Birthday Girl

March 25, 2010
Dear Ava,

Today you turned 4, and as I watched you select the perfect outfit for your party, I was overwhelmed with love for you. It catches me at odd moments—that indescribable punch of emotion that only mothers can understand—and it never changes. I felt it when I realized I was pregnant with you, when I felt you kick inside of me for the first time, when you were born, when you smiled, when you became the little personality that would forever drive my life. Yes, I feel it now as you slip a birthday ring on your tiny finger. As you twirl in front of the mirror. Even as you turn, laugh, and stick your tongue out at me.

You're imaginative. Funny. Clever. Lovely. Full of energy, thoughtfulness, and attitude. Life, for you, is an adventure. You love watching Dora and Max & Ruby. It's embarrassing to admit, but you own almost 100 Barbie dolls; yet you never forget one of them—and yes you play with them all. You treasure taking walks and having family dinners (even though you never eat much). You are a nibbler, a tasty chocolate milk fan, and an avid reader. You build the most amazing castles with legos, blocks, and any other doodads you find around the house. I can't begin to capture your capacity as a big sister; Hudson simply adores you. Your playroom is your haven, and although it's usually a mess you know where every single toy is currently located.

Best of all, you are becoming a strong, caring girl with her own opinions. Your world is beginning to expand beyond our home. As you told me earlier today when you got your step-stool and attempted to decorate for your party all by yourself, “That's what being 4 is all about!” Indeed! I can't wait to see what the future holds for you, my beloved first-born.

Happy Birthday, Ava!

All my love,

Mommy

Sour Surprise

I was cutting up lemons for our water pitcher for dinner the other night, when Hudson crawled over to investigate. He was so interested in a lemon slice that I simply had to let him try it! (Plus grab my camera to capture his response, of course!).

Evening Walk

Can you tell I am LOVING my new camera? Who knew there were so many precious little moments in a simple evening walk?

Please excuse my word pus....

Dear Uebelhor and Sons Collision Center,

Last winter, my family had the unfortunate need to require your assistance after our GMC Jimmy encountered a rogue deer on a dark night. Upon this disappointing incident, we called our insurance company and received instant feedback. They agreed to fully cover any repair costs and—bolstered by the ease of this transaction—we made the subsequent decision to bring our business to your company. In retrospect, it was likely a bad sign when your representative informed us that it would be at least a month before our vehicle could be accommodated. At the earliest.

So this year, when another hormone-crazed deer disastrously attempted to flirt with our mini-van, we were somewhat wiser. After receiving a similar immediate response from our insurance provider, we immediately called Bob Luegers. Guess what? They got our vehicle into their shop within a few days.

Last year, when your company was finally able to accept our SUV, we were initially pleased at your offer of a loaner vehicle. We would have preferred something large, capable of holding car-seats, but were nonetheless grateful for the provided 1997 Buick LeSabre. That is, until two days later, when its battery died and left us stranded for several hours. My only consolation was that my two-year-old daughter was not present and therefore was not submitted to the freezing side-of-the-road temperatures. After a frustrating phone call, your company apologized for the mishap and promptly replaced the faulty battery. Why, thank you.

Of course, this year, Bob Luegers not only provided us with a reliable loaner but was able to match the exact make and model of our mini-van being serviced. While this may have been only a happy coincidence, it was clearly an improvement. Guess what? Its battery even worked!

Lest I sound ungrateful or disappointed with your company's service, I will admit that we expected some delay due to the proximity of the holiday season last year during this entire fiasco. Some delay was inevitable; however, as days stretched into weeks and weeks stretched into a month, we understandably grew impatient. Although your company made no attempt to contact us or initiate status updates on our vehicle, your representative was able to provide an adequate excuse when we finally phoned your office in desperation. Apparently a paint machine had frozen and broken, causing further delay. Naturally.

This year, Bob Luegers made similar repairs—although not so close to the holiday season—and returned our van within a matter of days. Of course, with our enjoyable loaner, we were even slightly disappointed by their promptness. Guess what? We could have gladly driven their 2004 mini-van for awhile longer!

Last year, when we FINALLY received our SUV—repairs and all—I fought wave after wave of bitterness. I even thought I had successfully borne the many negative emotions that accompany such a long, frustrating wait for a much-needed vehicle. Yet it wasn't until this year's vastly improved experience with Bob Luegers that I realized that bitterness had apparently grossly festered for over a year.

Guess what? I've now popped that nice, juicy, festering sore—and I think I've healed any lingering bitterness. Next year I'll just save myself the trouble and call Bob Luegers again.

Hudson's Many Faces

For just a few hours now, I have been the proud new owner of a Nikon D3000 camera. Of course, by the time I got home from Evansville with it, charged the battery, and prepared to demonstrate my photography prowess (haha), it was dark, the kids were sleepy, and there was very little to shoot.

Then again, with the fastest shutter speed I have ever owned, this camera allowed me to conduct a quick, simple study on the titillating subject of my son's face. Usually such snapshots of Hudson include closed eyes, a bent head, or something equally disastrous.

At least this time I was able to capture some of his adorable little personality. Much, much more to come!

Puppies!

No, Daddy has not relented his heartless, unstoppable stance against puppies in the Smith household. Despite my promises that all the peeing, pooping, and similar messes would be well worth it, ESmith maintains that he would willingly give up a golf outing for a day of watching Dora reruns before he would submit to having a puppy. So the kiddos and I are doubly thankful that Mamaw and Papaw are willing to share their new litter of part-Beagle, part-Chow accidents. Yet another reason why I live only a few minutes from my parents!

Nine Months

Sweet smiles and snuggles. Overflowing with learning. A determined explorer. Full of new words. MA MA. DA DA. Still waves at fans, but with more attitude. Can hold his own against his sister, push for push, scream for scream. Only an occasional turd. Loves food. Gives kisses at random. My favorite baby boy in the whole wide world.

Breaking the Big Bag Habit

In the past, I have occasionally (and rightly so) been accused of having a Type-A personality, but I think most people would agree that having children has greatly mellowed me. Indeed, I like to believe that my kiddos have infused my life with love, magic, purpose, meaning, friendship, laughter—ah, the list goes on and on. However, at times, my lingering Type-A tendencies can nonetheless arise.

Take this example: I have an almost desperate need to be prepared for anything. I overpack in extremity for even the smallest of trips. At the grocery store, I frequently buy in bulk (although, to be honest, I did learn this trick from my husband—thank you, Esmith!). And diaper bags—don't even get me started on diaper bags! Then of course there's my biggest and most pressing mode of preparation: My name is Lori, and I carry a big purse.

In college, my purse of preference was small, bright, and easy to carry. Hey, I didn't need much back then! As the years wore on—and my responsibilities increased—I found the subsequent size of my purse growing larger. It was a gradual transformation, one that I was peripherally aware of over time, but it has recently become an undeniable bad habit.

Currently, I carry a large zebra-striped leather bag. You can't miss it! If I accidentally lose my keys within its dark interior, it might be days, even weeks, before they resurface. Often I panic when I can't find my wallet, my checkbook, or my sunglasses when I want them. I've stalled lines at Wal-Mart searching for a single item. Have I really become ONE OF THOSE women?

Last week, after witnessing many of these rather embarrassing events, Erik pleaded with me to clean out my purse. At first, I resisted. There was nothing wrong with my purse! I NEEDED those items. All of them. Yes, I did. I might've even growled if he went near the thing.

Then I sighed. Dropped my shoulders. It was time....GRRR!

Experts claim that the first step to overcoming a bad habit is to admit you have it. Thus, I am including my big purse confessional on the blog. How so? As I cleaned out my most recent (although not the largest ever) purse, I kept a tally of everything that emerged from its dusty, murky depths. Buckle up, people, it's going to be quite a ride....

Two packs of peppermint gum, mini Goofy and Mickey figurines, assorted crayons in a variety of colors, a Strawberry Shortcake notepad, sunglasses, a toy ring (bling bling!), some M&Ms, a wrapped straw, a handful of cold, hard McDonalds fries, a breast pad (although I stopped breast-feeding three months ago), seven hairbows, a container of baby food, three baby spoons, crumbled coupons, hand lotion, Tylenol, four red pens, two mechanical pencils, a black pen, a small booklight, ubiquitous feminine hygiene products, a small baby book, one large single sock, two pairs of white baby socks, a pink glove, a toy cell phone, a real cell phone, a wallet, a checkbook, half a caramel candy bar (wrapped up), a Barbie brush, a regular brush, two containers of hand sanitizer, a plush football, a digital camera with accompanying cord, Tide To Go, one Barbie shoe, unidentifiable crumbs, Disney Princess wet wipes, an orange peeler, some plastic silverware, a small mirror, wadded (but clean!) Kleenex, small ponytail holders, instructions on how to use Bendaroos, some foundation, and my sanity.

Oh, wait, forget that last one. I obviously lost it a long time ago!