Airplanes & Expectations.

I'm a lover and a collector of firsts for Georgia.  So when I booked the two of us a flight to Florida to visit my forever and ever friend Dawn who was back in the states this summer I was over the moon.  Georgia's first airplane ride..........and a chance to hang out with my friend and her kiddos and a few days to put our feet in the ocean and collect shells.....it was all the makings of a good time.

It would be a fabulous little summer trip.  Of that I was sure.

It was fantastic to see Dawn. It always is.  Those expectations were met.

However, Georgia................she was really hard.
And at the risk of sounding like the proverbial mom who says, "I can't believe she's behaving like this--she's always so good," Georgia was not her usual happy, flexible, easy-going self.  She was overly silly (read wild), a bit cantankerous.......and the one that's hard for me to type.......kind of mean.

It was upsetting for me.

I thought about sharing this, not sharing this, or glossing over it, but it wouldn't really be an honest reflection of our trip.  And one thing I believe about putting my life out there for others to read is that I think it should be truthful; something that others can relate to (I hope), learn from, and commiserate with.

Georgia's first airplane ride?
Went off without a hitch.  She was great--the kid I'm used to.  She did everything she was supposed to do and besides telling her that she couldn't put her feet on the seat in front of her a few times and that she couldn't have a bag of peanuts, pretzels, and the cookies there were no issues.

I had this thing in the bag.

And then we landed.
And I'd like to say that Florida cast this voodoo magic over my daughter turning her into Dennis the Menace so it's not anyone's fault, but I can't.
I can say however, that I experienced my first parenting moment where I absolutely did not know what was going on, how to really handle it, couldn't figure out why and how this started, and what I needed to do differently to change course.

Anxiety about how I was shaping this person set in.  Where had I gone wrong?  What was I not doing enough of? Doing too much of?

I want my daughter to be a conscientious, kind, and empathetic individual....the opposite of what I observed while on our trip.  And I know it's easy to pass it off as normal preschool behavior, normal only-child behavior, normal spirited child behavior, and the excuses go on.....but bottom line.......it made me sad.

And nothing about watching my child grow up to date has made me sad.

There was just this feeling in my gut that this behavior I was seeing her exhibit towards other kids and expectations wasn't good.  This wasn't what I wanted her to be.  It's made me stop and think.  I believe it's important to listen to our mom voice when it yells at you this loud.  When it's hitting you over the head saying, "Re-evaluate what you're doing so you can stop this," it'd be irresponsible not to listen and futile to try and deny what you're seeing.

And while I know that there will be many moments like this as Georgia continues to grow up and there will be many avenues I could take to make myself feel better about something that is uncomfortable--that's not good parenting.  Good parenting is facing a situation head-on, reshuffling the cards, getting out a new owners manual, or deconstructing some of your methods and molding them into new ones.

Were there good moments with Georgia on this trip?  Absolutely.  Without a doubt. But it was a bit of a wake-up call for me.  One of many that I know I'll have as this girls mama.  And it's always our choice as parents to pay attention to those wake up calls or ignore them and hope "this phase passes."  

I refuse to ignore.  I refuse to pass the buck.  I refuse to think I could have done more after it's too late.  And I refuse not to do the best I can by this incredible little person that I have been given the privilege and tremendous responsibility of raising.  

And sometimes, a lot of times,  I'm learning......it's really hard, sobering, humbling, and sad.  Thankfully, in between those moments are many, many refreshing, gratifying, soul filling, laugh till it hurts moments.  

I love this little girl.  I love her so much.  

*************

On a lighter note........

Ten Random Observations From a Mom With a Stroller in an Airport:  

1.  I have a stroller.  You really just need to move out of my way......not the other way around. 

2.  It's AuBonPain in the Delta terminal of the Atlanta airport, not a French bistro people.....just order something off the menu.  You can customize it all you want and change your mind over and over.....it's still just going to be AuBonPain in the Delta terminal of the Atlanta airport. 

3.  If you ever needed more reason to think sagging pants were asinine.....observe a man try and push a stroller with one hand, carry a car seat, and walk with his legs spread far apart enough to hold up his sagging pants.  

4.  If you're walking through the terminal on your cell phone--that's cool.  Just try and stay in a straight line instead of weaving back and forth in front of those of us with strollers.  

5.  The smoking room?  That's just so sad people.  Give it up already. 

6.  Why are there no moving sidewalks in the Delta terminal of the Atlanta airport?  Really?  Why? 

7.  Groups of soldiers walking through airports instantly make me teary.  I want to stop and hug them and yell for everyone to clap for them.  I truly love it.  

8.  The luggage that people are trying to pass as carry-on these days is an abomination and a lie.  I fully support airlines tightening the belt on that ridiculousness.  If it can hold enough clothes for a two week stay in Europe and almost decapitate people as you catapult it out of the overhead bins......it's too big.  

9.  McDonald's just needs to be in every terminal.  It does.  It's easy, I know exactly what to get my kid, and it's very, very fast.  Can we stop being health conscious within the confines of an airport?  It'd be so  much easier for us moms.  

10.  I think Gymboree could have a booming business in airports.  Fifteen minute mini-play classes?  I'm sure it'd be a hit.  

Firsts. They're all mine.

Growing up I was never a big collector of things.  Sure, I had an armful of friendship bracelets (that I probably made 1/2 of), some puffy stickers in a pink and purple Lisa Frank sticker book, a smattering of My Little Ponies, and a socially acceptable amount of Barbies--but I didn't have a huge drive to collect things in mass quantity; beating out all my friends in a quest to have the most of something.  

And as an adult--I'm still very much like that.  I don't want to collect beads on a Pandora bracelet, I'm not loyal to any one brand of purse, I'm not a gadget person really, even though I love photography I own just the bare minimum of equipment to get me the pictures I want, and I have never owned one piece of crystal or china--let alone a collection of it.  I suppose the only thing you could really say I'm a collector of is clothes and jewelry--and we're talking cheap junk for the most part people.  Target tank-tops, Forever 21 fake rhinestone bracelets, knock off purses from Aldo, and a handful of J.Crew items I've found on clearance.  And I have a lot of all of the above--it's true.  But a discerning collector of them, I'm not.  

The thing I've decided though, that I'm a collector of, and that I'll make sure no one has more of than me......is 'firsts' with Georgia.  I hoard them, I protect them, I plan them, and I crave them. Parenting is really hard.  Like the most.  And the hard work that ensues in dealing with a slammed door in my face and a shriek of, "You don't love me anymore," (that's right--she's three) is paid for in the look of sheer joy on her face when I take her to the big park for the first time, to Fourth of July fireworks, dipping her toes in the ocean, her first American Girl doll, a crazy science experiment outside with her on the front lawn, or this past week.......school supply shopping for the first time.  

While it is absolutely bittersweet for me that I was e-mailed a school supply list for pre-school because of everything that it means in terms of how old my G is getting, it was pure bliss for Georgia.  She ran up and down the aisles of Target numerous times looking for the most perfect box of crayons, folder, set of dry erase markers, and even Kleenex boxes.  I wanted her to get exactly what she wanted.  As an educator--I firmly believe that making a big deal out of getting school supplies is like an appetizer to the great things that are to be once school starts.  When kids start the year with pencils, and markers, and erasers that they are proud of they feel confident.......even pre-school kids.  And confidence goes a long way in getting kids off to the right start at the beginning of a school year.  

It was incredible to watch her deliberating over something so personal......like this folder that she had to pick out.  It was a glimpse into her thought process that you only get with decisions like this.  I could have easily chosen all of her supplies for her.  It would have taken five minutes versus forty five.  I could have predicted that she'd want a Cinderella folder over a Hello Kitty one--even though she loves both. But I wouldn't have been able to watch her little brain work.......I would have deprived her of a first.......and I would have deprived myself of a first as well.  And as you know, I collect them.  

Experiencing firsts with your kids is your payday, it cements that incredible bond that only you have with them, and it helps you get to know them better--even if you think that's not possible.  Don't give them away, don't let other people steal them from you.  They're part of your collection--they are invaluable and they are original only to the people who experience them first-hand.  Make sure it's you. 

Do we really "need to relax?"

When someone makes a racist joke and people get upset about it do we respond with, "Sheesh--just relax--it's a joke.  The intent wasn't to insult."

And when someone makes a crack at a certain ethnicity's expense and people jump to let that person know the joke was inappropriate would anyone (really) respond with, "It was a joke.  Everyone knows they didn't really mean it.  Relax."

And does anyone really appreciate a long-drawn out explanation from someone regarding why they thought a joke about someone's race was funny and they couldn't in a million years have predicted people would have a problem with it--but they're sorry now?

The answer is NO.

Nor do you hear people running to defend someone who just told an off color joke with, "I'm African American and black jokes don't bother me, so keep telling them," "My husband is Mexican and I don't mind derogatory jokes about Mexicans--they're funny."

We don't post 'funny' racist or ethnicity bashing jokes on our Facebook walls, tweet about them, or pin them to our Pinterest boards. And we don't teach them to our children or show them that we condone them by laughing at them in front of our kids.

We just don't.  We all know it's wrong.......and really........it's not even a temptation to joke about because it's such a non-issue......what somebody's race or ethnicity is.  To make demeaning, inappropriate, insensitive, or crass jokes about it shows a lack of decorum in a fairly civil society.  It shows insensitivity to an individuals station in life--one that they did not choose, but were born into.

There's also this intrinsic force that just tells you it's wrong.  So you don't do it.

Unfortunately, oddly, surprisingly, dishearteningly, and sadly the same does not hold true with adoption jokes.........even in 2012 when adoption is so prevalent, wonderful, touching, life altering...........and normal.........there are those that still think it's okay to joke about being adopted as if it's a negative thing.

And almost more frustrating to me, there are those that rush to the defense of the one who told the joke after it's clear that others didn't think the joke was funny with, "People need to relax, it was was just a joke," "I'm adopted and I think adoption jokes are hilarious," "My daughter is adopted and I'm going to teach her to relax and laugh at jokes like this," "I know you didn't mean any harm so it's okay."

Seriously.......WHAT?

Exchange the word 'adopted' with African American, Jewish, Chinese, or any other race or ethnicity.  I'm guessing the support for whoever told that joke would quickly fall by the way-side.......as it should.

Bad judgement is bad judgement.  Period.  It doesn't need rallying troops to smooth it over and make it 'okay.' It doesn't need cheerleaders to make people who (rightly) had a problem with it feel like they are uptight, judgmental, and sheltered.  It just needs to be corrected with a simple, "I'm sorry, I was wrong. I had a lapse in good judgement."

And that goes for when people tell adoption jokes too.

Children who are adopted don't generally have a choice over being adopted--because it happens when they're babies or toddlers, or very young.  Many of them are born into it.  And most of them are fine with it.....hopefully even proud of it.  They may have questions about their identify, the details of the adoption, or how it effects them going forward, but they're usually not ashamed of it and they certainly aren't into making jokes about how it's a terrible and dreadful thing.

And I firmly believe they shouldn't be made to feel like adoption jokes are something they need to learn to tolerate because they're "just jokes," and they need to "relax" about them.

I know I've written about this before.  I know I sound a little fiery.  I know I'm on a soapbox......and I won't get down when it comes to this topic.

Sometimes this issue crosses my path again though--where I least expect it and I have to grab that bull by the horns.  Writing about it helps solidify my thoughts on it.  Writing about it is me--exercising my voice on a topic that I now have the life experience to write about.

If we have a voice on something--we should not silence it.

As a society we need to strike adoption jokes from our vocabulary--in any context, however light-hearted they may seem.  They are always inappropriate, they do not demonstrate any kind of sensitivity, and they are more than just politically incorrect--they are rude and mean-spirited.  They make fun of something that an adoptee has no control over; something they can't help.

And I believe that just like we intrinsically know we shouldn't make racist jokes, we know we shouldn't make adoption jokes. And when you hear someone making one tell them to 'knock it off.' Don't tell them 'it's okay--you know they meant no harm--or that others need to relax.'

Because this adoptive mama?  I'm not relaxing.  Not about this.

Gallery Walls, Caller ID, and Water Parks.....Oh My!

I have a sunburned back......or a good base as my dad would call it........sore legs, wet bathing suits at the bottom of my basement stairs, a tired kiddo watching a phenomenal lack-luster Barbie version of Rapunzel, coolers full of water that were ice yesterday, a 'new' bedroom, and......wait for it.......caller ID on my home-phone for the first time ever (my TV will even tell me who's calling so I can 'exercise' my standing as an American and not even have to get up)!

That must mean it was a good weekend.

First up.......I've been wanting to grow up my bedroom for a while and make a gallery wall somewhere in my house.  Those two wishes got married this weekend and resulted in pure happiness on my part.

Before...........

After......

Chris and I made this headboard out of an old door before we got married.  We had no money to buy a bedroom set at the time but wanted to have more than a mattress on the floor, a la frat house, in our apartment.  And now....twelve years later....I will never get rid of this headboard.  It's been painted multiple colors, and comes with us wherever we go.  I love it and it reminds me of spending nights in the basement of the house Chris was living in right before we got married---stripping wood, painting, and shellacking.

Gallery walls are great because you can just keep adding to them, nothing really has to match because the more random the better, and they're bottom line so fun to shop for here and there at random little stores--antique stores have the best finds for gallery walls.

And AT & T men who are installing new cable behind your bedroom dresser all the while your three year old bounces in and out of the room asking, "what's that man doing?," "why is that man in your room," and "does that man like those pictures you're hanging up?," and you climb up and down off the bed with nails in your mouth and a hammer in your skirt pocket are fans of gallery walls too.

And then.......

We headed out to Michigan Adventure yesterday with friends for some water and sun and good kiddie rides..........

Georgia and Fi--how cute is Fi?  And her hat?  French Riviera here she comes!

Somehow Chris and I ended up alone on the track cars......Georgia was off riding with a boy..........

Catch you later this week.  Have a great Monday!

And then it all goes to crap...............

That saying, "The Calm Before the Storm," must have been penned by a mother of a three year old and then sailors or meteorologists or some other weather aficionados adopted it as their own.  I should know by now the implications it has on my life........I really should.

Tuesday was one of those summer days where life was like a Smucker's Jelly commercial.....idyllic, lazy, filled with kiddie pools and ice-pops, lunch on a picnic blanket, trampolines, good quiet time, ballet class and just Georgia and me.  We normally have some kind of activity going on most days of the week, but not Tuesday.  We just played--the two of us.  We hunkered down at home, destroyed the back yard with a hundred activities and left remnants of our good time in our wake.

After ballet class that evening we got the usual--ice cream.  It was just the two of us, in keeping with the day, as opposed to the friends we normally go with, and it was perfect.  An appropriate ending to a beautiful day.  I could hear birds chirping and angels singing and..........

butterflies flying, and children laughing, and light beams were bouncing off our joyous faces and........

there were ants to meet.  Always ants.  They round out a perfect day........well.......perfectly......at least in Georgia's mind.

And I was basking in the glow of what I was chalking up to be a near perfect parenting day.  I had been patient, happy, creative, logical, silly, doting, appropriately firm, and all around 'mother of the year.'

And then before bed I asked Georgia to "quick run in the bathroom and go pee before we put your pull up on."

And the whole day went to crap........because the tantrum that ensued over that request was the reaction you'd see if someone was being tortured.......I'm sure of it.  Over pee.  We ended the night more like an Allstate Insurance commercial with 'Mayhem' taking over our house.  There were time outs and no books before bed-time and shrieking screams for about a half hour once we closed Georgia's bedroom door.

And I should have known, that calm before the storm.........it's intoxicating, it clouds your mom vision, and makes you a little loopy on love.

Here's to a better day today.  Right?

It's okay........

When Georgia was about a month old I got a Facebook message from a friend out of the blue who I hadn't talked to in person in a very long time.......and really, we'd never been super close friends........given more time I'm sure it would've happened though.  She's pretty awesome.  She used to live in my town, she went to college with my husband and they were pretty good friends, and I did happen to star in a home-made version of the Real World with her that a group of us made one late, late, late night when we were about twenty.  It. Was. Awesome.

I assure you.
But......not the point here.

Her message to me was one I'll never forget.  It was an amazing gift to a bleary eyed new mom who had struggled so long to have a child and had finally gotten one.  An amazing one.  A little girl that was created to be my daughter.  And one that brought with her the most incredible blessing in the form of an open adoption; an added bonus to how phenomenal she was all on her own.

And I 200% believed all of those things to my core.  I loved my little girl like crazy.  I was immediately obsessed with her.

But sometimes, in those first few months when I was exhausted, cranky, my usually clutter free house was a disaster, and I watched my husband get to go to work everyday I secretly wondered what we had done.

This friend's message told me, "It's okay.  It's okay to feel baffled at your new life.  Not baffled because you don't know how to mix up a bottle, soothe a crying baby, or treat diaper rash.  But baffled because you wanted this so badly, you worked so hard for it, it wasn't easy, and now.............it's hard to remember exactly why it was so appealing."

She went on to tell me how guilty she'd felt for feeling those things when she was finally blessed with a child.......after a heartbreaking road to bringing one home.......a horribly heartbreaking road.  People asked her constantly, "Don't you feel lucky?" "Aren't you happy everyday?"  "Do you feel like life is perfect now?"

And gut wrenchingly the answer isn't just a resounding yes.
It's a yes, but.....................

However, the freedom to say the 'but' doesn't really exist does it?

Especially for those of us who have publicly struggled to have children.  It's like the things that are taxing to new mothers who came by it easier than us don't apply.  And we in turn feel like we have no right and there is no space for us to feel the same way as every other mother USA. 

And I'm not a proponent of a lot of public griping and whining.  But I am a proponent of being honest.  With yourself, with a few close friends, with your spouse.  And honest in a way that helps you get healthier when you're feeling like your drowning.......healthy enough to know that it's okay to live in a land where eventually the YES is a resounding one.......but for a while it's okay to initially have a 'but,' even after all those years of waiting and infertility treatments and heart-ache, and sad baby showers (that weren't yours), and questions like, "you're still trying aren't you?," and thousands of dollars spent, and growing pains.  A 'but' is okay.  It's normal. And I kind of think that if there is no 'but' you should share whatever you're on with your other new mom friends.

So if you're adopting a child......,if you're working so hard to bring home the most amazing thing that will ever pass through the doors of your house.......know that it's okay.......it's okay to privately long for the old life in a passing moment of desperation.  And they do pass--when you smell your baby, you see your husband hold her, she smiles at you, she sleeps eight hours straight for the first time, she touches your face, she falls asleep on your chest, she makes little chirping noises while she sleeps, or someone says, "you're going to be a good mama........it's hard now......but I can tell," those moments pass.

The desperation and the longing for days gone by are okay....it doesn't mean you're an unfit mother, unaware of the sacrifice someone else made for you, or that it's how you really feel.......they're just crazy moments all tangled up with thousands more good ones because being a new mom is hard.  No matter how you became a new mom.

It's okay.
So thank-you friend for your Facebook message all those months ago.  It's still sitting in my in-box forever, because it's true and helpful and honest.

The "B" Word.

When I was teaching 7th and 8th grade history there was always this little behavior of my middle school students that I didn't understand.  I mean......one of many.  It would be a test day, and most of my tests would take a good portion of the hour.  Finishing early probably meant they had ten or fifteen minutes left in the hour.  I always had small tasks for them to work on that would introduce them to the next unit of study.  One or two kids per hour would whip through those too--I'm sure they were done well and of high quality.  And then they'd trek up to my desk with..........all of five minutes left before class was over, stare at me and say, "I'm all done with everything.  What should I do now?"

Really?
Really?
You can't figure out something to do for five minutes?  You can't write a note to a friend (you're an 8th grader right?), sketch, read a book, put your head down and rest for a bit, do some homework from another class, peruse the amazing wall displays I worked so tirelessly on (I'm being serious here--they were pretty awesome), or just........be?

I didn't actually say those things like that.  I'd wrap them up in a sugary sweet smile with a kiss on top. Not true either.......it was generally somewhere in the middle.

But what I was always left thinking was, "Why is there this need to be constantly entertained?  Why can't kids appropriately occupy themselves with a random five minutes?  Fifteen minutes or even a half hour?

It's because of the B word.  And we've taught it to them.

Bored.

I hear parents say things to their kids like, "Are you bored honey?  There's nothing to do is there?  "I'm sorry this is so boring."

And worse.......I hear parents say (in front of their kids), "I'm just so bored."

And like everything else, our kids adopt the mantras that we put out there.  Even the ones we don't want them to.

If I had any inside connections with the folks over at Webster's Dictionary I'd propose the word 'bored' be stricken from the dictionary.  No one should ever be bored.  Being bored is as much of a decision as not being bored.

Never being bored is one of the character qualities I want to instill in Georgia.  There is too much to do to be bored.

Like living room cooking shows.

Eating.  Always eating for Georgia.

Passing the time during a two hour wait at the car dealership.

Tap dancing in the kitchen.

Looking forward to watching the garbage men do their thing on Thursday mornings.

Making up names for the goldfish at the grocery store.

Or typing on my computer.

I don't believe parents should play the role of cruise director on the Lido deck leading water aerobics at noon followed up with macrame at two and sushi rolling at four, however, so our kids will never be bored.   We do not exist to provide our children one Disney World experience after another in the form of baking cookies, art projects, trips to the zoo, hours of one-on-one reading, and twenty four hours of face to face entertainment.  We exist to love our children and to train them how to be responsible, motivated, compassionate, and independent grown-ups......and please don't think I'm saying not to play with them......a lot.......either.  We have to do both--it's a balance like everything else.

And one of the ways we train them is we show them that there is no such thing as being bored.  There are days when I do laundry, some cleaning, I give Georgia a bath, I play with her, cook dinner, run a few errands, and pick up LaLaLoopsey dolls off the floor about twenty times.  There are also days when I get to lead a training at work, go shopping, have dinner with friends at my favorite restaurant, and post three or four pieces for Mom Colored Glasses or Pink Shoes.  I am equally happy on both days.

Are there activities I'd prefer to do over others?  Of course.  Are there some some tasks (like emptying the dishwasher, putting away groceries, or arguing with Georgia over trying to pee before we leave) I wish Mary Poppins would swoop in and take over?  Of course?  But it doesn't mean that because they're not my favorite I'm bored.  It just means they're not my favorite.

I want Georgia to be able to recognize the difference too.   That just because we're not running off to buy the entire toy department at Target it doesn't mean that........

playing with a random bucket of soap dressed up like Dorothy Gale isn't fun.

Or that backyard fairy gardens at Gaga and PopPops's can't fill a few hours.

And that mid-morning two hour baths aren't the best.

And just 'being'?  That's completely fine too.

I want her to be someone that can always find something to do, rearrange, create, read, make for someone else, write, snap a picture of, or just be still and calm and comfortable in herself.  But she has to watch me do those same things in order to learn how to do it.

Will you join me in striking bored from our vocabularies?  Will you join me in raising kids who know how to fill five minutes, ten minutes, thirty minutes with their own thoughts and ideas?

That pesky "B" word.......be gone!

Music & Fireworks....Now that makes sense to me.

Does two years a tradition make?  I'm going to say yes.  We returned to Greenfield Village this year for their 'Salute to America.' It's this perfect package of good feeling, family fun, Americana, patriotism, goose bumps (well maybe not in 95 degree weather), and every single thing that should accompany a 4th of July celebration.

Greenfield Village houses hundreds of historic buildings that have all been re-located to this amazing piece of property right outside of Detroit.  Kids (and adults) can spend hours walking through them all, experiencing historical Halloweens in October, colonial baking in December, working farms, glass blowing workshops, perfect general stores, covered bridges, and just about everything else that speaks right to the history buff in me.  So many times in the decade that I taught 7th and 8th grade history in Grand Rapids I felt sad for the kids of my new city who didn't get to experience Greenfield Village on a regular basis like us Detroit natives got to.

Thousands of people make the trek into the historic village during 4th of July week with picnic blankets, lawn chairs, coolers, and strollers in tow until they reach a perfect picnic ground surrounded by historic buildings and homes like Noah Webster's house (my personal favorite), the Wright Brother's cycle shop, Thomas Edison's workroom, Robert Frost's home, one room school houses, quaint chapels, and I really could go on, but I won't.  The race to find the perfect picnic spot kind of reminds me of Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman in "Far & Away."

We found a great spot!

And really--the best way for me to relay our phenomenal night is just to show you............

Where there are kids there will be $5 light sticks.......and where there are kids and light sticks there will be 'swords.'

Georgia waves 'Old Glory' in an attempt to call a truce.

My friend Jill.....who I think is pretty amazing and who I wished I lived a lot closer to.

Is it possible to get a good picture of a three year old?  With a real smile?

Nope.  I guess not.

My Georgia peach.

Happy 4th of July shoes.

As it gets dark the Detroit Symphony Orchestra begins to play and when the canons go off you know the fire-works are about to begin.........

and when your three year old shouts into the night during a lull in the fireworks, "Music and fireworks....now that makes sense to me!," you know you've pretty much just had the perfect night.  

Hope you have a great 4th of July.  Celebrate the freedom that you've been given.  We are lucky everyday that we live in America.  Keep the principles of our founding fathers close to your hearts and remember that we live in an amazing nation.  We truly do.  

I'll see you later on this week.............

And I'll keep trying to get a picture of Georgia where she's not............walking away in an attempt to escape the soul-stealing camera.