My parents had eleven children and four of them were born in December. That's more than 1/3 of their children. I always felt a little bad for my brothers and sisters who were born during that busy month.
But not bad enough to plan my family accordingly. I had four children and two of them have December birthdays--that's HALF MY CHILDREN born in the busiest month of the year.
I'm not trying to make excuses for myself or give myself a pass on my enormous oversight. I'm groveling here and offering my deepest apologies, because although we celebrated their birthdays in real life, I didn't celebrate them here. On my blog. And the sad thing is that I didn't even realize it until today. January 22. One month after my daughter's birthday.
So as part of my repentance process, I'm going to wish my two wonderful December children a happy belated birthday and let you know a few of the reasons they mean the world to me.
Bruce was that oldest child everyone hopes for--bright, funny, talented and good.
We share many of the same interests--basketball, beautiful houses and buildings, crime dramas, and a few HGTV shows. When we bought our current house, it was an unfinished foreclosure. The kitchen's houseplans weren't great. They were for a family who clearly eats out more than they eat in. That isn't us, so Bruce took the space and re-designed the kitchen. And we love it! It's one of the best things about our house.
Bruce can sit down and doodle the most clever pictures. He's been the cause of a little too much inappropriate laughter over the years as he doodles ridiculous and hysterical things at church and then passes them down the row. We have much less temptation now at church.
When Bruce was in elementary school, I was told by his teachers that he was a brilliant kid. But the thing that made me have to swallow a lump in my throat at parent teacher conferences was that they always said he helped those that were struggling and included those that felt left out. They could always count on him. That meant even more than academic acclaim.
Bruce was so ready for kindergarten. I remember taking him that first day and standing at the door while he walked in. He looked back, smiled and waved, and then got down to business. He didn't look back at me again. He had things to do. I stood there and wished for him to give me one more wave, one more smile. He was supposed to be sad to leave me, right? I was choking back tears and he wasn't even looking at me.
When we dropped him off at the MTC, we experienced much the same thing. He turned to us, smiled and waved and then headed for a new world of experiences. He did turn around one more time with a second wave, but that was it. And once again, I was left to dry my tears and hope for the best. And thankfully, he loves it more than we could have hoped.
Happy birthday, Bruce. I love you and I miss you.
When I was a teenager, I saw the movie "Savannah Smiles" and fell in love with the energetic, pretty little girl. That Savannah had loads of personality, an infectious smile and a generous heart that made me cry the first time I saw it and still makes me weep whenever I watch it. I knew that someday I wanted to name a daughter Savannah.
Boy, did we ever name our Savannah right. I could say so many things about her sweet personality, her gorgeous smile, and her charitable heart. She's always willing to give others the benefit of the doubt. She's kind. She's thoughtful.
In the movie, there's a song that perfectly fits my sweet Savannah. As far as I'm concerned, it could have been written for the real-life Savannah that came to our family on December 22, fourteen years ago. Happy birthday and I love you.