Tatum turned 6... I know, I'm behind.

So there's this kid that follows rules. Those even exist? I don't even know what to do with her. She keeps me on my toes, that's for sure. I have to say, having a child that is kind of a little bit opposite of who you are, but in a totally good way, it's sort of good for you. When I want to break the rules, and Tatum is around, I can't. Or she will totally call me out on it. And what are you gonna do? Ummm.. sorry. I know I wasn't supposed to do that. I promise I won't do it again? It's almost like she's the adult sometimes and I'm the child. It's been good for me. I've grown up a lot. At least I know that when the kids are older and I send her with Spencer or Lucy that the truth will ALWAYS reveal itself. I just have to find a way to make sure her siblings don't hate her for it.

I swear, everytime I look at her she seems to have grown 2 more inches. She's helpful and sweet and smart. SO smart. And KIND. When she was 4 we had a talk about what it meant to be beautiful because it was about that time that everyone, people she knew and people she didn't, were telling her how beautiful she was. We were driving home from somewhere, we pulled into the garage, I turned around to talk to her and she looked like she was about to cry. I asked what was wrong and she blurted out, "Mama, I don't think I'm beautiful." Well that just about broke my heart. We went into this huge conversation about what it meant to be beautiful. We talked about exterior beauty and being pretty, which she totally obviously already was, but that being beautiful had more to do with what was inside your heart and how you treated people. Since then, she has blossomed into the sweetest kid. Her last day of Kindergarten, her teacher awarded her with the "Kindness" award and she spent her entire recess yesterday trying to help a friend rekindle a friendship with another friend when she had no reason to and would gain nothing from it.

I'm so proud of Tatum. I think she knew that beautiful girl was inside her. She just had to figure out how to bring her out.

3 weeks

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Uncle

Today I am feeling broken and hurt and defeated.

The phone rang at 7:30 am. Who on earth calls that early in the morning? You know it can't possibly be a good phone call. It was my Aunt Patti calling on behalf of my Dad's other sister, Terri, for my dad. There was a freak accident at my uncle's work and he was crushed between the trailer that carried the logs he was to transport and the truck he drove. 

My dad goes to tell my mom and I sneak back into the bedroom I'm sharing with my boys during our vacation in Oregon. I sit in the quiet. What just happened? I can't even start to register what's happened until my kids start waking up. I don't know what to do. My brain is mush. Just go through the motions. Breakfast. Waffles. Waffles are easy. I start making breakfast and when the first waffles burn and stick to the waffle iron, I want to give up, but the kids have to eat. We all make it through the burnt waffles without saying much when I hear a loud thud and a scream from my oldest but still quite young 6 year old daughter.

I run to her side and scoop her up into my lap when moments later her foot starts gushing blood. I cry out for a paper towel and the 8 year old returns with an entire roll and a terrified look on his face. After everyone calms down, my mother tries to convince me that she can just superglue the wound together and it'll be fine. My gut says go to the doctor. Fortunately for us, our old pediatrician fits us in.

We spend the rest of the morning at the doctors while my brave little Tatum endures five stitches to her pinky toe. The very first stitches of any of my babies... The first of what I'm sure will be plenty more to come.

And now... Now is when I finally start to breath. The reality of what happened this morning at 7:30am is just starting to set in and I'm drowning. It's getting harder to breath and all of the memories have started to flood in.

When he let me, and only me, drive his brand new Convertible when I was 17.
When he went completely out of his way to get me a job as a landscaper at his company.
When he still loved me when I quit because I hated it.
Super Bowl Sunday at his house.
When he let me bring my friends to swim at his pool whenever I wanted.
When I went off to college and he drove all the way up to see me and take me out to dinner.
When he gave me the email addresses of everyone he knew in LA so I would have connections when I decided I wanted to be a movie star.

And the pain that's eating me alive because I hadn't seen him in 9 years.
He's never met my children.
He never will.

Tazey Eli

Tatum is 5. That went by far too fast.

I still remember how desperately I wanted her, crying and praying, thinking that Spencer would end up being an only child. I was heartbroken... NOT that Spencer was my only child, but that he would never know how amazing it was to have a sibling. I am so very grateful to have grown up with 3 fantastic brothers and I wanted that for my child. Brothers, sisters, didn't matter. Someone to grow up with, rough house with, play with, laugh with, fight with... And I thought Spencer would never get that. It wasn't until I gave up trying that God blessed me with the sweetness that is Tatum.

It's almost as if Tatum herself is an embodiment of my struggle to have another child. I tried so hard to have another baby, just like I tried so hard to get Tatum to be mobile. But just like God was waiting for the right moment to grant me another child, she was waiting for her exact right moment. She moves at her own pace, a perfect pace for her. You can't force her to do anything, never have been able to. But if you're sweet and kind to her and always loving, she will return that kindness and love tenfold. God does the same, turns out.  He is continuously teaching me through Tatum. I am so grateful he gave me her. I suppose there were some lessons I needed to learn, and He continues to teach me every day.

She was by far, my easiest baby. That's why I always encourage mother's who are scared of transitioning from one baby to two, not to worry because that was the smoothest transition from baby to baby I've had. It might be Tatum's calmness, but I could set her down to go deal with her ruckus causing brother and come back to a completely content little girl. Almost too easy.

When Lucy was born, Tatum took to the older sibling role like an absolute professional. At 2 she would sit and hold her baby sister and soothe her to sleep. It was insane to me. Spencer, would just try and leave Tatum (when she was a new baby) where she was if she started to cry, (while he was holding her) and he was 5 months older when Tatum was born. But not Tatum, she would shoosh Lucy and give her a binky to calm her. It was the most amazing thing to watch such a little person have such patience.

At three, Tatum's personality really started to blossom. She loved everything pink and frilly and girly. Still does. Still "shy" but when you were blessed enough to experience the moments where she came out of her shell, it was like magic.

Then 4 hit and this adorably snarky little thing, with the quirkiest sense of humor emerged. I give credit to the little girl down the road that she would play with. She talked baby talk to Tatum, told her what to do, and would call Tatum shy. Tatum wouldn't stand for it. And I seem to recall a time or two when Tatum told her "You're not my boss, and I'm not shy. I just don't want to talk to you." I was probably more proud of her than I should've been. Since then, there's been no looking back. She is growing into a strong, independent "Little Mama." Or at least that's what we call her because every time her baby brother wakes up, she asks, "can I go take care of him?" 

She's growing up so fast. Literally, she's only a few inches shorter than Spencer. I have a feeling she's gonna pass him up in the next couple of years. 

I love you infinity Tatum and thank you for always cuddling with me when I ask and giving me my kisses and squishes. You are more than I could have ever imagined could be possible.

My miracle turned 4.

As a lot of you know, Tatum is my miracle baby. I lost 2 babies before her, thinking that I was never going to be able to have another child. BUT fortunately for me and for this world, God had other plans. And now, the way I see it, as sad as it may sound, had I NOT lost those babies, I wouldn't have the sweet, dimple-faced, emotional, loving little girl that I have now.

It is so hard to believe that she's no longer the "Baby Tatum" Spencer so sweetly called her when she was teensy. She's tall for her age and every time she asks me to straighten her hair, it makes me a little sad inside because I can see a glimmer of the teenager she's going to be in what will seem like no time at all. But despite the sadness that she's no longer my little baby girl and she is inevitably growing up, I am so very proud of her. You definitely can't make her do anything she doesn't want to do until she is absolutely ready, which has been evident since she was a tot and didn't walk til 17 months old-when she knew she could do it without falling... But just the other day, after an hour of sitting at the McDonald's play structure, she finally, in her own time, went and played with the other kids. I was so proud. That's something she never would've done, even a few short months ago.

She and Lucy recently moved into one room together and I was curious to see how everything would work out and I am pleased to say that Tatum is such a sweet little mama to her little sister. When Lucy cries, she calms her down, when she loses her pacifier she brings it to her. I love her to death and am so excited to see what God has in store for her as she maneuver's through this next year and the years ahead.