Goodbyes

By Natalie

imageMan goodbyes are the hardest.
I took the train up to Fredericksburg this past weekend for my sister’s baby shower. Friday morning Brandon dropped me off at the train station. When I finally realized which line I was supposed to be in it was already half gone. I pointed and said to B “This is me.” And he smiled and said “K. Have fun. Bye. Love you.” There was only time for a quick goodbye kiss, and I headed for the platform.
My aunt waited to pick me up in Fredericksburg, and took me straight home to feed me the food of my childhood. I settled in, just as if I had never left.
Nem’s shower was a sea of faces to catch up with. A place full of people who have met my sister somewhere along the way, and ecstatic to be celebrating the baby she and Sean are expecting. After saying our until next times to the last of the guests, I hopped in the back seat of the Lawrence’s car. I looked over as I buckled my seatbelt, and Norah turned her head toward me, and smiled.
“Oh she loves it when someone rides back there with her.” Nadir said.
We get to the Lawrence’s and I snuggle in there. Nadir and I catch up, and we laugh together at reruns of our favorite sitcom. Norah downed a bottle, and nuzzled right into me when she finished. Being the second center of attention at a party is exhausting for a little one.imageThe next morning I walked into Norah’s room to get her up. I peeked into her crib, and she lay there peacefully.
“Good morning Norah.” I said as I brushed my fingertips down her arm. She wriggled, and stretched her arm up, resting the back of her forearm on her forehead.
“You are just a snoozer.” I said as I reached my hands under her arms and pulled her close. She blinked her eyes open to meet my gaze.
“Hi, sweet pea.”
I laid her on the changing table to get her in a fresh diaper. She smiled at me, stretching her legs. “Yea are you in a good mood today?”
I took a second to admire her, since she is growing so fast and I thought about little Grant. How one day I was gently settling him into his bassinet and now I find myself walking into the nursery of a bouncing toddler in his crib. The two of us laughing, as I swoosh him out.
I get Norah ready and Nadir drives me to meet up with the Poes. I kissed Norah goodbye and gave my sister a grateful hug. Not allowing it to last too long, cause if it did, we’d both be in tears.
I spent Sunday morning with my in laws, which seems too detached of a word. They’re Mom. They’re Dad and Laura. Ryan, Ashley and my wild nephews Mason and Everett, still in the peak of their childhood.
Their home, it feels like home, and I love being back there.
Mom, Dad, and Laura took me to the train station and waited on the platform with me. The train pulled in and the hugs were too short. I found my seat, threw my suitcase up top and sat. I looked out the window and saw Mom and Laura walking up and down the length of the car I stepped into, looking for me. I knocked on the window, and then noticed the girl in front of me was asleep, resting her head on the window. I waved, but they didn’t see me. I watched them still searching, as the train pulled away, and my heart sank. “Goodbye.” I said to myself as I watched Fredericksburg slip away into the trees.

Leaving Fredericksburg is like leaving home. But when the train pulled into Charlotte I felt at home too. I love it here. I love our life here. I want to build a future here. Goodbyes will always be difficult. But without goodbyes there’s no anxious and excited hellos. As easy as it would be to give into the sadness of a goodbye, I must remember the path that God has laid for us and the direction he is leading us. That makes the goodbyes easier, because in fact they’re not goodbyes at all. They’re simply a see you soon. 
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Local Library

By Natalie

Since for the past year I’ve been in the habit of taking Grant to story time at the Library, I’ve fallen in love with just how wonderful a place full of stories can be.

The set up at our library has the children’s area and books on hold downstairs. Fiction and nonfiction rest upstairs with dozens of tables and chairs strewn along the length of the windows.

imageTypically I’ll search for the book I’m ready to dive into next at home and place it on hold. Then I’m able to walk in with G, grab my book, and lead him to the little house made up of storybooks for kids. He steps inside the little house with a couple other tots, all pulling corduroy and other plush storybook characters out of a basket that sits in the corner.

He usually steps out to present his findings to me, smiling and grunting. He excitedly stumbles back into the little house to see what else he can discover, while I stand there alongside 20 other moms and nannies watching our littles play.

If you have a little, infant to toddler and you’re not in the habit of going to story time I have to tell you truthfully that you’re missing out. The first time I went Ryder was almost 3 and Grant was 4 months. Little toddler girls ran up to the car seat when I grabbed a bottle to feed Grant and they could not stop uttering the word Bae-Bee when I placed him on my shoulder to burp him.

These days when we go to story time Grant is happy to get up and run into the middle of the room with the other kiddos while a librarian reads to them. He’ll venture out just far enough to be on the other side of the circle, standing to stare at each woman sitting in front of him until he comes across my face sensing recognition. I smile and say “Hey.” In a hushed tone. He runs to my lap, barreling into me. He’ll sit like that for just a moment until he gets settled and then he’s right back up to repeat it all over again. It never gets old to see his face light up when he spots me in a room full of other women and children. My heart melts every time he joins me for the next song.

imageClap your hands *Clap-Clap* Clap your hands *Clap-Clap* Everybody clap your hands *Clap-Clap* Clap your hands, clap your hands, clap your hands, clap your hands, everybody clap your hands. *Clap-Clap*

And then we go into Stomp your feet *Stomp-Stomp* Stomp your feet *Stomp-Stomp* and G really gets into it. Hinging at his knees on the edge of my lap to stomp his heels on the floor.

On the days when I forgot to place a book on hold, but am still yearning for a good read I head up the stairs with Grant in my arms. At the bend in the stairs he points to a painted picture on the wall. “Uhhhah” he moans. “Yes I know Grantsy, it’s a ship in the ocean.” We stand there for a minute gazing at the blueish watercolor.

Once we hit the top of the steps it’s deadly quiet. I step into an aisle of nonfiction and G continues his pointing and “Uhhah” sounds. The area echoed like you would not believe. “I see that book.” I whisper.

He motions toward the window, pointing to the trees outside. Making some more babble, when an older woman rounded the corner into our view.

“Well hello.” She whispers. “You must be the one I heard, huh?”

G smiles and rests his head on my shoulder bashfully.

“Yes, you’re a sweet boy huh?” She smiles and moves on. G picks his head up to watch her go.

I snag a book on parenting, or the development of babies and we make our way downstairs to check out. G sits up on the counter while I scan the books giving my arm a break. I hum our story time tunes as I set him in his car seat and we head back home. He giggles as he looks out the window, kicking his legs in approval of our outing.

The Nip in the Air

By Natalie

I walked into the Harris Teeter this morning to grab a bag of tortilla chips which I forgot on my original grocery shop yesterday. I’ve planned to make a dairy free Mexican layer dip this week, which I have been oddly craving for quite some time, and finally decided that the only way I’d be able to have it dairy free would be if I made it myself. This layer dip has been on my mind for so long, and I remembered every ingredient for it, except for the tortilla chips! Can you believe that?

I grabbed a couple bushels of firewood on my way out since the chilly air has finally made its way here. And we’ll hopefully be enjoying a fire this very night.

imageWe’re obsessed with our fireplace around here, didn’t you know? And when I say we I mean Brandon is obsessed with creating them, I am mesmerized, and cling to the warmth of them, and Bingley will plop very nearly too close the second those flames pop up. I think he will be devastated if our next place doesn’t have a fire. To be honest it’s another thing to set at the top of our priority list! Which is really the beauty of renting, because we have lived in such different spaces we’ve learned what functions well, and what to avoid.

Speaking of… Chilly weather.. Chilly weather, and three boys is possibly the most stressful mix ever. Did you know? Now that the weather has gotten cold enough for the necessity of coats, shoes, and hats there has been quite the wrangling going on at the Coggins back door. I’m pretty sad to say goodbye to barefoot, and swim shorts. image

I’ve got two socks, and one shoe on Ryder. One sock on Caleb that isn’t fit quite right, and I’m battling with him to put a coat on. Grant is totally aware now of the fact that putting shoes on means we’re going out, so he reaches for the doorknob like a trapped prisoner.

“Why do we have to wear coats?” Caleb says.

“Because it’s cold outside, and I want you to be warm.”

“Why is it cold?”

“Because it’s winter now.”

“Why is it winter?”

“Because the season changed.” (Mind you, I’m holding this conversation yelling over Bailey’s whining, and shrill barks. You might ask, “Why don’t you just let Bailey out while you get them ready Natalie?” To which I’d answer, “Because God forbid I did, then Grant would crumple to the floor in anger that I didn’t let him out barefoot, and coatless too.” It’s really a matter of preference.)

Caleb continues, while I pull a hoodie over a frustrated Ryder. He gets a particular sort of upset when you put a hoodie on him instead of a coat. Like you’ve just betrayed him by dressing him in something he cannot take off. But that is in fact why we put it on him, because otherwise he’d be frolicking in the nip shirtless!

“Why did the seasons change Matalie?”

“Alright Caleb, that’s enough questions, put this on.” I hand him a jacket, and help him with the zipper.

By this point Ryder is ready, Grant’s got shoes on, Caleb has a coat on, but insisted on changing his shoes. Pullover, pullover, where is Grant’s pullover? I grab it off the couch, and slide it over his head to which he always giggles, and that helps relieve the commotion a bit.

Somehow I’m always the last to put my shoes on, but I’m not silly enough to wear anything that takes more than a slip onto my feet when I’m with them. So I’m ready quickly, and open the door. The boys, and Bailey all trample past one another, spilling outside like a waterfall.

Of course, on a good day, I get each of them ready individually, in secret, before Bailey even hears anyone utter the words Outside.

 

 

DIY: Christmas Bunting

By Natalie

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Here’s what you’ll need…

  • 2-3 feet of Fabric (Depending on how long you want your bunting to be.)
  • Fabric Scissors
  • Pinking Shears
  • Double Fold Bias Tape
  • Matching Thread
  • Pencil
  • Iron
  • Stencil
  • Sewing Machine

I have been sewing for about three years, and I still make some serious rookie mistakes. Since I purchased pinking shears, buntings have been my favorite easy sewing project. I found this fabric, and thought I was being conscious of getting only as much as I needed, only to find out that once I cut out my triangles, half of them would reveal upside down christmas trees! Apparently I’d never used a print that it mattered which way I cut. Rookie mistakes.

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Sometimes even the easiest of DIYs can turn out to be a headache. Don’t fret! You are not alone.

I made a stencil a while back out of a piece of cardstock, and would highly recommend doing so, as it makes your tracing much quicker. I simply used a straight edge to measure out how large of a triangle I wanted, and cut my piece of cardstock.

Once you’ve made a stencil lay it on the back of your fabric and trace away. (This is where I bring the ironing board into the living room, and start a netflix show)

When you’ve finished tracing, use your pinking shears to cut the triangles out. Pinking shears keep your fabric from fraying. Which is why you won’t need to sew a front and back piece together for this type of bunting. At some point I’m sure the fabric cut with the shears would fray after a little wear and tear, but since buntings are merely decorative, and I swap them out through the seasons, I’ve never felt the need to make them double sided. It should take a long time for them to actually start fraying.

imageOnce you’ve cut out your triangles you’ll want to iron out any wrinkles or folds before you place them in the double fold bias tape. Bias tape can be found in most craft stores near the threads, zippers, and other bindings. Just a tip I could have used when I found myself walking up and down the ribbon aisle looking for whatever that stinking bias tape was.

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Pin your work together like so, and carefully carry it over to your sewing machine.

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I like to use a zig zag stitch, to match the look of the cut outs, and just because I feel like it holds better.

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Keep your pin cushion close to discard each pin as you go. You may need to readjust as you go, and be sure to keep your cut outs pushed all the way up to the bias tape fold.

Once you’ve finished your work should look something like this↓image

Hang it up, and enjoy the fruits of your labor!

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DIY: Side Table

By Natalie

Last summer Brandon and I found ourselves walking through the aisles of Home Depot to find materials for our latest project. We had collected all of our wood, and were looking for the best set of nails when an older man passed by us chuckling. He said something along the lines of this project being my vision, and contracting my honey to create it. He was exactly right. I found a picture of a side table that I liked, and it seemed easy enough for my craftsman to put together.

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B had this project finished in just a few hours. Sawing, sanding, and drilling together this magnificent table with measurements of his own liking.

Here’s What You’ll Need:

  • 3/4 inch Wood Planks
  • 4 Wood Posts
  • Nails
  • Screws
  • Sander, or Sandpaper to smooth the edges
  • Tape Measure
  • Drill
  • Hammer
  • Saw, or have the planks cut into the sizes of your liking
  • Stain

And then put it all together however tall, and spaced apart as you’d like. All you’ve really got to do after sanding the edges is screw the wood planks to the side, front, and top of the 4 wood posts. Then apply your stain. We actually had a stain that we were hoping to apply but never got around to it since I’ve loved the look of the natural wood.

Here she is…

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On Befriending My Curls

By Natalie

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After spending a muggy day outside this past summer my hair was more than what I would describe as poofy. Despite the frizz I decided to run to Michael’s to stock up on the supplies I was out of, and browse through the new fall decor. While I was browsing I came across this older woman who was dressed in her finest, looking like she had just come from her weekly salon appointment to have her hair done up. I motioned to squeeze past her as I thought she would most certainly judge my young manner of dressing in workout shorts, and a tie-dye tshirt. Hair gone awry, and flip flops flapping against my heels.

But she slowed her cart as we passed one another, made eye contact with me and said, “Your hair is very pretty.” with the sweetest old lady smile you’ve ever seen. Shocked, I blushingly smiled, and thanked her. I went home and looked at myself in the mirror and thought, “You know I wouldn’t be me without these curls.” Brandon is a huge fan of my curly head, most especially when they’re at their softest poofiest state. Even just today a woman passed me in the grocery store and complemented my curls. So why do I have the hardest time accepting them?

imageMaybe it’s because I’ve spent countless hours in front of the mirror trying my hardest to love them. Being tired of the fact that I can’t wake up, brush my hair and walk out the door. Maybe because I’ve endured several steam burns to the head while straightening the unruliness. Then curling iron curling them for a softer more acceptable look. Maybe because I’ve sat through the stinky, burning chemical relaxers in hopes of relaxing those defiant curls, only to later find out that now my roots were curly, and then ends lay limply straight against my shoulders. Not to mention all the hair loss. Maybe even because deep down I hate meeting someone for the first time with my natural curly head, only to later come across them with straight hair that gets complimented. That is the worst. It makes me feel like my curls are messy, and undesirable. Leaving me feeling uncomfortable in my natural head of hair.image

But this woman in Michaels, and the lady at the grocery store. They got me thinking.. I have a number of reasons to appreciate my locks.  A couple kind strangers, a handful of old coworkers who’d made it a point to compliment my uniqueness, one loving husband, a single Dove curly hair commercial, and alot of acceptance later I’ve decided to befriend my curls. That’s right! I said BEFRIEND them. From the cowlicks above my ears, to the roaring 20s wave on the left side of my temple, to the tight spirals that sit at the back of my cheekbones. I’ve come to terms with them. Most especially I’ve come to terms with the fact that no matter how hard I try to tame them, every single curl on my head has an intention of its own. After years and years of battling them, I confess to you I’m worn out. And you know what’s hilarious? The less product I put in them, the more beautifully they spring. It took me years to find that out! The more I’ve learned how to treat them the more they’ve been compromising with me. The irony is ridiculous.

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To my fellow curly heads,

Instead of shedding tears as I know you have while wishing desperately you were born with straight hair, start loving on those locks.

What I use to care for my curls
I’ve also used

I have tried the no shampoo method, replacing it with baking soda. I’ve also tried drying my hair with a cotton tee, instead of a terrycloth towel. Neither seemed to make much difference, and I really couldn’t handle the mess, and lack of scent with baking soda.

No curlyhead is the same. I must express my frustration with the fact that just because something works for me doesn’t even necessarily mean it’ll work for my sisters! I cannot necessarily walk up to another curly head, ask her how she nourishes her hair, and expect the same result. That fact can be frustrating, but really, it’s fantastic. Not one person has each individual curl that I do, where I do. We can totally be compared to snowflakes. Different, and beautiful, in our own unruly way.

Go on little snowflakes, be proud of that gorgeous head of hair!

The Apartment Upstairs

By Natalie

We are so backwards. When Brandon and I first got married we lived in the second floor of a house owned by an older man. The entire floor was a completed upstairs apartment featuring our own kitchen, laundry, bedroom, bath, and separate driveway. It was everything the pair of us young love birds needed.

imageAfter 2 years we left the apartment to spend the summer house sitting a close friend’s home, while she was on a missions trip. Which allowed us the time to house hunt without being held captive by a lease. At the end of the summer we bought our first house, and remained there for just under a year when we decided to uproot our lives completely and move to Charlotte, NC. Which felt very much like running away together. Being the best sort of romantic.

We found a townhouse in what we believed to be an alright neighborhood, only to find a year later that our commutes were less than ideal, and the places we enjoyed passing time were miles away. All summer I sat in bed at night flicking through our limited rental options on Zillow. Searching for homes that our little family would be comfortable in, and I couldn’t find a single thing. Which when you are aching to move, is the very worst feeling.

Then one evening I was sipping on my white mocha at our new found favorite coffee shop, and I spotted a decent apartment. Being in a smaller space wouldn’t be half bad if we were living in the area we actually wanted to live in. So we decided why not pack up from the townhouse, and move on to see what another area might be like? You see, there’s something you have to understand about us. The older we get the more often we gather to reassess our everchanging future. “Is this the right time for this? Should we wait longer to make one of those? Should we go ahead and revamp the dining chairs? Would two dogs actually be better? Nope definitely not. And which vacation should we be planning for next?”

Well this time it was a conversation about living space, and if sacrificing a little extra elbow room, and storage space was worth being part of a community we enjoyed. When you move away to find yourself, you don’t just sit in the first place you see, and figure it’s good enough. You keep striving for everything you’ve dreamed of, and moving until it feels right. Moving to an apartment in a different part of town felt right. So we went ahead and threw our name in the hat, and ended up with a move in date.

At this point you know I’m giddy. There is nothing I love more than spending a Saturday afternoon sifting through the junk all the way in the back corner of the closets. I’m not even worried about packing up our place on my own this time. Because let’s face it, Brandon will most likely be sitting in the midst of all his cables deciding which ones to keep like he was deciding the name of our first child. All in the time that it takes me to bubble wrap our entire kitchen.

As I’ve recently been deciding what stays, and what goes I’ve nostalgically been thinking back on our old apartment. And how now it won’t be referred to as simply the apartment, but our first place together. As we will technically soon be in an apartment for the second time.

Our landlord at our first home together turned out to be friendly. His outrageously obnoxious sneezes were plenty audible from our bedroom, and his grunts, and coughs everytime he ate a meal, were a little embarrassing when company was over. But that situation could have been so much worse.

The carpet in our bedroom was dark green, and the kitchen cabinets had forest green leaf handles. The standing shower with the gold trimmed doors was a nightmare to clean, and the trees in the driveway always dusted something on our cars no matter what season it was.

At one point we had a nasty run in with bugs. These tiny little vermin would scurry across our kitchen countertops, and I tried so very hard to convince myself that they were not cockroaches. Until the night I was making dinner with the stove on, and the oven preheating, when I managed to smoke out the mama roach. Screaming for Brandon to come quick I realized those were all of her babies on my counter that I had been smushing. B caught her, and later admit to me that he’d seen her before, but her quick little legs escaped him. I must have heated up wherever she was living, so much so that she needed to peek out, and that’s how she lost her life. But you know, I don’t feel bad. Because every morning, and every night I’d scrub those countertops clean, annoyed by those nasty bugs that were screwing with my cleanliness.imageNow here I sit in our living room full of furniture we picked out together. Bingley asleep at my feet, and the sound of jets soaring through the sky, and I’m thinking to myself.. “Back then, I never saw us here.”

Sometimes when I’m making dinner in front of the stove I’ll have visions of old mama roach, and she reminds me of where we’ve come from. That every difficult period, and every transition has been so perfectly placed in our lives to teach us something, and to remind us of how grateful we should be for those stepping stones that landed us on our montaintop.

Lazy 5 Ranch Adventure

By Natalie

imageThe last week of summer break I drove the boys up to the Lazy 5 Ranch in Mooresville. Which was easily one of my proudest moments as a nanny. An hour road trip with three boys, and no fuss, I think I did pretty good. Mandy totally let me borrow the van complete with a Wiggles soundtrack. Let me admit to you that it was so comfortable for the 4 of us. We’re quite the rowdy bunch, and a little extra leg room for our drive was very much appreciated.

imageimageOnce we pulled in the boys spilled out like jumping beans and headed straight for the playground, while I sat with Grant at a picnic table he was adamantly attempting to climb.

imageOnce the sweet things burned off some energy we hopped back in the van, and started our little drive through safari adventure.

After snapping this ↓ perfect photo I showed it to Caleb and said, “Look, he’s saying, hey Caleb! What’s up?!” To which Caleb giddily replied, “Noo, what is that lamb saying?”

Hehe. That kid. Every animal there he called a lamb.

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imageCaleb’s back in school now, and I soo miss having him around.

Yesterday I was talking to him with my back turned preparing a snack for Ryder, and Caleb ran up behind me and wrapped his arms around my middle to hug me. I crave those little heartmelting reassuring moments. And I’m absolutely in love when they express their affection.

imageThese guys licked my hand, and they were pretty sweet whenever we’d roll up to them. But after looking a little closer I started to really get freaked by their eyes. Creepy right?

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imageWoah. This Zebra was right up on us, and after seeing a sign that said don’t pet the zebras, Caleb and I agreed we’d best leave the windows up.

Also… I’m going to say they’re certainly white with black stripes. What do you think?

imageLook at that llama trying to pose as a giraffe.

imageHelloooo Deer.

imageimageThis was as close as Caleb would allow me to get to this beast. Which I felt was alright with me, since as you can see he was sort of charging toward us in hopes that we had some grub for him. Ryder, on the other hand was standing in the center of the van pointing, and shouting at the window. He was all about it.image

Does that not seem like the most fun outing ever? I’m so ready to go back!

The Difference Between a Nanny & a Sitter

By Natalie

imageMy sister told me recently that she caught a snippet of Mary Poppins, and thought of me. I could not have asked for a better compliment. While I have a serious knack for tidying up, and a decent sized bag full of goodies, I have to admit I am far from Mary Poppins. The birds out back sadly don’t land on my finger to sing with me, and the boys take their medicine just fine. But we do jump into rain puddles, and sing about made up words. Getting the best use out of our imaginations while we play.

Perhaps if I had that fabulous apron, and a very large floating umbrella I would be complete. Spit Spot.

I’m also not even close to a governess, but fraulein Maria continues to be a source of inspiration. Running, and skipping about while children chase behind me. Cuddling them close during thunderstorms, and caring for them as my own. I could almost guarantee you that had I lived back then, Governess would be my career of choice. imageOther notable nannies I’ve related myself to…

The nanny from Baby’s Day Out

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The nanny from The Nanny Diaries

Although, thank goodness I am not nannying for a family living in the Upper West Side.

imageTo be referred to as a nanny is to say that you care for one family of children, and have been doing so for some time. We are not ones who come to spend a few hours with children while their parents are out. It is possibly my greatest pet peeve to be called a baby sitter, when in fact my job entails much more than monitoring, and playing.

After Grant’s morning nap today we drove to the mall to pass some time. We stepped into the kids play area, and Grant immediately began playing peekaboo with me from behind the big yellow duck. Sitting across from me was an older man watching his grandson play. His grandson, close to G’s age began chasing him, sending G off in the other direction squealing. Turning every so often to be sure that his friend was still close behind.

I stepped out of the play area for just a moment to grasp Grant’s hand when he wandered too far, and I spoke to him as if he understood exactly what I was saying. “Nope, nope, lets go back to the big yellow duck.”

Once he ran off again the older man sitting on the bench called out to me. “Ma’am” he said.

Knowing I was the only one around I made eye contact with him, and said, “Yes?”

“Are you that little boy’s nanny?” He asked.

I smiled knowing his blonde hair, matched with my tan skin was a dead giveaway. “I am.” I said.

Then the man pushed his glasses up, and motioned for me to come sit next to him. “Come here I want to tell you something.”

So I sat down next to him anxious to hear his wisdom.

“I just wanted to tell you that I had a nanny when I was a boy. She was with us for seven years. And now I’m seventy something, and I still remember her. I loved that woman.”

Unable to control the large grateful lump in my throat I smiled, and said. “Really??”

He continued. “You should know that everything you’re instilling in that boy, he’s going to remember it. You have a great purpose.”

And I knew right then that God placed me right where he wants me. I thanked the man over and over again for his kind words and encouragement, and sat there with him for the remainder of his stay to chat about the boys. All the while Grant would walk over every few minutes to rest his head on my leg, checking in to be sure I was still around. When the man stood up to leave he shook my hand with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen, and I said “It was so good to meet you.”

imageThat friends, was the beginning of the most sentimental day I’ve lived. Everything I did with Grant seemed to be happening at a reduced pace. Life, slowing itself down for me to gather up all the moments in my memory. When we got home, we had lunch, read a few stories, set up the camera to photograph the day I never want to forget, (Which by the way, Bailey rolling around in the grass was comically unplanned, and perfect) until finally it was naptime, and I was not ready to put him down. So we sat together in the glider listening to Twinkle Twinkle Little Star play softly on the monitor. I watched as my hand upon his back rose and fell with his growing baby breaths. His little hands brushing alongside the glider’s soft fabric, and I really wanted to tear up, but I knew that would be silly.

I set Grant down in his crib after he drifted off to sleep, and stood at his door for another few minutes. My mind ripping forward memories of him when he was three months old, and we were just getting to know eachother. “I am but one person in his life.” I thought. In the grand scheme of things, I am so small.

With the largest heart for these boys, I want to be everything I need to be for them. I can only hope that they too will grow older, and reminisce on the time we shared together.

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