I have to agree with Laura… I love that this blog is so conversational.
Thank you for jumping in and sharing on Monday. It has really
helped to give me some perspective. There are things I need to change… and there are things that just *are*. And, that’s ok. Being married to an extremely efficient and goal-oriented person has challenged me to look at things in a new way. I think I just freaked out a bit there…
wondering if everything on my end was wrong. But I’m just Katie. And I can’t clean like Jami. And I can’t cook like Cort. And I don’t do our money like the Boy does, but all is well. All is very well.
There’s so much to tell you, but I defer to tomorrow’s news:
Rylie Joy turns Two
Since you have all shared in her life since day one, I thought it would be just fine to share a piece of her Birthday Letter here… as well as a couple of favorite pictures from the last year. I love that you know her. I love that you ask about her and come up to us in church and hug her. I love that your kids watch her on YouTube… because we certainly watch you. You are a part of our community and we love you.
Child. Tomorrow, you turn 2. This means nothing to you except that I will be a bit more lenient on the Oreos for a day. I believe birthdays are a big day. We’ll hang your banner and dance a bit more and open some small gifts. I got you a rockin’ pink cowgirl snap shirt. Girl, you are nothing if not dressed c u t e.
Gas is $1.89 today. That’s down three dollars from last month. We’re in the middle of re-organizing our country and environment and bosses and transportation… and like good Americans, we’re doing it all at once. We, as a family, are fine in these lean times thanks to your father’s incredible ability to see the future and plan ahead. Honestly, I still don’t know what we’re eating tonight. But the two of us love you very much and we make a good team. You are well taken care of.
We got cows this year, Ry, and you l o v e them. LOVE them. Longhorns. You help me feed them every morning. You yell at them to move over and you hand them tiny scraps of hay that they’ve dropped. You like your barn neat. You also help with the chickens, though your egg skills need a little work. You ride the tractor with Daddio and you check the mail like a champ. You love to be out there, in the mix of things. You have thrived in this home we have chosen for you. It’s always a fear for parents… ‘Is this right?’ ‘Will this work?’ I think, so far, you are thrilled.
You started therapy this year, kiddo, for Speech and Movement delays. Technically, you’re about a year behind your peers. Some of your muscles just aren’t kicking in on time. This is not to say you don’t express yourself. You do. A lot. It’s just in your own time and in your own language. You finally gave up on crawling a month ago. You crawled for 14 months, God bless your little butt. Someday, Bob Costas will do and Olympic Moment story on you and how we didn’t know how’d you’d ever learn to walk… about how your muscles wouldn’t hold you up. And then he’ll talk about how you popped up one day, crooked right leg and all, and just decided to go for it. And how you grew and grew and grew and are now the world’s fastest hurdler… just like your Daddy. It’s going to be a great moment. Everyone’s going to cry and cheer you on to the gold medal. I hope the world is ready for you.
You’re still gorgeous. Yesterday a woman stopped me in the grocery store as you continued to push our cart down the produce aisle just to tell me that you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. I thanked her and quickly rescued you and the lemon stand you crashed into. There is something about the way you carry yourself that is so engaging, so open… it draws people to you. You are everyone’s child.
You love simple wind-up toys and Polish sausage. You sleep for 13 hours at night and another 2 during the day. You are an amazing dancer with ridiculously accurate rhythm. You have sung into a microphone and driven a bulldozer. You have hugged a chicken and helped drag wood in for the fire. You have no interest in movies on 24-hour road trips and Benadryl makes you hyper. Your GranPap in Tejas calls you twice a day and you scream when you hear his voice. You’re rarely sick and you have the most incredible laugh there ever was.
We think you’re the best.
When you read this someday and life is hard and you are wondering if it was ever
good… I can assure you it was
. You are loved and prayed for incessantly. It’s only been two short years, but you are so very welcome here. You are, quite simply, a Joy.