. . . the day to adorable day

Averie Lucia rocks.
She still does.
Nearly six years into her life, she is such an amazing little girl.

She has a new favorite color.  It's red.

She still loves to dance, and she dances well.  She is, in her heart and in her movements, a dancer.  Once in the pink, now in the blue, and looking ever ahead to the black, strapped, feminine leotard that will be her uniform next year.

She loves school.  The (very, very, very late) arrival of the "Math Box" has been the biggest event of the year for her.  Counting bears, rulers, a balance, geoboards, tangrams, linking cubes, shapes, a colorful menagerie of things to touch and move and measure and weigh and count.  It is fast becoming her favorite part of the day, and she often begs to use the parts well after the school day is done.

She loves trains, planes and automobiles.  She watches "Cars" - both I and II repeatedly on movie nights, and knows all the jokes by heart.  She can identify a Ferrari, a Chinook and a 'Steamie' with ease and enthusiasm.  She has a bigger hot wheels collection than her Dadoo ever did, and miles upon miles of track for her engines.

She wears dresses.  And skirts.  And gowns.  She will always do as she's asked if encouraged to wear leggings or jeans, but her favorite attire is feminine and ruffled and twirly and fun.  She loves having her toes painted.

She loves her little sister.  She is a wonderful, wonderful big sister.  She is a helper, a nurturer, a teacher, never far from her 'baby', never late with her advice or help or words of experiential wisdom ("No, Isla, that will burn you.  Ee-ee* touched a light bulb once and it burned her").  She reads to this little shadow of hers, telling her with great detail all the ins and outs of the stories.  She rests with her, helps comfort the two-year-old who is fretful with the onset of sleepiness.  She races to remove a 'choking hazard'.  She hugs her and whispers, "I love you, Isla" at prayers.  "Goodnight, sweetheart!" she shouts as her sister races out the door.

She is kind, funny, intelligent, loving, the sweetest five-year-old-baby-adorable you've ever seen.

*"Ee-ee" is the name the baby sister gave her big sister when she couldn't pronounce "sister" or "sissy". Averie, when speaking of herself to her sister, refers to herself as "Ee-ee", too.

. . . a prayer

"Mama."

Just like that.  It is a statement, not a question, not a calling, neither a wish nor a command, just a statement.  

Mama.

"Ma-ma," said the baby.

"Maaaaah-maaaahhhhh," said the toddler.

"Ma-ma?" said the three-year-old-adorable.

"Mama," says the five-year-old.

"Mama. You know, I pray every day."

Actually, Mama did not know that, not in the way the grown-up-girl means it.  Not in the way that clearly means "on my own", "not with you", not at meal or bed times, but "all by myself".

"You do, Averie?"

"Yes. Everyday, Mama.  I pray every day."

"Mama, do you remember that day when I went to go tt and then there was a spider, that big, huge, humongous, spider, in my potty? Do you remember, Mama? Every day, when I go in the bathroom, I pray every day that the spider won't be in the potty."

A.men.

... sweet nothings

As our adorable grows, we-the-parents hear more and more and more words coming from her still small lips. The past tense almost always has the '-ed' suffix attached these days, and a majority of the time, she gets the application right: "colored" for what she did to the page in that book, for example. Sometimes she still says things like, "when I was a baby, Mama, and I swim-ded in your tummy, did you hear me?", and those times are such sweet reminders of the baby-ness that is all but gone.

Every time someone tries to correct her "Dungo" for "Dumbo", Mama secretly (well, not so secretly now, but you get the point) wants to slug them for nearly erasing the last bit of itsy from her four-and-one-third-year-old's vocabulary. We hold on to and deliberately mispronounce words like "post-guard" because we know that soon all that pronunciation will be correct. It's not like journalism and english have anything against correct, but rather that our hearts weren't prepared-ed for how much we would love the soft sounds of almost-got-it-right.

Along with the sweet sounds of this growing grammar, our ears of late have been pleasantly pummeled with sweet words. They come out of the blue, and in a manner that implies she must've been thinking about them, even though we-the-parents are caught unawares. Take two nights ago when the family was driving home after a big lake-walk and our big-girl-Bee spotted what she now calls "an aircraft!!!!" flying against the sunset.

"It's an aircraft!!!! Look, Mama! Look, Dadoo! Can you see it? It's a Chinook!", and then, "Dadoo, you and I are really good spy-ers ... (brief pause as she loads a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, processes the cold on her tongue and swallows, meanwhile, Dadoo in the driver's seat seems ready to protest the description when he's interrupted by the completion of the tiny one's thought) ... of aircraft. Good job, Dadoo!" (Dadoo says, "Thank you, Averie!")*

Or, take for an additional theorem proof, her remarks to Mama even earlier that same evening: "Mama," she said, thoughtfully spearing a strawberry with her fork, "I love your pretty hair, and I love the color of your eyes."

And every night, after reading time with Mama, she lies in her bed, snuggled in with at least seven of her 'darlings' who, along with her are all wrapped up in her favorite afghan, and says with the most serious of faces, "Mama, remember this, ok? Remember this: tell Dadoo, and tell him woudwy, Mama, because he can't hear good, tell Dadoo, the he has to come IN to check on me, and he has to come all the way into my room, and when he asks me if I am asleep, and if I say 'yes' or 'no' then he will lay by me. Ok, Mama? Tell Dadoo. Tell him to remember this, ok?" She follows it with a soft "I wuv you, Mama" and that Mama's heart is fully melted. Every single time.

These little murmurings aren't confined to the ears of the household grownups. She also wraps them around her baby with whispers of, "Oh, Iwah, I'm so glad you were borned out of Mama's tummy!" and "I kiss your wittle baby wips, Iwah!" and "I wuv you, Iwah! You're such a big girl, wittle naughty-pants!"

It's not the only kind of speech we hear, of course. But this kind of language makes up the majority of our conversations with our girl, and for this we are so thankful. It makes the times when we hear the less-than-sweet easier to bear and easier to chasten.

Sweetness pictured below, if you're wondering what kind of sugar has wrapped up our hearts.

*Nevermind that this short sweetness was followed with "But remember, Dadoo. I am better at seeing far than you are, because you can't see very far, but I can. Remember this, Dadoo."

. . . four, and then some.

This is a three-year-old girl.

This is what a three-year-old girl looks like on her last day as a three-year-old girl. And now, she's four.

Her less-than-fabulous mama didn't throw her a big party, but her so-awesome-he-rocks-too-Dadoo planned the perfect surprises for her and invited her Mimi and Grampy to come all the way from North Carolina and her Auntie and Uncle to come all the way from Mississippi (Eagles are FIERCE) to help celebrate.

Our sweet girl spent her last days as a three-year-old playing all her favorite games, eating all her favorite foods, and visiting all her favorite parks with her mama, dadoo, her baby sis, NC-grandparents, and her Auntie & Uncle. It was two weeks of cake, cupcakes, ice cream, multi-colored sprinkles and more cake: sweet on so very many levels.

The sweetest of all was our precious four-year-old. Here she is on the 4th anniversary of her birth. Oh how we all love her.

. . . she just does.

Rock that is. She's amazing and sweet, growing and small, smart and still learning. And she's still the tiny (though less so every day) adorable one we met nearly four years ago.

She's a wonderful big sister, taking time every day to take her little sister to 'baby school' which is located in our bathroom and takes place during mama's shower. Averie is the teacher, and Isla the pupil. Today they learned about monkeys, llamas and decorating. Averie decorated the bathroom with her pets 'just like you decorated for Christmas in my bathroom, Mama'.

Each morning she runs to 'wake' her sister, climbing as fast as she can up onto the bed and kissing and hugging the baby until the baby squeaks. Then she explains to mama how 'she wants out of her bunting, Mama' and 'you have a dirty diapie, Iwah? you do? Mama, she has a dirty diapie', all the while stroking her sister's head or holding her hands or poking her in the nose.

Each night, she and mama cuddle in bed. Averie requests the 'little bear song', and Mama always sings it. Averie asks to count in Spanish and in French, so we-the-nighttime-counters count. She asks to spell some words (the list usually includes 'mosquito helicopter', 'c-130' and 'jet plane'), so we spell. Then it's time to 'talk about functoowayshun marks', so mama explains the ins and outs of exclamation points and semi colons. Then it's time to cuddle and listen to the soothing sounds of her ocean aquarium, and yes, that's the same aquarium she had in her crib as a baby. Now it rests on her bed and she uses it like her own personal radio. Finally, it's time for her big girl reading light, a special big-girl surprise from Mama so the girl adorable can 'read' her books in the darkness of her room when Mama leaves. **

Her vocabulary continues to grow and her memory has improved along the same pace. She's able to pick up a new word very quickly and then use it appropriately at a later time. She's even able to recall for others where she heard that new word and how it was used at that particular time. Take for instance a recent visit from her Auntie and Uncle. Averie was explaining the terrible events of the days before their visit when her baby sister was spitting up blood and falling out of her bouncy seat. Her retelling of the story went something like, " ... and then Iwah was hanging out of her chay-er and mama came wunning out of the showah and she saw Iwah hanging on the fwoor and mama said oh cwap ...".

...

In other recent conversations ...

A few nights ago after leaving big-discount-chain-store:

Averie, holding her newly acquired hotwheels treat from Mama: Oh look! What kind is it, Mama?

Mama: It's a Chevelle.

Averie: Oh! A Chevelle! I love it! It looks kind of like a Charger. But, you know, it's got Volkswagon wheels.

Earlier this month, after hearing noises coming from her baby sister during tummy time:

Averie, laughing: Oh, Iwah! You have a burpie in your bum! You have a burpie bum, Iwah! Mama, Iwah has a burpie bum!

Mama: Yes, Averie, she does.

Averie, very seriously: But I don't have a burpie bum. I have a gassy bum.

Today:

Mama: Averie do you want me to read this Thomas book to you?

Averie: Oh, yes, Mama! It is the desire of my heart.

**Mama herself was often chastened for reading in bed at night when she was supposed to be sleeping. She remembers promising herself that she wouldn't prohibit nighttime books when she was a 'grown up'. Although she does realize the value of going to bed on time, she is bothered not one itsy bit by the knowledge that her sweet Bee falls asleep reading, just like she did and sometimes still does.

. . . Two

It's hard for we-the-parents to believe that our tiny baby is now two. It's hard to believe that it's been that long, so many days, since the minutes we first held her and kissed her tiny head.

Our Mardi Gras girl was born at 9:18 a.m. on Fat Tuesday - a fitting date for parents who spent many a courting day in La Nouvelle-Orléans. Her arrival was the miraculous result of almost 3 years of hoping and waiting - a day of joy for us like none we'd ever had before.

She spent her 2nd birthday enjoying all of her favorite things - including having all three of her favorite snacks for breakfast: cheerios, animal crackers and 'bubble-bubbles' (goldfish). She watched Sam and Ty about ten times each ('watch Sam? watch Ty? watch babies, Mama?), and spent nearly an hour doing 'ark' with her crayons and stickers. She watched her beloved George so many times Mama can't remember, and had a special birthday lunch at Clary's before heading off to see the ducks at the park.

Later in the day, she opened cards (she loved this) and presents, 'talked' to her Aunties & her Gram & Grandpa G, and had a dinner of her favorite foods (mostly red): spaghetti, strawberries, tomatoes, sweet red peppers and grapes. And then there was cake.

Though she wasn't much of a fan last year, this year found our tiny girl shoving tiny handfuls of cake into her mouth. Cake was everywhere, just as it should be.

And just because it was her very special day, the girl got to play rock-star and stay up late with Mama and Dadoo so she could spend an extra bit of time watching . . . George.

The face of our tiny two:



**Photo of our newborn baby girl by our friend Tim.

. . . still more germs (*now in even more places*)

The update at baby-so-sick's afternoon doctor's appointment is that the gunk has now moved into her little ears. Ears which only 8 days ago were symptom free. Ears that have had multiple problems in the past. Teeny, tiny, soft little ears that are now gunky, icky, 'bulging' as her pediatrician termed it, with goo.

The poor girl was such a sweetie at the doctor's, and even while she and mama waited at her favorite store for her new prescriptions. She was a trooper after dinner when her Dadoo gave her the one-two punch of medicine on top of the earlier Tylenol. She even helped pick up her new box of Crayons after it mysteriously emptied itself across the living room floor.

And talk about good, she went to bed with only a few tears, once again missing out on her normal, favorite bedtime milk (no dairy with the violent poo). Granted, she did need both her 'Animal Sounds' book and her 'Hippo' book to do it, but still. All of this from a itsy little thing filled to the brim with, well, that green stuff.

Mama (& Dadoo, too) is so proud of her baby-sweetest. But mostly, Mama just feels so bad that she keeps getting worse. She seems so very small to be so sick for so long. Here's hoping that these new medicines can do the trick, and quickly.

. . . a pink ribbon (or two)

Back in the 1950s, baby-sweetheart's great-grandmother purchased some amazing fabrics. Like most seamstresses, she had a lot of things to sew and not enough time to use up all her fabrics. Years later some of her textiles were passed down to her daughter - baby-adorable's Gram - who is also an amazingly gifted seamstress. Gram sews up a lot of lovely things for the growing girl much to the delight of Babymama who wore so many of Gram's creations during her own growing up years.

A few days ago, a special present arrived in the mail. Mama and her girl opened it to find the most adorable cotton topper. Mama immediately fell in love with the vintage fabric and the innocent pink ribbon tied neatly across the pink, brown and blue squares. The tiniest girl couldn't get enough of the ribbon, and played with the tails, curling them around her little fingers until the ends were frayed with her pulling.

It's fitting that the baby girl received such a sweet gift in the middle of October, which is, after all, the pink month. And it's perhaps even more fitting that this tiny gift and pink ribbon comes with an even sweeter secret. The vintage fabric Gram used to make it was left from great-grandma, picked out long ago with her very own hands, the tiny squares of baby-pink and blue perhaps chosen for just such a tiny girl and finally, years later beautifully stitched by the loving hands of her daughter.

Averie will only know her great-grandmother through the stories and memories of her family, for she is the great-granddaughter of a woman who survived breast cancer and a mastectomy only to die of lung cancer years later. And sadly, the odds are that she will know the all-too-real worry of whether not breast cancer will affect her own life.

Mama hopes that time will change this. Mama hopes that soon we can find a cure, so that her little girl, and all little girls, can grow up to know a world where a pink ribbon is only a pretty symbol of a child's innocence and grace.

Learn more. And then help make it happen.