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The “You have your hands full” comment serves as a lesson in mindfulness

My friend Jennifer from Playgroups are No Place for Children wrote a post over at Babble last week about the comment “You have your hands full.”  Although she doesn’t like the comment, she’s a very sweet mama and gives everyone the benefit of the doubt. She even admits being the one to say it. Which I have done myself by accident too. It is easy to blurt out when you see a mom with, well, her hands full!

But for me, usually it’s about more than my hands being full. It’s about reaching my wits end in public while I less than gracefully hold it, and my kids, all together. All this got me thinking about the time I wrote about this on my previous blog the Brown House News. Since my readership has grown a lot since then (yeah) and that space is no longer public – I want to share my thoughts on the topic here.

What do you think? Are you offended when people tell you, “You have your hands full.” Or does it not bother you at all?

When leaving a comment for Jennifer on Facebook about her post I realized precisely why the “you have your hands full” comment makes me cringe. It’s not that I think the person saying it is being mean or awful or anything other than trying to sympathize with me. It gets my blood boiling because it’s always said in a moment that I could have prevented and done a better job of controlling my choices and the situations I put my children in.

Was going down that isle one more time to try and find that thing I couldn’t find to begin with really that important? Probably not.

Still thinking about it five days after Jennifer wrote that post, I pulled up my post from the Brown House News that I wrote in June of last year. It reiterated the above point to myself. No I didn’t need those things. My kids needed me more. They needed to get out of the store! So that day I probably deserved that “You have your hands full” comment. I didn’t see the lesson in it then. But I’m glad I do now.

For me, being told I have my hands full means I need to put down all the stuff, the mental and physical stuff. The to do lists, the to buy lists, the I have an idea lists, and to be more mindful from the start. And sometimes that means not stepping foot in the store to begin with.

Here’s how that day went over at the Brown House News in June of last year, copied from an old post.

Excuse me for venting, but I can’t stand when people see me with all three of my girls and say, “You have your hands full.” It’s always in a sweet tone and possibly with with the intent of showing some empathy as I juggle life, sometimes putting every finger to use. Coffee in one hand, keys on my pinky finger, purse holding the dirty diaper, hand holding a toddler through the parking lot, one hand on the buggy – and yes I did grow an extra arm!

But really, this comment always comes – in my mind – when I am not having my finest parenting moments. Like today after I had spent too long in Target with the girls, perusing for the perfect rug and lamps for our newly changed up children’s living area.

The girls had already used the display furniture as a jungle gym as my toddler rolled off a sofa and into the isle while a woman stood watching the disaster unfold. This resulted in us sitting down for a nursing break, right in the bean bag isle. Which resulted in my middle girl having a melt down because I wouldn’t buy her a bean bag.

As we finally made our way to the check out isle I noticed my toddler girl had fallen asleep sitting on my hip, with her head bobbing. My middle girl was dragging, whining about me saying no to the pink bean bag, to the turquoise shag rug and then the popcorn. I was the big NO monster. My oldest girl tried to explain that is not how we get what we want – sounding just like me.

So here I was, pulling the buggy from the front with a big awkward rug sticking out of it, my big girl walking next to it, a sleeping toddler on my shoulder, my middle girl whining in the rear and all of us barely getting one foot in front of the other.

And then – here it comes, walking towards me, “You have your hands full.” I could have strangled the lady! I nodded, “Yep,” and kept wheeling along, knowing the Starbucks after the checkout isle was going to save me.

Yes some days my hands are very full. But honestly, I wouldn’t know what to do with them other wise.

So how do you feel about all this? How do you see it when you get the “You have your hands full” comment?

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Quick heart rings with pipe cleaners and buttons

The valentine crafts have been sitting out in our dinning room, free for the creative takers when the mood strikes them with love. Lately we’ve been struck with heart rings. They’ve been happening before breakfast, after school and a little here and there in between my daughters watching YouTube videos on arranging rooms for their dolls. Oh my! And yes, it all happens in the dinning room which is otherwise known as Grand Central Station.

In the current craft stash are some heart shaped buttons – wood and felt. Along with some beads –  glass plus plastic ones leftover from our candy cane ornament craft from Christmas. (And wow what a hit that was with you guys!) Throw in some pipe cleaners and you get heart rings in the making.

It does require a bit of adult help to cut the pipe cleaners and get them shaped for little fingers to make sure no poky parts of the pipe cleaners are sticking out. I found the best way to ensure that is to have the ends of the pipe cleaners both meet at the base of the hearts on the ring and then twist the ring portion of the pipe cleaner to goes on your finger. This can also serve as a way to adjust the ring size. You with me? Just play around and you’ll see. It’s not too tricky and it doesn’t have to be perfect – that’s the fun of it.

I highly encourage leaving art supplies out and around in your house for you kids to access easily. My girls often stumble upon some inspiration when they think they are so board they will surely die. Then I look over and their is magic in the making, with crafts and instant happy moods.

Here is a sampling, in addition to the wooden heart rings up top, that we’ve been making. And hey, you’ll notice  – bracelets can be fun too!

 

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Easy, cheap, heart necklaces made from clay

Using a two dollar, two ounce block of Sculpey oven bake clay, we made these heart necklaces painted with acrylic paint. They were great fun, super easy, and will make fun gifts for my girls to give their friends for Valentine’s Day.

Here’s how we did it.

First I helped the girls roll the clay out flat, on a table using child-size rolling pins. Next we used small heart shaped cookie cutters to make the hearts and the kids placed them onto a cookie sheet. I used a wooden skewer to poke a hole in the top of them to make the necklaces. My five-year-old needed help getting this done right. But my oldest daughter could do it all on her own. Make sure you make the hole big enough, through the entire thickness of the clay, to get two layers of string through the hole at one time.

Then bake the clay hearts on 275 for 15 minutes. After they cool you can paint them. We painted ours with Valentine themed colors. We also made round shaped beads for bracelets.

After the paint is dry, you’re ready to make it into a necklace! I doubled over my string and put the loop end through the hole of the heart. I put the two ends through the loop, making a loose slip knot where the two humps on the heart come together for the heart to hang evenly (see picture to know what I mean). Then just tie ends of the string in a simple bow, making the string plenty big enough to fit over a child’s head. And there you have it!

Here are some more pictures from our project.

This one was a bigger size heart so I put two holes in it for it to hang straight. I like this way too!

Happy making!

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With a friend in labor, I’m sharing my birth bracelet

Labor has a place in my heart. I’m not going to say I like labor. But I don’t mind it, even with no pain medications. My third baby did leave me thinking I’ve probably had enough of that labor business – or at least the postpartum hemorrhage that comes after the baby in my case. But the beautiful, sweet anticipation of meeting my baby for the first time, through one long contraction at a time – I’m still okay with that.

All those sweet thoughts are going through my head tonight as my friend is in labor with her first baby. My candle is lit for her, and I’m sending her good birth vibes. Her name is Jessica if you want to do the same. I always light a candle and send thoughts and prayers to the way of a laboring mama. It’s a tradition that was started in our family when the first mom of my generation was in labor for the first time. I carry it along for all my friends.

I also have a tradition of my own that started with my first baby. It’s my birth bracelet. And since I’m feeling all labor-is-so-beautiful tonight, I wanted to share it with you.

The tradition was started for me in our Birthing From Withing birthing class when our teacher, the wonderful Teresa Howard with Labor of Love  Doula and Childbirth Services, hosted a blessingway ceremony as part of our last class.

It was all about honoring the pregnant mother. Teresa passed out a wooden bead to each woman and we chose a birth saying that meant the most to us, for the bead to signify. She placed it on a string and tied it on our wrist. I wore mine all the way through labor with my first child – all 3 hours and 17 minutes of non-medicated pushing sitting in a bathtub! I was determined to have a natural childbirth. And I did.

My saying for that wooden bead was, “Trust in the process.”

I saved that bead. And when I was pregnant with my second daughter I added to the bracelet. I did so peacefully, by myself that time, sitting in front of the fire in my living room. This was my time to start seriously preparing myself mentally for natural child birth. It was 10 days before my due date. After the not-so-welcoming experience into postpartum hemorrhaging the first time, I needed to get myself prepared to take on labor. And to be ready for anything it threw at me. Because I learned the first time it wasn’t all about relaxing in the tub!

This is what I added to my bracelet the second time, which I wore through the birth of my second baby girl. As I added the beads, I wrote the following quotes in my pregnancy journal for each bead.

* I added two white beads that were from a bracelet my great grandmother (on my mother’s side) used to wear, and were given to me by my aunt (a natural mama of four herself). “Women have been birthing forever. I gain strength from that. Strength from within is everything in birth. I am strong, like a warrior. The warrior within me emerges and she know what to do (which is a Birthing From Within birth saying). Our Great Great Great Grandmothers were all warriors.”

* I added two pink beads for my two girls at the time, one still in my womb and one who was barely two years old. “They are for my girls, and the love they show me everyday, and for the future. Birth is for today but our babies are forever.”

*I added two brown and white glass swirly beads that are for our current generation. “They are from a blessingway ceremony I helped host for Christy and Melissa, two women in our family. It represents us keeping the process going, educating others, empowering others to birth naturally and confidently.”

Below that I wrote, “Inhale peace, exhale tension. Breath and just be. Put all fear aside and birth. Do nothing else. Let the process happen.”

It was a successful birth and after that I considered myself an old pro at this birthing thing. But still, I tucked away that bracelet for another time. That time came nearly three years later as I once again prepared myself for labor. I did so again at home, with my same blue pregnancy journal that was started in 2004, sitting in front of the same fireplace from 2006.

This time I found myself needing less of the mantras and power boosters to tell myself I could do it, that I could get through natural childbirth. I knew I could do it. By then I had been on the board at the Lisa Ross and Birth and Women’s Center over two years and I was preaching to the choir about how great midwives are.

But still, I had to have my bracelet. It was part of my mental preparations for labor. And no mater how many times you give birth, you still have to prepare yourself mentally. This time the beads became all about my family. Most of them were leftover from a blessingway ceremony I hosted at my house for a whole gaggle of pregnant women in my neighborhood (seven of us actually).

This is what I wrote in my pregnancy journal as I added to my bracelet.

*I added a pink and white swirly glass bead for my third baby girl. “And two purple ones because I think purple will be your color.” I was right – she loves purple!

*I added to blue beads for our blue-eyed family and my husband and I’s love. “Our blue eyes, the both of us, is where it all started.”

*I added a black bead with blue and pink specks for the love and support my husband gives me. “He is the best Daddy ever!”

*I added a yellow and orange leafed glass bead to represent my dad. “The other best Daddy ever!”

*I added silver spacers that were beads from a prayer bracelet my mom had given me while I was pregnant with my second baby. “”She is always there with all her prayers.”

*I added two green beads that reminded me of the nature of birth. “The green square beads also remind me of the square vigor for life my middle child holds. The pretty pale pink beads still hold the sweetness of my first born.”

At the end of those thoughts I summed up my experience of having a third child with this.

“We are a settled family now and my husband and my girls mean the world to me me. This birth is not about me getting through it like all the women and grandmothers before us. It’s about our family, finding peace with where we are, looking ahead and using the wisdom of our lessons in life not to birth – but to raise loving, sweet, good natured, balanced girls. It all starts with birth. We are ready to embrace this baby, love her, and welcome her into our family.”

And today, after reading all this for the first time since my third baby girl was born, I have to say it could not be any more true.

And gosh darnet, here I was thinking I’m done with all this baby business. But it does make having another one seem like a whole lot of fun!

Fun for another day, perhaps!

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My KNS story on the Children’s Theatre of Knoxville

I have a story in the Sunday paper of the Knoxville News Sentinel on the Children’s Theatre of Knoxville. It’s called Never-ending Families and it features three sets of siblings and one father/daughter pair in the theater’s current show The Neverending Story. Even if you are not local check it out. Because the theater, for a little community theater, really rocks.

I know I’m not supposed to say that seeing I’m the journalist who wrote the story. But back in my day, in Atlanta, many moons ago when I was still in and recently out of college, I wrote arts and theater reviews for an alternative weekly called Atlanta Press  (it was later bought out by Creative Loafing). In college I minored in theater and spent a semester doing a work study class putting in about 100 free hours as a dramaturge for a production of Lizzy Borden. After college I moved on to doing more freelance magazine work and less reviews, and I took up 7 Stages theater as a PR client and worked as their publicist for nearly two years.

I’m not trying to impress you. I’m just saying, I’ve been around the block (the Atlanta block) a little bit when it comes to theater. And I want to say, for using the very minimal resources that the little old Children’s Theatre of Knoxville has, they produce a lot of talent. And my kids have never seen a show they didn’t like!

So please do me a favor, click over and read it. And if you are local, it’s not to late to see the show.

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And…We got the flu.

I knew when I wrote my long and detailed post, 5 Reasons I will not get a flu shot, that we would end up getting the flu. Just because that would be my luck. And I was right. That’s where I’ve been all week long. Cuddled up with my kids (cat included) reading books, watching too much PBS Kids, and getting some rare afternoon sleep for myself.

My oldest daughter is prone to getting Strep Throat. So when her temperature spiked to 104 Saturday night (it went down to 101 with ibuprofen) we took her in to a clinic Sunday afternoon. That’s when she tested positive for Type A Flu. My toddler’s diagnosis came on Monday at the pediatrician’s office and by that afternoon I was sure it was hitting me too.

Luckly I had nothing major planned for the week. So you know, it was kind of nice to just shut down, declare it a week to be sick and that was it. I’ve checked emails on my phone but I’ve barely been at my computer all week.

When I was at my worst misery, I did start to contemplate if I wished I would have gotten the flu shot. My kids were bouncing back decent enough, with the help of Tamiflu. And by today, Thursday, I will report I’m feeling pretty good. I made it out to the grocery store, to get some lunch and to the vet’s office.

If I had to do it all over again, I would have done the same thing – no flu shot. I know that decision is not for everyone. But it’s a nice feeling regardless of the decision, to know in aftermath that you are happy with what you chose.

Factoring into that, is that I am lucky to be in the situation where my wonderful sweet husband was willing, and in a job where he was able, to come home early on three of those days to help with the kids. One day was so I could take my toddler to the doctor without bringing the others along and subjecting them to more illness in the waiting room. The other two was so I could get some much needed sleep.

I mean, when else does a mom of three kids get to go to bed at 3:00 in the afternoon with no anticipated interuptions of little feet needing something or wanting to report who took what from whom – all night long!  Fever and misery included, that was kind of okay with me.

Coming out of it, I feel more well rested than I have in years. (Mind you the last eight years I’ve either been sleeping with nursing babies/toddlers or I’ve been pregnant.) I had gotten in a rut of staying up really late – sometimes 3 am or later – writing and just plain enjoying the only time my house is that quiet.

Sometimes we need to listen to our bodies. And the flu was just what I needed to knock me on my butt, slow me down and make me trade in my coffee in for a cup of chamomile tea.

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Shopping local is fun. Come along and I’ll show you.

Saturday I was thrilled to have the task of doing our family’s grocery shopping. That may sound strange, but I don’t get out much for long periods of time by myself, with zero kids. So I was more than excited about what I had planned for myself, as I supported local artists, farmers and bakers.

For a peak into some friendly local shopping, come along with me as I recap all the goodness in hopes that you’ll support these folks too.

First I went to the The Birdhouse for the monthly Mama Market where women sell their handmade goods. You can find the market happening the second Saturday of every month.

I did my bread shopping there with the lovely Erin Bickense of the Knoxville Bread Co-op. We call her the “bread fairy.” We try to eat all fresh made breads and it’s not possible for me to bake all of it. So we belong to her co-op and she brings us fresh bread twice a week. It’s a sweet deal. Plus she babysits my kids too!

I was thrilled to see Erin there with her spread and have her introduce me to her friends, who were also there selling their goods. If it were not for her, I would have had no idea about this great event. Here’s a picture of a small part of her spread. There is a reason those pretzels are half gone. They are SO good.

I loved meeting the lady behind the Fair Trade Appalachia and watching her use a coffee grinder to grind roots she pulled from the ground, and uses as the main ingredient in her Herbal Moisturizing Balm.

I also picked up some Whipped Body Butter from Appalachian Mud Organics. The owner, Kristina Mynatt, started making skin projects when her two-year-old was a baby and she wanted something better for her daughter’s sensitive skin.

Also present were jewelers, knitters and crafters like the Spiral Tree Creations and Renaissance Couture.

While I was there my CSA farmer from Care of the Earth met me with my share for this week. It was then – with my two bags of carrots, spinach, butternut squash and kale, added to my fresh bread and skin moisturizers –  that I realized this is my kind of grocery shopping!

My next stop was around the corner at Three River’s Market co-op. I had been waiting for this day and to go for its Member Discount Days. This is a quarterly happening where members save 10 percent off their total purchase.  They also have local venders with samples of cheese, meats, cupcakes and more. I needed some big ticket items like bulk honey, granola and coffee and I had been waiting for this sale.

When I walked in the door I was reminded again of all the great stuff we have locally, right here. The photo up top portrays that moment, with local mushroom logs being sold from Everything Mushrooms, which I wrote about here.

While getting our coffee and honey, I was inspired by my friend Anne Brock over at the Flour Sack Mama to start taking my reusable containers again when buying bulk items. Sometimes it can be a hassle, but I’m always glad when I do.

While I waited for the honey to fill my jar, I thought about how nice it was to slow down a bit and wait for that honey, instead of being rushed and just grabbing one off the shelf.

Farmers must know how to take it slow, having patients with things outside of their control. I have so much appreciation for the freshness they offer, like the butter I got Saturday from Cruze Farm Girl. I made arrangements to meet her in the parking lot, and stock up on five pounds of their most delicious, creamy, fresh churned butter.

It was an added perk when I ran into two old friends there – a leader from our local chapter of  Holistic Mom’s Network, and the mom behind the Chickamauga School of Art. You could tell us stay-at-home mamas don’t get much adult conversation because we monopolized the cheese isle for quite some time. Another reason to love your neighborhood co-op!

Thanks for coming along.

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For our lazy “snow day” we made clay snowmen

Friday we had a dusting of light snow. It was enough to delay school and make it not worth the hassle of going. I had one sick girl and a pre-schooler who was snuggled in her PJs with me. None of us were motivated to go anywhere, or go outside in the fidget, windy weather that left more cold than snow.

So we made snowmen inside, out of clay. We popped outside long enough to get some fresh air and collect a few things from nature to use in our scenes. Then we ran back in to be close to the fire and to finish our snowy display. Each girl added their own touch in their own way.

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Spinach Pizza Poppers are made to please

My kids love – as in love enough to eat everyday the rest of their lives – Amy’s organic (yet still processed) spinach pizza snacks.

This fall our CSA farmer brought me such an abundance of fresh spinach that it would have been impossible for one family to consume before it began decomposing in thier fridge. I was grateful. I really was! But I didn’t want it to go to waste. And we had already eaten our share of spinach quiche for the season. Plus the fresh farm eggs were out of season by then.

So what is a gal to do with all that spinach? Make my own pizza snacks and call them Spinach Pizza Poppers.

Before my plan became clear, I started steaming the spinach in a microwave using the largest glass bowl that would fit inside the giant beast that sits on my counter. I have a love, hate, I wish I could throw you away relationship with the thing that radio-activates our food. Then again it is SO handy when you need it. And it doesn’t help that while working in restaurants in college I learned how well it works to steam veggies. So there it sits, the microwave, on my counter.

As the spinach was steaming I realized there was leftover pizza sauce, pizza cheese and feta cheese in my frridge – the exact ingredients used in Amy’s Spinach Pizza Snacks – that are, mind you, more than $4 a box for 12 of the things. And, mind you, my seven-year-old could eat a whole box during one after school snack session.

After the spinach was squeezed and squeezed and pressed with a towel until zero water was left in it, I put it, the sauce and the cheeses into a food processor. After that I portioned it out into one cup amounts and froze it in mason jars until I got the courage up to try my great crazy idea of making my own pizza snacks.

I say all this, because I don’t want folks to think I’ve gone completely nut-so going to such great lengths to roll out homemade dough, scoop dollops of spinach on each tiny square and wrap them all up by hand. But yes, that is what I did!

And it was OH SO satisfying when my seven-year-old scarfed them down saying they were delicious. This coming from probably the most picky vegetarian first grade eater alive, really, REALLY made my whole week.

I’d give you the recipe, but I don’t think this was any kind of rocket science. I cleared my fridge of the leftover spinach, marinara sauce, feta cheese and pizza cheese, put it in a food processor, froze extra portions for later, then made my regular bread recipe to stuff the spinach mixture into.

When I rolled out the dough, it was about 1/8 inch thick, cut into less than 2″x2″ squares. Then I wrapped the dough in square shapes around each dollop of spinach, placed them on a cookie sheet and baked them at 400 degrees for 10-15 minutes.

My kids dipped them in pizza sauce. Because I’m learning that they’ll eat anything if it’s dipped in pizza sauce. And I’m a-okay with that!

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A toddler shirt brings back memories of a new mom

It’s a simple tie-dyed orange and pink shirt, size 2. My oldest daughter got it while shopping with a friend, sitting in the buggy with another 18-month-old. They pulled the straws out of their milks and dumped them on themselves. They thought it was hilarious. Being a new mom I grabbed the clean tie-dyed shirt off the sale rack as a solution in the moment, and quickly changed her shirt.

The two girls are still friends, still getting into mischief togher. And us moms are more experienced.

Those were the days when we had to work to find things to fill the time. When a leisurely trip through Babies’ R Us was a nice way to break up the montonous of the day between naps and the next meal.

Last week, nearly six years later, I ran around the house making use of every last second trying to clean one a corner of my basement and cram it all into the back of my van for another trip to Goodwill. This time there was a baby bathtub, a baby gate, a bed rail and a bag of clothes. As I was getting ready to chuck it all towards the steps of the donation drop off trailer, I exhaled, took a moment and snatched the tie-dyed shirt out of the bag. I just couldn’t do it.

There is nothing special about that shirt. But the memories of it are significant. In a day where there are no more baby bathtubs or bed rails or even cribs in our house, that shirt is a sign of my early mommy days.

They were the days when I didn’t know what the heck I was doing as a new mom. When a little spilled milk on a shirt sent me grabbing for a new shirt off the sale rack because I couldn’t let my laughing (obviously not bothered by the situation) toddler wear a damp shirt.

Today we live in a house where our two-year-old has a twin bed next to our queen bed, with no bed rails. She has slept in a regular bed every night of her life and just KNOWS how not to fall off the bed. And if she spills her milk in the store on her shirt, I know it will dry. And I would be OK with that too.

That wasn’t always the case.

When my first born girl was 21-months-old she had her first day of mother’s morning out program – in the same class as her milk spilling friend. She wore the tie-dyed shirt on her first day. I cried just pulling into the parking lot that morning. Both us young moms fought back tears as we went for coffee after we dropped off our babies.

I was six months pregnant then, which didn’t leave me very hormonally balanced about the whole situation!

My first born was barely weaned and had never been left with anyone other than a grandma. Nine months before that we had moved 200 miles away from any family.  I was not getting any kind of break. We had never used a babysitter.

Before it was officially pick up time from the church program, I got a call to come get my toddler. She had been crying the whole day, in her little tie-dyed shirt with her white Keds, curly brown locks and chubby toddler cheeks.

After two mornings of that, the director and me decided this was not going to work for my daughter and I removed her from the program. She wasn’t ready to leave her mommy, even with her best pal by her side. And I don’t think I was ready either.

Great, now what?

We found a babysitter, an awesome college girl, who came to our house and eased her way into my daughter’s life – on her own home turf. Her name was Blair – the same as our dog. So she became known as Babysitter Blair.

After baby number two was born and I had spent a few months trying to get both girls down for naps together and meet all their needs at the same time, I had a different best friend hold my hand as we tried a different mother’s morning out program. It was still not easy leaving my oldest daughter. But I felt better doing so with a working mom by my side – who was more versed than me at leaving babies the care of others.

By the time my middle girl started at her Montessori school (when she was almost three) she got out of the car on the first day of school and walked up the sidewalk with her big sister to her class – without me even getting out of the car! She was all smiles and I knew the loving caregivers there to greet her were real pros at this.

My third baby was about 18-months-old when I started leaving her regularly with another natural mama at her house.  I knew I was doing it to make me a better mom, and I was just fine with that. There were no tears on my part that time! Actually, I couldn’t wait to get to the coffee shop for some alone time.

But when I saw that shirt sitting in the Goodwill bag it brought back a flood of memories of the days when I didn’t know how to leave my babies, even for a short time. I felt the anxiety I used to have when I parted from them. I saw my first born with her tearful eyes and crying chest that was at an impossible point of regaining any kind of composure on her own. Then I remembered the immediate calmness within her that came from a mother’s arms when I arrived to pick her up, her hot little body all worked into a tizzy.

I felt like the worst mom ever for leaving her. I was convinced she would never go off to college without me going with her.

Now she’ begging to sleep upstairs, in her own room, all by herself – at age seven.

But when she wore that little tie-dyed shirt I had no idea this day would come – for me or for her.

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