My Longest Year

scenes from a hospital

Grandpa was on the fifth floor, ICU.  Nana on the 8th.  I was only there a couple of days, and spent a significant chunk of one afternoon shopping for "rehab clothes" for Nana.  But in the time I spent with them I couldn't help bring out my camera, in part for something to do.

Grandpa wanted to take his glasses off.  But I insisted he  leave them on. 

Nana didn't want me to take a picture of her at all.  But she was trapped in a bed, so I told her to get over it and make a face.

Nana's brother (Uncle Will Dee) and his wife were there to help.  Uncle Will Dee has the most innocent way about him.  I guess it's that crew cut and those adorable ears.  And probably his kind heart.

That's Mom.  Taking care of her mom.

Nana's luggage.  I heart her stuff.  It's all so vintage and sweet.

On the phone with Grandpa, who called from his room to make sure she was okay.

losing independence

Last week I made a quick, last-minute trip to Nashville, Tennessee.  Nana and grandpa both fell and broke their hips within a week of each other.  They're lucid.  They have their wits about them.  They've built a life for themselves and have their routines.  They've lived a long, happy life and now it's happening.  They're losing their independence.

They were in different rooms, on different floors.  I toggled back and forth between them.  At first we had a good time, laughing a little at the situation.  But then, toward the evening they each got somber.  Reality is setting in and they're not happy.  The short-term plan is to share a room at an in-patient rehab center.  But after that?  There is a laundry list of reasons that life is going to be difficult if they attempt to go back to their home and their life as it was before. 

Nana is pissed.  And Grandpa is just somber.  "I guess it's the beginning of the end, Crys."  I'm more hopeful.  Yes, they're up there in years.  But I'm hopeful that a broken hip doesn't mean the end.  Having said that, the fact that both of them are at major risk for falling again, it does mean they have turned a corner.  And now have a lot of realities to face.

I can't imagine what this must feel like.  To be held hostage by a body that fails you.  And be cared for (and treated) like a three year old, especially after all that they've been through in their life.  They've worked especially hard for their home and their life.  And now people are telling them they may have to give it up. 

As overwhelming as this all is for them, it's also a bit overwhelming for my mom, who is an only child.  She's there with them now, but she lives across the country, and isn't as capable of caring for them as she'd like to be.  And they're stubborn and mad and not taking suggestions well.  This has to be hard for all of them. 

Do any of you have any advice?  Online forums?  Resources?

her prince

Overheard:
Evyn (to James, at bedtime): "I'm going to be a mommy someday."
James: "I want you to enjoy being a kid.  You're a pretty cool kid."
E: "But I want to be a mommy."
James: "But then you'll have your own house, and I won't see you as much.  And I'd miss you."
E: "But I'll have another boy then."

 

happy dad day

To my darling hubby, who had to spend Father's Day away from his babies (National Guard), and to my friends whose hubbies have spent many holidays away from their babies...

Love you, Babe!  Thanks for being their Knight in Shining Armor.

evyn's work: the barbie series

So, I have a feeling that someday as I am flipping back through this online journal, this is going to be one of my favorite posts.

Evyn is venturing into photography.  After giving up on the stupid Little Tykes camera, I decided to let her use my old Canon Powershot.  She operates it quite well.  Every once in a while, she'll ask to use the camera, go fishing in our junk drawer for it, and disappear to her room for an hour.  She really has an imagination.  I've decided to start printing a few of them for her to put in an album.  She's very proud of her work and I'm loving all of the outlets she's exploring, including the camera.

She's really proud of this set and when I told her that I was going to post it to my blog for everyone to see she got a little giddy.  I don't think she knows exactly what that means, but she seemed to understand it was cool.  I take her seriously, but when I first flipped through these photos full screen, with her standing over my shoulder proudly waiting for my opinion, I couldn't help but giggle.  What must go through that little four-year-old mind of hers...

So, without further ado, I bring you the Barbie series (there is also a shoe series):

Evyn: "She's swimming up and down."

Evyn: "She's dancing; it's called a 'bya' " (this is a made-up dance move)

Evyn: "That's her swimming."

Evyn: "That's called 'her laying down in a swimming suit'."

Evyn: "That's arabesque."

Evyn: "That's laying down arabesque."

Evyn: "She's getting a haircut.  But I didn't really cut her hair.  I'm just pretending."

"choices have consequences"

It's something that I'm often saying mostly for Evyn's benefit, when she's whimpering in time out or has a favorite toy taken away from her. 

So when I was in a hurry to get Evyn to school and got pulled over by the police right. in front.  of her school parking lot, I looked at it as an opportunity.  Yeah, a DERN EXPENSIVE and EMBARRASSING opportunity.

I had a good chuckle as I took the girls to the courthouse to pay my fines.
E: "Where are we going, Mommy?"
Me: "Remember when I got pulled over for speeding and I got a ticket?  Mommy made a bad choice and now I have to pay money."
E: "You were going too fast and now you have to pay money?"
Me: "Yes, Baby."
E: "Are you going too fast NOW?"
I looked down at my speedometer, and, actually, I was going a little fast.  I swear, four year olds are like your conscience out loud.

Later, though, this whole ticket thing became a useful analogy.  When Evyn copped a teenage-sized attitude, stomping and slamming her door and yelling something about HER room. 

 

Fifteen solid minutes and a hammer later, said door was perched on the wall across her room.  Evyn values her space and her privacy.  And she was horrified to be without her door.

I reminded her that bad choices have consequences; that I wouldn't let a four year old be without them, just as I wasn't without consequences for my own behavior ("remember when Mommy had to pay money for breaking the law?").

There are days when I'm at my wit's end with her, exasperated by the fact that she's only four and has the verbal capacity of an entire debate team.  Someone please tell me this will get easier.  That there is something I can do to head this off at the pass.  She has a bright, sparkling, witty, dramatic - beautiful - personality and I love her so much that I worry a bit that it will all be eclipsed by this dark attitude that sometimes comes from nowhere.

I'm just sure there is something I should be doing better...

going somewhere?

Last year it was dressers.  This year its chairs and suitcases.

If you saw the growing collection of both in my garage, you'd think I either planned to do a lot of sitting or a lot of going.

You remember MAD's suitcase?  I didn't stop there.  When I spied the mustard American Tourister in a dark corner under a shelf at our dumpy Salvation Army I snatched it up.

Then I saw this strawberry Carousel suitcase and couldn't believe it.  I mean who gives up a suitcase that color?  There was a matching train case perched on the shelf above it that I probably should have picked up but I didn't. 

I'm hoping to use these in a session sometime.  At prices like these I just couldn't pass it up.

 

friday find: kid tunes you can stand

When J was deployed, I used to bring Evyn to my room in the mornings so she could play and watch PBSKids or Disney while I slept in a little.  Every time this Choo Choo Soul lady came on, E would start hopping around the room and singing.  And, I'll admit, I kinda enjoyed the beat, too.  I noticed they had several different songs so I went looking for a cd.

At the time it was only available for mp3 download, but here it is on Amazon in both CD and DVD format:

We downloaded it and went on to listen to it in the car quite a bit; I recently took it out for Ashlyn.  The tunes are catchy and the cd covers a range of styles within the soul genre.

Since then, I've run across a number of cds that seem to be marketed to both kids and the parents that are stuck in the car with the music, including Snacktime by Barenaked Ladies:

and the folksy, catchy You Are My Little Bird by Elizabeth Mitchell (which I might buy  just to hang the cd cover in a frame):

If you get a chance, preview "Little Liza Jane" and "Three Birds."  I love this woman's voice!

You can preview all of the songs for yourself at Amazon.com in the links listed.  Enjoy!

ten

 

I've been wanting to write this since shortly after Mother's Day last year, but I was always waiting for the words to come easily.  This probably won't be as articulate as I'd like, but I think today it's too important to miss saying.

I had a bumpy childhood.  We all have, to some degree.  My mom was a single mom for some years.   I love him, but Dad was and still is, sometimes very difficult.  Which hampered my mom's ability to be the mom she wanted to be.  She was tired, frustrated, and didn't have a lot of patience.  She messed up sometimes.  But she was obedient to God's Word.  And because of that alone, for all her mistakes, she got it absolutely right. 

She made sure that we always knew how very much she loved us, she asked for forgiveness when she needed it, but most importantly - she made sure we knew Christ.  She didn't just take us to church.  She had a relationship with God.  And we did, too.  She wasn't without sin.  In fact, I'd venture to say she messed up with God and with us royally sometimes.  But she stayed obedient, always going back to prayer and worship, and letting us see how important it was to be humble before God.  To not turn our backs on our faith just because we didn't feel worthy or because a Christian life was too hard.

And here's the most important part: ten years ago, on May 22, 1999, at 11:00 p.m., shortly after getting off the phone with airlines and funeral directors and our home church pastor, I went to bed lonely but at peace.  My sister had died.  But I knew where she was and Whose she was.  My sister was young.  But she was ready.  In the days leading up to her death, Lora emailed my mom about her maturing relationship with God.  How, despite some trials she'd suffered recently, she was leaning on God, sure he was lifting her up.  She was so in tune to Him that she called my mom one day in April to say that she was driving along that day and she could almost feel Jesus in the  passenger seat.  She was at perfect peace that day.  She had no clue that in a few short weeks she'd be in her final place, alongside Him.  None of us knew.  But for all our grief and sorrow, my mom and I cling to the promise that we will see her again one day. 

Here's the thing.  To date I have not lived a worse nightmare than getting that phone call in the wee hours of May 22, 1999.   We hadn't expected it.  Couldn't have imagined it.  We couldn't possibly have been prepared for that kind of shock and tragedy.  But thanks to my mom's continued obedience to God's will, my sister was prepared for it.

My mom's legacy will not be the shouting or short temper.  Among a multitude of her other awesome attributes, it will be that she introduced her daughters to Christ.  I am grateful for my mom's obedience, my sister's faithfulness, and God's promises.

"Therefore you now have sorrow; but I will see you again and your heart will rejoice, and your joy no one will take from you."  John 16:22

loss and life

**Update at bottom**

It was an average afternoon at the bookstore with my girls and husband today.  Evyn browsed the princess sections, I sat and flipped through gossip magazines (oh, the Jon and Kate fodder...).  Then the phone rang.

Ginger is one of my best friends (pictured, center).  She knew my sister.  She was there when I got the phone call at midnight.  And when I got the phone call at 4 a.m. confirming her brain dead.  She was there when I prayed over my sister's body.  She was there when I went limp at the airport, watching my sister's body being carried away from the plane.  She knows the pain and grief that I went through...the raw emotions of those first hours, days, weeks...and even now, she knows the grief I still endure living without her.

But what Ginger can appreciate about my sister's death - what she is touched by on a personal level - is my family's choice to honor what would have no doubt been Lora's wish had she had the choice herself: to give her organs to someone who needed them.  It was the reason my mom couldn't keep her technically alive long enough for me to kiss her goodbye.  If our family was going to give the hope of life to someone else, my mom needed to give the doctors permission to take her off life support...even though to do so would mean she would be absolutely gone by the time I arrived to say goodbye.

Ginger has had diabetes for years.  And shortly after giving birth to her son several years ago, her kidneys went downhill fast.  To the point that her kidneys are now barely functioning.  She went on the donor list for both kidneys and a pancreas several weeks ago.

She was on the other line tonight.  Last night a 23 year old woman - still a girl, really - was thrown from a car in a horrible accident.  At 4 a.m. she was brain dead.  She's a stranger to Ginger.  But she's giving her life.  Her organs are being recovered as I write this.  And now, God willing, Ginger is going to live to watch her son grow up. 

I was immediately excited when she told me she would be receiving organs.  And almost as instantly, I was struck by a familiar pain.  Right now, a family somewhere is grieving the loss of someone who died decades younger than she should have.  Right now they are grasping the fact that the person they loved and lived for - a person they may have talked to just hours before she was killed in a wreck - is now gone.  And through all the raw shock they were able to  think of others.  My friend, and several others, will receive a gift of hope tonight.

I was elated for Ginger, but I couldn't help crying on the phone.  Not just because I have an overwhelming sense of empathy for the donor family.  But because, ironically, this week is 10.  It was ten years ago this Friday that my own baby sister was killed in a car wreck.  Ten years ago we went through the same shock and loss that this donor family is experiencing.  The anniversary has been on my mind for a while, but nothing could have brought it all to the surface like this.

It's bittersweet.  Ginger is incredibly grateful and is no doubt going through a rollercoaster of emotions herself.  She watched what we went through.  She knows that someone has to die in order for her to live.  And I know she's overwhelmed by that. 

My heart is racing.  I can't speak without crying.  I can't type without crying.  I didn't expect to be overwhelmed myself.  It's an incredible moment for Ginger.  She's been waiting and praying.  And now it's here.  And I am just so very...sad.  Grateful.  And sad.  It's all so very personal and close to home.

So be in prayer.  For Ginger's surgery, to take place in a few short hours.  For this girl's family, who has a very long road ahead of them.  Pray for their strength.  For a peace about their decision.  Pray for their willingness to open their hearts when Ginger is finally able to reach out to them to say thank you (something she has always insisted she would do when the time is right).

And, on the off chance that a donor family is reading this: know that whether or not the recipients ever thanked you formally, you made the right decision.

****************

UPDATE: I have been receiving brief updates from Ginger's husband.  Besides her kidney function, one major change is that she should no longer have diabetes because of the new pancreas.  The "numbers" that indicate her overall health have already drastically improved.  Thanks for your thoughts, emails, prayers...concern.  I appreciate it so much that you all take the time to care.

Friday Find: Coppola Rosso

Thanks again for all the encouraging, supportive comments and emails you've sent my way.  I appreciate all the feedback and kind words.  And I hope that if you ever need it, you,too, receive as many kind words from friends, family, and strangers.  It carries you a long way...

So...on another  note.  I've noticed that I frequently have something I want to share - some shopping tidbit or random little thing that hardly seems blog-worthy but that I want to put up here anyway.  And while I've come to wince at the "Thursday This" and "Sunday That" that has inundated blogs over the last few years, here I am - joining the ranks.  Because Friday is a goof-off day anyway.  And what I have to share really are little finds. So the Friday shelf of my blog is where I'll be putting this random stuff.

On with today's randomness.

I have a warm spot in my heart for Coppola wines.  Back when my girlfriends from Nashville and I had time, we took several trips.  One of my favorite was Napa Valley - we spent most of our day at the Niebaum-Coppola vineyard (as in Francis Ford).  Love.  That place. It's rich in history, a beautiful property, and overall just a fascinating (and delicious) place.

So when I was last-minute grocery shopping for props for Wes and Amy's shoot, and I ran across Coppola's Rosso, packaged just like so:

I snatched it up.

To me there was something very romantic and cinematic about this little package.  I pictured all those romantic movies - couples resting on the hood of the car under the stars with a bottle of wine and a solo cup.

If you want to like red wines but haven't in the past, you'd probably like this one.  It's basically a table wine - a mix of several reds.  I'm not a connoisseur so I couldn't begin to describe it properly, but I did get a taste and it wasn't overly dry or sweet.  Really, a perfect "date wine." It made a great prop and would work nicely to bring along on an outdoor picnic or beach date.

Wait, wha?  How did this adorable set of pudgy squish feet get in here?

 

the next day, anniversary shoot: wes and amy

Well, the next day was a good one.  One of the most fun I have had in a long time, for lots of reasons.  I started the morning assisting Rachel on a shoot.  I love long drives, coffee, farms, and photography.  That was our whole morning.  Then I showed her a few of my new favorite locations in my area and we took some test shots.  And made fun of ourselves with some goofy poses.  Say, CHEESE, Rachel!

Then we went to lunch and I went home to rest before Wes and Amy's shoot.  Only I couldn't really rest.  So I went to Walmart.  I'd learned a few things from the day before, and I had a few last-minute ideas I wanted to try.  I picked up a small broom, hand sanitizer, champagne flutes, and water.

When I met up with Wes and Amy, they hopped in the car and here was my process: to drive around downtown until I spotted a place among the many I'd scouted that had good light.  If it's possible, I think it's better to go where the light is.  You'll get better pictures than trying to make the light come to your favorite spot.  We did four locations total.

I'll make a long afternoon/evening short:  we had a blast.  My homework paid off.  The clothes I helped Amy pick the week before paid off.  And even the wine paid off (Wes needed to relax a little).

 
 

 

I owe a lot of thanks to my sweet friends who have and continue to indulge me in my ideas.  I appreciate so much that they've taken me seriously and have been supportive.  I learned a ton from these shoots. 

But if there was a big lesson to learn, at least for me, it's that in order to be rewarded you really do have to make yourself vulnerable sometimes.  Or, as Chris commented in the previous post, quoting Experiencing God: "The affirmation comes after the obedience."

It pays to have a little faith.  And believe in yourself at least as much as everyone else believes in you.

So that was my Big Weekend.  Thanks for listening.  If you're on the brink of jumping into something, you really should just go for it.  Not doing something is just as much a decision as going through with it, whatever IT is.  And, honestly, I'm not really sure where I'll go from here.  But for now I'm enjoying the process of figuring that all out.

By the way, this blog will continue to be the good and the bad.  Some of my favorite, sweet pictures of my kids or surroundings aren't the best artistically or technically, but they ARE moments I want to keep and admire nonetheless. Plus, I can't justify buying my now Dream Lens: 50 mm 1.2.  So expect to see as many from-the-hip pictures as you always have. 

Bye for now!

and then it went like this, Wells Family

I was very nervous.  That week I happened to flip to an article that talked about overcoming fear and taking more risks.  Which seemed like a nod from God that I should keep going.  Even if I fell flat on my face in front of said supportive friends and wanted to chuck my camera and the insured expensive lens out the window. {Pause here: if I were truly courageous, I would have told you about these shoots at the time I planned them, knowing I might totally suck and fall flat on my face in front of all of you, too.  But let's overcome fear in "baby steps," shall we?}

Last week the lens came.  I did my homework, scouting out locations in my area with my sweet little girls in the backseat munching on whatever fast food and toys I'd toss back there while I burned a bunch of gas driving all over God's green earth making notes of the light, how many options there were for creativity, etc.  I also browsed the web for creative inspiration.  And came up  with several ideas of my own.  Ideas I was just sure would be corny.  You know, because they were mine. (are you relating with me yet?)

Then came the day of my shoot.  It was for my friend Melissa & her family, who is one of those friends who pours compliments all over you just when you need it.  She indulged me in my ideas, including some woods and a railroad track - and then this dirty grimy spot with (it turned out once we arrived, much to my horror as a would-be professional) dead birds.  Brick wall?  Check.  Rusted aluminum door?  Check.  Dead birds and wasps and onlookers from across the street eyeing you like they're about to call the cops?  Check.  I laughed it all off and we had a great time.   

When the kids started to melt down a little I knew to call it a day, but not before strapping them into the car with a dvd and getting a few shots of mom and dad:  

I got home and crossed my fingers, almost passing out from holding my breath with worry that everything was going to be crap.  I eyed one that I wanted to edit immediately and tweaked it in PS.  Phew!  It wasn't crap.

I know Melissa checks on her Blackberry like its one of the kids so I sent her a picture and she called right away to say how happy she was.

Of course I was stoked that I didn't mess up this shoot.  In fact, I was rather proud of it.  But as I went to bed excited about the next day (an anniversary shoot with my friends Wes and Amy), I started to think.  Even a blind squirrel finds a nut once in a while.  How was I going to repeat this the next day?

and then it went like this, part 1

Well, NOW where to start?  I have so many things to share with you.  Thoughts you could appreciate and relate to, I'm sure. 

But for now, I'll make it cut and dry:  my journey up to this point.  I think it's incredibly helpful to other would-be photographers out there to know that, for some, the journey really does all start rather "hoopty" - that is, some folks just stumble and fumble until they get it right.

1. I have long been wanting to improve my photography skills.  But if you recall, there wasn't a class or place I could get real (and good) information.  So I checked out books and the web.  But I still felt a little hampered.  I am a person who needs another person to bounce thoughts of.  Andrea was happy to oblige me when she could.  But let's face it - the girl is BUSY with her three.
2. Enter Rachel.  When I found out there was another shutterbug - and one who had just opened her own photography business a few months previously - in my SUNDAY SCHOOL CLASS, I crossed my fingers and hoped upon hope that she'd be up for a camera-buddy.
3. I bought the newest Photoshop and we met for coffee a few times and she showed me a few of her tricks...it was enough for me to figure out how to get somewhere.  Which makes all the difference when trying to decipher all the Photoshop Spanish out there.
4. My neighbor asked me to shoot her daughter's first birthday party.  She took a chance on me (well, she'd had a beer when she'd asked so maybe she didn't know any better) and I'm grateful.  The shots were entirely indoors, on an overcast day, and I was crammed among lots of people - but I was up for the challenge.  I know VERY LITTLE about using my flash but I worked it out and learned a lot from that shoot.  It helped that Rachel let me borrow her (very expensive) zoom lens. If you're going to be doing event photography of any kind, you need a zoom lens.  I also got a lot of practice with PS and even found a great way to use all those macro pics: 
5. Then Rachel let me join her on a baby shoot.  I wanted to see if the process was what I was thinking.  I'm the type who needs to see the process - not so much because I need to know what to do (although it's helpful that way, too), but to confirm for myself once I do go for something that my thoughts and feelings are pretty normal.  Otherwise, I tend to think things should be way more difficult or perfect than they really need be. I didn't want to be in the  way, so I took several photos of Rachel working. The backdrops and poses were her creative ideas.  But when I did (pensively) finally join the shoot, I got a couple of shots:       ...which made me think.  Maybe I can do this.
6. So I decided to keep building my portfolio. And this time I'd set up my own shoots and see what happened.  Rachel and I set a date to rent the 50mm 1.2 (nothing like a great lens to inspire confidence).  I asked a couple of (very supportive and photogenic) friends to indulge me in a shoot, with the caveat that it may all turn out to be crap.

And I will pause here, because I just can't stand for one post to be the length of an epic novel.  And frankly, my new motto is Baby Steps.  Okay, that's not really a motto.  It's a cliche.  But its a great excuse to not expect too much of myself all at once.  And the girls are all over me to pay attention to them.  More later...

PS.  If you're looking for some sweeping, glorious end to this story, I'm afraid you might be disappointed.  Part 2 ends with how the shoots went.  I'm out of gas after that. ;)

it started like this

It all started with this picture:

It's my little sister Lora and I.  Nothing spectacular about it.  It was taken in a Shoney's parking lot.  On a very overcast day.  The weekend of my graduation and just a short couple of hours before she boarded a plane to go back to school.  No, it doesn't look especially amazing.  But it was special. 

Because as fate had it, it was the last picture I'd ever take with her.

What stands out to me about this picture, besides it being our last, is that we almost didn't get it.  We'd just finished breakfast, and my out-of-town family (including Lora) was in a bit of a rush to get to the airport.  I don't remember who suggested it or insisted.  I think maybe me.  But we took them.  Pictures of my family.  And this last squishy-sweet one that is so us.

My best friend Ginger and I hopped in a car, Lora in the back seat.  And we scooted her to the airport. I asked if she wanted me to wait with her in the airport (back when you could) but she said "no;" Grandma and Grandpa Hernandez were going to be there.  She wanted to spend a little time waiting with them.  We exchanged a hurried hug and kiss good bye.  I promised to meet up with her to get those matching tattoos when she went on a college singing tour and would be in close-by Kentucky that summer.  One more hug.  And she was gone.

She was killed in a car wreck and taken from us just two weeks later.  That summer is the first that I remember photography and pictures - capturing moments in time that you can't really get back - became important to me.

My mom couldn't believe I was willing to fly a photographer friend to Evyn's first birthday party in Nashville.   But James was deploying to Iraq a second time days after that party.  A particularly dangerous mission.  And for all I knew I wouldn't see him again.  I wanted someone who understood me and my passion for good pictures; who was willing to exhaust himself to capture that trip.  Just in case.

Then James left, and besides me wanting to express myself creatively, photography became about capturing time not just for posterity, but for James.   Half a world away from his baby girl.  A year of her life he would never fully understand or experience or remember.

And now.  Now it's important to me for so many reasons.  And I'm growing and learning and getting better at it every day, thanks to a number of factors I hope to share with you in future posts. 

I'm not the only one.  Who appreciates fantastic pictures.  Who imagines myself ten years down the road flipping through a shoe box or album or coffee table book of images that remind me of the way we were.

 

 

So I've started a little journey.  With the thought that maybe, maybe I can do this for other folks, too. 

to be continued...

sunshine and happiness

Evyn has always been a thinking child.  And a verbal one.  And a dramatic one.  She is going through some phase that resembles puberty - grumpy, wired, happy one minute, totally ticked the next, witty, logical, argumentative, loving...you know.  Miss Rollercoaster of Emotions.

This week on the way home from Cubbies she seemed upset.  Well, she didn't seem upset - she made sure she told me.

"I'm upset.  I'm irritating [she meant "irritatED").  Irritating means upset.  Everybody hurts my feelings and that makes me irritating."

I asked her what happened.  A friend at school earlier that day told her she didn't want to be her best friend.  And just a few minutes prior I had to get on her about being more obedient and following instructions.  You know - hurt feelings and being disciplined wind up in the same basket of "irritation."  In the simplest way possible I told her sometimes we can't control how others feel about us, and that when we disobey and have to be disciplined it might make us angry.  But we have a choice about how to react to it all.  And maybe she should ask God to help her through how she's feeling.

Pause.

"Mommy, when you go to bed tonight, make sure you pray for me.  And tell Daddy when he goes to bed he should pray for me, too.  So that my feelings won't get hurt."  I promised I would.  And she repeated her request to Daddy as soon as we got home. 

Cut to the next morning.  She woke up somewhat grumpy and was mad about having to eat oatmeal.  Then, on top of it all, I made her get dressed for preschool before I let her play.  The horror. 

"Grrrrrrrrrrrrruuuhhhhh!" she growled as she stomped back to her bedroom.  "I know you and Daddy didn't pray for me because I'm still upset!"

I just can't imagine this kid as a twelve year old.