Mom Of The Year

Sorry, ladies - I just won.

Our Gianna loves jumping on the trampoline.  In fact, all our girls do.  Evangeline loves it when everyone sits on the trampoline and watches her "jump" (no simultaneous jumping for Evy), but I'm sure she'll be bouncing like crazy once she gets slightly bigger and more coordinated.

Two weeks ago, Gianna was stepping down after a trampoline session and missed a step.  She landed on her arm and immediately started crying.  Gianna doesn't cry easily when she's hurt so we knew the ground probably gave her a good hit.  After a few hours of icing her arm and keeping it still, she was back to her old self - outside play, swimming lessons, soccer practices, etc.

She fell twice at soccer practice one night and started complaining that it hurt again.  I thought she was being dramatic.  Bill decided to take her to the doctor.  Our pediatrician is fantastic.  He told Bill that her arm was probably badly sprained or bruised.  He didn't think it was likely that it was broken, but he wanted us to see the orthopedic surgeon - just in case.

I took Gianna to the specialist that afternoon.  As soon as I saw the x-ray, I knew -
but I was hoping deep down I wasn't right.

The doctor was so very sweet and compassionate when he told me that Gianna's arm was in fact broken.  I promise I tried to hold back the tears so when we were talking,
and he looked over - he looked so surprised,

What's wrong?  She's fine!  Don't cry.  Here's a tissue.

Gianna walked over, climbed in my lap, and rubbed my back - reassuring ME that it was ok that SHE had a broken arm.  What in the world?

We're so thankful that it's not a bad break and that she doesn't need a cast.  She has to wear a sling until she's completely healed.  The saddest thing was Gianna's expression when the doctor said no sports.  The girl loves her sports.

So I apologize, girls:

if you were vying for Mother of The Year, I've got it hands down -

the mom who let her daughter run around & play with a broken arm.  For two weeks.

High five.

Not My Most Favorite Day Of The Year

real life

Yesterday marked the big day - when summer officially made its exit.  Three of our girls are in elementary school now, and my heart aches even typing that sentence.  I'm a soft, emotional pile of gushiness when it comes to these tiny (some not so tiny) beings.  I don't think I'll ever be able to shake that quality - even though they continue to grow & change by the minute.

Isabella woke up first (thankfully after I was dressed & had my first cup of coffee in hand).  I would say she was the most excited of the three.  First of all - she's a big girl now (apparently you get big girl status when you turn five years old).  Secondly, she's in Kindergarten (only big girls allowed in there).  And most importantly, she's going to school with her sister Gianna

(I'm so excited about riding the bus, Mom!).

Gianna and Espy followed suit - having breakfast and getting ready for the day.  All of them tolerated the photo shoot(s?) I put them through which I'm always thankful for.  As mom, I'm official memory keeper of the family so we will be taking pictures every first day of school

(sorry in advance, girls).

A good friend asked if I cry every year.  That I do, at some point of the process - even if I will myself not to.  Yesterday it was during breakfast.  Evangeline was still asleep, but her sisters were eating breakfast & chit chatting about their new teachers, classes, and friends - no bottles, no diapers, no random crying - just three girls having breakfast together.  I had to go into the kitchen and have a moment -

a moment to enjoy their sweetness with each other

a moment to be thankful for their unique selves

a moment to forever remember them just as they were:

hair tousled, pajamas wrinkled, and eyes brightened with thoughts of a new day

not a fan of the first day of school