One of her preemie diapers.

She didn’t wear the apple…it’s just to give perspective.

We were some of the lucky ones. After five weeks, and after gaining a pound-and-a-half, we brought her home. That teeny, tiny baby? Well, she was a fighter. That sure hasn’t changed much, though now she mostly just fights with her brother. She’s nine, going on nineteen.

We still can’t be sure of what the future holds, but one thing’s for sure…this sweet daughter of mine is (aside from that fighting with her brother stuff) pure and unequaled perfection. Her heart is so big, I don’t know how it fits in her chest. And, though the day of her birth was the scariest day of my life, she’s given me sunshine and butterflies ever since. Happy birthday baby girl!

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I just told my daughter that I needed a cheery and light-hearted idea for a blog post. I mentioned that things get chaotic this time of year, and people may need something to make them stop and smile.

She said, “Well, why don’t you talk about how stressed you are at work? Or, how you were so busy yesterday, that you ate chocolate-covered popcorn for lunch?” (Okay, in my defense it was the only food we had at the office. Well…that and Triscuits, which should really only be fed to a cow, because technically they’re nothing more than weaved hay.)

I told her that talking about my stress and poor eating habits wouldn’t qualify as light-hearted.

She then suggested, “How about telling everyone about how I’m reading the Diary of Anne Frank?”

I’m thinking she doesn’t quite get what I’m going for.

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I wasn’t feeling well last night, so my husband offered to get some take-out for dinner. He then asked our five year old son what he wanted to eat.

Our son replied, “Pasketti.”

Then he corrected himself and said, “No, no, not pasketti. Sasketti.”

And again, “No! Not sasketti. I want Spapetti.”

We were just sitting there, waiting for him to come up with the right word, when he walked over to my husband and said, “Dad, I want chicken”.

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Last night we surprised our daughter with Hanna Montana tickets. It was an early birthday present that we thought she would love. For anyone without a pre-teen daughter, Hanna’s real name is Miley Cyrus…as in Billy Ray’s daughter. Now, if you had asked me ten years ago if I would ever go to a concert with the name Cyrus on the ticket, I would’ve told you absolutely not. As a matter of fact, when my husband and I got married back in 1997, we specifically told the DJ that Achy Breaky Heart was NOT to be played.

But, our daughter LOVES this Cyrus kid. So we were pretty surprised with she opened her present and just sat there and smiled. No yelling? No jumping? No bouncing off the walls? WHAT? Because, when I wasn’t much older than her and I got Jack Wagner tickets…well, I was a mini-maniac. And, when he touched my hand at the concert…sigh…I vowed to never wash it again.

But, our kid was calm and we just sat there looking at her, asking if she was happy. Prodding her to at least pretend to be thrilled. I gotta tell you, I was a bit disappointed.

When I took a phone call a couple of minutes later, she was still just sitting there. But, slowly it hit her, and I looked over to see her eyes welling up with tears. Then she took a pillow, put it over her face and screamed. Soon she was jumping around the room, giving me and her Dad alternating hugs, with, “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” in between. She ran upstairs, tried on an outfit for the concert, then hugged her Hanna Montana poster.

What a relief that was. I can’t tell you how happy I was to see her acting like a hysterical fool.

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