Shame Bomber

My biggest enemy is shame. Shame is the root of probably 97% of my problems. Addiction, anger, marriage issues, eating/weight issues, parenting struggles: shame. They are all shame -based. Honestly, I can’t pinpoint where it all started, but as most emotional damage goes- I’m sure it was somewhere in early childhood.

Figuring out where it came from is helpful, but I’m really more interested in moving forward. Moving forward for me looks like tackling this big bastard and limiting it’s hold on my life.

Yesterday I went to see my therapist (who I have already blogged about because he is awesome) and we were talking about a few things that have happened recently that all had roots in shame. We discussed my reaction when I feel shame and the cycle that comes after that (which is just more and more shame).

But for your benefit, here is how shame plays out in my life: I feel shame because of imperfection. (Because perfection has been my response to try to rid myself of shame. “If I am perfect, I will not feel ashamed”.) Anyway, whether I am imperfect or someone in my life is imperfect- shame comes. Then with shame, comes a bad reaction to the person or persons involved. We’ll keep it close here and talk about my immediate family:

So Vaughn screws up. I want him to be perfect like me (ha.ha.), so I freak out over a small incident. Small incident becomes big incident, big incident becomes rage, rage makes me feel ashamed. Or this: imperfection on my part, imperfection makes me feel shame, shame makes me lash out, lashing out hurts people’s feelings, hurting people’s feelings makes me feel shame. Now, after this nasty cycle, I turn ALL THAT SHIT inwards hate myself and then hate everyone else because none of us is perfect. Shame wins (<—–NOT my next tattoo).

Chris said I’m like a Suicide Shame Bomber. I feel shame, rage on everyone, blow it all up-we all die. I can’t stop picturing it: my whole family sitting in the living room quietly and me running in with a vest full of dynamite. I open the vest ,scream a war cry and blow us all up with shame. (BTW: do yourself a favor and don’t google images for suicide bomber to try to find an appropriate picture for this post.)

The beauty of all of this shame shit is that just like the addiction cycle, I am free to stop it at anytime. Whether it is at phase 1 (“I feel shame”) or right after the bomb explodes. I can stop the whole thing and turn it around.

The new root is grace. Grace when I feel shame. Grace when I blow up. Grace when one of my kids screws up. I can show myself grace. I can show my family grace. I can show the clerk at Wal Mart grace. I am NEVER going to be perfect. Never. And neither are my kids. And neither is Andy. It seems silly to even write that out, because of course. But it’s not silly to me.

My standard has been perfection and that perfection is actually shame. So today…today I’m forgiving myself. I’m forgiving Eloise for not refilling the water dish. I’m forgiving the dog for crapping downstairs. Today I’m aware. I woke up late because I went to bed with a headache. Usually- shame would be my alarm clock and the whole entire day would go in the crapper. Today- grace. I got up to the tune of grace. Instead of flying around the house like a witch on her broom, I said, “Kids. We might be late and that is my fault. I’m sorry. I am not going to yell at you this morning, but I need you to do what I say quickly so we can try to not be late.” Teamwork. Grace.

My new mantra is this: Reasonable Best. I am going to do my reasonable best everyday. Reasonable best. Not perfect, not throw it all away because I can’t achieve perfection: reasonable best. For example, I am trying to change my eating habits and yesterday with my headache, I ate well all day, but needed a Coke: reasonable best. My reasonable best yesterday was one Coke. It wasn’t one coke and a tub of ice cream, though one day, that may be my reasonable best. Not perfection- reasonable best.

Love wins. Forgiveness wins. Grace wins.

XO,

CELINA - signature

 

Before Cancer

A long time ago, before cancer took her away today, I crossed paths with a woman who changed my life completely.

I was in my late 20’s coming off of a couple years of hell. My dad had recently died and on the heels of that I spent two years throwing away everything I knew about God one joint, drink and cigarette at a time. When the smoke cleared for me, I realized that although I had thrown God away- He hadn’t tossed me at all. In fact, His grip was even tighter and with His loving arms He led me out of my desolation and all the way to Montrose, Colorado.

I moved in with a couple I had met during more “Christian” times who welcomed me -in spite of (because of?) my brokenness. Living in their home were other broken, searching young people and her- this very small, kind, light brown woman with gray, thinning hair and a giant smile. She was related to the couple we were all living with through complicated means: she was an expat from Papua New Guinea and her two children married two of the couples children. David and Kathleen (the couple) had lived in PNG for many years with YWAM where their families crossed paths for eternity. Clara was a grandma (Bubu) to lots of grandchildren, and an Auntie to many, most not related to her by blood at all.

534180_3371530881734_2018229711_n

Somewhere in the 4 years I lived with David and Kathleen, Clara became my “black mama”. Maybe it was the nights we spent awake praying for my (unknown) husband and maybe it was the car rides to WalMart, maybe it was the months we shared a room because the house was full: I don’t know where the shift from “someone I live with” to “someone I don’t know if I can live without” came, but it happened. She claimed me as her white daughter and I claimed her as my black mama.

My first memory of Clara is of how meek and quiet she seemed. But then I saw how I could make her laugh and I knew she wasn’t quiet at all. Clara prayed (and prayed and prayed). She prayed in the shower, she prayed when she walked and she prayed while she worked. Every single act of her hands was an act of worship. You want to see true worship? Watch Clara clean a house! You want to see true worship? Check out the plants she mothered and prayed over. I still have plants Clara tended and they are still alive! Clara seemed meek, but I assure you, she was MIGHTY.

665308_10151310267656125_1787107362_o

When she began her treatment for cancer, Clara would go to the hospital and bring joy to every nurse, doctor and patient she encountered. I knew she was sick, and I didn’t know how sick, so a few months ago when she came over to this side of the mountains to visit her (actual) daughter, I went to see her. I brought her some things to keep her warm (she was ALWAYS cold) and I just told her how much she meant to me. How much she added to my life. I felt silly, because she wasn’t “dying” sick, she seemed healthy even, but I knew the end would come at some point- it always does with cancer- and I knew I needed to tell her all the things she had added to my life. I knew I needed to wipe her feet with my tears. I didn’t literally wash her feet, but I wish I had. I washed her feet with my words. I let tears fall and I told her how special and amazing she was. And I’m glad I did because I didn’t get another chance to do that.

Like a mama, she believed in me, cared for me, cheered for me, waited for me when I needed time to learn something and she sometimes stood amazed at what I could do. And I mean simple things like drive a car or move furniture :). Clara made me feel like I was special. If I could do something she couldn’t- she cheered me. If I learned something new, she cheered me. And she did that for many. She loved and cheered and prayed.

So many of the good things about my life came from the prayers of Clara: my husband, our children- both adopted and biological, mended friendships, weight loss, healthy views of others, seeing work as worship and a deeper understanding of a God who is KIND and LOVING and LOVES to bless his children.

You know that story in the bible of the widows mite? That was Clara. When we were raising money for our adoption- she sent out of her lack, not her excess. When the plate was passed- she gave all- not some. Whether the plate was time or money, she NEVER held back from God because she understood that her all was His.

We, and I really mean a collective we- many, many people- have lost a great woman today. She loved so many, so fiercely and you don’t find that kind of person too often, so when you do, you call her Mama and you hang on until the end. Then you wash her feet and you let her go.

20959_1342752178862_1814699_n

Clara, I have wept all night thinking of you and what we have lost on earth because you’ve left, but then I think about the babies you lost tragically and how you’re holding them and I think about the God you KNEW and loved deeply and I know you are right where you belong. I miss you so much already and I’m so, so sad you are gone, but I am so, so happy for you. You are right where your heart was always set- with Him. You lived one life, but you changed the lives of many and I am so lucky to have been counted among them. See you in heaven, Mama.

XO,

CELINA - signature

Baldwin Bedroom Remodel: Part 1

It’s been a long time coming, but the Baldwin’s are finally doing some home updating!

When we moved into this 1950’s ranch 4 years ago, it was literally in pristine condition. Well- 1950’s pristine condition. Nothing had been updated at all. There was no dishwasher, microwave or WASHER AND DRYER! The former owners were the original owners and they did a beautiful job maintaining their home. We were honestly ecstatic to find a home in such great original condition.

Since we were new homeowners on the verge of starting a family, we didn’t do much at all. We painted and…. actually, I think that’s all we did. Painted. And for the time being it really was enough.

But now, we have 3 kids and a (very) small amount of cash so we decided it was time to update. The first intention we had was to completely redo our kitchen. I’m not talking about new cabinet faces. I’m talking about tearing down walls and moving the where the sink is-type renovate.

tumblr_oe9jcjovuv1rrcm6ho1_1280

But since, like I said, we only have a small amount of cash, that went by the wayside and we decided to tackle a smaller, but equally important project: the bedrooms.

Before we get into this new bedroom stuff, you must know four important things:

1. We are on a budget. Budget means- not a lot of cash and only cash, no loans of any kind are used during this process. 2. I am not a professional anything, let alone decorator or designer. I just do what I like and hope it works. Oh and I usually ask Amanda what she thinks and that’s about the extent of the professional help I am getting. 3. We are DIYing this whole shebang. If we get a professional in here at any time, I assure you it will be some kind of therapist and not a contractor. 4. Nothing is perfect and I think it will be a while until all this is done, so hang in there if this kind of stuff is your jam.

Onward—>

Here is what renovating the bedrooms in a 1950’s house looks like:

  • New wiring – including adding new outlets and making everything 3 phase wire (this basically means that the outlets have 3 holes instead of 2. Think about that time you tried to plug in your Mac somewhere and you couldn’t without an adapter. That’s the difference.)
  • New texture on all walls and ceilings
  • New paint
  • New trim
  • New windows
  • Adding lighting in closets and showers
  • New light fixtures
  • New interior doors
  • New door hardware

This is what I mean by boring. These are all actual images that Andy took during the electrical-update phase of this project.

dscn0088

This is how we lived for weeks. These extension cords ran from our kitchen to the bedrooms so the kids could have lamps on. Talk about living on the edge…and I know you see that mess. It was the real deal!

dscn0226

This is about what we saw of Andy for quite some time-his feet while he did electrical work in the attic. Behind him are two babies huddled up after a bath.

Unfortunately, the renovating part of this project is rather totally and completely boring and quite dusty. It was a lot of days of hours (and hours) of work (for Andy mostly) and seeing no progress. I mean switching over to 3 phase wiring is not an exciting thing at all. It means hours in the attic and pushing wires through various places and having Andy yell from the attic to the basement, “DO YOU SEE IT YET?” about the yellow wire. The most exciting part of this is new outlets; a 1950’s house has approximately 1/2 as many outlets as a modern home should have.

As unexciting as this whole first part was, it was actually kind of fun for us. I managed to keep my cool around all the dust and mess and we lived without electricity in the bedrooms and bathroom for a while. We made the most of it and basically all slept wherever we could and lived in partial darkness for so long that once we did have lighting we forgot to use it!

Our house was a total mess. New texture meant bedrooms had to be emptied of all their stuff and so almost everything was moved to the living room. This was actually great because it gave me a chance to do what I like to call Kon-Mari 2.0 : basically, get rid of more shit- and keep the shit I love and I loved it!

dscn0082

Now, for the actual real exciting part of this- here are a few photos of our new doors, windows and hardware. Remember what I said earlier, though, nothing is complete yet. It’s all still in progress, so don’t ask why the trim isn’t up in the hallway. This is a sneak peek.

We opted for Craftsman Style when it came to door handles, trim and fixtures. We’re going to be adding in lots of Mid-Century touches and clean white pieces as we decorate. It’s actually a bit tough for a couple reasons: 1. money, 2. we actually have people (and children) who live here and 3. our house is not large. It’s 1200 finished square feet upstairs, so we’re having to make adjustments to our wish list. But stick with me because I think you will enjoy our before, during and after!

All of our original interior doors were hollow wood with gold handles and hardware. Now we’ve got clean, white, craftsman style, solid wood doors and handles with bronzed hardware. The difference is amazing!

dscn0544

Craftsman style trim and new windows! Hello lower heating bill!!

If you want to follow me on Pinterest, I’ve got tons of inspiration boards made as we work through this project!

Stay tuned because next time I’ll share some redecorating!

 

 

Surprised by Kindness

 

Today is Avett’s 3rd birthday. I remember the day he was born clearer than I remember any day I’ve lived. I don’t tell my kids this, but the day Avett was born was the best day of my life. Avett was the biggest surprise. The kindest gift God could have given me after years of heartache.

IMG_1492

September 2, 2013

But aren’t surprises the best. Like real surprises?

Earlier in the week, I told Eloise that we would get donuts for Avett’s birthday from our favorite local donut place. I forgot about it, but being a donut lover- she did not and promptly reminded me when she woke up. We weren’t running late today, but we weren’t early either. Amanda told me that 2 of her 4 kids were sick, so I offered to take the two who were well to The Donut House with us. I wouldn’t have offered if they were all going to school because taking 7 kids into a 400 square foot donut store that usually has a line of people 6-12 deep is a recipe for a really bad start to the day. Anyway, I picked up two Purvis’s and we made our way to get some donuts.

Once inside, I told the kids we would have to get our donuts to go because we wouldn’t have time to sit there. We waited about 7 minutes in line and while the kids certainly didn’t misbehave, the combined force of 5 kids under 10 waiting to get donuts is not a force to reckon with. They were sitting (read: laying/bouncing lightly) on the available comfy chairs, reading books (out loud) and semi-loudly discussing whatever it is that kids age 3-10 discuss. My only correction to them was to Avett to speak a little quieter (since he was essentially yelling to Noah about fish). Overall, I was happy with how they were acting and I only felt a little self-conscious because I know some people (and maybe one of the 9 people in line behind us in the 400 square foot waiting area) think kids should not make any noise or move around at all. But I decided in the few minutes we were there that if someone didn’t like it, it was going to have to be too bad for them.

images

Anyway, when it was finally our turn, I called all the kids to the donut viewing window and said, “Avett picks first since it’s his birthday!” The donut man said, “His is on the house since it’s his birthday!” (Side note- always announce your birthday because it gets you free stuff!). We each ordered our favorite and went to pay. But the guy behind me quietly stepped up and said, “I’ve got this. I’ll get your donuts.” I almost started crying and thanked him profusely. “Wow! Thanks!!” I said and started to gather up the kids to head out. As we walked through the door, I thought of the 10 lepers healed and how only one went back to say, “thanks!” and I asked Vaughn if he would run back in and thank the guy again.

The whole way to school I talked to the kids about that man’s kindness. My arms felt all goose-bumpy and an hour later I still have a lump in my throat. I didn’t need that man to buy our donuts, but I love that he did. His extension of kindness is leading me today. It’s been a long time since a stranger blessed me and if I think about it, it’s been a while since I blessed a stranger. Today is the day, though. A day full of surprises and kindness. I’m glad for the reminder to spread my share of kindness around because however long it takes to make it’s way around the world, it always comes back and there is always enough to give away.

13925259_10210419384230918_4109969944323260684_n

 

XO,

CELINA - signature

Tell Us How You Really Feel

You know how when someone says exactly what they are thinking people will say in jest, “Tell us how you really feel!”. I would venture to say that has been said to me a couple hundred times in my life. Because I am one of those people who doesn’t hold back. If I have something that needs to be said, I will usually just say it- no beating around the bush. And many times it is something that other people are thinking, too, so it resonates and sometimes makes people laugh.

Anyway, in the last week or so, I’ve been feeling this rising angst. Summer is just about over and I am done.  This morning, I sent this text to my two best friends  (and I’d like to apologize in advance to my readers who don’t appreciate a good swear once in a while). The text read: Let me say this to you so I don’t say it out loud to my children I CANNOT (swear word) WAIT FOR THESE (swear word swear word) TO GO BACK TO (swear word) SCHOOL #jesustakethewheel. Maybe that resonates with you and maybe it doesn’t, but either way- I’ve just told you all how I really feel.

Don’t get me wrong, we have actually had a pretty good summer, but the time is now. Either Jesus needs to come back, or I need to be sent to a beach for 3 weeks alone or my children need to go back to school. I don’t honestly care which one. But I’m done. D.O.N.E. Done. Finished. Goodbye children. Get out and don’t let the door hit you on the way.

Today I also went to see my therapist. As soon as I sat down I started crying; I was saying something that wasn’t cry-worthy at all. So I said, “I honestly don’t know why I am crying” and tried to brush it off with a joke. Being the worth-the-money therapist that he is, he said, “Wait a minute. Let’s not pass this by. What are you feeling?”

I don’t know what the hell I am feeling which is why I said, “I don’t know why I am crying.”!! But, being the eager patient that I am, I sat there and thought about it for a minute or two and I finally said through more tears: “I am tired. So tired of my children. I want them to go back to school. I’m exhausted from trying to be a good mom and dealing all day with them. I am scared that I am going to lash out at them and destroy them if they don’t go back to school soon. I don’t want to be rude to them. I’m afraid I will be rude to them. I’m exhausted from coping instead of escaping (the main reason I am in therapy) and I’m afraid of falling backward if these kids don’t get the hell out of my house.”

In saying that and crying and getting in touch with my actual feelings- I realized something: what I said to my friends in that swear word laden text was true. Every word. But what I said to Chris was the deeper truth and the text to my friends only contained the surface truth. The surface truth was anger & frustration & a bunch of swear words. But beneath that was the deeper truth that I am afraid and tired and feeling guilty and exhausted. As I said, I have always been known as a genuine person. Authentic. Real. Honest. Raw. These words have been used to describe me more often than any other word. But. BUT it’s because I say the things other people think but don’t say. Not necessarily because I actually let people get close to the real, real me (who has these unearthed feelings that are usually covered by anger or frustration).

Not everyone sees the hurting, scared Celina who doesn’t want to kill her children (honestly, even I don’t see her. I just see the surface stuff, too). People see me as real because in a funny way I can say what people are thinking. But underneath the funny and ‘true’ is always a deeper truth and what I understood today is that if I want to live the whole-hearted life that Brene Brown talks about, if I want to be courageous and brave- I can still send the funny text and mean it, but I’ve got to get to the deeper truth. And sharing the deeper truth will cause people to see the actual REAL me and maybe in the process set people free to realize their own deeper truths. And I’m ready. I ready to be honest and raw and vulnerable and live whole-heartedly in this world. It’s all I’ve got to give- myself- and as hard and painful and uncharted as it is, I’m ready and I’m scared but I’m not going to hold back. If you thought I was real before….there may be another side of “real” that we’re about to get to.

I absolutely love the quote from Liz Gilbert that Amanda shared last week. “I trust that you understand this is a story we are living, not a story we are telling.” That’s what this blog is about for me. This is the story I am living and it may be messy, but it’s mine and I am really learning to love it.

XO,

CELINA - signature

 

 

 

Macklemore: Theme Songs For Dieters, Riders and Bargain Hunters

I’d like to introduce you to three Macklemore songs that play like theme songs for dieters, riders and bargain hunters. If you haven’t heard of Macklemore- I’d be shocked since I am generally 2-3 years behind any trend-musical or otherwise. If this is your first introduction, let me warn you, the lyrics are incredibly explicit. .

Lets start with his song, “Let’s Eat“. As you know, I have lived the Paleo lifestyle, but being a person who loves to eat and grew up on Ramen and Chips A Hoy cookies, I do not naturally have a penchant for eating in a way that will truly benefit my body-thus I slip back easily into my pre-paleo eating habits. I love fat (not the good kind). I love sugar. I love ice cream. I LOVE donuts. And I love chocolate. My favorite vice though, is a McDonald’s Coke (there is an actual science as to why McDonald’s Coke’s are so delicious). When we started this blog a year or so ago, I was at my personal best weight thanks to Paleo. Now I am pretty much back to where I started. I won’t add to my current shame by posting “before: when I was on paleo” and “after: when I started eating whatever I wanted” pics, but I should just so you know that I am not perfect and the Paleo life I thought I would live forever has (for now) gone by the wayside in exchange for chocolate cereal for breakfast and cheese and crackers for lunch. So now we have Macklemore’s song called “Let’s Eat”. I.e my ‘diet’ theme song.

Let’s Eat

 

Moving along. I recently got a scooter.  Yamaha scooter 125

Scooters say ‘fun’ like few other forms of transportation do. I absolutely LOVE having a scooter. It is great for running quick errands around our small town, delivering packages and library books, great for giving the kids a quick ride and perfect for escaping in a healthy way. In short, the scooter is just what I needed. Someone asked me, “how are you going to carry three kids on that thing?”.  To which I replied, “that is exactly the point.” Incidentally, I have carried two kids on it at a time, which is also a total blast. My kids love the scooter because it means uninterrupted time with me- and I love that for them because they don’t always get enough. Eloise is my favorite scooter buddy. She asks me at least once a day if we can go for a scooter ride. I dropped her off at a birthday party on the scooter the other day and I kept telling her the whole way there that all her friends would be jealous that she showed up on a scooter. When we pulled up and her friend’s mom started oohing and aahing over the scooter, Eloise put her face in my side and said, “You were right mom, they are all jealous!”.

The scooter is awesome because I seriously smile the entire time I am riding it. I love the scooter because it also makes other people smile. I beep at kids and do the motorcycle wave to people with actual Harleys. What I really love is that I might be going 28 miles an hour, but it feels like 100. The wind is blowing my hair, the world standing still, but I am moving right along (at 28). I love speed and more than that I love the illusion of speed (because actual speed is a little unsafe in a minivan). So, a scooter is perfect. Which brings us to this theme song by Macklemore that sums up Scooter Life. Incidentally, I did not know about this song when I bought the scooter, but had I known about it, it would have been motivation for me to go to the moped store and get myself a hell of a deal.

Downtown

 

Finally, I have always loved the hunt for a treasure. I used to LOVE playing in the attic at my dad’s house which was full of dusty boxes and old junk. I love garage sales and second hand stores. I love not paying full price for something (Craigslist for the WIN!) and I love not having the same exact thing as everyone else. In short, I love thrift shopping. Which brings us to the song you’ve probably heard of Mackelmore’s called, “Thrift Shop“. If you love shopping at ARC, Goodwill or Savers, then this will want to make you pop some tags.

Thrift Shop

 

I think the thing I love best about Mackemore is that he really must not take himself too seriously. I don’t claim to know much about music and when it comes to favorites I am more of a Beatles kind of girl, but this guy is a comic genius- combining something everyone loves: music with something everyone needs more of: laughter.

I’m always good for a laugh and I think that Mackelmore’s songs are the same. They make me laugh (sometimes because of the stark truth) and they make me want to dance. What more could you ask for from a couple of theme songs?

XO,

CELINA - signature

 

 

The Accidental Patriot

Toddler toilet training

I haven’t given him nearly enough blog time, but our son Avett (pronounced A like when you say the alphabet)* is a total and complete hoot. An amazing person. A jolly good fellow.  I really need to get him a twitter account or a producer so the world can enjoy this kid as much as we all do. For now, this blog post should suffice.

Avett is 2 3/4 years old. So almost 3. From the day he was known by us, he was our joy and delight. A surprise we never expected. He continues to surprise us everyday with his wit and personality.

image_2

He is funny, friendly, adorable and an incredible communicator. I know that as his mother my opinion doesn’t count for much, but you can really ask anyone he knows and they will verify these statements as facts. Avett knows every one of our neighbors names and he calls to them from across the yard when he sees them. Avett: “HI! HI! Mr. John!! I’m just, I’m just playing with this stick.” The other day out of the blue he asked Mr. John how old he was? I don’t know why he wanted to know.

One time I asked him who he liked better- mommy or daddy. When he said without even a second pause – “Daddy!” I laughed too hard to which he replied with vehemence, “NO! I do. I do love Daddy better!”.

He doesn’t know much about birthdays, but he KNOWS that he wants a balloon and a car “so I can drive my buddies around”. Every kid he meets is his buddy. Even if said buddy chokes him like this (Avett demonstrates rather hilariously how his buddy choked him).

Avett also talks about what he wants for MisMas (Christmas). Spoiler alert: it’s a balloon.

image_5When one of his siblings does something wrong, he comes to me with the tale and then says, “Can you talk to Ewowise about it?” To which I’ll reply, “What do you want me to say to her?” He says, “Tell her to never do that again!”

As much as he is like Andy in all the best ways: easy-going, not ruffled easily, happy to work, he is in many ways also just like his mama (see bedhead photo).image

I really love guests and company and time with people, but when I’m done, I’m done. Avett is the same. He’ll say to my mom out of the blue, “OK Bye! Time for you to go to your home.” Last week one of my good friends came by for lunch. Her name is Aunty Q. Avett called her BAR-B-Q. The only association he could make with the letter Q. While BBQ was here, she gave him gifts, she shared her lunch (literally right off her fork and plate), she talked to him and laughed with him- all in all a good visit. After she left I said, “Did you like Aunty Q?” “Yes!” he said. “What was your favorite thing about her?” Avett: “When she said BYE-Bye”.

Avett’s best friend is our 70-something year old neighbor- Mr. Gary. Avett and Gary practically both run to the fence for a chat every time they see each other. Mr Gary will say, “Where’s my little buddy?” Avett tells him what he’s doing that day and they chat for a few minutes. I don’t usually stay and listen because I want Mr. Gary to get all the joy he can out of these encounters. They have their own little friendship that I really love. Avett’s other favorite person is his Bampa (grandpa). Again the delight these two get out of each other is totally mutual. I’ll say, “Grandmas coming over!” He’ll say (with much excitement!), “Is Bampa coming too!!!??” image_6

image_1The other day (and many days before that) Avett decided that he needed to strip down to nothing in the backyard. I caught him just as he was completely naked. While I did try to get him to put his clothes back on, I didn’t try nearly enough because I was laughing so hard. I asked him why he had to take his clothes off and he said, “So I can go down the slide!” He then did this on the swing set.

Avett is a politician in training. He meets everyone, asks, “what’s your dogs name?”, shakes hands with strangers, charms everyone and then remembers their name image copythe next time he sees them. The other day we decided to take a walk. We all got dressed and hustled out of the house. Once we were outside I realized that we had a brought our own little patriot. Aunty BBQ had given Avett these flags which he didn’t put down for the whole day. He’s had these red Toms for a month or so now (he calls these his Uncle Toms because he has an Uncle Tom). He had been wearing his National Guard hat all day as his own personal choice and then without even thinking I put on this blue and white striped sweater shirt. I realized as we started walking that he was perfectly dressed for the 4th of July. I told him so and he started saying, “Happy Juwy!” and waving his flags.

So to you we say, “Happy Juwy!”

*Update and clarification! Avett is a hard name to get. Whenever adults ask him his name and he says it, they smile blankly and say, “Well, hi there…buddy.” A friend pointed out that my explanation of pronunciation does not in fact, help. The way you say Avett is when you say the alphabet, not the word alphabet, but when you say, “A,B,C,D…” It’s that kind of “A” sound. Hope that helps…..but I’m sure it doesn’t.

 

XO,

CELINA - signature