Broken

When Henry was 9 months old, he fell through the railing at our rental house, 7 feet to the basement below.

He was clutching a sharpened pencil and landed on his head.

After a CT scan and an MRI, they found him to be in perfect condition.

Yesterday evening, he fell off the couch at my parents house onto their hardwood floor.

He fell approximately 16 inches.

There was no CT scan or MRI, just an x-ray.

Which confirmed that Henry has a b-r-o-k-e-n left collarbone.

Sometimes life is funny that way. You don't always get what you expect.

He looks like he's miserable, doesn't he?

Don't get me wrong, I am grateful that the first accident ended so well.

And I realize that having six kids, odds have always been stacked against us as far as broken bones and other issues.

But falling off the couch seems a sad story to go along with a broken bone.

Who wouldn't rather say, " I fell backwards down 13 steps, cartwheeling into a heap at the bottom, breaking my collarbone". Oh wait, that was Julia's story when she was 3.

Or maybe, "I fell backwards off our friends front porch onto my head the day before kidergarten and broke my collarbone". Oh wait, that's my story.

Seeing a trend here?

Hopefully it ends today with Henry.

Amen.

Lost, found, and an apology

I am happy.

What seems like years ago, actually just 2 1/2 short years, I lost my wedding ring.

During my pregnancy with Henry my fingers did their usually swelling and became too sausage like to continue wearing my wedding ring.

So I tucked it away in my jewelry box anxious for the day when the water would evaporate and my hot dog fingers would return to normal.

As time went by, my fingers did not reduce, so I purchased a fake ring to wear in the meantime.

And in the meantime, my ring sat in my jewelry box, ready to be taken out and played with by the nearest 3 year old.

As we packed our house to move from Utah, I decided to look at my ring and see if it fit.

But to my surprise and sorrow, it was not in the jewelry box!!

I didn't worry too much, I figured I would find it hidden among Anne Marie's things as we packed up.

But alas, it never showed it's lovely, memory filled, 11 years of marriage, shiny head.

I deemed it lost forever, most likely buried in the back yard where it was probably played with.

I asked the purchasers of our home is they would keep an eye out for it, but they too never chanced upon it.

So, sadly, I asked Jeffy to buy me a new ring. Which he did. And while I love my new ring (it's bigger!!) I have had a sad little spot in my heart for the ring that he placed on my finger 13 years ago.

And then, miracle of miracles!!!

Kate came to me not 1 week ago with a little gift in her hand.

"Isn't this your ring mom? The one you thought you'd lost?"

Oh, the thrill, the complete shock. I was in fact speechless, if you can imagine such a thing from me.

Where could she have found what I had deemed to be lost forever?

Anne Marie did have it, but not in the way I had suspected.

She had been playing with my little mini hope chest that I received as a senior in highschool. It's where I kept all of my concert tickets and in this instance, my wedding ring.

And then, I remembered. In my pregnant with Henry state, I had placed the ring in that little box because I felt it would be safer from little hands then the easily accessible jewelry box.

And then I promptly forgot where I put it, and blamed my innocent little 3 year old for losing it.

Sooo....

>

Dear Anne Marie,

I am sorry I thought you lost my wedding ring. I am sorry that my brain stopped working and I forgot that I was the one who had hidden it so carefully that even I forgot where it was.

I'm sorry that I secretly blamed both you and your three year-old-ness and myself for being so careless with my precious item.

I know you are a good, sweet girl, and I love you. And thank you for finding my ring.

Love,

Mom

I'm 1

I'M ONE!!!!!

Yay ME!!!!!!

NO NAPS!

I love naptime.Usually.

Children wake up all warm with sleep lines on their faces, still feeling cuddly, and in a much better mood then when they went down.

This wonderful time of day lasts til different ages with different children.

For my kids, somewhere around ages 2.5 to 3, naptime has consequences I am usually not willing to live with.

While the naptime itself is wonderful, it tends towards a phenomenon called: "I fell asleep in the car and now I feel so great that it will be impossible to get me to bed on time"


Case in point.

Henry fell asleep in the car yesterday at 4:45.

I woke him up, since I am knowledgable about the won't go to sleep at night side effect.

I brought him in, still crabby since he didn't sleep very long, and set him down so that I could carry my bags into the kitchen.

After 10 minutes of other distractions, I wondered, "Where is Henry?"

Our search for him led us to this:


He looked so sweet curled up on the stuffed cheetah, that I just left him.

When Jeff came home half an hour later, he picked Henry up and sat with him on the couch to wake him up.

Instead Henry fell asleep again on the couch until 7:30. By that time I figure the damage had already been done.

This next picture was taken at 11:09 pm last night.


Finally at midnight he "let" me put him to bed.

I'm thinking next time he falls asleep we may have to try more drastic measures.

Ice cubes down the shirt?
Air horn?
Feather on the nose?
Any ideas?

To My Children

Dearest Children,

On Saturday you embarked with your father and I on a little family adventure.

With Henry and Nora snuggled safely in their backpacks, we traversed 5 miles through the Cougar Mountain area.

At first the going was quite easy.
Level paths, shady, a gentle breeze. Perfect hiking conditions.

With contentment shining on your faces, we happily went along.


But then, my darlings, something happened.

Not unlike life itself, the road started to get harder. The way, steeper. The path, more treacherous.

At first it wasn't that noticeable, happy chattering still emitting from your lovely mouths as the path began to climb.

But then, as your muscles began to ache, and your breathing became labored, you realized with much dislike, that this path we were on was suddenly much harder then it had been before.




But you pushed onward, a few of you dropped where you were, and for a brief time, refused to go a step further.

Until, until, the realization hit you that sitting where you were would not only prevent you from going forward, but it allowed you to see the trail behind you and realize that you could not go back.

So, slowly, carefully, you pulled yourselves up, you climbed that last hill, practically dragging your tired legs with you, thinking it would never end, that you were sure to die from the effort.

And then, quite suddenly, the hill was behind you, the way was level again, and the fatigue slowly eased so that we could all continue on our way.

And my dear children, you endured. Not only did you endure the path itself, and the difficulties that 5 miles of ups and downs presents to children and adults, but you endured my empassioned speech about how the path was like life, and how if we give up when it gets hard, we'll never accomplish anything.

But you didn't give up, you complained so little that my heart swelled with pride for you all.

And at the end, you experienced what all the others who have accomplished those ups and downs have felt.

An overwhelming feeling of how tough you are, that you accomplished something you weren't sure you could do. But by not giving up, you became stronger, so that the next trail with it's hills and rough terrain will not bother you.

In fact you might just say....

Bring it on!!!

I lost one

And I'm ok with that


I lost a follower.

I had 11 in the morning, and by evening I had 10.

What does that mean?

Am I that boring?

Is my simple life of motherhood too mundane rather than the occasionally inspiring piece of the internet I hope it to be?

Or did someone just decide to stop following because they didn't have time, or did I hurt their feelings, or did some cataclysmic event happen that prevents them from reaching their computer?

I don't know the answers to these questions.

But it has caused me to ponder my blog and why I write it.

Partly it is to keep a record of my life with my husband and children.
On some occasions it is for me to share whatever thoughts are trapped in my head and need to get out.
While at other times it's just for attention when I feel especially witty.

But ultimately it's to feel that I have a presence that isn't only physical. That somewhere my thoughts to words are recorded and kept, cherished by the few who give a darn about my little world.

Obviously that's not for everyone. So to the follower who no longer finds me worthy of following, I wish you well in your search for a blog that feels worthy of your time.

To the rest of you, I love you. Seriously.

I "heart" anniversaries

Author's Note: This is mostly a journal entry for me to remember this past weekend. But I am inviting you along for the ride.


My sweetheart and I have been married for 13 years.

Definitely a lucky number.

In our marriage we have experienced much that has been difficult, joyous, life altering, challenging, and blessings beyond number.

But through everything we have kept a deep abiding love and respect for eachother.

We have made our marriage the priority in our lives so that we and our children will be happy and secure.

Part of that effort has been date nights, and anniversaries spent away.

And oh, how i highly recommend the anniversaries spent away.

For this anniversary, we wanted to get away for an entire weekend, but alas, with little money, we had to exercise the creative parts of our brains.

We came up with camping.

And let me tell you, it was the best time we have ever had.

We have had weekends at the Westin, the Fairmont Copley in Boston, a resort in Massachussetts, Leavenworth Wa. Great places that pampered us and made us feel like royalty.

But nothing compares with camping with your sweetheart.

We chose a remote location by a little lake in the mountains.

We dug our own latrine, cooked everything over an open fire, and heard nothing but the sounds of birds, crickets and mosquitos buzzing in our ears.

We talked and talked and talked. We laughed and held hands and kissed without worrying which of our precious children would catch us smooching.

Of course, the downside to the whole weekend was that Jeff grabbed the camera not knowing I had taken the battery out to charge it. So, alas, no pictures.


So I'm snaking some from the internet of the places we were just so you can see how beautiful it was.

We arrived on Stampede Pass around 5 on Friday. Set up camp, had a look around. The lake right outside our tent flap was Lake Lizzard. I saw no lizzards, so I'm not sure if the name was relevant or if the explorers just got tired of trying to come up with names for all the lakes they found. And lizzard is so outdoorsy and woodsy, I mean really, you couldn't name it Lake-there's-a-foot-of mud-at the bottom-, or Lake-mosquitos breed here. Both of which are true.


But I digress.


After setting up camp we went for a swim in the lake. Well, Jeff swam and I gingerly walked in up to my waist before becoming panic stricken that the mud would suck me in like quicksand and I would drown. (Did I mention I'm occasionally paranoid?)

After I managed to get the mud out of, well, everywhere, we got our campfire going and ate steaks and sauteed mushrooms followed by Jiffy Popcorn and Toasted Marshmallows.

Camping is all about the food, you see.

Then the magic happened, and don't worry, it's not a post about THAT although there was plenty of THAT. Hee Hee.

No, the magic was that we sat and talked. And talked. And talked.

No one interrupted us, no one came and snuggled next to one of us and listened to everything we said.

Don't get me wrong, I love the snuggling and interrupting of my children, but it was nice to be just grownups, talking about whatever.

And Jeff whittled. He got a knife at REI as a anniversary present (we've been married long enough that we just pick our own anniversary presents usually) and he wanted to try his hand at whittling.

I did not get a knife, so therefore I didn't whittle, but I wanted to feel productive and outdoorsy so I took the string off the bag of briquettes I opened and I made this:


Impressed? I know, me neither. But it was fun.

Jeff, however, proved once again that he is multi talented, and that he loves me deeply.

He whittled me this:


Yes, I hold his heart in my hand. And my pocket, which ever is easier.

We talked until the stars came out, honest, open, good conversation mingled with toasty marshmallows and toasty toes next to an open fire.

I read to him the Story of our Love. For our 9th anniversary I wrote down how we met, and had it made into a book with pictures of our courtship. It was fun to relive those memories together.

The next morning we felt adventurous. We looked at our trusty map and saw another nice little lake that we thought would be fun to hike to along the Pacific Crest trail.

The Pacific Crest Trail, for a little background, is a trail that runs from Canada to Mexico, 2600 miles. Through rugged terrain, woods and mountain lakes. We picked it up across the road from our campsite.

And let me just tell you, an inch or two on the map, combined with the switchbacks of a trail, turned into 6 miles in and then 6 miles back out.

But it was totally worth it. We hiked to Stirrup Lake, which was truly one of the most beautiful things I have seen. By the time we arrived there, we were so hot and sweaty that we immediately changed into our swim suits (there was not another soul around for miles) and went for a swim. Well, Jeff did, I got up to my waist before the aforementioned paranoia set in. But the water felt soo good, the sun shone down upon us, and there was not another sound but the wind through the trees.

After hiking for 3 hours, this is what we came upon.

Photo by by Dorota Heidel

It was such a welcome sight.

After swimming, and discovering that it was a great place for mosquitos (I have the bites on my behind to prove it) we ate some lunch and got ready to head back.

The hike back, needless to say, was harder then the hike in. We were tired, foot sore, and a little dehydrated. But the worst part? Well, swimming in the lake washed off all of our insect repellant, and we forgot to bring more, so the entire 6 miles back went something like this-*slap* smack*scratch* ARGHHH!*

Jeff finally abandoned his walking stick after he smacked himself with it one too many times while attempting to squash yet another mosquito.

And when all was said and done, the damage amounted to 49, yes 49, mosquito bites on my left arm alone!

I will spare you the pictures, I look like I have a disease. Jeff faired a little better. But we learned our lesson about camping, hiking, what have you. Alway, I repeat, ALWAYS, carry more bug spray.

When we got back to camp, we pretty much collapsed in our chairs. Then hunger kicked in and we ate calzones that Jeff made and a pineapple upside down cake that I cooked in a dutch oven. We ate like kings I'll tell you. Didn't I say camping is all about the food?

As the sun began to set, we stoked up the fire and began to ask each other questions.

What's your favorite meal?

Who are your best friends?

What are your unfulfilled dreams?

Favorite movie?

Favorite book?

And so forth and so on.

I came home feeling that I truly know Jeff better. That two days alone in the woods with no distractions helped me see into his soul once again. Every wonderful reason I fell in love with him and continue to fall deeper in love with him was made bright and shine-ily apparent.

It was like taking a deep, cleansing, clarifying breath.

But now we are home. Real life is back in full swing.

Occasionally I will get a whiff of campfire, or the blister on my pinky toe will throb for a moment and I will be transported back to the best anniversary to date.

But the connection I feel with my one and only (I know gag, barf, too sappy, but true)is stronger than ever.

And that is truly the best anniversary gift anyone could receive.


P.S.

Thank you to my parents and to Jeff's sister Denise and her husband Jim for watching our kids for the weekend. Good, reliable, kind people taking care of your children sure helps with being able to relax. We love you guys!

More to come

Jeff and I spent a fantastic weekend camping for our anniversary. I have much to tell you about. But I'm gathering my thoughts and want it to be worth the wait. So check back tomorrow, if you would please.

Amy

I see you

I see you. I'm coming. I'm almost there.


Any second now. Oh! There you are. Now pick me up

That bike

I think I would really, really, really love this bike. I don't have a bike. I want a bike.
I want this bike. The Madsen. I can carry Henry and Nora in it and go on rides with the kids. That would be sweet.

Dag nab it. That bike rocks.

Click on it and see how cool it is for yourself.

Rocket Man

R
O
K
E
T
S

A
R
E

COOL!
Did you know that being married to a BIG KID has
some really great benefits?

For instance:

a BIG KID/Husband likes dance parties, peanut butter sandwiches and jumping on the trampoline.

a BIG KID/Husband likes cool cars, skateboarding and slip and slides.

and most exciting of all?
a BIG KID husband like Rockets!

For family night we watched Jeff's (yes, Jeff's) rocket blast off. We went to the kids school since there was a big enough field.
We checked for wind speed and direction using the tried and true wet finger in the wind technique.

We had an awesome countdown and then....

BLAST OFF!!!
















We watched it soar 600 feet above us, parachute OUT!, and graceful fall to the ground where 5 kids went running to get it.

Anne Marie brought it back, victorious, to deliver it to BIG KID/Dad for round two.

Another glorious lift off and return to earth.
Cheering and clapping.

Then off to home for s'mores around our little backyard camp fire.

I love family night.
And I love BIG KID/Husband/Dads.

My camera

Lately, I have a difficult time finding my camera.

I will set it down after using it, go back for it later, and it has mysteriously disappeared.

When I find it again, it will be filled to capacity with photos like this:




And this:



And this(exasperated sigh):


And this: Oh wait. Hee Hee. Guess it runs in the family.


I look a little cross eyed in this picture. Or crazy. Or something.
Or just in need of some self photography classes.
Do they teach those?
Why would they?
That would be weird.
Just like this post.

Free Tip Friday

This is my-I'm too lazy to try it myself but I'm sure it works great-tip.

When we moved into our new house one year ago, the kind woman from Harbour Homes told us that if we put Rain-X on the glass in the shower, it would repel soap scum and the like and keep everything looking nice.

I haven't done it, yet.

I have a bottle of Rain-X under my bathroom sink all ready to go.

Everytime I take a shower and look at the accumulating soap scum, I think, "I should really put that Rain-X on". But my productive side has yet to convince my lazy side to do it.

Will it really repel soap scum? Will the water trickle down in little beads like it does on my windshield?

You know what? Now I'm curious, I'm going to go try it and see what happens.

And why don't you all go ahead and do it too, and tell me how it goes. Ok?

Thank you very much.

Jeff's Salon-Now Open!!!

Specialty Services provided:

Removal of Lipstick from Hair Using State of the Art Dishwashing Detergent

Styling of Fake Hair-Including Blow Dry and Set

Testimonial:

Erica said "Jeff treated me with such kindness, I will definitely be back the next time Anne Marie covers me in her mother's lipstick!"

Call to make your appointment today!

Does it get any better than this?

Don't you just love a roly poly baby in just a diaper?

The belly, the chubby arms, the rubber-band wrists, the chunky thighs?

Heaven, seriously.

Allergic to goodness

Our family has a host of food allergy-related issues.

Here is a list of foods different members of my family cannot eat.

Things that will kill Jeff:
1.Chicken
2.Turkey
3.Halibut

Things that send Jeff's nose a-twittering and throat a-scratching:
1.Soy
2.Fresh fruits and vegetables
3.Almonds, walnuts, pecans

Things that make Henry break out into a rash:
1.Apples
2.Grapes
3.Pears
4.Peaches
5.Anything with sorbitol

Then you add in things that my family can eat but won't, and you're left with a huge effort involved every time you make dinner.

So we eat a lot of beef and pork in our house, since I love my husband and do not want him to die. However, beef and pork every day of the week cannot be the best thing for you.
So I decided to try vegetarian meals twice a week, just to give our hearts and bodies a break.
Remembering though, that it cannot have any soy products in it because Jeff is allergic to soy.

So with all of these pre-requisites I attempted to make something yummy and vegetarian for dinner.

It was a thai dish, with vegetables and a peanut sauce over whole wheat noodles.

I really loved it.

As Jeff spooned some for himself, I could see him digging through the vegetables looking for something.

"There's no meat" I said.

"Oh" was his response.

I think it went over well, don't you?

Tuckered

Remember when you were a kid and you ran around all day with the cousins/friends/siblings?

Laughing, having water fights, riding bikes, jumping on the trampoline, road trips with the family?
And then when it came time for bed you said "I'm not tired!", "It's not dark outside, why do I HAVE to go to bed?"

But you would be so exhausted, despite your claims otherwise, that you would fall asleep on the car ride home and your older sister would eat your ice cream cone, or you would spill the can of root beer you had been holding but be so glad cuz it covered up the fact that in your exhaustive state you peed all over the station wagons back seat?

Luckily, these guys still wear diapers.

But I felt like that this last week. Completely tuckered out.

And while I no longer steal Maile's ice cream cones, and thankfully I'm old enough to not pee my pants when I fall asleep in the car anymore, I have felt like a worn out little kid.

My feelings have stemmed,not from the physical exertion that exemplifies childhood, but from the inner tantrums I have thrown as I have dealt with very grown up sorrows, worries and feelings of being overwhelmed.

We learned that a dear friend of ours died in a plane crash this last week, leaving behind a wife and two children. Go here to read more about it.

My uncle died on Friday from Lou Gehrig's disease. To learn more about Lou Gehrig's go here. He was 61.

We received $700 worth of medical bills in the mail.

And other issues too personal to share that have thrown us for a loop.

But mixed in with that has been a childlike wonder as I watch our first garden grow, as our youngest and last child gets ready to take her first steps, as I witness the deep sorrow of people I love who have lost someone this last week.

My goal this week, however, is to still be tuckered out, but hopefully from laughing so hard my belly hurts, playing so hard that my legs hurt, and loving so much that my heart hurts.

And I wish the same for all of you.

Break

I have accomplished more the first 3 days of this week then in the past two weeks combined.

I'm not saying that blogging keeps me from getting things done, but it does cause me to spend a disproportionate amount of time on the computer.

And being that it will have been sunny for 10 days straight (which we all know how I feel about the weather here) I'm going on hiatus for another week and a half.

By then my kids will be on their last week of school, my house should finally be organized as we approach the year mark, and I will have taken a much needed break from the computer.

I love you all. See you a week from Monday!

Please don't faint

Yesterday was a field trip day.

I was one of the lucky parents (and I really mean that) that was asked to chaperone Kate and Julia's Honor Choir trip to the Seattle Center.

I got up extra early so that I could be presentable and non-embarassing to my children.

I packed yummy lunches, bigger than normal of course, and treats.

We arrived at school and boarded the buses to make our trek to Seattle.

I listened to the typical 5th and 4th grade banter/teasing/merciless eyerolling and had a nice chat with Julia who WANTED to sit with me.

As we arrived and then entered the Seattle Center food court, I noticed that a good percentage of the population at the food court were, as the girls in my group so eloquently put it, Hobo's.

Who can blame them. It's warm inside, there is the possibility of free food given by generous patrons, and on this day, there was music.

Jeff had walked over from his office to be there for his girls. As the kids lined up to perform, Jeff and I found our sits and got ready to be suitably impressed.

As the music began I heard a rustling behind me, accompanied by a most unique odor.

I slighly and ever so casually looked around to determine the source of the smell. It seems one of the "hobos" had decided to join the audience.

I was actually quite pleased by this since music is for everyone, and children's music surely is a way to lighten the burden and the heavy hearts of those without homes.

However, my slightly patronizing and softhearted feelings quickly turned to body shaking laughter as the first song ended.

The gentleman behind me, in a very soft and trailing voice, gleefully joined in with clapping and a happy "Wee hoooooo!" "alright!"

This repeated itself a number of times until I was distracted by the little blond boy second row from the bottom who apparently locked his knees and fainted onto the stage. Followed then by a little girl who abruptly walked off the risers and went and fell in a little heap off to the side. (and on the bus ride home another child apparently fainted as well, sitting down)

When the drama was over, the man was gone. But I kept his spirit alive by adding my own little "Wee hooo!"s throughout the performance.

When the choir was done, my little group of girls came running up to me and asking if I had seen the man behind me and was he a Hobo?, and how scared they were of him, and how he kept pulling at his hair and making it look like devil's horns.

I promptly told them that he was in fact very pleased by their performance as was evident from his clapping and exclamations.

I think that made them feel better. Or not.

Mattox

I went to visit my grandma and grandpa yesterday in the Thorp, Wa cemetery.

My brother and his family had already been there and left beautiful potted flowers, one for each of them.

Kate and I left lilacs.

While we were there I showed her some of our other family members.

I showed her the headstones for my great grandparents-Neoma and John Morrison and for my grandfather's uncle and my namesake-Linn Morrison.

As we wandered through the cemetery we commented on the sad reality of the small headstones. The little white ones that represented a parents greatest heartache.

Within the area where my family is we found 6 of these white little headstones all in a row.

The first 5 all had the name Mattox on them.

We walked slowly by them all, reading the names and dates of birth and death.

Infant Son-June 15, 1898-Lived one day, gone but not forgotten.

Infant Son-December 25, 1903, gone but not forgotten

Evert Mattox-April 30, 1904-November 22, 1904, gone but not forgotten

Tessie Mattox-November 16, 1908-April 22, 1910, gone but not forgotten

Lois Mattox-April 13, 1911-December 18, 1911, gone but not forgotten

5 children. 5 babies. All lost in infancy.






I tried to envision their mother, my great, great aunt, Daisy Maud Morrison Mattox. I could see her round and lovely with the baby growing inside of her. Anticipating holding the precious, sweet smelling bundle in her arms. And then the ache as that baby would not live long enough for them to give him a name.

Maud had three children after that who lived to adulthood.

But then the next 5 all died before they were grown.

Their last child, Esther, only lived til the age of 16.

She even outlived her son Ferman who died in 1952, by 12 years.

I tried to imagine the heartache that was part of Maud's daily life. The hope that went into each pregnancy, the despair as she was parted from another child.

I'm sure that she was eventually told that she should not get attached to her children since they were mostly likely going to die. That she should not sorrow for the ones she lost because she was blessed to have some that lived. That she should fear loving them too much for the heartache it would cause later when they died. It seems that was common advice back in the days of influenza, no vaccinations and high infant mortality rates.

But I have to think that no matter what face she put on for others, that Maud mourned her babies. That not a day went by where she did not think of them. That as each child breathed their first breath that she tried to love them without fear. That when her own life came to a close she gratefully made her way into the arms of the children she lost.

As we left the cemetery, I thought of my own 6 beautiful children. How fortunate I am, truly.

But I felt connected to my ancestor in a way that I had not experienced before. I saw her as a mother of a large family, but only able to raise a few of them. And my heart swelled with love for her.

And it swells for those I know who have lost a child.

And it swells for all mothers who watch nervously over their children when there is a fever, or a bad cough, or a tumble off their bike.

And it swells with the love for my children that is so strong, at times I think my heart will break from trying to contain it.

The beautiful thing is that I know that Maud is not sad any longer.

Her family is with her.
And I imagine she would tell us to enjoy our children.
To not worry about things that don't matter.
To hug them tight. To kiss them frequently.

And to love them without fear.