I had about reached my limit the other day. "Yes, we can get schools supplies today." "No, you don't need another Build-A-Bear." "No, not that. Not now, not ever." "Too early in the season for this." "Get a job if you want to dress like that."

It's about choices kid.

And with this, we headed to the pretzel place to get a snack <and spend my last bills in my wallet> and about tripped over the Murano glass table in the middle of the walkway. Lo and behold, it was covered with glass replicas of the kid's one downfall: peace signs. I muttered under my breath as the kid was quickly drawn to the table with me <and my wallet> in tow.

"Just one peace sign, Mom?"

"No."

"Look, it's only $5.00."

"You have over 100 peace signs at home already <I embellish when I am agitated>. Put it down and let's get moving."

"But I don't have this black and white one."

"And you won't be getting the black and white one today. I am done spending money on stuff." 

Under please, pleas, pursed lips and pouts, we headed for the pretzel place. The kid kicked into negotiation gear while waiting in line to place her pretzel bite order. I engaged <my first mistake> and she ended up trading her pretzel bites and lemonade for a peace sign necklace. 

We left with one pretzel - mine - and headed back to the Murano glass guy.

With open hands and a cheeky smile the Murano glass guy greeted us with an all to knowing, "I knew she'd be back!" Just so everyone was clear that I didn't buckle but taught the kid a valuable lesson about choices, I made sure he was aware that she traded her pretzel for a necklace. <My second mistake.>

We completed the transaction and started to leave when the Murano glass guy started to say something I did not understand so we turned back around. You'll never guess what he said.

"I want to buy a pretzel for the little girl." 

"You want to do what? Why would you want to do that?" (I am trying to teach a lesson here, remember.)

"She gave up her pretzel buy something from me, now I want to buy her a pretzel. "

"Not necessary. Thank you."

"But I must. You must let me do this for you."

Not at all seeing how this would help me, I buckled anyway. As I did, I thought I saw the the oh-so-subtle power of balance is shift away from me but my view was blocked by generosity, kindness and an ear to ear grin. 

Picking battles, teaching lessons, learning to laugh at how things turn out . . . it's about choices. 

What was it that got her going? Elementary school graduation.

After turning in her library books, cleaning out her locker and desk, accumulating over 500 Accelerated Reader points and bidding adieu to her cohorts in crime on student council, battle of the books, geography bee and math, there was on last thing for the kid to do before officially finishing up 4th grade and closing the chapter on elementary school. Graduate. 

Graduation ceremony for 4th grade?

Yup, and there was more than enough pride, accomplishment, support and vision to fill the gymnasium. It was wonderful. As a parent, I figured the ceremony was done for me but after seeing the excitement in my daughter's eyes reflected in the clapping, tears, wOOts, and hugs of every other 4th grader at the school, I realized it was not.

This was for the kids and we were fortunate to have been granted the privilege of watching.

It was just yesterday when we gathered at the daycare center to send her off to kindergarten to enter the elementary school doors for the first time. Flash forward 5 years later as she walks out of the elementary school doors for the last time.

Heading into summer, I think about the fall and those first few days of middle school. I am nervous but know that'll be tempered by the kid's excitement, attitude, confidence and strength. She'll shine and because of her, I will too.

Leaving the single digits in the dust last week, she welcomed 10 years of age with fizzing whizbees, pumpkin juice, rock cakes and everything Harry Potter, right down to earthworm flavored Bertie Bots Every Flavor Beans (bleh!)   

Wow. Where did the time go? Memories of the first night in the hospital, first steps, angel sightings, and the first time she "broke the code" and started to read.  

There was the first plane ride, the hotel with a flat screen in the bathroom (we've got to get this for our house, Mom), best friends, next door big sister, Minnesota grandmother, dance class, karate and guitar. Grade school, middle school, high school and then . . .

The adventure has only just began, yet I know it will be over before I am ready.

May there always be sunshine, may there always be blue skies, may there always be us, may there always be you.

Happy birthday little beauty.

Privacy is a tough issue.

I  recall talking to a neighbor about my kid going to daycare because I worked. I was feeling guilty and wondering if I was a "good" mom. What she said to me then still sticks with me now. She said, "good moms find good day care."

It's all about the choices we make.

Social media is here to stay. This "online world" was unknown to me 4-5 years ago. And I was a bit afraid. I knew that me being afraid of a world that I would have to guide my daughter through was unacceptable and would have to change. 

I chose to immerse myself in social media.

A matter of paramount importance to me throughtout has been privacy. Privacy for myself is one thing and privacy for my daughter, Tarah, is another. Tarah is digitally distinct - not because of anything she's done, but because of things I've done.

I chose to expose my daughter to social media and to include her (and her face) in it.

Why would a parent put a child's face on a blog, school pictures on Facebook, or buy her her own domain? Why not? And I ask that not flippantly or throwing caution to the wind. Really, why not?

The "why not" for us is that it is one thing to be uniformed and afraid - it is another to be informed and aware. We, as a family,  choose to be informed and aware. We are maneuvering through the web, the tools, and the changes carefully, thoughtfully and in a way that we feel is right for our family.

This may not be right for you. And that's ok. It don't agree with the clothes you let your daughter wear or the way you let her talk  back to you, or the way you let your son skateboard through town on his own when he should be in bed or . . . but I digress. 

We are not all going to agree on privacy, nor should we. What matters is that we, as parents, are making the choices that we feel are right for our family.

It's about choice. Privacy is personal. Only you can decide.

We were sitting in the car in the parking lot on our way to lunch. I was in the driver's seat gathering things to bring in with with us: Harry Potter for the kid, purse (or just cash?), Blackberry, fleece jacket (or not?), too much loose change . . .

She was wedged in beside me on the armrest checking out her hair in the rearview mirror. She did her hair herself today and created two pigtails with a touch of creativity - a ribbon wrapped around each. The ribbon matched her shirt that covered her Justice slim cords that were rolled up and slightly cropped for just a touch of attitude. The attitude was easy-going and fun. 

. . . where's my Nook? Is she done primping yet?

I look up and catch my breath. Right there in the rear view mirror, reflected in my daughter's eyes . . .

. . . joy, quiet discovery and acceptance. 

Good Night Moon. Hello Kitty. Baby blankie.

I hold my breath so I can remember this moment as it is right now.

This week, we watched you get on the bus for 4th grade, for the first time, smiling the entire time - you were grinning ear to ear with sunbeams coming out of your eyes.

When I looked into your eyes it became very clear to me - I am a good mom . . . because of you.

You are kind, smart, generous, sassy and (too) quick with the wit. You read, you learn, you grow. You are funny, you listen (most of the time), and you let me know how you feel. You tell me when I'm wrong (all the time), you tell me when I'm right (not often enough), and you don't let mistakes get you down. You offer opinions, you seek opinions and you are on a continual quest to understand. You are creative, you are insightful and you are developing into your own right before my very eyes.

You are beautiful - inside and out - and Daddy and I love you very, very much.

Kiddo, you will always be my little girl. When "little" is the last thing you want to be called, my heart will hold those words for you.

Here's to sunbeams, little girls and well, growing up. Love you.

She wasn't tired of being in the car seat and frustrated she couldn't get out. She wasn't asking for a toy she couldn't have and was showing her displeasure. She missed her angels and wanted to go home to them; she missed them so much.

Her crying was from deep from within (deeper than I thought a three year old could go) and it was uncontrollable. I was driving. I pulled over to unbuckle, hold, rock, and soothe her. She eventually calmed down but she wasn't quite herself for a little while. 

We had talked about angels before. The best day of our lives was the day the angels brought her to us. She was the most special angel of them all - and she was ours.

What happens in a child's mind? What memories do they hold? 

One Saturday morning, my daughter saw something, remembered something or needed something that was very real to her and, in that moment, it very quickly became real for me too. There are angels among us. 

Especially for the children.

She had a fun run and kicked it in gear at the end. Hoping she'll post about it herself (hint, hint).

Raising Tarah is a gift. My little girl is independent and still my baby, has her own opinions but still values mine, and is confident but unsure. She is witty and creative, is a voracious reader and has a flair for the arts. Tarah is an amazing little girl who is growing up. Finding, testing, and discovering her way as she grows, there will be days when friendships shift, kind words are in short supply both from and to her, or things just don't go her way. 

Tarah is bound to hit a few bumps in the road and that's where I come in. I am the MC of things to come and I'll be standing by with the car keys. Yes, the car keys. When the bumps get her down, off we'll go for our yet-to-be-inaugurated "Bump in the Road Day." We'll go shopping, get our nails done, hang out at the library or watch the birds at the park. We'll grab the dad and head to the cities or meander through the towns. Maybe they ditch me and the dad and kid tube or fish, fire up the four wheeler, or catch a show. Anything to give her the space, the love and the fun to keep it all in perspective.

I am the master of second guessing myself, hashing/rehashing and letting the little things get me down and it's not what I want for my daughter. "Bump in the Road Day" here, soft shoulder, heavenly hug or a swift kick in the pants there and with two parents who love and adore her, Tarah will have the confidence and strength to know that no matter what the bump, it's not going to define, derail, or disappoint her for long - if at all.