In the past two weeks, the kids have had a fundraiser.  The goal was to collect pledges, then run laps to raise money for their school. 
    I remember having fundraisers as a student, but they were never like this. 
    The younger two were giddy when the time came for them to run.  Through blaring music and high fives, their t-shirts were marked off with each lap, keeping track of their efforts.

     Our fifth grader had a bit of a different run, where the lights were turned down and students wore glow sticks and necklaces.

     The coolest part of the day, though, had to have been for the Jr. High.  They had a color run, where chalk like paints were thrown all around as the kids ran by.

It was a great day and a wonderful way to raise money for the school.  The kids had a ball and shared memories that will last a lifetime.
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    There's something about going through milestones with your last child. 
    The last time you'll see them roll over for the first time, take their first bite of food, make their first step...and now our youngest is about to lose her first top tooth. 
    She's lost a tooth before.  She yanked her two bottom teeth out faster than you could say, "Pixie Dust".  She was so excited to put them under her pillow and wait for the Tooth Fairy, we thought she'd never fall asleep that night. 
    This is one of her top teeth though.  The ones that officially change the way your "baby" looks, and signifies them morphing into a big kid.  When those little teeth are gone and the permanent ones take their place, it's impossible not to notice how the oversized, gawky Jack-o-Lantern grin emerges from what was once a sweet little smile. 
     Even though I'm not ready for her teeth to go, it's time.  Scratch that, it's beyond time.  It's like, hanging by a thread, wiggling when she talks time...but she won't pull it. 
     Adam and I have offered to pull it.  Her brothers have begged to pull it, only to have their tight lipped little sister shake her head with her determined arms crossed, no.
     As she brushed her teeth this morning, I noticed how she went around the front tooth, being careful not to touch it.
     "Lauren, what are you doing?  You need to brush your front tooth."
     "But Mommy, I can't" she spit through her brush.
     "Why can't you?"
     "Because it might come out."
     Becoming somewhat frustrated, I finally decided to ask.
     (It's amazing what you learn when you ask a child a simple question.)
     "Baby, why won't you pull your tooth?  Are you afraid?  You've already lost two teeth and that wasn't so bad, right?"
     Shaking her head, she carefully wiped her mouth, "No, it's not that".
     "You're not afraid?  Then why won't you pull it?"
     "Because it's Tuesday."
     (what?)
     "Tuesday?  I don't understand."
     Looking at me with wide eyes, she continued, "I have to wait until Saturday, Mommy.  That's the day I'll pull my tooth.  It can't be until then, so I have to keep it safe."
      She was as serious as she could be, "Baby girl, why do you have to wait until Saturday?"
      Turning to get her clothes for school, she simply nodded, "Because on Saturday, I can put it under my pillow and the Tooth Fairy will come.  It's the one night of the year the Easter Bunny will be here, too, and that way they can finally meet.  I think they'd really like each other."
     With that, she was gone. 
     I stood, speechless and smiling at the mind of a child.  I realized then, no matter how many "firsts" we think we'll miss experiencing with our children, that will never be the case. 
     Each and everyday will have plenty of firsts, both good and bad, with everything in between. 
     And sometimes...if we're very, very lucky, their hearts will bring firsts for those of us, too.
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    I don't know if my heart could beat outside of my chest anymore than it did that night. 
    Our two oldest boys prepared for the ball, starting first with learning how to put on a cumberbun and cufflinks, then ending with two very unfamiliar shiny, stiff shoes.
    The entire concept was new to all of us.  Being from the north, I'd never even heard of Cotillion.  A sweet friend I adore in North Carolina convinced me to have the boys participate, but I wondered how it would all turn out.
    Climbing in the car, the mood was quiet.  Mixed emotions of nervousness, excitement and hesitation were overwhelmingly apparent.
    As to be expected, any pre-teen boy would less than jump at the chance to participate in such an event, but nonetheless, months of classes, practice and instruction had culminated to this one single evening. 
    With raised eyebrows, the boys turned to us as they entered the ballroom.  It was impossible not to pause at the decadence of chandeliers, met with even more beautiful white gowns and gloves.
    Awkward glances between boys and girls were instantly met with pointed toes kicking the floor...until the music began.  
    Suddenly, the rest of the world seemed to disappear and my two boys, became young men, poised and strong. 
    My pulse quickened as tears began to swell, knowing this night would be a memory I'd always hold dear.  Seeing them as gentlemen, treating the girls with grace and respect, would be a picture I'd take with my heart...and keep inside forever.  

    For months now, our daughter has begged for a kitten for her birthday.  We've gone through the whole, puppy, hamster kick, so I guess a kitten was only natural.
    Now, the puppy turned out to be the best decision we've made.  Our family dog just turned two - and couldn't be a better love.  
    The hamster?  Let's just say, I swear that thing will never die.  Like, ever.
    So, when it came to the idea of a kitten, two opposing images came to mind.  The first, of a cute fluffy bundle of fur, purring lovingly in the nook of our children's necks, while the second?  The second conjured terrors of clawed and bloody arms with screaming kids running, as the wild beast climbed and shredded its way to hang at the top of curtains, hissing. 
     No cat. 
     Lauren Elizabeth's 7th birthday was yesterday, and when asked, "What's the one thing you want more than anything in the world?" Of course, you knew her answer.
     Adam and I exchanged glances, knowing the furthest thing she was getting was a cat...but then this happened.  I'm not even kidding.
     "A CAT!  A CAT!  A CAT FOR MY BIRTHDAY!!!  I LOVE YOU!  THANK YOU!!!"
     Of all the years we've lived in this house, of the countless mornings, noons and nights we've played in our yard, the one and ONLY time some random cat decides to come to the back of our house, was literally, the morning of her birthday...  

     I would've thought she was kidding, if her screaming wasn't so wild.  All of us ran to the back, and sure enough, she was right.  This cold little cat sat meowing at us, then purred when we scratched behind its ears.
    "Don't even think about it", Adam immediately clarified as the rest of us fawned over the helpless wanderer.
    Sending texts to neighbors, I couldn't help but melt as the kids decided on a name.
    "Not in this house," that's it's name, Adam growled.
    The kids and I went in to get a bowl of water and open a can of tuna for the house guest, as my phone buzzed back, saying the cat belonged to a neighbor a few doors down.  Her name was, Rose.  The cat, not the neighbor.
     With a heavy heart, the kids said their goodbyes to Rose, as they lovingly played with her while she finished her breakfast.
     I don't know if I'll ever understand the timing or sense of humor that God must have to make such things happen, but at least I know for one day, on one little girl's birthday, He gave her a gift, even one I never thought possible.   

     Growing up in the north, I sometimes wondered if things were really that different in the south.  Watching TV shows or movies like 'Steel Magnolias', always made me think about what it might be like.
     Upon moving down, I learned it really was a whole different world. I can honestly say however, I never thought about what it'd be like to raise kids below the Mason Dixon line.  
     Sweet tea and hot summer days turned into impromptu trips to the beach and nights filled with chasing fireflies.
     Quickly, we learned about shagging, (Toooootally different meaning...trust me...you have to look it up) ginormo hair bows, smocked dresses, seersucker, bowties and yes, Cotillion.
     What is Cotillion you might ask?  I had no idea either - and when I found out - I couldn't believe anything like it actually still existed, but it does and it's beyond imagination.
     Boys and girls around the age of 10, can begin what's called, "Junior Cotillion".  Classes are given on manners, etiquette, social skills...and to every boy's demise...formal dancing.
     You can imagine the horror when we signed Christian and Ethan up last year.  One of my favorite Carolina Moms ever convinced me to put them in the class, stating it was one of her favorite memories from childhood.  Ever.
     The boys have completed the courses.  Begrudgingly, they've endured class after class, dance lesson after table manners session, only to have it all come down to this...the ball.
     Yes, I'm not even kidding, there's an actual grand ball.  I don't know whether to die or actually love the whole dog and pony show of it all, but regardless, it's this weekend.
     Christian and Ethan have been fitted for tuxedos... 

       Their "Yes, Ma'am's" and "No Sir's" are on point, and I can't begin to imagine what the whole experience is going to be like.  From what I hear, the girls have beautiful white dresses and it's all quite an event. 
       Even though they'd never admit it to any. living. human. being. for their entire lives, I think the boys might actually be a tiny bit excited about it.  More excited that Cotillion is almost over, granted, but excited, nonetheless.
      Yes, from being a northern girl, to having southern boys...I sure can't wait to see how it all turns out. 

    Upon finally giving birth to a baby girl after having one, two, then three boys in a row, the doctor in the delivery room thought I was kidding when I asked if I could paint her tiny toenails.  One of the nurses smiled at me before her eyes widened, "My word, I think she's serious."
    I was.
    I couldn't get enough pink, sparkly, foofy things onto that child, so you can imagine my heart when she proclaimed it was time she wanted to get her ears pierced.
    That was a couple of years ago, when she was maybe five years old.  I couldn't take her to have them pierced quickly enough...until my mom came into the picture.
    I don't know if it's a generational thing, or just my mom, but the idea of getting my little girl's ears pierced at that age, sent mom through the roof.
    She wouldn't let me get my ears pierced until my 13th birthday, which drove me absolutely mad.
    I wasn't about to wait that long for Lauren.
    Round and round I went with my mom about my daughter's ears, until we finally agreed that a couple of more years wouldn't hurt anyone.
    That time has come.  Lauren Elizabeth turns seven this Saturday and again, for her birthday, she asked to get her ears pierced. 
    With a happy heart, we all went together, only to enter the place where an adorable little girl was already getting hers done.  The little one couldn't have been three or four years old, but that sweet girl sat straight up in her chair like a champ, while two employees counted, "One, two, three," 
    (bam) 
    The precious child just about jumped out of her skin.  A strange look of horror crossed her face, mixed with a healthy dose of wanting to kick both of her assailants as swiftly as possible.
     Turning to our daughter, who was in my husband's arms, the two of them looked like this...     

    Our daughter was freaking out.  Reaching to take her from his arms, I wanted to explain how everything would be okay.  This became as effective as holding a cat over water, as she clung to him for all dear life.
    Oh, and one more thing I hadn't planned on?  The fact that my husband had never seen anyone get their ears pierced. 
    He's wrapped around her little finger on a good day, but the thought of that happening to his baby girl, was enough for him to instantly give me that "We're leaving," look.
    So, as poorly as the whole 'ear piercing' experience could've gone, it most definitely did.  
     No pierced ears this year, or probably any year to come.  Mom is thoroughly happy and after the overall fabulous experience we ended up having, I honestly think my husband is, too.     

    I haven't blogged in a little.  Quite a lot has been going on and I'll probably get into it later, but for now, I wanted to give a big Thank You to the best kind of friends.  The Un-Facebook friends.
     The friends that are there in life, through experiences that aren't tagged or posted on social media.
      Is social media great?  Of course.  I wouldn't be writing a blog, otherwise.  There's nothing better than to see friends and family enjoying their time, loved ones and experiences on instagram or Facebook, etc.  Who doesn't love to post vacation pictures or experiences while they're happening.  Baby's first steps, puppies coming home, the best meal, EVER...what a wonderful way to share your life with those you love. 
     But the Un-Facebook friends, the Un-Facebook moments...the times when you're with the people who make you laugh so hard you can't finish your ice cream, or when you're driving somewhere together and become so lost, you give up following directions...those are my favorite.
     They're the loved ones and experiences that happen when you're so caught up in the moment, the last thing you think about, is whether to add a caption to your post.
     My best friend from college, flew down from home in Ohio and it wasn't until we took her back to the airport, when we realized we hadn't taken a photo.  Not one. 
     Time goes too quickly when you're with the ones you love.  It's fabulous to document those moments and share them with the world, but something even more magical happens, when you're having so much fun, that you forget.