Ashworth Alcove

Freedom - that's what summer means. Feet free from shoes. Children free from school. Violet's first creek experience proved my suspicion that she would love it. The water slithered across the low-water bridge and came off of it in dance of rapids. Violet could continuously be found gravitating toward said rapids. It was shallow enough for her, but too forceful for her to stand in. Nevertheless, she rejected all help and wanted no one to touch her as she attempted to navigate the fast water by herself. This resulted in many falls, but the only crying that occurred was due to us carrying her back to the still water. She's just not a still water type 'a girl. The air was sweet from the honeysuckles. The water seemed unusually cold on our sun-warmed skin. That didn't stop Violet from plopping all the way down in it. She's brave and an adventurer. 

And so the story of the first birthday party will go that I, Mama, planned a magical outdoor party. A party that was postponed one week due to a stormy forecast, but if I had not postponed it would have been on the most beautiful day. Then the weekend it was postponed to was wet, mushy, crap. I must have murdered someone in a past life for this one. I joke - kind of. An indoor party it was. Perhaps a wee cramped, but if anyone minded they certainly didn't show it. It is the people that make the party, nothing else. It was a wonderful day. Ben's absence rapped on my heart like an old friend at a back door. These are the hardest days of a deployment, the special days. The ones you can't get back. Luckily, Violet has many more birthdays to come and many more cakes to eat.

One day Violet will probably have a sibling. In the meantime, she has her big cousin Jax. These two are sillier than two drunk geese. I love to watch them interact with one another. When Violet was born Jax lovingly called her Baby Viowet. A year later and that's still her name. Not Violet. Not Viowet. Baby Viowet.

Growth & Appearance: Your hair has grown long enough to barely get in your eyes. It also covers your ears and sometimes gets wavy at the neck. It also seems slightly lighter than before. You're still incredibly pale, but your arms have a little smidgen of color from spending time outside. Some days I think your legs look fatter, other days I think it's just the summer time attire showing them off. You have a slouchy posture about you while sitting in the floor. In general, you look so much older. You look more like a little girl and less like a baby. You weigh 24 lbs and are 30 inches long. 18 month clothing. Moving into size 5 diapers. Teeth: Eight. Development: You've recently started pointing at things. You do it often. When asked where the moon is you will point to the sky and look up. You're very good at locating it and enjoy moon gazing. When the dogs bark you will shake your little pointed finger at them, puff your cheeks up, and scold them for...

That's my mom circa 1967. She was one of eight children, four boys and four girls. Based on stories my grandmother tells, she was sassy growing up. My grandmother once grabbed the closest item (a plunger) to whoop her for whining about her clothes as a teenager. I often wonder what my mom envisioned her future to be like at the age of 17. Did she always know she would devote her life to being a mother? Did she have entirely different plans, but then met my dad and everything changed? She met my dad in high school, by the way. He drove a souped up Nova and was a wee bit rowdy. She had my sister when she was 19 and myself at 23. We became her future. My mother is the perfect amount of sweet and salty. Growing up, she was never afraid to be silly with us. She would burst into dance in the grocery store if she saw the moment fit. She is emotionally driven. I think I inherited that from her. She is as motherly as a mother comes, with a nurturing spirit like no other. I also owe ...