I have nothing profound to say, but I do have cute stories to share.
For a full week Rhema could not sleep. Instead she screamed and shrieked for hours on end. Each night I thought to myself, surely she will finally rest and we will all get some sleep. But no.
Then one evening last week Hope yelled from the bathroom:
“MOMMY!!! I found a big fat tooth on the floor. And it’s NOT mine!”
She raced down the stairs and I confirmed that it indeed was a bloody molar.
We ran to Rhema. “You lost a tooth!! You lost a tooth!!!” Rhema looked at us, bored out of her mind. I showed her the tooth. She took it and headed toward the trash can. I stopped her just before she tossed it in the garbage. Hope, on the other hand, was beside herself with excitement that the Tooth Fairy would be making an appearance that night. The Tooth Fairy was thinking Oh shoot, I’m broke.
Rhema slept through the night and several nights after that. Days later I had an Aha! moment. I remembered that during the sleepless nights I’d often find her in the bathroom at 1 or 2 am trying to brush her teeth. Maybe she’d been experiencing tooth pain all those nights?? And I just did not know, did not put the pieces together. I did not know she had a loose tooth, and I didn’t even know when she lost it. Sometimes it’s scary to think of all the things that I might be missing… and sad to think there are things, so many things, she’s never been able to tell. I’m trying to be ok with it. As her mother I’m supposed to know, I want to know. I’m trying to trust that God knows, and that’s enough.
Anyway Hope left a note for the Tooth Fairy explaining everything:
(Yes, Hope always, always has her sister’s back).
Which leads me to the History Fair. Hope got to do a project on Rosa Parks and she worked on it for weeks. She asked me to make cookies in the shapes of busses for the night of the Fair. It felt a little irreverent to me but I bought a bus-shaped cookie cutter. Then she eagerly asked me to draw little chocolate Rosa Parks on the busses. And I said noooooo.
When Hope learned that Rosa Parks was the first woman to lie in state in the Capitol Rotunda, she decided she wanted her diorama for the History Fair to depict this. She built a little coffin and put one of her brown-skinned dolls on top. She made a flower arrangement out of Rainbow Loom bands. She drew lots of people standing around looking sad. I suggested it was a little morbid, but there was no deterring her. On the night of the fair, she brought Ms. Rosa Parks to life. She was awesome.
So go these days with my frizzy haired girls. I am often exhausted and overwhelmed and buoyed by tender moments with both of them every day. The house is filled with their songs. For Hope it’s an old Vacation Bible School tune or her piano music or every song (on repeat) from the movie Frozen. For Rhema, it’s her continuous soft hums. (Thank you, by the way, for your kind words about Rhema’s voice. I’ve always thought it was beautiful, but I’m her mom so I’m biased. Your comments helped me enjoy her songs even more and I feel special I get to hear them every day).
In a devotional I’m reading by Sarah Young the following words went right into my heart:
Listen to the love song that I am continually singing to you. I take great delight in you. I rejoice over you with singing… Trust me and don’t be afraid, for I am your Strength and Song.
The Lord, the Lord, is my strength and my song; he has become my salvation. ~Isaiah 12:2