It's my party and I'll blog if I want to.

Well, no actual party here, but I will blog if I want to.

It's my birthday! And, it's already awesome because I got to sleep in past 6:30am. And shower alone. You mamas out there know how rare that is. But, I didn't get to have my breakfast to myself. E set her sights on my toast and basically jedi mind tricked me into giving her a bite.

It's only 10:30am and I've already received an outpouring of love via calls, texts, emails and FB love. Being so far away from my family and most of my friends makes this birthday all together different. But, if I've learned anything in the past year it's that friendships are not defined by your geographical location. I have managed to maintain friendships with my best girl friends (Heather, Kacie, Bri, Kirsten... and a few others) from afar. And while we're not apart of each others daily lives right now, they are always in my heart. I'm lucky to have the type of girlfriends where we can pick up right where we left off after a week or many months.

This, marking my 28th year, has been one of the most trying and rewarding to date. We moved 1,200 miles away from our comfort zone, bought a house, and traveled, a lot, back home. We continue to adjust to our new life, but are starting to find our community and our stride in our new home. The coming year has so much to offer our family and I continue to be so thankful. I have the most amazing partner to shower me with love on my birthday (even if I did still have to clean out the litter box...). I got cuddles with my perfect girl this morning... and the reminder that as I get older, I get wiser, most comfortable in my own skin, and happier with the life I've created.

But, because my mom would not want me to go without sharing my entry into the world...I will gladly share with you how I am told each year that I join us.

From my mom: "I missed the 1984 Olympics in LA, our backdoor, because you refused to be born. I had a terrible time the last few weeks because I had toxemia, and it was the hottest summer in Long Beach in 25 years. Once I finally went in to have you (15 days late) I was in hard labor for more hours than I can remember. Finally they told me I could have a c-section or come back tomorrow. I told them to get that damn baby out of me. And, I was back to work 2 weeks later. I only had one child because you came first."

Now isn't that the most blissful birth story. Basically, she had toxemia and her body was rejecting me... great.

Now my grandma gia: "Nobody ever wanted you as much as you grandpa and I did. We waited all day to see you and loved you already. In fact, we were there the morning you and your mom were able to go home before anyone had her things ready to go home. You were the most beautiful baby in the hospital and your grandpa and I were the most proud we could be."

I suppose 24 hours of hard labor will skew your memory of the birth a little, eh?

Despite all the birthday love and wishes, my favorite part of this day has always been the fact that I shared it with my Grandma Dotzie. She always said my mom was the best daughter-in-law for giving her the greatest birthday present. It was something special that we shared. My grandma doztie passed away a little over two years ago. And I miss her everyday, but today I think of her the most. I miss her everyday. She was a wonderful grandmother who, if she had nothing else to give, would always give me love and a listening ear.

I celebrate my birthday today, and I celebrate it with my grandma in my heart.

Happy Sunday!

We have been very busy this weekend... Still with he unpacking and all. But we are far enough along to start adding some decor to the house. Which is my favorite part. I've spent several months collecting a few things here and there. I promise more on that will be coming.

Our dogs have been troopers in the whole move. To say that we love them and they are family is an understatement. Quite frankly, they're spoiled.

In really is a tough life being a dog in the Blaylock family....

The daddy/daughter bond

One of my favorite things as a mother is to see my daughter form this undeniable bond with her Daddy. It's very different than the mommy - daughter bond. It has a lot more giggles. It has a lot more secrets. To be honest, it seems like a lot more fun.

As a mom, I am responsible for kissing the boo boos, mending her broken heart, and maintaining her sense of security. I end up with the tough conversations. I've already covered race, marriage and boobs. Daddy would prefer to not admit that she will ever have boobs or get married. He recently told me that she shouldn't be shaving her legs until she is 15. To which I responded, you let me deal with girl parts and issues. I may have thrown in that if we have a boy, he can deal with discussing playboy and boy parts.

Daddy, on the other hand, gets to shower her with a new stuffed toy for every zoo visit. I'm not jealous of their relationship, but I have to acknowledge that Daddy gets to be the first man she every loves.

I didn't ever necessarily have this relationship growing up, making it even more special to see. It makes me love and appreciate my husband in a new way. He has always taken amazing care of me, and my heart, but to see him devote his life to a little girl makes me smile just thinking about it. Then, seeing him try to do a pony tail makes me laugh. But, he loves his little girl and is the Daddy that gets disappointed when he can't watch dance class.

I look forward to continuing to see their secret relationship grow. I'm ok being on the outside of this one.

 How cute are these two?

And, in closing, I have to share a daddy-themed Emery-ism

E: Daddy is a boy, because I needed a daddy.

And, folks, there you have it.

Is hoarding genetic?

This morning E went downstairs early and was playing while Jason and I got ready for work... She's old enough now where I typically don't really worry about her downstairs unattended. In fact, the past few days she has fed the cat just to be "a helper."

But, this morning, she found herself zip lock bag in the pantry and filled it up with all of her treasures. My girl LOVES treasures. She collects hair boys, jewelry, small toys, really anything she finds small value in and puts them in boxes, purses, and bags. In addition to her treasures, she loves containers. And she fills them up, taking them in and out for regular inspection.

exhibit A

I have to say, I remember doing this a lot as a kid. I loved purses, boxes and containers and I would put my stickers and other "treasures" of my own. I would hide the boxes for fear that someone would find them. I still have boxes of treasures from middle and high school that contain movie ticket stubs from girls nights and my first "date." There are playbills and programs from my old dance shoes. And lots of pictures!

In fact, last night while unpacking boxes (yes, unpacking, still) I filled up my hope chest with boxes of pictures, picture albums from college and small mementos I treasured once upon a time. I ended up sitting on the floor with boxes and albums spread out around me just enjoying what once was. And, I may have sent a number of awesome pictures to friends and family to remember how skinny we all were before marriage and babies. I promise to share a few of the best in a future blog.

But back to my point. I think hoarding is genetic. My mom and grandma both love bags, suitcases, containers, purses. And, as much as we love those, we love to fill them up! My grandma has dresser drawers filled with little containers, each holding an individual piece of jewelry. My mom has purchased 3 suitcases of the same size in recent years. And she has a specific bag for each places she regularly travels with it's own set of travel necessities.

So, I guess we're all cut from the same cloth. I often feel my girl is so much like me and it warms my heart. It's even more amazing to think how blessed she is to have a little bit of two of the most important women in her (and my) life, even if it is a little bit of hoarding that has made it's way down the genetic pool.

My future dancer, seriously proud mommy moment

Shame on me for taking over 3 weeks to finally share E's first dance class. This move has been longer and more exhausting than I expected. With so much house it is easy to just walk passed boxes rather than put them away... But, alas, I share with you one of my most memorable parenting moments to date.

But, first, I really have to share why this is such a big deal for me. I took dance lessons at a local studio, Center Stage Dance Academy in Long Beach, for 9 years. What started as a recommendation from my childhood psychologist (long story, different blog), became something that truly helped me survive those dreaded teenage years. At one point, between school and the studio, I was dancing 6 days a week. I was never happier.

I was a particularly awkward and angry teenager. I had a "mid-life" crisis at 14, didn't speak to one of my parents for months at a time, and was generally pretty awful. But, the studio was my refuge. Even the time I told my dance teacher she needed to point her toes. In retrospect, I was lucky to not have been kicked out. But, I also think they had some understanding that I was having a tougher time than normal navigating that time in my life and gave me some extra slack.

I wasn't particularly good. I wasn't terrible either. But my family always said you could tell I was happiest when I was performing.. they are probably right. There was something about dance class that put my heart as ease. I am eternally thankful for my teachers at Center Stage for giving me such an amazing gift. The morning after my grandfather passed away - freshman year of college - rather than stay home with my family, I went to dance. I didn't actually dance for the first of my 3 scheduled classes that day. I just sat at the front, listening to the music and going through the motions and my emotions in my head. Eventually that day I was able to release a lot of my sadness and confusion through my classes.

Those 9 years I look back on with amazing affection. I feel so grateful to my grandmother for footing the expensive bill for classes, costumes, shoes, attire, competitions, etc. She gave me the greatest gift I could have asked for.

So, when I found out that I was going to have a little girl, I had these amazing visions of signing her up for her first class at 3 1/2 at Center Stage. We have been having dance parties at home since she was an infant. I dreamed of working backstage and her taking classes from my old teachers. But, then we moved a year prior to her being able to take classes. It was one of the things I mourned the most about our move.

And now we're taking it slow, trying out classes at our local parks & rec to see how she does. We'll likely do this for another year or so, then dive into finding a studio. I truly don't believe any studio will match mine, but I need to find one that will let little girls me little girls. One that doesn't use inappropriate music or costumes on 6 year olds....

But, right now she is running around dancing to Disney Princess songs. And loving every second of it. I was in awe of seeing my little girl love dance the way that I used to. It was the best feeling in the world.

Ready for "dancer class"

Doing her "dancer" pose.

Ready for "dancer class"

And because any good "dance mom" must have her first class on video. Here's a short clip. I swear she has a real future in this! =)

And one more... because I'm shameless!

Explaining race to a 3 year old

Apparently this year is the year of tough conversations with E. Before this weekend we had covered bubbies, marriage, and plenty of potty talk.
However, I think this weekend's tough conversation takes the cake. But, first a little background.

E has two friends with the same name: Ryleigh, from school, and Riley, my girlfriends daughter. Ryleigh is her best friend and happens to be African American. Riley, is white. Just have two friends with the same name is confusing. Trying to explain who we are talking about has always been "Ryleigh from school" and just "Riley."

We were going to the zoo on Sunday with "just Riley" and told E that on Saturday night as an incentive to go to bed. Then, she asked if we were going to the zoo with "brown Ryleigh." I swear I nearly died. We have never, nor would we ever, refer to Ryleigh that way. I know E had no idea what she was saying, but I nearly died. I'm sure it is a simple observation that her little brain made. I let it go this time and just explained that we weren't going with Ryleigh from school. I hoped she wouldn't say it again.

But... she did.

So, I sat her down and tried the best I could to explain to my three year old why referring to someone as "brown Ryleigh" was unkind. It went something like this...

Me: "Emery, we really shouldn't call Ryleigh, brown Ryleigh" It's not kind
E. Why?
Me: Well, we shouldn't use the way someone looks to describe them. That's why we call her Ryleigh from school.
E: oh...
Me: See, we wouldn't call you "brown eyed Emery..."
E: I have brown eyes like Daddy, and you have Green eyes
Me: That's right. We all look kinda like our mommys and daddys. Ryleigh looks like her mommy and daddy. And sometimes we have different hair, eyes, or skin than our friends. Everyone is just a little different. That's why we're all special.
E: Ryleigh's my best friend.
Me: That's right. And you and Ryleigh look different from each other and from all the kids in your class. Does that make sense?
E: yes
Me: Ok, let's not use the way someone looks to talk about them. It might hurt their feelings.

Then she asked to watch Tangled... and ran off.

I have no idea how much of that sunk in. She's 3, she truly doesn't have any concept of race. But, I would hate for someone to hear that and think that she does. Or that it is taught, but that is certainly not the case.

How else could I help her understand? I was seriously not expecting this conversation for a while. Just add that to the list. She has also recently asked in passing why she was in my tummy before she was a baby. Let's be clear, I have no intention of having THAT conversation for a while...

And, according to her father she isn't shaving her legs or getting a bra until she is 15... 

Emery and Riley at the zoo this weekend, looking at Gorillas. These two are so cute together!

Today's Emery-isms

E: Mommy, come here. *sniff, sniff* Ugh, your face stinks.

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E: Mommy, I love Jackson and Ginger and Manny. But Manny doesn't love Jackson and Ginger. He's not kind to them.

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E: Mommy, come with me.
Me: where?
E: To the bathroom to watch me pee

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You're welcome.