Happy Birthday, Amy Lynne

I can’t imagine what she’d look like. I can imagine taking her to preschool. Picking her up from preschool. Loving on her sister and them having intense “debates” since they both have such a strong personality. Would Lily be as selfish of her daddy if she had another “little” person to have to share him with? Probably not. :) I can imagine taking her to primary and participating in the Primary Program on Sunday. I wonder what she would have said. I wonder what would be on her Christmas list this year. Who would she want to sit by in the car? Where would her booster seat be? Would we have bunk beds in Lily’s room? Or would we just have the double bed that they’d sleep in right next to each other? What dress would I pick out for Christmas so they could match? Would her hair be as curly as what it was when she died? Would it be as red or would it have turned more brown? Would she be excited to have the New Year’s Eve Elf come to our house? Would she claim that Lexi is her dog as Lily does? Would she want to help me with everything and drive me nuts?

Some of these things, I’ll never know. Actually, most of these things I’ll never know and wonder about for the rest of my life here on earth.

I ran across this article. It has one paragraph that I’m going to copy and paste into here. It totally sums up everything I felt at the time of her oh so short life.

“I would walk through a tunnel of fire if it would save my son daughter. I would take my chances on a stripped battlefield with a sling and a rock à la David and Goliath if it would make a difference. But it won’t. I can roar all I want about the unfairness of this ridiculous disease, but the facts remain. What I can do is protect my son daughter from as much pain as possible, and then finally do the hardest thing of all, a thing most parents will thankfully never have to do: I will love him her to the end of his her life, and then I will let him her go.”       

Happy 5th Birthday, Amy Lynne. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about you and wish you were with us making our house even more loud than it already is.

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A Walk Down Memory Lane

I probably need to do this since my cousin that I work with officially called me “cranky pants” OK, so maybe I might admit that I’m a bit cranky. No matter what conversation I have with my family or anyone for that matter, I have to be right. For instance:
Sara: Hey mom, I need to get your confirmation number for CKC so I can add the cropping session onto your reservations.
Mom: I never signed myself up for it.
Sara: Yes, you did it this year.
Mom: No, I was gone, you were supposed to sign me up.
Sara: *gulp* Well, I didn’t sign you up this year, I only did Jeri and me.
Mom: You’d better be kidding me
Sara: *tail tucked between my legs* I didn’t sign you up.
By this time, mom was going to prove a point and she called up CKC and asked them for her confirmation number because she was certain that she didn’t sign herself up this year. I of course was positive that she and I had gone over it in detail and I signed myself up while she signed herself up because there was this class we both wanted. ANYWHO… Back at the ranch (the next day)
Mom: So Sara, why don’t you go to my computer and get my confirmation number so we can get me signed up for the three crops.
Sara: I thought you didn’t sign up for CKC and that I needed to start the process all over again for you?
Mom: Well, I called up CKC bound and determined that I had no schedule only for them to tell me that I was already signed up for 2 classes
Sara: *strutting around the office* ha! I knew that you’d signed up!! *phew* (that meant I didn’t need to give up any of my classes because I was “supposed” to sign her up and I had “forgotten”
Mom: Sara? Shut up and get me those classes ordered.
See what I mean? Cranky pants. So I thought I’d look over some of the pictures of my siblings and myself growing up.
Vanessa? There’s a special picture in here just for you. ;)

This isn’t the one, but it’s a goodie. Here we are, across the street, me in my sagging diaper and Jason trying to hog all the attention once again.
Here is Jason and Matthew making a snowman. Christmas of 1976. My mom is holding me in the background.

Vanessa, next time he tries to tell you that he went to PA of his own will, don’t believe him. This is how he was raised. Yup, in the dog house! ;)

I was quite fashionable back in the 70’s. Dontcha know, that’s how you wear sunglasses?
Question of the day: What is your favorite childhood memory?