My Dad

My dad passed away in 2006.  It is really hard to believe that he has been gone from us for nearly 8 years.  I've copied a "note" I wrote about my dad on Father's Day, 2009.  Because it was Father's Day this past Sunday, and because we are approaching July - the time of year that we first learned of my dad's cancer - his memory has been fresh in my mind lately.  The other night while worshiping at church, eyes closed and hands raised, I got a vision of my dad in heaven.  He was wearing a clean, white robe, and was near the throne of God, his hand raised in a mirror image of mine.  He sang and worshiped the Lord, and once turned to look over his shoulder at me, and smiled.  I rarely get pictures like this.  In fact, even as I recount it, it sounds like the kind of cheesy thing I would usually roll my eyes at - cynic that I am.  Sorry, but it's true.  However, this picture struck me at such a deep level, not only because I miss my Daddy, but because it was as if God was showing me that Wayne Land is alive and well, and worshiping Jesus, even as we worship Jesus here on earth. 

It is a sad reality that Tyler will never know Grandpa Wayne.  Many people tell me that Tyler looks like my dad, and there are things about his personality that remind me of my dad.  I think they would have adored each other.  My heart aches to think that Tyler won't get to experience that loving, playful, wise teacher that my dad was to his kids and grandkids.  I find solace, though, in the fact that they WILL meet one day.  They will meet, and probably embrace.  I think my dad will know Tyler and wrap him in a grandpa's hug.  And as Tyler grows up and hears stories about my dad, I think he will know his Grandpa Wayne too.  He will recognize his beautiful heart.

Here is the earlier post:

My dad

June 21, 2009 at 1:37pm

I miss my dad. I thought Father's Day would come and go, no big deal. No big plans to celebrate, as my husband is not yet a father, and my father has passed away. In a way I guess I assumed, and maybe on some level even hoped, that I would go through this day without an influx of memories about my dad, so that I didn't have to feel the pain and sadness of being without him. But the memories come, and though his death is a sad reality, the memories are sweet, and in them I think there is healing to be found. So I allow myself to remember - to cry tears of sadness, to chuckle to myself about the funny things he did, and to recall with joy the great man that he was.

My dad was a kidder. He was the king of cheesy jokes and pranks, and got simple joy out of being silly. He liked to play. He never seemed short on time or energy when it came to playing with his kids and grandkids. I remember playing softball in the back yard, taking bike rides to the park, playing "monster," or, in our case "scary jailer" (he would tie me - loosely - to the banister with old neckties, and when I escaped from jail he would chase me around the house, catch me, and tickle me until I laughed so hard I would nearly pee my pants). He was ALWAYS young at heart. He loved sports - watching and playing. And I loved tagging along to be the "bat girl" for his church softball games, taking a nap on the couch beside him while he watched football on a Sunday afternoon. I marvel as I remember him going to the YMCA and jumping in a basketball game with guys 40 or 50 years younger than him - and he gave them a run for their money, I tell ya. With his white, freckly legs in gym shorts and his white socks with color stripes pulled up tight around his calves. He never cared much about making any kind of fashion statement. :)

My dad loved music. There were few evenings that he didn't spend time in his "music room" playing guitar and singing, teaching himself to play the banjo, and, in more recent years, doing some sequence recording on his high-tech cassette recorder. He played and sang for no other reason than the fact that he thoroughly enjoyed it. He loved country music, and mostly bluegrass, and plucked that banjo till we were all ready to lose our minds. Wow, I miss that sound. He often wanted me to come in and sing with him, and I did, when I wasn't in my "I'm too cool for this" mode. I am a musician and I know a LOT of songs, but there are certain songs that I would never have known if my dad didn't teach them to me. Those songs will forever be some of my favorites - not because I particularly love Willy Nelson or Roger Miller, but because HE sang them, and HE loved them. Though I doubt I realized it growing up, his love for music gave me the freedom to love it too and in those times, singing and playing with him, we shared a bond with one another that is precious to me.

My dad had a heart full of love. You would be hard-pressed to find someone who cared and loved his family more than my dad. And he always seemed to look out for the under-dog. He never hesitated to reach out a helping hand to someone in need. He may not have had a lot of money or material things to give, but he gave unconditional love and accepted others as they were. Christ lived in him. He was a faithful follower of the Lord, and taught each of us kids exactly what that means and looks like on a daily basis. I don't remember many mornings that he wasn't up early, sitting in his chair and doing his Bible study. As my husband aptly pointed out, my dad did the right thing, simply because it was the right thing to do. He was steadfast in his devotion, to his wife, his kids, his job, and his Savior.

My dad was not perfect. I know that. Yet, even in his imperfection, even when he struggled, he taught us how to be resilient, how to keep on trusting, how to live a life pleasing to God, and ultimately, how to accept death with grace and dignity and unshakable faith. The things my dad left with us - his sense of humor, his faithfulness, his ability to take each day as it comes, his love - these things are a part of me, and I will take them with me and hope to live as beautiful a life as he did.

I realize not every person has the privilege and blessing of having a man like my dad as a father. I am grateful every day that he loved me and that he set an example for me. And I am grateful to those dads who attempt each day to live lives worthy of the calling they have received, as fathers and husbands and friends. I thank them for what they do for their kids - it matters.

I miss my dad. I pray that he is well and safe and peaceful in the arms of his Father. I will love him for always.

In Memory of George Wayne Land
1939-2006

"Girls with no shirts on"

This morning I was driving my 3-yr-old son to preschool, as I do nearly every day.  The drive to and from school each day is actually a time I really treasure, because Tyler and I have some really good chats when we are in the car together.  Usually we are just chatting about the day ahead or behind, and the topics can vary widely.  Every now and then there is a "teaching moment" where I can take time to explain a concept to him or teach him something new about life.  More rarely, we actually get into some fairly deep territory about God and spirituality, about relationships with other people, etc.

This morning we spent almost the entire drive (10 minutes) talking about sports.  Tyler talked about playing "real baseball" and about the fireworks that go off when someone hits a home run, and about the people cheering loudly..."And, Mommy, when I play t-ball, and I hit the ball and not the tee, you will cheer loud for me?" 

As we turned the corner and approached the preschool, the topic changed to basketball and Tyler was recounting the time that he went to a Denver Nuggets game.  "And me and Daddy and Blake went to that basketball game with those girls." 

"What girls?" The only "girl" I know of in attendance that night with them was his grandma. Super curious what he's talking about.

"Those girls!  The ones that danced with no shirts on." 

Oh.  My.  Lord.   The cheerleaders.  The blasted, half-naked, dancing cheerleaders. 

Tyler and Chris went to the Nuggets game 6 months ago, when we were visiting Colorado for Christmas.  He talked excitedly about the game several times in the days and maybe weeks to follow, but never mentioned the girls without shirts in any of those conversations.  And yet, as he talks about that night now, after not mentioning it for months, what does he remember?  The girls. 

It may not seem like a big deal. I mean, they're just cheerleaders.  In a way it's sort of funny.  But I am extremely paranoid about my son's exposure to anything that is not appropriate for his age, or not appropriate at all, for anyone, of any age.  Some may say I'm too paranoid, but our little conversation this morning made my heart sink.  It was like proof that little boys SEE things, and that those things that they SEE are burned into their memories, to be retrieved months and months later.  This is a scary reality.  Now, I know that these cheerleaders were not bare-boobed.  I'm sure they were wearing some sort of bikini dance tops.  But what my son saw, and what he remembers are "girls with no shirts on."  He didn't mention their pretty faces or their cool dance moves.  

I scrambled for how to respond.  I try to keep my cool and not freak out in front of him about things having to do with sexuality.  I don't want him growing up feeling ashamed of natural, human tendencies toward curiosity and attraction.  HOWEVER,  it is of utmost importance to me that he understands how to respect others and honor their bodies, and that he understands the difference between the way each of us was created for godly, healthy sexual interaction and the corrupted, extremely dangerous barrage of images that are accessible in our world.

This world is a dangerous place for boys and men.  How can we protect our precious, innocent sons from seeing things that they can never un-see?  From being exposed to images that will live in their memories for years to come?  Seeing some pretty cheerleaders at age 2 is probably not going to ruin Tyler.  But what happens when he is 10 or 11 or 12 and a friend brings a magazine to school?  Or he sees a scene in a movie that has explicit content?  As he gets older and more independent, I will not be able to protect him all the time.  I won't be hovering over him at every moment.  Is there any way to keep him from seeing things?  No, probably not.  That's why is is imperative that he be able to navigate what he might see and process it in a healthy way without his mom or his dad there. 

What can I say to him to begin giving him the tools to live in this sexually corrupt society?  Even at 3-yrs-old, how much can he understand of what mom and dad say about it?  Will our words stick as powerfully in his brain as the image of those cheerleaders?  What would you have said this morning, if it was your son? 

Here's what I said, and even as I said it I questioned and wondered if it was the correct response.
"Tyler, those girls should have been wearing shirts!"  Tyler: "Why?"
"Because we need to be careful to keep our private parts covered.  They are our special parts and we can't just let everyone look at them.  Boys don't walk around and dance with no pants on, right?"  Tyler: "No." 
"Right.  So girls should be careful and cover up their bodies and not let everyone see.  They were wearing like swimming tops, right?"  Ty: "Yes.  But why?  They were going swimming?" 
At that point he just began asking about why they weren't wearing swim shorts and swim shirts if they were going swimming.  We moved on.  I feel I should have said more, but I don't know what.

Tyler doesn't have shame about the cheerleaders.  In his innocence, he doesn't equate intrigue over pretty girls, his own penis, mommy's boobies, etc. with anything corrupt or shameful.  To him these things are not qualified as bad or wrong, and therefore he can openly talk to me about them. 
But the day will come.  The day will come when his inner voice tells him that what he is looking at is something he shouldn't be looking at. The image he is seeing is not one that is honoring another person's body. When that moment occurs, will I have equipped him to process through it and walk away from it? 

I pray fervently that God will give my husband and me wisdom and insightful words to share with our sons as they grow up.  I pray that the Holy Spirit will walk with us as we have conversations and give us the words that our boys need to hear.  I pray that He will walk with them as they grow up, and that, even though they will never be completely protected from seeing corrupt images, they will be able to look away and choose not to allow those images to flood their minds and cloud their hearts.  The condition of our world is, sadly, not going to change.  With technology being what it is and going where it's going, things will only get worse.  Pornography and other inappropriate things will only be more accessible as time goes on.  There is so much that is out of our control as parents, and when I think about it I feel quite powerless.  I am committed, though, to do whatever I can to prepare my children to live as redeemed children of God in the midst of a broken world. 

Things Tyler Says #2 - May 2013 - May 2014, 2-3 years old

Well, I haven't kept up on this very well.  As I re-read my post about some of Tyler's little habits and sayings from a little over a year ago, it became so evident that he has changed and grown up SO MUCH in just one year.  And, I hear, that's they way it goes with these kids.  Here are a few of my favorite things that Tyler has done/said in the past year:

Funny word pronunciations:
Molawner (Lawn Mower)
Ambliance (Ambulance)
Betend (Pretend)

For a while he would see someone outside or on t.v. or wherever, and he would say, " 'Sat? Man doing?" or " 'Sat?  Grill doing?"  Translated: "What's that man doing?" or "What's that girl doing?"

About 6 months ago he started picking up on the worship songs that we sing at church and that I sometimes sing to him before bed at night, and he began singing them.  His favorites are "Stronger," "God is Able," and "At Your Name (Yahweh, Yahweh)."  I'll hear him singing little bits of these songs randomly as he plays or walks around.  It's precious.  One night after church I was putting him in his car seat and, as I buckled him in, he began "leading" his own little worship set.  He held an imaginary mic up to his mouth and sang with his eyes squinched shut and head shaking fervently.  Then he said a little prayer, and then went on to the second song.  I stood there and watched him with a silly smile on my face - thinking the whole thing was kind of hilarious and wondering why NO ONE ELSE was here to witness this moment with me.  It was pretty cute.

He also became VERY familiar with Shrek the Musical this spring, because I was directing it at the college.  He attended many rehearsals and almost all the performances and man, he had that thing memorized from start to finish!  He loved Princess Fiona (and even told his teacher that his Mommy was pretty like Princess Fiona....not the Ogre version, I hope!) and he will randomly start singing a song from that show here and there and still likes to listen to the soundtrack from time to time.  This musical theatre-loving mama loves hearing him sing show tunes, but mostly I just love that fact that he was so involved in a part of my life that is precious and important to me, and that he got to see his mommy doing her "work" and see that my life and my identity is made up of more than just the parental and household tasks he sees me doing on a daily basis.

When the sun was shining in his eyes, he would say, "That sun is brighting!"

If he didn't hear what I said, didn't understand, or simply wanted to hear it again, he would say, "Whatcha talkin' to me about, Mommy?  What you saying?" 

"When I give up my bintas (pacifiers) to a baby, God will buy me a scooter?"  (Update: he has NOT given up the binta, and we bought him a scooter for his bday.  Oh well.)

His dad visited Tennessee, so for a while Tyler thought that anything with the word "tennis" was actually "Tennessee."  Tennessee ball or Tennessee shoes...

He will occasionally and very sincerely ask, "Daddy (or Mommy) how was your day at work?"

At Christmas time: "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, jingle all the way.  Ol' McFun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh..."

"I mell some-ping" when he smells a bad odor.

Spreading a blanket on the ground or floor for ANY reason is called a  "pic-mic."

He went through a phase of being very precise and polite in his answers to questions:
Me: "Tyler, did you have fun at school today?"  Ty: "I did." (Instead of yeah, or yes.)
Me: "Tyler, did you eat all your corn?" Ty: "I didn't."
Me: "Will you go next door without asking?" Ty: "I won't."
(By the way, nowadays, he is not so polite, and I'm lucky if I can get him to answer AT ALL, let alone in a polite way.  Oh, 3-yr-olds.)

We took him to SeaWorld, and though, while we were there, he didn't seem super excited about it, he has talked non-stop since then about the Dolphins and the "workers" or trainers/divers.  He asks us to re-count the entire Dolphin show at least once a day.  "Mommy, talk about the workers and the dolphins. Dolphins first." - April 2014

"Daddy, I want a piggy-bank ride." -April 2014

One day he ran up to us and said, "Hey Mama and Daddy, I wanna play bolleyball with a bolleyball fence!"

At three years old, he is definitely exerting his will and testing ours.  Each day is a roller coaster of sweet, precious moments mixed with terror and tantrums.  He is very smart and picks up on things very quickly.  His memory is like a steel trap.  I seriously can't believe some of the things he remembers and how clearly he can recount them.  He is very athletic, and currently very interested in all sports.  He is loving and affectionate and likes to cuddle, but when he is mad, watch out!  I think he's a typical toddler, with a will that is perhaps a little stronger than average.  My prayer is that we can steward that will in a way that will enable him to use it as a positive tool in his life.  I see so many wonderful things in this kid.  He makes me proud, happy, delighted and sometimes completely frustrated, but man, I can't get over how much I love him.  My sweet Tyler, may you continue to learn and grow and become the person that your loving God created you to be. 

Hey, Dad? Wanna have a catch?

My husband cries every time he watches Field of Dreams.  He is not a big crier.  Though he's not opposed to crying, and doesn't have any kind of machismo stance against men crying, on the rare occasion that he sheds tears, it indicates that his emotions at that moment are unusually raw and that he's feeling the profundity of life in one way or another.

The crux of the story of Field of Dreams is reconciliation and healing between a father and a son.  The ghost of the main character's father comes back to earth as a younger man to play baseball on a field his son built in the middle of an Iowa cornfield.  The son built the field, not knowing why, but following promptings from a voice who told him, "If you build it, he will come."  At the end of the movie, the man has the opportunity to invite his father to a game of catch and the two of them reconnect.  There is a sense of completion and reparation to a brokenness that had been endured for years, and left unresolved because of the father's early death.

When I came home from Target on Saturday, Chris was watching the movie on t.v. (one day prior to Father's Day) and Tyler was sitting next time him on the couch.  My two-year-old son rarely, if ever, sits still for any length of time.  When he does, it's usually because he has been captivated by Mickey Mouse Clubhouse or Elmo.  But on Saturday, he sat still next to his Daddy on the couch and watched the movie for a good 15 minutes, at least.  Something about it intrigued him.  What intrigued me was the sight and implications of a tiny boy and his daddy sharing a moment (and some chips) on the couch on a Saturday afternoon. I pointed out to Chris that Tyler was paying special attention to the movie, as if he knew that it carried an important message.  He probably really didn't have a clue, and maybe he was just having an uncharacteristic lapse of activity in his normally energetic day.  But as I noticed that stillness, it occurred to me that God is already doing a work through Tyler's life, and through Chris's relationship with Tyler.

Chris's relationship with his own dad is strained, at best.  Jim has struggled in his addiction to alcohol since he was a young boy, and his disease has separated him from nearly everything and everyone.  He just can't kick it.  Chris and his brother have been forced to set boundaries and keep him at arm's length to protect themselves and their families from the inevitable hurt that would occur if they allowed themselves to become enmeshed with him as they have in the past. In spite of the situation, Chris loves his dad, and grieves the brokenness that is present in that relationship.  He prays for him to get healthy and to be transformed by the power of Christ's love in his life.  Jim is getting older though, and the more years that pass, the harder it is to hold out hope that such a transformation is possible.  The thing that's really sad to me is that, even if he were to get sober and live out the rest of his life walking closely with God, that wouldn't repair the damage that has been done in Chris' life and heart, and wouldn't fill the fatherless hole that Chris carried from his childhood into his adulthood.  Things happen to us in life, and we do our best to heal from them and learn from them and move forward, but they leave their marks on our souls.  I believe my husband has some fairly dark, deep dad-shaped marks on his soul.

Jesus is The Redeemer, though.  Redeemer is the one attribute of Christ that keeps my heart closer to his grace than any other can - I guess because redemption carries so much hope.  The truth is that Jesus WILL redeem the broken relationship between Chris and Jim, and between fathers and sons everywhere.  The redemption may not look the way we would like it to look, but God is working.  He is working on Jim's heart, and he is working on Chris's heart.  The work is arduous and painful and progress is slow.  But every now and then, we get to have a glimpse of redemption in process.  Saturday was a little glimpse for me.  Tyler has a daddy who has learned from the mistakes of his father, and done his best to carry with him the positive things he received from his father, and is committed to loving Tyler very differently and much better than he was loved.  That's redemption.  And Tyler, though he is not aware today, is being built by God - formed and guided and disciplined and loved - and Chris has the solemn task of being a very crucial part of that.  I think God wants to display through Chris and Tyler what a father-son relationship SHOULD look like.  The human relationship won't be perfect, and can't be the end-all for healing and redemption for the hurts Chris has endured, but I sure do believe that God will use - in fact, is already using - Tyler to bless Chris's life and heal some of those broken places within him.  And as for Tyler, his daddy will most certainly leave some marks on his soul...and they will be very, very good.

Ok, God.

Sometimes I think God is talking to me.  Not in a audible way, but sometimes when I see or hear or read something, and I feel it at a gut level, feel a heaviness in my spirit about it, I think he's talking to me.  Many times, I don't want to hear what he's saying, because it's hard.  It's discipline.  It's tough love.  It's reminding me of things I already know, but have been ignoring.  But I would be amiss (or remiss?  or both?) to ignore his voice and conviction.  Sometimes what he is saying to me stops me dead in my tracks.  I hate it.  I don't want to be stopped.  I don't have time to slow down and give it thought, and I don't have the emotional energy to take it in and let it change me. This morning he stopped me like that.  I have tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat over something I saw on Facebook.  I wasn't expecting it; I was gearing up for all the tasks I need to complete today and was just perusing FB while I sipped my coffee.  And then I saw this, and it stopped me. 
You can see it here.

Cancer sucks.  My uncle and grandfather died of cancer in their 60s, and we lost our dear Joel to cancer a few years ago.  My dad passed away from cancer in 2006.  Dad's death left a gaping hole in my heart and in my life, the pain of which has become more acute since Tyler was born.  I never knew my Grandpa Land - he died before I was born.  Tyler will never know his Grandpa Land.  This is one of the saddest realities I have to live with.  Even now, as I write this, my heart aches.  It aches.  I can't imagine that it could be true that Tyler will never sit on his Grandpa's lap, or go swimming or play games with him or sing songs with him in his music room. 

My dad was a casual smoker.  He smoked a pipe while I was growing up.  Never excessively, but I remember the pipe sitting on the end table by his chair, and I remember the sweet smell of the smoke wafting in from outside sometimes.  I find the smell comforting, actually.  Later in his life I think he might have been smoking more frequently, and smoking cigarettes, though I don't know that for certain.  I don't know if the smoking caused his pancreatic cancer, or just compromised his cells enough for the cancer to appear.  Maybe it had nothing to do with it at all, and he would have gotten the cancer regardless.  I don't resent him for smoking or place blame on him.  I think we all try the hardest we can to cope in life, and honestly he was such a great man, and such a true servant of Christ.  I would never judge him for his weaknesses, whether or not those weaknesses are what led to his sickness and death. 

I am a casual smoker.  I hide it from most people, especially now that I'm a mother, because I resent the idea that they would judge me for it.  Although, I'm sure no judgment from others could ever match the internal judgment I place on myself for smoking.  I'm not a pack-a-day smoker - never have been - but it doesn't really matter that I don't smoke that many cigarettes, or that I never smoke around Tyler, or that I do it mostly when I'm stressed out.  The point is that I have a bad habit, and this particular habit happens to be one that has been proven to compromise health.  I know that it's bad for me, and I hate it, but I still do it.  I guess that's the definition of addiction.

When I saw those photos this morning, it was like God was just smacking me right in the face, in a loving way, saying, "Ember, you're an intelligent woman.  I know you get this.  I want you to stop and consider the implications.  Really consider them, and consider how much your family needs you, consider the devastation it would cause to Chris if you became ill, and consider that Tyler will want his children to be able to hang out with their Grandma one day."

Now, I am definitely prone to guilt.  I feel guilty about almost everything.  Guilt tends to make me either shut down, or run headlong further into the thing I feel guilty about, sort of like giving a proverbial middle finger to whoever or whatever is making me feel guilty.  In this case, though, I need to feel guilty.  I don't think God is trying to make me feel guilty - he knows me well enough to know that it isn't an effective motivator for me - but I need to own the guilt that I have.

I know the wrenching pain of losing someone to cancer.  I understand how much it hurts the family, and I saw a glimpse of the kind of physical pain it causes the victim.  It seems like it should be easy to take that knowledge and use it as the impetus to change my habits.  It should be easy, but it is difficult.  I may never get cancer, God willing.  I may not even get high blood pressure.  There is no way of knowing, and I think we really have very little control over how we die, ultimately.  But instead of looking at that fact as an excuse, I want to try to allow God to redeem me more, and pay attention to what I already know...that there is one thing within my control, and that is my power to choose.  I want to choose better.

Will I never smoke again?  Um, honestly?  I sort of doubt that the cigarette I had last night will be my last one ever.  Never smoking again is not a promise I'm willing to make because I think we are silly to make these grandiose promises that we most likely will not keep (because we're flawed and human and all).  But this is a faith issue for me, I think, at it's heart, that goes beyond the smoking habit.  I need a Redeemer.  On a daily basis.  Much more than I need a cigarette.  I need someone whose ways are higher than mine and someone whose love is bigger than mine, who can see past all the crap in my heart and in my life, and can pull out and clean off the shining gem that is my soul.  I can't do this for myself.  It requires a belief in my own goodness and potential that I just don't possess.  The trick though, is to believe in the goodness and potential of God.

The smoking thing is just one thing that I struggle with, and sometimes when I think about it, it seems like no big deal.  Everyone has a vice, right?  We gotta do what we can to cope in life.  But this morning, after seeing those pictures and feeling God's hand resting gently, but firmly on my soul, like a parent offering loving and painful discipline to a child, I am reminded that it's not just about one habit.  It's about the general direction of life, and the amazing gift we've been given by God to make choices that set us on one path or another.  It's about the opportunity we have to overcome those things that stand in our way.  The choices we make ARE a big deal, because they define us.  I think the definition of me - the true definition, penned by God himself - is a more magnificent definition.  So, my promise to myself and to Chris and to Tyler and to the Lord today, this Easter week, is to seek that definition and allow it to shape my choices and my life, however long I am blessed to live on earth.

La la la la, la la la la, Tyler's World...

My little boy is nearly two years old.  I can't believe it.  Everyone told me that time would go quickly and that he would grow up fast, and boy, were they right!  It seems like only yesterday we were just bringing him home from the hospital and setting up our home with our new little guy.  I can't describe the amount of joy and fullness of heart that I feel as a result of my Tyler.  He has quite a little personality.  He's a charmer, like his dad.  He has a smile that melts my heart and he is so stinking smart!  I can't believe this kid's vocabulary, and his ability to link words together in little sentences and to connect concepts.  Of course I am his mom, so I think he's a complete genius, but I am seriously amazed by him every single day.  A good friend of mine recently reminded me that I need to keep a record of what he says and does and how he makes me laugh and cry (in a good way, of course).  She said to me, "you think you will remember all this stuff, but you will forget, so write it down."  So, I'm going to write it down, as much as I can so that I can remember, and so that he will know how completely awesome he was, even from a very young age.  Already I have forgotten a lot of the way he pronounced certain words when he first began talking, but here are some things from the last few months...

Every morning Tyler wakes up between 6 and 7 a.m. (Lord, help me) and almost inevitably the first words out of his mouth are "I unt faffles."  (I want waffles).  He loves eggos and has eaten one nearly every morning for the last year.  His other favorite foods are yogurt, french fries and fruit/veggie pouches.

He used to always call bananas "maynas."  Recently he has begun calling them "mananas."  It's closer to the correct pronunciation, but I prefer "maynas," simply because the fact he is pronouncing things more accurately reminds me of how quickly he is growing up.

Over the last few months he has developed a huge love for basketball.  I directed High School Musical at the university, and Tyler's favorite pastime was coming to "Mommy Office" to play "bassetball" with C-Bass and "Trishan" (Christian), two of my students in the show.  He has his own little hoop at home and he stands up on a box to shoot hoops because he is not quite tall enough to reach from the floor.  He can say "rebound" and can chant "Defense!" while clapping his little hands with the best of 'em. When Daddy shoots a basket, his success is met with an excited, "Daddy did it!" from Ty.

He also likes music and loves to dance.  He has some pretty awesome little moves for a white kid.  He likes to engage his whole little body, incorporating some deep knee bends, some pretty fancy spins, and lots of twisting wrists and arms.  It's the cutest thing I've ever seen.

Much to this mama's delight, he has started singing some of the little songs that I have sung to him since he was just a wee little one.  The other day in the car I heard him sing an entire verse of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, all by himself and unprompted.  My heart nearly burst.

Every time we drive by a fast food restaurant, he says, "I unt fruh-fries."  And when we drive past the local Chipotle restaurant, he asks for a "say-see-ya" (quesadilla). I'm always amazed by the fact that he recognizes locations and even knows which street we turn on to get to my office. 

We say a lot of I Love Yous in our house, and Tyler, for some reason, pronounces it "I ya dum."  Not sure where the "dum" part came from , but I'm certainly not going to correct that anytime soon.  There is nothing I love more than hearing him say "I ya dum, mommy."

And then there is the Binta (pronounced beenta).  This is a word Tyler came up with to describe his binky or pacifier.  The Binta has taken on it's own persona in his little world, and sometimes I think he loves Binta more than his mom and dad.  He gets super excited when he sees Binta, and when we reluctantly let him have his Binta (though we wish we could break him of it....).  Recently he has been asking me to sing "Happy To You" (Happy Birthday to You) to Binta.  Oh, Lord.

Some of my other favorite phrases these days are:
-"Daddy g-up" or "Ty Ty g-up" (Daddy get up, Ty Ty get up - when he wants us to get out of bed).
-"Mommy home!" or "Daddy home!" (said with excitement when we get home after being away for a few hours.
- "I unt brush teef, toof-pace" ( I want to brush teeth with toothpaste)
- If we ask him a question and he doesn't know the answer, he will say "Um!" He used to say "Ummmm..." but recently it has changed to more of a statement.  Um!
- He loves Elmo and Sesame Street.  "Sreet" is his name for the show, and he will ask for "Sreet Guys" when he wants to play with his little SS figurines.
- "Uhn go ow-shide!" (I want to go outside).

I also love it when he says "Hi Mommy!" or "Hi Daddy!" with a high-pitched, almost surprised inflection, like he is really genuinely glad to see us.  Melts my heart.

I'm sure there are a million more, and I'm realizing even as I write this that I already have forgotten some.  I need to start keeping a little notebook and pen nearby to write things down.  I know every kid learns words and develops the ability to ask for what he/she wants and put together ideas.  I realize this is not some crazy phenomenon.  However, I think it is uncanny how he comes up with things on his OWN, and how he hears and repeats every little thing, and how he can process concepts in his little brain.  We humans are amazing creatures, really.  God designed us so expertly and with such love.  Tyler reminds me constantly of how the Father must look at us, with wonder at what we can do, with so much hope for what we can be and with more love than can be described in words. 

My First Blog Post

For years (at least 3 or 4) I have had a love-hate relationship with the idea of starting a blog.  Part of me loved the idea and wanted to do it, because I like to write, and I like the idea of having a place to just get some thoughts out of my mind and down on a page where they can be saved and re-read, and not ultimately lost and forgotten. The other part of me hated the idea.  I am not brave enough to put my thoughts out there into cyberspace for anyone and everyone to read.  What if they don't like what I have to say?  Why would anyone really be interested in reading about my life?  I mean, not to be too self-deprecating, but seriously....everyone has enough to think about in their own lives.  I don't expect them to have time to read long, wordy posts (because I'm sure mine will always be long and wordy - that's just how I roll) about mine. I also hated the idea of a blog because I felt such pressure for it to be good and meaningful and even, at times, profound.  What colors would I choose?  What background photos would truly capture the most vibrant version of me and my life?  What title would be witty and clever, or poignant and heart-warming?  How would I write in a way that was appealing to read?  blah. blah. blah.  These are the questions that rolled around in my head and kept me from ever starting a blog.

But I am starting one today.  I decided to just get over it.  I am starting it for ME, and for my husband and my son.  I believe that from time to time there are some good and convicting and funny and witty thoughts here in my head, and that they are worth sharing in a form that my family can access not just now, but in the future.  I want Tyler to be able to read things I've written when he is older, and by doing so, have a more clear picture of his mom - who she is, how she views the world, what she values.  I believe by having a clearer picture of me, he will have a clearer picture of himself. I am also starting a blog because there are a lot of things happening in life all the time, and I need a way to track and remember.  My son is growing so quickly, and learning so much so fast.  I need a place to record the things that he says and the ways he is learning to be a part of this world and the little person he is becoming.  I want to record it now, while he is 1 1/2, so that I can remember it when he is 21.  So that he knows who he was as a tot, and how much his mom and dad adored him.

So I am just going to write.  I am not going to put pressure on myself to write about any certain topic on any given day, or to keep things super organized in categories, or have the most beautiful pictures or the catchiest titles or the most witty comments.  If you want to read anything, you are welcome.  I am happy to share my life with others, but I am okay if this is just a special place for my little family and our memories and musings, and nothing more.