I cannot believe that it is April already. I feel as though Easter has crept up on me. When I was young the season of Lent seemed so long. Now I realize that time is moving quickly; too quickly for me to grasp.

My babies are growing up! Dawson will be six years old in five months. Owen is six months old in two weeks. Each day is so special to me. I savor every moment I can with my boys.

We spend our mornings cuddling in “the big bed” and we often read stories while lounging there in the middle of the day. Dawson is learning how to recognize words in books. Yesterday he read the word “fox” without any prompting and spelled it out. I am so proud of him.

Owen is developing his personality each day. He smiles often, and he has learned how to use his hands; he now grabs for anything in sight. He is also eating solids twice daily now. He’s one hungry baby, too! Rice cereal is his breakfast favorite, and then later in the day we alternate between vegetables and fruits. His favorite is an apple-banana-pear concoction that Gerber makes.

We spent Easter at my parents’ house. Dawson was so excited to participate in an egg hunt that Grandma and Grandpa the Easter Bunny had set up just for him.  He loved hunting for eggs all around the lawn and in the woods by Papa’s house.  My mother was having a lot of fun just watching Dawson’s excitement.  I loved taking photos of the adventure.

My favorite part was when Dawson was running around, searching for the multi-colored eggs.  He went to the front yard near the ditch and yelled, “Look!  I think I see a blue one!”  When he realized it was not an egg after all he said, “Aww, man!  It’s just a beer can!”  The whole family burst into laughter.  It was the funnies thing I’ve heard in awhile.  I get such a kick out of the things that Dawson says.

Owen was the center of attention when he wasn’t sharing the limelight with his big brother.  Uncle Nathan and Aunt Becky took turns holding the little man.  He was so cute when wearing his bunny ears, too.

The best part of Easter (aside from the delicious food) was celebrating the resurrection of Jesus Christ with family.  I have come to appreciate these moments more and more as time goes by.

Last Monday I celebrated the Passover Seder with friends and had a wonderful time reading from the Mishnah (and the children asking the four questions), drinking the four cups of wine (mine was pure grape juice since I’m still nursing), and eating matza.  I especially loved the Charoset.  I don’t remember ever eating anything similar.  The Charoset was made of chopped apples, nuts and cinnamon (from what I tasted, that is, I don’t know the official recipe).

Another interesting part of the meal was bitter herbs or Maror (horse radish) and greens (we had green onions, parsley and celery) dipped in salt water and then eaten.  The horse radish was rather strong, I could feel it in my nostrils, but delicious just the same.

While I was raised Catholic, and still practice the religion today, I truly appreciated the Jewish customs.  I realized that aside from the differences in customs, there are many connections between the two faiths.  I was grateful to be able to connect to the heritage in this ritual.

Now a week later, celebrating Easter with my family truly completed the circle.  After dinner at my parents’ we watched a documentary on the History Channel about Jesus and the suffering he endured by being crucified.  It’s difficult for me to put it into words, but I truly felt His presence these last few weeks.  I have come to understand so much, and still yearn for more knowledge on Catholicism as well as Judaism.  I’m eager to learn more.

(I still can’t believe it’s April! Where has the time gone?)

Happy Easter to you all!

It started with this intense desire to start organizing the bedroom that Dawson and his baby brother will share for awhile.  Doug took the doors off the closet and I went through every single item in that space.  The urge to purge hit me like a ton of bricks.

Three large boxes of stuff were sealed up and are now ready for donation to the Easter Seals.  I got rid of toys no one has played with in years.  Clothes that Dawson cannot wear and the baby wouldn’t be able to wear for years were packed for others to use.  Anything that had not been worn or used in a year or more was tossed into the boxes as well.  I realized that Dawson had a lot of clothes when he was born, more than the new baby could ever wear.  Gone it is.

It took a few hours to figure out the correct floor plan for the room.  The furniture was arranged with efficiency in mind.  I delegated while Doug moved things around several times.  It’s very functional now.  I should have taken before and after photos.

Next, we took a trip to Target and bought one of these awesome toy organizers:

All of the most played-with toys were sorted into these 12 magic bins.  Because I had sorted through everything first, we ended up with two smaller bins being empty.

After the kids’ room was complete I crashed into bed and slept like a rock.  It was a long, rough day.

Sunday morning we went to church and after we got home Doug made a delicious breakfast of eggs, bacon, hashbrowns and toast.  It was delicious.  I decided to tackle our closet after that, and 5 more boxes of clothes, shoes, purses and other miscellaneous items were donated.

I finally got rid of all those clothes that had sentimental value or emotional feelings attached them.  I haven’t worn them in more than five years.  Someone else can use them.  It was tough to let go of some of those things, but I noticed that an uncluttered house has also cleared my psyche.

Doug did all the grunt work and heavy lifting, and I’m so grateful for his help.  After tackling closets we cleaned out the pantry together, as well as the linen and coat closets, too.  My house is almost perfect.

Shortly after we finished our work, my mother-in-law called to say that my father-in-law was having health issues.  He has been feeling disoriented, experiencing hallucinations and memory loss, as well as sleeping a lot and not wanting to get out of bed.  I’m not sure what the medical condition is, but it reminds me of dementia.  My grandfather suffered from the disease.  I also wonder if my FIL was experiencing a mini-stroke.

We went to Doug’s parents’ house to help get my FIL to the hospital, but later decided an ambulance was a better choice.  Doug’s dad was taken to the ER and later admitted to the hospital for observation.  We got home a few hours later.  Doug’s brother and uncle stayed to help my MIL.  Doug wanted to stay longer, but he had to work very early this morning, and his mom said not to miss work until they know exactly what my FIL’s condition is.  We’re praying that he recovers from whatever it is that is ailing him.

After we got home last night, we all crashed into bed.  Another long day under our belts.

I’m hoping today is uneventful, and that no one else is admitted to the ER.  They say bad things happen in threes.  Here’s hoping that’s just an old wives tale, or a myth.

Later this afternoon I’m taking Dawson to see a free matinee showing of Transformers 2.  The theater is offering this show for customer appreciation week, and my little guy cannot wait for the DVD to come out on October 20th.  It’s our last mommy/son “date” before little Baby O arrives.  I plan to treasure every second of it.

My youngest brother, Frankie (the baby of the family), pre-Graduation.

Arriving at the SPASH Fieldhouse two hours early, to get a good seat.  We still had to sit towards the back.

Ms. Colby, my high school journalism teacher.  She still looks as young as she did 12 years ago when I graduated.

Dawson hugs my father while we wait for the ceremony to start.

Kathy Kinney (Mimi Bobeck of the Drew Carey Show), Stevens Point native.  She was the keynote speaker for my graduation ceremony in 1997 also.  She gave a magnificent speech about being a good person and that if we all pay it forward, the world would be a better place.

Kathy, during her speech.  This was as close as I could get — and I was using the mega zoom lens on my Rebel.

My brother, accepting his diploma and customary handshake.

573 Graduating Seniors (of high school, seriously.  My class had 650 graduates out of 689 seniors), and nearly 3,000 family and friends pack the fieldhouse.

The Graduate.  (No, not that one.)

My parents, brother Frank and Dawson. (No, I have no idea what the boys are looking at.  Certainly isn’t the camera.)

“Mom, I’m 4 1/2, right?”

Ant Catching on Memorial Day.

Memorial Day Picnic in the Back Yard.

Post Picnic Bike Ride.

Lilacs from the Back Yard.

My Little Acrobat.  Today’s ultrasound reveals I will be giving birth to the next Shawn Johnson. The baby was standing on his or her little head, legs dangling in the air, facing in the opposite direction of the tech’s wand. I will have to go back for another U/S because the poor technician couldn’t get more than half of the required cross-section photos she needed. So there’s hope that I’ll find out in the next six weeks!

Profile.  Looks just like Dawson.  Seriously.  I thought I might be having a girl, but now I think it might be a boy.  Also, today’s heartbeat was 138.  Three prior heartbeats were 165, 156 and 148.  So, that old wive’s tale is no help at all.

For more photos, visit my Flickr sets!

* And not an alien, as my husband likes to joke…

Now before I go any further with this story, I must confess that I had never been down a toboggan run before.  I’m nearly 30 years old and last night was my first time.  I was a toboggan virgin.

Iverson Park is beautiful in the summer, but it’s full of snowy action in winter months.  They have a sledding hill which is BYOS (bring your own sled) and two toboggan slides, each 300 feet long.  When we got to the park and my dad asked if I wanted to go down, I hesitated when I discovered we’d have to climb to the top of the platform.  I was freaked out because this is what the drop looks like:

I. Was. Terrified.

My fearless Dawson looked at me and said, “Mommy, you can’t be scared.  It will be so much fun!”

I declined to go down with Dad, Mom and Dawson.  Instead, I went down with my brother Frank first.  I didn’t want my son to see me cry.

So we climb up to the top, I sat down on the front of the toboggan, with my feet directly under the curl and my little bro (who’s 6′ 3″ and a good 250 pounds) sat behind me.   I felt safer knowing there was an anchor behind me.  The slide attendant instructed me to keep my body parts on the sled and to hold tight to the rope.

“Ready?” she asked.

“I think so,” I said with a stutter.

“Have fun!” she yelled.

Next thing I know she dropped the hatch and down we flew.  Picture me screaming, eyes closed, and tears streaming down my rosy cheeks.

“Hooooollleeeee Craaaaapppp!” I screamed.

When we got to the end and started to slow down, I opened my eyes, and sat there frozen with fear.

“Are you okay?” Frank asked.

“Am I alive?” I replied.

“Yeah. You made it.” he said.

“Okay, then I’m okay.  I’m okay, right?”  I couldn’t believe I didn’t die.

As we walked back up the hill, I saw my parents, my sister and little Dawson going down for the second time.   My son, fearless and smiling, was screaming with delight.  He loved it.

“Mumma!  Poppa, Nonna and Rachel and me won the race!  Woo hoo!” he shouted.

“You did!” I said.

Dawson asked me if I liked the “noggin hill” and I told him as long as I didn’t break my own noggin, I would be fine.

I managed to get up the courage to go down again, but with my Dad, Mom and Dawson.  This time the sled crashed and we all went rolling.  I was so happy I wore three pairs of pants because I had some major butt burn.  That wasn’t the first time we crashed either (can you believe I went down a total of 12 times?), and this morning I was so stiff in the buttocks and lower back.

Dawson had preschool this morning, and I realized we were running late.  I quickly threw on one of the pairs of pants I wore last night and drove my boy to school.

When I got home, I sat down on the couch to take a rest and noticed my sweats were inside out.  I can’t believe I was out in public dressed like that!!

If anyone noticed, I’ll blame it on Noggin Hill and my butt burn.  It could have been worse.  I could have broken my arse instead of just getting a bruise on one cheek.  No seriously, it’s black and blue!

Dawson has been begging to go sledding again, and I think I might just do it.  As scary as it is, it sure is one hell of an adrenaline rush!

We went to Doug’s parents’ house on Christmas Eve, and his sister, brother and their spouses were in attendance, as well as his aunt and uncle and his niece.  Dawson was thrilled to see his cousin Brittney.

We only see Brittney a few times a year, and honestly, the last time we saw her was last Christmas. She’s gotten taller and even more beautiful. She’s going to be nine years old in January and I keep wondering where the time has gone. It seems like only yesterday she was a chubby-cheeked baby. (I’d love to post a photo, but I want to respect her privacy.)

Dawson received some wonderful gifts, too. Grandma T. bought him a set of Lincoln logs, and Dawson was so happy when Uncle Chris helped him build a log cabin.

Aunt Gail and Uncle Rick bought him the most obnoxious guitar on Earth. She instructed Dawson to play it at top volume and I laughed when we discovered the loudest volume was actually tolerable.

“Ha ha! Joke’s on you! That’s as loud as it goes!” I exclaimed happily.

And then Dawson opened the Fisher-Price NASCAR racetrack from Uncle Chris and Aunt Kelly, a battery-operated toy that is so annoying I’m already thinking about hiding it in the basement. The thing is just….obnoxious.  Aunt Gail was more than happy to put together that noisy toy and I think she had fun playing with Dawson, too.

We had lots of great food and drink and everyone had a wonderful time.

Christmas Day was held at my parents’ house. We drove over there a few hours after church, and we had a wonderful ham dinner with my family.

My brother Nathan was there with his girlfriend Becky, and my mom’s brother Paul came over, too.  My mom’s sister Judy stayed home this year because she wasn’t feeling well.

I sent some presents with Uncle Paul, one for him and one for Aunt Judy.  I’m sad she didn’t make it this year.  I think it has a lot to do with her sadness about Grandma Alice’s death.  She died December 6, 2005 and I don’t think Christmas will ever be the same with out her.

After dinner, my family ended up watching some movies on Dad’s big screen TV. We watched The Temptations mini-series on VH1 which turned out to be a four hour show. (It was a good movie, despite how long it was.  I love Motown artists and I’ve always been intrigued about Berry Gordy’s legacy and the musical acts he cultivated — like The Supremes, The Jackson 5, Smokey Robinson & The Miracles, The Temptations and so many more.)  The show ended at 10 p.m., and when Doug went outside to start the car it was snowing heavily. Had we known about the mini-blizzard, we’d have left hours before.

The meteorologists predicted a “light dusting” but by the time we were ready to leave we’d already gotten 3 inches of snow and Mother Nature showed no signs of letting up.

My brother Nathan was leaving at the same time we were and the roads were so slippery and full of fluffy white crap that he got sucked into the ditch just past my parents driveway.

Thankfully, we were behind him and stopped to help, and Doug ran to the house to get my brother Frankie, my sister Rachel and my Dad to come help us shovel and push Nathan’s car out of the ditch.

I wasn’t very much help with my bum knee, however. I couldn’t push because I couldn’t find any solid footing, so finally I decided to use a shovel to clear some snow away from the tires.

Unfortunately, after nearly twenty minutes of shoveling, pushing and maneuvering we weren’t able to budge the SUV very much, and we were covered in snow (and my hair was frozen to my head because I didn’t wear a hat that day), so Dad ran back to get his 4-Wheeler and a chain.

Nathan crawled under the car, hooked the chain around the axel, and the rest of us pushed (I steered) while Dad tried to pull the car out. Sweet Lord, it worked! After a few minutes of the push/pull combo, Nate was out of the ditch.

It was Christmas chaos. But the drive home was worse. We got about 4 inches of snow that just came down all at once and caused our windshield wipers to freeze up constantly. Nathan followed behind us (since my parents live in the country) and we kept stopping to clean off the wipers on our cars.

Once we got into town and had the help of street lights, driving conditions were better, but we were still only driving at 20 mph, and that was almost too fast. It really was a miracle that we all made it to our homes safely.

This morning I was so tired from all the insanity and I awoke with a pounding headache. I spent the day lounging around the house and reading blogs. It was actually very relaxing.

Overall I’d say this Christmas was a mix of fun and crazy.

Check out some of my favorite photos from the two days of family togetherness:

I hope your Christmas was as exciting and wonderful as ours! Even though I enjoyed the holiday, I’m ready for 2009.  What are your plans for the New Year?

For the last few days, I’ve contemplated what to write about my mother on her birthday.  I just don’t know where to begin.  In fact, I’ve deleted many versions of this post because I just can’t find the right words.

You see, my mother and I have a complex relationship.  We’re so much alike that we get on each other’s nerves, a lot.  If you asked her if I annoy her, she’d tell you I’m crazy.  She’d tell you how much she loves me, and that I don’t talk to her enough, that I don’t spend enough time with her, because I’m too busy with my own life.  She’d probably say that when I turned 18 years old, I couldn’t wait to move out of the house, to get away from her.

I’d tell you she’s crazy, because I love her very much and without her I wouldn’t be the woman I am today. My mother taught me to read and write.  It was my mother’s influence that fueled my love of reading and writing stories and journaling.  She taught me the importance of prayer and attending Mass on Sunday.  She kissed my elbows after I fell off my bike.  She read to me whenever she had the chance.

It’s true, when I grew up I couldn’t wait to be on my own, but it’s only because my mother taught me to be independent.  Her support for my decisions throughout my life has been dear to my heart.  Even when she hasn’t always agreed with my choices, she makes her voice heard and ultimately lets me be the ruler of my life.  Of course, like all mother/daughter relationships we have had our disagreements and I often endure more nagging than I’d like on occasion, but when it gets down to the brass tacks, my mother is always in my corner.

My mother is very special to me.  Not only because she spent many hours in a delivery room to bring me into this world, but because she taught me how to be a mother.

Thanks, Mom.  I can only hope that I’m as wonderful a mother to Dawson as you have been, and continue to be, to me.

Happy Birthday!

• Dad is awake and I was able to speak to him on the phone this morning.  I called the ICU for an update and his nurse passed the phone to me.  It was wonderful to hear his voice, and he still sounds congested due to the surgery on his sinuses.  He will be in ICU for today and will be moved to his regular room tomorrow, mid-morning, where he will recuperate for at least five days.  Looks like he won’t be home until the end of the week.
• Our family reunion went well yesterday.  I think everyone had a great time, despite the fact that our fearless leader was not present.  My aunts and uncles — each and everyone of them and their spouses — were so wonderful.  They took charge even when I was drifting off into space.  I’m forever grateful.
• Today, I believe I’m coming down with a cold, or I just suffer really bad allergies.  Because I’m afraid it’s a cold, I’m staying away from the hospital.  The last thing my dad needs is to catch an illness while recovering from brain surgery.  It’s breaking my heart, but if it turns out to be only allergies, I’m going to visit him tomorrow.
• I’m having a Party Lite candle show tomorrow and I’m afraid no one will come because of all the chaos that’s happened the last week.  I wanted to cancel, but I totally forgot I was having it until this morning.  Kind of late, right?  This is what happens when the mind is focused on other things.
• I’m so exhausted that I overslept this morning and missed both masses at church.  I’m feeling very guilty about this.
• In exactly one month, my little boy will be turning four years old.
• Here’s how I feel about that:

Make a Smilebox scrapbook

• I’m so tired, I’m taking the rest of the day off. I need to sleep. Happy Sunday, y’all.

And I’m angry because the accident happened last night, and my mother wouldn’t let my sister call me until this morning, because she claims she didn’t want me to worry. Yeah, that really makes me feel better.

I’ll give updates as soon as I know more, but in the meantime, please head over to the Imperfect Parent.  I’m talking about work flexibility in scheduling.  Now that the kids will be off to school, many parents are looking for work hours that accomodate their child’s school schedules.  Have any ideas on this subject?  Please leave a comment.  I love to see all the great suggestions you all come up with.

And if you’ve been dying to read The White Trash Mom Handbook by Michelle Lamar, the White Trash Mom, head over to Dana Reviews to see what I have to say about it.  Believe me, it’s good.

———————

My sister and I have been at the hospital since a little before 11 a.m.  It was a 45-minute drive to Marshfield and we couldn’t find Dad’s “room” in the ICU because they moved him.  Once we got there, I broke down into tears upon seeing him.

Dad is in a neck brace to keep from moving and causing more fracturing and he is so uncomfortable.  For so many hours the doctors wouldn’t allow him to drink anything, and he is so thirsty.  He can’t breathe out of his nose because of the swelling and his mouth was drying out from breathing through it.

He doesn’t look so good.  Which I expected, but actually seeing the extent of his injuries and realizing how much pain he is in, I started to cry.    Then I frantically tried to regain my composure.  The last thing I needed was to scare Dawson. 

Doug thinks I’m traumatizing our son by allowing him to see his Papa in this condition.  I don’t know what to think.  I would have taken him to daycare this morning, but after I freaked out when I found out what happened, there was no way Dawson would go to Renee’s willingly.  Leaving me to worry about another thing in this difficult time.

Dad’s doctors say that he has a fractured eye socket, a broken nose, fractured cheek bone and his sinus cavity is caved in.  The neurologist says there’s no brain swelling, which is a blessing, and his eye is fine.  Once the swelling is relieved, he should be seeing normally again.

The scariest part of this is that he can’t have surgery until the swelling is reduced and this could take 7-10 days — and they’ll have to do a craniotomy.  Part of his skull will be cut and removed to correct his injuries from the inside out.  I nearly lost my mind when I heard that.  It sounds risky and for the first time I saw the fear in my dad’s eyes.  It breaks my heart.

The hardest part for me is not showing how freaked out I am.  My dad is my rock and I can’t bear to let him worry about me worrying.

Dad’s got a great neuro-surgeon and oral-maxillofacial surgeon.  Think McDreamy and McSteamy but not dreamy and steamy at all.  I don’t think I’ll ever be able to watch that damn show again after this. 

Now that they won’t be performing any surgery for awhile, they are finally feeding him soft foods like mashed potatoes, and he might be able to go home in a couple days to rest until the surgery.

My mind is racing, but I’m trying to hold myself together.  Lots of things to do on Dad’s behalf.  I’ll update that later.  We helped him fill out disability forms from his job, but we’re waiting for the doctor to complete his portion.

Thankfully, Marshfield Hospital has computer I can use to check e-mails and file his insurance claims online.

I’ll try to update later, but right now I’m fuzzy as I try to navigate all of this information.

Thank you all for keeping my father, my family and me in your thoughts and prayers.  It means the world to me.  I can’t express the gratitude I am feeling, but I love you all so much.

The weekend has been filled with non-stop cleaning and picking up after Doug and Dawson. I’m not thrilled about this at all. Every day I vacuum and clean up the house, and every day one of those persons with a penis leaves more stuff for me to put back where it belongs. Is this what I’ve become? An obsessed, clean-freak wife and mom? I hope not. That would drive me crazy.

On Friday, Doug allowed me the privilege of time away from the three-year-old to go shopping and get a hair cut. I ended up bringing Dawson along because I didn’t have the patience to deal with his screaming fit. Twenty minutes later, in the car, Dawson fell asleep. I went to the bank and then turned around and dropped Dawson off at home.

My hair is short. I’ll post a picture very soon. I promise. And if I forget, will one of you please remind me?

Saturday I went to the gym and worked out for an hour while the Doodlebug stayed home with Doug. I’ve been diligent the last few weeks in making certain I work out on the elliptical for 30 minutes, five times a week. I think I’ve lost four pounds, but my scale is old and possibly broken, so who knows what the right number is. Yesterday it said I weighed 139 pounds and I almost passed out. I weigh much more than 139 pounds. Try 490. Heh.

Yesterday, I went to a supper club called Wander Inn with my sister, brother and parents to hear my uncle Mikey’s polka band, The Paper City Sounds, play music from 2-6 p.m. Dawson came along, too. He loves polkas and his Great Uncle Mikey. It was fun. I love watching the adorable old couples bopping around the floor. They look so much in love after all those years and it makes me smile.

I got a cute video of Dawson dancing a waltz with my father. It’s so sweet, and it reminds me of when I was little and loved dancing with my daddy. I think I might post it for your viewing pleasure.

Which brings me to today. I’m twenty-nine today. Twenty-freakin-nine. Years old. I have to say it over and over again, just to make sure I believe it myself.

I thought I would be more freaked out than I am, but surprisingly I’m not. Yet. It could still happen. I’ve been freaking out about getting older since I turned twenty-six. I don’t know why. I know it’s stupid. I’m still young. Right?

Nothing else to report quite yet. Alleluia! Dawson is officially potty-trained. I started the training boot camp at the end of December and you may remember my frustrations. January was rough. He had a few accidents. February was better, he still wore a pull-up for most of the day because I didn’t want to clean up messes. And now the boy has moved to underpants all day and pull-ups only at night. Can I say how much I love not changing diapers? I LOVE NOT CHANGING DIAPERS! My new gripe? The words, “Mommy, I need you to come wipe my butt!”

Yeah…that’s not my favorite part. But I’ll take that task over diaper changing any day.

Well…I’ve got deadlines and things that need doing, but I promise a real, coherent, interesting blog post tomorrow. (And if I don’t deliver, y’all can kick my ass!)

Between us in the birth order is our brother Nathan, two years older than Rachel. Nate and Rae have always been close, and for the first six years of her life, my sister was the baby of the family.

When we were kids, I considered her to be the spoiled brat, the one who always got her way. When our brother Frankie was born, he claimed the “baby” title. But there was still that sisterly rivary amongst us and I usually ignored Rachel because I was the oldest, and thought that was a good enough reason.

I don’t even recall why we disliked each other so. Perhaps because I was entering junior high when she was in first grade. It wouldn’t have been “cool” to hang out with a 7-year old. When Rachel and Nathan were playing sports outside, I was more interested in clothes and make-up. When Rachel entered seventh grade, I had already graduated high school and was heading off to college.

Some of my resentment toward her was because she often snooped in my room, spied on me and reported everything I did wrong to Mom and Dad.

“Mooom! I found cigarettes in Dana’s backpack!”

“Mooooom! Dana didn’t clean her room and she’s with her friends!”

I know she was just doing these things to get my attention, to get me to notice and pay attention to her, but it still pissed me off.

Over the years we’ve learned to get a long, sometimes. We still have the occasional disagreement, but I love that girl.

She’s tough. She doesn’t take any shit from anyone. She’s got a hilarious personality. She’s a National Guard member who may even be deployed to Iraq next year. She was Maid of Honor at my wedding. She’s my son’s Godmother. She’s my sister.

Of course, like most siblings, we have our differences. She’s into partying, I’ve given it up for wifedom and motherhood. She loves movies like Fight Club and Kill Bill, I’m more the Failure to Launch and Hope Floats kind of gal. She crushes on Brad Pitt, I’m more in love with Matthew McConaughey. She’s Imari and I’m Happy Heart. She’s a rebel, I’m not-so-much anymore.

Even if we disagree all the time, she’s someone I care deeply about. My life would be pretty fricken’ boring without her in it! If anything we’ll only grow closer as time goes on, because we know that sisters always have each other.

Happy Birthday, little sister.