My shoes

At best, my wardrobe has always been conservative. I have never been that interested in fashion; I have always worn my hair down. My jewelry is pretty straight-forward, when I wear any. My make-up is the same for day and evening.  This morning, I put a bit of lip gloss on, and Jack actually asked what was different about my face.

This past weekend, I was going through my closet and pulling out things to donate, and Jossie surveys my shoes, her baby doll clutched in her hand. She pulls out a very worn pair of Cole Haan flats. She sets them on the floor and says, “pretty shoes,” which couldn’t be further from the truth.

She slips her feet into them. My heart melts a little at this moment of my daughter trying on my shoes.

But I almost feel sorry for Joss. Her mama doesn’t own glamorous high heels. Or even some good sparkly shoes. Or shoes that aren’t black.

But they are mine.  I have walked miles in those shoes. I have felt sad, happy, proud, and disgruntled in those shoes.

And she is mine. For now.  She doesn’t look at me with adoration or disdain. Right now, I’m just the Truth – mama, protector and provider.  These are my shoes and they are pretty because they are her mama’s, and that is good enough for now.

Happy birthday to Jossie

Jossie was born at 12:33 a.m., 33 minutes into her 33rd week of gestation. God graced me with the gift of a suit of armor that lasted for 12 hours or so after her birth. I only felt elation, adrenaline and relief for her safe and healthy birth. She was breathing on her own and regulating her temperature well. We knew each other the moment Jeremy brought her to me. Daughter and mother. Joy. It would be a little later on that doubt, regret and worry would sneak in, but blessedly only temporarily in the grand scheme of things.

And today is her second birthday, and she is our beautiful, determined little girl. The sun shines brightly today, a stark contrast to the bitterly cold temperatures, as it did two years ago. The happiness that surrounded us during those early moments surrounds us tenfold today.

Happy birthday to our dear Jossie.

Jossie, you have much patience living in a house full of firstborns - your mother, father, and older brother. At an early age, I see you learning the art of negotiation. When Jack was 2, he would ask for a TV show, and I'd happily oblige. When you ask for a show, you say, "Elmo show first," giving Jack a watchful eye to see how he'll respond.

You are our quiet observer and you have always been that way. Even as a newborn, you would look deeply into the eyes of your doctors and nurses, trying to figure them out. I see you do that in every new situation you're in, taking stock of the scene before delving into action.

You are happy to amuse yourself. When you wake up in the morning or after your nap, you're more than happy for one of us to put a few books and a comfy pillow in your crib for your quiet time.

You are a self-proclaimed "Daddy's princess" who loves horses, puppies and baby dolls. But you also love watching football, playing hallway soccer with Jack (which you call "hallway balls"), and a good pillow fight. I hope you always keep them guessing, Joss, and keep your interests diverse.

And though she be but little, she is fierce.

William Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream