were in a different carpool and I was alone with Joie.  A calmer mood was settling over us and the things I thought I wanted to say to her didn't matter so much anymore.  It was in that moment of calm I remembered to tell her today was her dad's birthday.

I know you think this might be headed for a tender, emotional ending, but no.  Think desperate 12 year old wanting to go to a school dance.  We always celebrate, so that's exactly where her brain went, and not even 10 seconds after I told her it was her dad's birthday she said, "I can celebrate by going to my first school dance!"  

I laughed, but didn't answer.  A few minutes later when the carpool kids were climbing out of the car, she stood at the door and looked at me with her big blue eyes, and said, "Please can I tell my friends I can go to the dance?"  

In that moment, Nick was there.  I don't know how I knew, but there are times I just know, and right there in the carpool lane, I felt in my heart the way he used to describe feeling when he'd give in to her "puppy dog eyes."  I felt a smile spread across my face and heard myself say "yes."  She had turned around and was celebrating with friends and didn't see the tears start to form in my eyes.  It was another one of those moments when I was happy for her, and painfully aware at the same time that I was here enjoying this moment with her because they weren't.  

The same tears threatened to spill from my eyes later that afternoon when she was getting ready and asked me what to do if a boy asks her to slow dance.  (I knew the school policy enough to feel safe on that one.)

So Nick, I guess this year Joie got what she wanted for your birthday.  (And thanks for the nudge.  It was one of those moments I needed to take my parenting job a lot less seriously.)

Sidenote:  Ten days until Tim comes home!   

Joie's Backyard Bash

We seriously need to edit the birthday traditions around here.  Anyone else feel like it's been Christmas for 3 months straight?

And we manage to drag the celebrations on over a week.

Joie's birthday was a week ago.  Her friend party was tonight.

But it must be fun, or we wouldn't do it.  If there's a reason to have a party, we're there!

Exhibit A:

Friends

Exhibit B:

Presents

And as many girly-girl things as could be imagined...

Even more girly-girl things...  Her friends know her well!

Exhibit C:

The best blowing-out-candle picture I've ever seen

Exhibit D:

No pictures here, but imagine an awesome A-Z scavenger hunt.

And roasting s'mores would have been a blast, but the wind kicked up and since there was already a wild fire burning up on the mountain not far from us, we decided to douse our fire and make microwave s'mores and friendship bracelets instead.

And you should have heard the girl talk!  (Don't worry girls.  My lips are sealed.)

And now for the big announcement (drumroll please...)

Jarmans have finished the 2011 birthday season.  Yes, folks.  Our birthday marathon has come to an end.

Other announcements:

• Megan, Jeran and Joie all got into the local charter school we were hoping they'd get into.  Gabby is on the sibling priority list, but her elementary school is awesome so she may not move for a few more years.  
• Summer is winding down.  School starts too soon.
• I'm tired.
• And Gabby wins the award of the strongest 10 year old on the planet: 

Nate is easily double Gabby's weight...and that's uphill!

But she also got her turn:

Big brothers are good for something.