fourth of july.jpg
I'm not sure why I think that my kids will recognize that weekend and holiday mornings are any different than any other morning where they wake up at unthinkably (for me) early hours. CosI is almost as accurate as an alarm clock, calling out to me every morning between 5:45 and 6am.  Every night she goes to sleep hugging her Minnie and Mickey dolls, one in each arm,  while simultaneously kicking her blanket off and on with her toes, and adjusting the ribbon attaching her binkie to her shirt so that it is sandwiched between her binkie and her nose like a ribbon mustache. Every morning, when I open her door I am greeted by the same scene, but all the characters are a bit different.....the contents of the previous night are strewn across the floor and she is standing at the edge of her crib, grunting and pointing at them with a look of bewilderment and distress, as if some invisible villain silently ripped them from her arms and threw them across the room as she slept. The only friend she is adamant be returned to her, though, is her beloved binkie.  It makes me chuckle every morning.  But on holiday mornings and weekends, the chuckle comes a bit more begrudgingly, I admit.

After retrieving her and binkie,  I carry them to the kitchen, where she sits on the counter and waits for me to prepare her bottle of milk. Some mornings she has to hold the bottle while I pour, and then pretend to screw the top back on, before letting me take over. More often, she is content to nag/grunt at me until I get it done myself. From there, we usually go back to my room where she snuggles up to me, alternating between her bottle and binkie, while I read my scriptures on my phone. But lately, she has been demanding that we move our snuggle sessions to her daddy's chair in the living room. If I don't comply, she cries and writhes around on my bed as if there are millions of tiny little unseen warriors poking her with their miniature swords. She demands to get down from the bed, and then immediately screams to be lifted back up. We go through a merry go round of up and down until I give in, and daddy's chair it is! 

Yesterday morning, before having to migrate to the chair,  I was rescued by one of her siblings, who took her off to play on the trampoline. I think she likes the trampoline almost as much as she likes her binkie, or me..... actually, possibly more than me!  Grateful, I crawled back into bed to sleep until 7:30. 

Every year on the 4th our church congregation gets together bright and early for breakfast. It is a fun start to our Independence Day celebrations. Since the breakfast started at 7:30, we jumped out of bed and rushed to get everyone dressed.  The only outfit that must be worn, was the one Cosi would be wearing, a little outfit I made for Cassidy when she was one.  The skirt is a pair of jeans that I cut off just below the waist, and sewed layers of cute patriotic fabric and red tulle so that it flared out a bit like a tutu. The top is a simple white shirt with red ribbon and tulle sewed in three layers at the collar. It is topped off by a hair band made with the patriotic fabric and ribbon.  All three girls have worn it, and I have loved to see each of them running around in it! I remember sitting at the sewing machine to make it, and putting it on Cass for the first time. I also remember feeling a bit self conscious as she ran around at the city BBQ, wondering if people thought I was silly or ridiculous for spending so much time on an outfit that would be worn once.  That feeling stopped me from many subsequent crafting projects, but every year that I pull that little outfit out for the next little girl to wear, I remember fondly the outfits my mom made for me and my sisters on holidays. 

 I especially remember one Christmas.  My mom took t shirts and sewed a few layers of ruffled material to the bottoms to make a dress, then painted puff paint candy canes on the fronts. My cousin Carolee even matched us if I recall correctly. Those memories are special to me, and I don't care if anyone thinks I'm silly or not anymore.....Next holiday we may all be wearing ridiculous homemade outfits, but I won't be paying attention to what anyone thinks of me....because we'll be making wonderful memories that hopefully my kids will remember forever. 


fourth of july.jpg
I'm not sure why I think that my kids will recognize that weekend and holiday mornings are any different than any other morning where they wake up at unthinkably (for me) early hours. CosI is almost as accurate as an alarm clock, calling out to me every morning between 5:45 and 6am.  Every night she goes to sleep hugging her Minnie and Mickey dolls, one in each arm,  while simultaneously kicking her blanket off and on with her toes, and adjusting the ribbon attaching her binkie to her shirt so that it is sandwiched between her binkie and her nose like a ribbon mustache. Every morning, when I open her door I am greeted by the same scene, but all the characters are a bit different.....the contents of the previous night are strewn across the floor and she is standing at the edge of her crib, grunting and pointing at them with a look of bewilderment and distress, as if some invisible villain silently ripped them from her arms and threw them across the room as she slept. The only friend she is adamant be returned to her, though, is her beloved binkie.  It makes me chuckle every morning.  But on holiday mornings and weekends, the chuckle comes a bit more begrudgingly, I admit.

After retrieving her and binkie,  I carry them to the kitchen, where she sits on the counter and waits for me to prepare her bottle of milk. Some mornings she has to hold the bottle while I pour, and then pretend to screw the top back on, before letting me take over. More often, she is content to nag/grunt at me until I get it done myself. From there, we usually go back to my room where she snuggles up to me, alternating between her bottle and binkie, while I read my scriptures on my phone. But lately, she has been demanding that we move our snuggle sessions to her daddy's chair in the living room. If I don't comply, she cries and writhes around on my bed as if there are millions of tiny little unseen warriors poking her with their miniature swords. She demands to get down from the bed, and then immediately screams to be lifted back up. We go through a merry go round of up and down until I give in, and daddy's chair it is! 

Yesterday morning, before having to migrate to the chair,  I was rescued by one of her siblings, who took her off to play on the trampoline. I think she likes the trampoline almost as much as she likes her binkie, or me..... actually, possibly more than me!  Grateful, I crawled back into bed to sleep until 7:30. 

Every year on the 4th our church congregation gets together bright and early for breakfast. It is a fun start to our Independence Day celebrations. Since the breakfast started at 7:30, we jumped out of bed and rushed to get everyone dressed.  The only outfit that must be worn, was the one Cosi would be wearing, a little outfit I made for Cassidy when she was one.  The skirt is a pair of jeans that I cut off just below the waist, and sewed layers of cute patriotic fabric and red tulle so that it flared out a bit like a tutu. The top is a simple white shirt with red ribbon and tulle sewed in three layers at the collar. It is topped off by a hair band made with the patriotic fabric and ribbon.  All three girls have worn it, and I have loved to see each of them running around in it! I remember sitting at the sewing machine to make it, and putting it on Cass for the first time. I also remember feeling a bit self conscious as she ran around at the city BBQ, wondering if people thought I was silly or ridiculous for spending so much time on an outfit that would be worn once.  That feeling stopped me from many subsequent crafting projects, but every year that I pull that little outfit out for the next little girl to wear, I remember fondly the outfits my mom made for me and my sisters on holidays. 

 I especially remember one Christmas.  My mom took t shirts and sewed a few layers of ruffled material to the bottoms to make a dress, then painted puff paint candy canes on the fronts. My cousin Carolee even matched us if I recall correctly. Those memories are special to me, and I don't care if anyone thinks I'm silly or not anymore.....Next holiday we may all be wearing ridiculous homemade outfits, but I won't be paying attention to what anyone thinks of me....because we'll be making wonderful memories that hopefully my kids will remember forever. 




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