Celebrate 8!

I know I say this every single birthday post, but truly... Kendall is 8! Like, 2 years from double-digits, NOT 7 anymore. A second grader. Which is now only 1.5 school years away from being out of elementary school.  

She's a funny one, this particular 8 year old. She's wildly messy but likes things a certain way. She's super responsible but at the same time, forgets where she took her shoes off 2.4 seconds ago. She loves homework and reading but hates homework and reading if we ask her to do it when she's not expecting it. She loves to speak to crowds but she is so, so, so scared to speak to crowds. A couple of weeks ago I asked her to speak in church about a project the children have been working on. She said yes, but only when I told her I would help her write a script. She prepared a great deal, practiced and was very, very nervous. I thought she would bail out on me at the last minute. She said her stomach felt funny that morning sitting in the pew, but she pranced up front and spoke beautifully.She was so happy she did it. She is still painfully shy. Until... she isn't. People that have known her for a while do not believe me. She won't look strangers in the eye and please don't give her a compliment if you aren't family or a VERY close friend. If you do, she'll turn her head and grab my hand and put her eyes on her feet. You'll think she's really rude! She's not! She's so shy it hurts her! She's grateful, she just can't tell you "thank you" while speaking louder than a mouse and looking at you, but I promise you, she'll talk about your compliment later when we're home!

And. She's competitive. Have I mentioned this before? Family Game Night is definitely more interesting now that we've moved on from the matching game or Bingo. Although we sometimes still play Bingo and if you think someone can't pout or tear up because they lost at Bingo, you'd be wrong.

So in the past 12 months, Kendall has had two casts on her arm, done 2,014 cartwheels on the beach and 2,674 handstands in the sand. She drove a boat in Florida, held a kangaroo in Alabama and sang with Elsa and Anna at Disney. She rode to the top of the St, Louis Arch and went to 2 major league baseball games which she cared nothing about. She met movie stars (Winter and Hope, the dolphins) and packed up the only bedroom she has ever known. I think she would tell you her favorite movie (today) is either Elf or Dolphin Tale 2. Her favorite thing in the world right now (besides going to gymnastics) is the trampoline she got for her birthday. Her least favorite thing is probably her November birthday because it's cold and she wants to jump on the trampoline ALL of the time.

Then there's the gym. 12 months ago she was ending her days in a once-a-week rec class at the gym thinking her cartwheel wasn't half bad. In the past year she has accomplished so much at the gym, I know you don't want to hear about it, but...  in short, she went from doing cartwheels and cock-eyed handstands last December to the other day doing a round-off-back-handspring-back tuck. She'll tell you it was with a spot, but do you think this Mama cares about that? In her first meet ever she got 8th Place All-Around last February. After getting her cast off her arm in late August, she competed in her 2nd meet in October and got 1st Place All-Around! What? One of her coaches told me that day, "who is that? I don't even recognize her!" She was so serious when competing! It's because of that competitiveness I told you about. She is there to win. Man she loves the gym, but she wants to be her best. Period. She loves the gym. She loves her coaches and her teammates. She gets in the car and will usually tell me all about the past 3 hours in a 3 minute nutshell. Much of that time is spent telling me about the accomplishments of her teammates. She doesn't tell me this because she's mad they may be doing better than her. Nope, she's telling me because she is excited for them. That gym is a family. They may not all always love being around each other and some days are way better than others, but we are beyond grateful for a place that our daughter has fallen madly in love with. I can't imagine a day without gymnastics in our life. The miles I put on my car driving back and forth are cringe-worthy, but watching your child do something they truly, sincerely love and having her surrounded by other children and adults who I believe truly love her... well that isn't something you leave behind just for less miles on your car.

Kendall! I will leave you with your favorite bible verse because you are the picture of strength and love and laughter. Thank you for loving us and loving Jesus and loving what you do whether at school, at home, or at the gym. Thank you for being good. And kind. Thank you for being so passionate about everything from winning Monopoly to brushing your teeth exactly as your father said to your tumbling and how much you care about every word that comes out of your brother's mouth. You keep us on our toes, you make us laugh and cry and look forward to every morning when you wake up to see what you're going to do and say.

She is clothed in strength and dignity and she laughs without fear of the future. Proverbs 31:25

Home is Where the Heart Is...

...Can your heart be in two different places?

We are moving this week. Chip and I have often looked at each other over the last couple of months and said "are we really doing this?" While I am thrilled with the newness and excitement of the new house just across town, I am devastated that we are leaving our current home. I cried a few nights ago taking baby photos off the wall. Strange, since I will most likely put them up at the new house. It will just be a new wall, that's all. Right? 

But no. Not right. The reason I cried over those baby pictures  is because those pictures happened HERE. In THIS house. Not in the new house. We no longer have the ability to look at those photos and say "that happened here, in this room, down those stairs, across this floor." Instead we'll be looking at those photos saying "remember that house? Remember that room, those stairs?" Eventually, even I admit, we'll struggle to remember the little things... How may stairs did we have up to the front porch? Did I ever get around to painting the porch swing white? 

Yes. Home IS where the heart is. It is where your family is and where you feel at peace and comfortable and loved. For the life of me, though, I cannot imagine turning another house into a home at THIS very second. I love THIS home. This is where my heart is and where my heart is breaking as we prepare for our final nights here. We've already spent our last weekend here, our last Sunday morning getting up for church, our last Saturday morning eating cinnamon rolls together on the couch and getting ready to play outside with THESE neighbors. 

Cooper has already moved once, but he doesn't remember it. Kendall came home to this house from the hospital down the street. Cooper pulled his chest of drawers over on top of himself in his bedroom in this house. He got stitches from his Tonka Truck vs Upper Lip accident. Outside on these sidewalks he has skinned everything from his toes in the Cozy Coupe when he couldn't even walk to his shins to his knees right up to even his nose. In these yards, he has learned to throw a football and a frisbee and how to ride a bike without training wheels. Here, we discovered that he is a skilled driver of all things electric, that he really doesn't like basketball much at all, he sells himself short in soccer and isn't half-bad at Four Square. 

Kendall has read a thousand books in her bed here if she's read one. She has flipped on our couches until we needed new ones. She has swung at least a million times on that playset out back and fallen out of it even a few times. She's loved on the neighbor's dogs and the strange cat across the street that no one else likes. She has built snowmen and snow forts and hidden from her brother in the neighbor's bushes. Here, she, too has learned to ride a bike and throw a frisbee but she does not care for football. She has proven that girls can hit baseballs just as far as boys can and you can play just about any sport in a tutu. For 6 years she was the only girl on the block and she held her own just fine. These neighborhood boys have turned her into a fine little Princess Tomboy. 

Chip and I have spent more than 8 of our 15 years together in this home. It's the most settled we've ever felt in those 15 years, for obvious reasons. We've watched our children grow from sweet-smelling babies to toddlers with smashed peas all over their faces, preschoolers with sass and bravery and eventually  into actual little people with clear thoughts and opinions and manners. We moved here with 3 wild and hyper dogs and we leave with only one. We have had church parties and birthday parties and family parties here. We've had game nights and movie nights and rainy, lazy days here. We've written on the sidewalks and driveways in this neighborhood so much with sidewalk chalk that I can't believe none of it is permanent. Life has happened quite a bit while we lived here. Our life, here. How can we just pack it up? 

But we don't have to. So much of life cannot be packed in a box. We have lots of pictures and even more memories and that is just going to have to be enough. Because as "they" say, Home is Where the Heart Is, and all 4 of us will bring our slightly breaking hearts with us to our new home when we drive away from here behind the moving truck. 

Chapter 9

Making this particular birthday post with this particular title makes a lot of sense to me right now. I feel like it was just yesterday that I was posting about Cooper's first day of kindergarten. We have certainly entered a new chapter here at the Webb house as far as Cooper is concerned. First, and foremost, he turned NINE years old last week. Just saying it takes my breath away. As Cooper's 9th birthday approached, so did the end of his elementary school career. Now, it has been said more than once that most normal people do not cry when their child "graduates" from 3rd grade, but around here, the end of 3rd grade means moving on to a new school. Intermediate School. So, elementary school is over. Finished. Dunzo.

So, I cried a lot the past few weeks. I cried while watching him climb the rock wall at his LAST field day. I cried when a friend asked if we could recreate a photo of Cooper and his friends from preschool. I even cried once when PASSING said preschool in my car. I cried when looking through pictures of my pudgy little baby with his kindergarten teacher. I most certainly cried at his 3rd grade farewell program!

Elementary school is a big deal. I know that I made lifelong friendships, not to mention memories, in my own elementary school years. I remember performing in our kindergarten circus, learning to read in 1st grade (The Mitten was my favorite and I can still remember where I was when I was reading it in class), singing about Don Gato, the lonely cat in music class and Mr. Doig pulling quarters from behind my pig-tailed covered ears in gym class. So what will Cooper remember? Who will he still be friends with that he's friends with now? How many of the photos I have framed and posted on Facebook and Snapfish will I send in for his senior slideshow? It's amazing to think of the road we are paving everyday and I both want to slow it down to a snail's pace and also race to the finish just to see what happens. I'm so excited for him! But I am so, so darn tearful about it all.

I guess I can't stop crying because I am so happy for him. He has worked really hard this past year in school, in baseball, in life. He's learned a lot of lessons, some the hard way. He did really well on his final report card. He plays 3rd base and hits home runs.  He likes to throw baseballs and footballs and bouncy balls and anything that you can play catch with. He wants to play flag football in the fall and these days he doesn't know what to do with himself when there is no baseball game or practice. He loves anything Under Armour and prefers flatbill hats. He still likes the Atlanta Falcons for a reason we are not sure of. He can play Minecraft for as long as we'll let him and he sometimes plays Wii baseball so much it messes with his swing in real life. He still loves building Legos but mostly, this time of year,  he smells of that sweet scent of little boy all mixed up with sun and grass and hours of playing outside.

Music Cred: Thrive by Casting Crowns (to cover my copyright bases)

Cooper, here are a few things we've said about you over the years in this blog... they are all 100% true today... Happy Birthday and Happy Chapter 9!

Thank you for (almost) always showing us that you know right from wrong, that you have a kind heart and love the people close to you dearly. Thank you for always choosing good friends and being a good friend to those around you. 
You are a true joy, an absolute blessing and the most fun boy I can ever imagine being around. Your kind heart makes me sure that you'll be an amazing friend to many, the way you make us all laugh makes me confident you'll enjoy your life and always be happy, and the way you return the love we give you makes me absolutely positive that you will always, always be my sweet, sweet Cooper forever!
You are the absolute LOVE of our life (a title you, quite obviously, share with your sister) and every single day you make us laugh hysterically, you fill our hearts with amazing joy and you make us realize what pure happiness is all about. I tell you everyday and I will tell you everyday until you beg me to stop...You are my very, very favorite little boy in the whole entire world!

To My Student Taking TCAPS... And His Teachers

TCAPs. Tennessee Comprehensive Assessment Program. 

Better known to parents as: The Week of "Oh crud, I have to send a healthy snack to school, make sure we get to bed on time, get 30 minutes of physical exercise after school and eat eggs and fresh fruit for breakfast or somehow my kid's teacher will know we didn't do any of that and think I am a terrible parent." 

Ok. So now that I've renamed it (appropriately, if I do say so myself), let me talk to you teachers for a second. This is the 2014 version of this "letter" and while yes, I know Cooper only has one teacher, I am not singling her/you (oh, gosh, could she be reading this!!??) out. This is just... me taking a deep, cleansing breath. So... I'm sorry, first of all. This has nothing to do with you. I promise on the fact that I promise we won't be eating fresh eggs and whole grains for breakfast every morning next week (now you KNOW I mean it) that this isn't about you. We live in a small town. I know it's not Little House on the Prairie small or anything, but it's pretty small and I know at least 50 teachers in our town if not twice that and I am friends with many of you, close friends with some, and most definitely friends on Facebook where I mainly post these blogs. So, I'm not really into confrontation, which means if I thought this blog would cause problems between you and me, I wouldn't write it. Swear. 

Now. To the issue at hand. I only have one child in the house taking these tests and that same child is the child that doesn't LOVE school.  I have to let Cooper know something about this upcoming week of standardized tests (are they still called that? I don't know. Sorry, to Whomever, if they aren't)... 

I. Don't. Care. Whew. Annnnnnd, release the deep, cleansing breath... 

I typed it, even after that big paragraph written to you teachers and my heart, I swear, skipped a beat (that's how much I hate confrontation. I haven't even posted this stupid thing yet and I'm already scared of you). Teachers, please don't hate me. My kid puts so much pressure on himself it makes me physically ill. Just today in the car he says to his sister, 18 months younger, "wow Kendall. This is weird. I am one of the smallest kids in my class and you are one of the tallest in yours. And also, I'm not smart at all and you are really smart. I bet you're one of the smartest kids in your class. That's cool." I don't know what you're thinking, but I was driving and I almost pulled over. I didn't know whether to react to the part where he doesn't think he's smart or the part about how stinkin' nice he was to his sister. My point is, he already thinks he's no good in school, so why am I going to make this week of TCAPs and the weeks before so darn HARD for him? I know everyone at school is already talking TCAPs 24/7. I know you teachers are stressed and those long days trying to keep 20+ figgity kids sit still for 45 minutes at a time is not your idea of a good break from the norm. I KNOW that some of your students have already turned in their Hippo Food (probably after 3 days, darn overachievers) and you've bought practice books and whatnot. That's fantastic for you. Really! I might even be one of those when my crazy school-loving daughter gets there! So no judgement here. But for now, for my sweet, wonderful, hilarious, free-spirited, go-with-the-flow boy, we're going to just wing this and see what happens. 

So instead of being worried about what we're eating and how much we're sleeping (if you know me at all, you know I kinda already worry about this enough), we are going to make this a great week. We'll have loads of jelly beans leftover and the stress of the tests at school will give us a great excuse to get a treat at Dunkin Donuts (hello, afternoon coffee for Mom!) or a slushie, all depending on our mood. Heck, maybe we'll do both. They deserve it, they've had a long day! I'm assuming we don't need to worry about AR goals so maybe I'll get to read TO my kids every night. Or, wait! Maybe we'll just forgo reading altogether and watch a movie curled up on the couch after eating cereal for dinner (whole grain, of course). 

So, if I let myself let go of the stress of all this darn testing drama, this could turn out to be a pretty darn good week. Tell you what, teachers, I promise to get my kid to school fed, clothed, bathed and acting relatively normal if you'll promise just to keep him safe and sound like you ALWAYS do (God BLESS you) and try your hardest not to make him cry from boredom. Even though I know you're probably somehow looked at for these test scores in the end, let's just be happy if no Webbs are crying by the end of the week and call it a wash. K? 

So teachers, good luck next week. I promise I'm praying for you because I am smart enough to know this week (and weeks before) is no fun at all for you. Good luck even to you parents who have already done your organic, whole-grain shopping. I kn ow waking up a full hour earlier to bake bread for your homemade french toast is going to be rough. And mostly, good luck to all you parents out there thinking what I'm thinking. I hear ya. See you at Dunkin Donuts Monday at 3! 

Love Like Your Dog Does

If you're reading this and you're on Facebook, then you probably already know we lost our oldest dog a few weeks ago. Our sweet Logan was a giant weimaraner who at one point topped out at a hefty (but not fat, we were always promised) 115 pounds. We found him by taking online surveys and searching the Memphis newspapers and eventually after he was grabbed by the scruff of his tiny-but-already-large gray neck from the back of an Arkansas farmer's pick-up truck. This was in early April 1999, eight months before Chip and I were married. He served his original purpose extremely well... he barked loudly and deeply at any stranger that so much as walked along the sidewalk in front of our house in the depths of Memphis. His bark would alert me of strangers even a quarter of a mile from our house after dark when Chip was still at the library studying. He was my guard dog, my walking buddy, my blanket and my pillow. Our first house in Memphis had a beautifully shaded backyard and a dog door into our house that was always open. We eventually moved to a house with no dog door and not a single tree in the backyard. He still greeted us the same when we got home at night, as far as I can remember. We eventually built a dog house and the patio was covered, plus we bought him one of those plastic blue baby pools and filled it up with fresh water every morning which he would sit in all day. He loved us for it, I'm sure.

Eventually, we decided that even though he seemed like he loved us unconditionally, he needed a friend. Long, long story short, we ended up with Macie. Our only dog we've ever had with papers and a "proper" dog name consisting of at least 4 words. We were ill prepared for what kind of effect bringing a female dog into our house would have. It sort-of dawned on us the day we were at the dog park and noticed Logan was fighting a Great Dane in the middle of a pond. He had never really fought before. It really hit home the time we saw him "mark" a male black lab's owner while we were chatting with her (she only noticed the second time he did it). Thus started the whole era of "Logan can't be around other male dogs." We won't even go into the time he had my parents' Jack Russell by the throat.

He really was an amazing dog. I've talked a lot about fighting and goodness knows he killed a bush or two with all of his marking, but he was wonderful, just as long as you weren't a male dog. Or maybe a cat. He didn't much care for cats. He was loving and lovable, he leaned up against you until his 100lbs nearly knocked you over, just to get petted. He could walk on his hind legs like a circus dog and open doors with his nose. We yelled at him a lot. We yelled at him to get off the couch, to go outside, to stop licking the baby's feet. After we had kids, I think we probably forgot to let the dogs inside a lot at night. Or outside in the morning. We probably forgot to feed them way too many times. I wouldn't put it past us to have forgotten to give them water in July when we had 2 toddlers in the house. It was one of the best days of my life when we realized the kids could feed and water the dogs on their own!

I wanted to share this story of Logan. He was 15 when he died. Actually, less than 2 weeks shy of his birthday. He was older than many of your children. He was alive longer than my children will be in the city school system. I spent more time with him in the last 15 years than my own parents. Probably my own spouse. But like all good relationships, I yelled at him, I forgot about him, I left him alone often... when in return he had never yelled, never forgotten me (he was always, always waiting for me when I got home. Every single day of those 15 years) and if he had had his own way, he would have never left me alone (to be fair, I left him, he never left me). I hope my best relationships are a mirror image of my relationship with Logan. I hope people will eventually say "she never yelled at me, she never forgot me, she never left me." Wouldn't that be amazing?

 Logan's first experience with kids was with Kori! 

 Snow in Memphis! The dogs loved it! 

 This was the first day we had our first digital camera! Photo cred: Chip Webb

 He was a snuggler, for sure. Perhaps spoiled rotten. 

Ever the watch dog. 

She's 7

Let's save the "hey wasn't her birthday in November" stuff for later, K?

Our precious baby girl turned 7. SEVEN? I have put off this blog post for many reasons... holidays, homework, but mostly because... what? She's 7? How do I write about the apparent time machine we are living in? So, here it is... in pictures first. Of course.

I recently heard a story about parents that opened an email address used only for the purpose of writing letters to their children. On their 18th birthday, they give their kids the email address and password so they can read all the random letters their parents wrote them over the years. Of course I immediately thought, "shoot, why didn't I think of that?" However, I quickly realized that if it was random letters or stories I was wanting, then they can always turn to this blog. And while I am not always consistent in how often I blog, I will eventually get around to it. The most important thing, I realized, is that I blogged far more often during the years that will be more difficult for my children to remember. I have memories of when I was 2, 4, 6... but they are definitely random and admittedly, possibly dreamed up. So I have decided to quit giving myself a hard time. I will blog when I blog. And I am happy that I used to blog a lot more often. For now, I am busy out hopefully making memories that my children don't have to read about to remember.

However, back to the business at hand... Kendall turning 7. My beautiful, stubborn, competitive princess. Such a princess and so, so competitive. Seriously. She still loves all things girly, but has traded her tutu's around the house for leotards and cartwheels and 9 hours a week at the gym. And round-offs. And handstands. Oh golly, the gymnastics that happens. We even had to get a new couch. Cooper had a little to do with it, as he is still a boy and loves to jump and flip and climb, but Kendall treats our furniture like the gym equipment she so dearly loves. Sadly, the dress-up clothes in her closet don't get as much as attention as they used to, but it is sort-of okay because instead of playing dress-up she's reading and drawing and ASKING to do her homework. She still loves to play outside almost as much as she used to, but if asked, she would probably trade a beautiful 70 degree day playing in the grass for a chalk-filled afternoon in the gym. Let's see, what else besides the gym does she love? Rainbow Loom bracelets, painting anything on canvas and searching for ideas on Pinterest (yes, I did say that), eating as s l o w as humanly possible, the Frozen soundtrack (every. single. word.), not picking her clothes off the floor of her bedroom, reading chapter books, earning rewards at school and not even caring what they're for and school. The girl loves school. And her teacher. And homework, and check-lists, reading logs, choosing outfits to go with whether they have gym or not... you get the idea.

And her brother. She still, thankfully, loves her brother and even admits it (Cooper? Maybe not quite as much). They love to sleep on the couch on the weekends together and they love to whisper and conspire to attack their parents in a one-sided Nerf War. They have a secret handshake. It changes almost daily, but they have it. They can never agree on what to watch on TV in the mornings or where we should go out to dinner, but they do agree on who's turn it is to feed the dogs and when it is THE perfect time to surprise Daddy with a tickle fight. Oh how she loves her big brother.

Our sweet, sweet Kendall Lee...we love, love, love you and you know what? We even love it when you say "I love you more." It means you really, for now, think you do and that makes our hearts feel like they're about to explode.  One of my favorite things you say is "I love you all the way to Heaven's sky and back." I love your picture of Heaven and I love that you know that's as far as we can go. Thank you for always wanting us to rub your back and lay with you as you go to sleep. Please try to always remember how much you love for us to read to you and that we have a secret kiss good-night. XXXO....

Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:6