I Don't Know. I Hope So.

I don't understand things sometimes. I don't get it.

And I'm scared. There, I said it, I'm afraid. And every time I open a news website or a newspaper, my fear increases dramatically.

It makes me sad to hear about terrorists attacks. It makes me cry to see a four year old girl running through a Kenya mall trying to escape the hoards of gunfire happening behind her.

It literally hurts my heart to see pictures of students covered in blood while they mourn the loss of over 50 of their classmates in a senseless act of violence.  

Will they bounce back in Nigeria and Kenya? I don't know. I hope so.

I don't understand why a Dodgers fan is stabbed to death after a game against the Giants.  Or why a Giants fan was beat to within inches of his death last year and left with brain damage after a game against the Dodgers. 

Will we ever have a sports season where people see it for what it is? I don't know. I hope so.

Why does a guy go on a killing spree at a navy yard?

Will mental illness and disease awareness and treatment become something we fight for as hard as we fight each other over politics?

I don't know. I hope so.

Iran's President takes a phone call from the United States' President. People line the streets to chant "death to America."

Will our two countries ever be friends? I don't know. I hope so.

Don't even get me started on Chicago or Detroit.

School shootings. Kidnappings. Murders. Molestations.

And I'm supposed to let my little Etta out of mine or Annie's sight for two seconds--much less a full school day? I can't even sit on the bench at the mall and let her go around the treehouse, a roundtrip of three seconds, without freaking out--a reaction that usually leads to me on her heels everywhere she goes.

Will I ever feel comfortable with Etta out of my sight for longer than a blink of an eye? I don't know. I hope so.

Then I got to thinking. With all of these terrible things happening across the world, including our own country,  all we want to do is fight about insignificant things. All we want to do is point fingers at other political parties. Other religious beliefs. Other races. Other whatever.

All we do is continue to fuel hatred amongst each other. We just breed it.

Then I think even more.

And  I look in the mirror. Then I wonder if the greatest challenge for Etta is staring me right back in the mirror. Someone should write a song about the man in the mirror.

Am I doing everything I can for Etta? Am I the father she needs, and more importantly deserves?

I don't know. I hope so.

Am I prepared to tell her that bad things sometimes happen to good people? Am I prepared to tell her about a school shooting if, and more likely when, it happens again? Am I prepared with an answer when she asks me why people don't like where she lives or what she or her family believe?

I don't know. I hope so.

When Etta thinks of her daddy, will she think of someone who always showed her just how much he loves her? Will she think of how she makes me smile--a real, genuine, uninhibited smile? Will she realize that the mere mention of her name makes me tear up and any further thought of her makes me full on cry?

I don't know. I hope so.

Will she turn to me as someone who can be there to help her through difficult times? Will she trust me enough to talk to me when she's scared? Nervous? Anxious?

I don't know. I hope so.

The news makes me sad. Yes. But what an amazing opposite effect little Etta has. I hope I am what she needs. I hope she senses right now at just 15 months just how incredibly special she is to me and to her mommy.

Will there come a day when I open a newspaper, and all I see are stories that make me smile? Stories that make me happy? Stories that make me cry Etta tears--happy tears?

I don't know. I hope so.

Gratitude From a Funeral

It seems that gratitude comes in situations and circumstances you don't necessarily expect it to. For me, that has happened quite a bit the last couple of weeks, with regards to little Etta.

I attended a funeral a couple of weeks ago for the sister of one of my really great friends. She has two very adorable, sweet little boys and from the funeral it was very clear just how much she really loved those two little boys and how much her family adores and loves those little guys.

My friend's sister struggled with some things throughout the course of her last days, and, from what was said during the funeral, struggled to combat some of the difficulties that encroached upon her life.

But it was during her mother's comments that I really felt a sense of gratitude. Her mom said that she had spent the last ten years trying every day to get her daughter to change her behavior and to change her life. She mentioned that she was hard on her daughter during those times to change her behavior.

Then, her lovely mother, who I love, said this phrase that really hit home for me: "I know there are a lot of parents out there who react this way as well while raising their children because that's the natural way to react. Well, quit it. Don't do that."

I'm grateful for her frankness and her directness with her piece of advice. She didn't know it, but I've hung onto that and will always hold on to that in my attempts at raising Etta. I'm grateful to this sweet mother for adding a little piece of advice to the parenting advice book that I keep in my mind.

I'm grateful for her willingness to share what she shared with those at the funeral. I'm grateful for her family and how they've come together and reacted in such  difficult time. It's an inspiration to me.

It got me thinking of other things I've noticed since that funeral and there are many things that I am grateful for these days (here are a few):

-I'm grateful for the wind storm in Utah the other day. I'm grateful that while sitting outside with Etta during the storm, she'd rather say close to me than wander around the yard in her usual way. I'm grateful that she'd rather be within an arms length (a very tiny arm) to me than go and look at the flower table. Nothing big happened. Nothing earth shattering happened during that wind storm. I just sat on the porch and she stood next to me enjoying the wind, but not wanting to go too far away from me. I'll always pray for a wind storm every now and then.

-I'm grateful that Etta has the mother she has. Etta is clearly connected at the hip to her mommy and she prefers her mommy over anyone else. I'm grateful that my daughter is being raised by Annie. Annie and Etta have such a different and special bond that is very obvious to me. I enjoy watching them interact. I enjoy watching them argue. I enjoy watching them disagree over small things like ponytails, pig tails, wiping Etta's nose, wiping Etta's face. Bath time etiquette. Bath time hair washing. Eating a dozen chocolate chip cookies. Etta wanting to play with dangerous things. The list goes on. Etta is in great hands with her mommy. And I wouldn't trust little Etta with anyone else. I love them both and am shocked they put up with me. :)

-I'm grateful for the time away. This seems like a strange thing to be grateful for, but I am. Whenever I'm away from little Etta, I realize just how much of a temporary void there is. I realize how much I miss every little thing that she does. And while sometimes I Etta day dream while I'm away for work, it's these day dreams that make me drive home faster than normal from the airport. It's these day dreams that make me giddy when taking the Center Street exit in Orem. It's these day dreams that make me pull into my driveway at about 40MPH. I'm grateful for the lack of police officers in Orem on the day I get back home.

-I'm grateful for some very good and close friends who have offered so much great parenting advice. And I'm not referring to moments when they've sat me down or called me and offered advice. I'm referring to the small things that I see them do or that I read about them doing with their children that make an impact on me. I'm talking about the quiet advice I see from the way they act and the way they parent. I've learned so much from these friends and they don't even know it. I love them all and I'll continue subtly learning from them every time I see them with their children.

-I'm grateful for Etta herself. I was talking with a buddy the other day about some things people say to parents and one of them was "God must really trust you with that little one." And I got to thinking that I disagree with that phrase completely. In fact, I don't think God trusts me at all with Etta--that's why she has Annie. I'm not sure I'm His go to guy for anything, much more the raising of one of His spiritual children. I don't think He says to himself much "Ok, we've got some very special spirits up here. Let's send them to the Flanman, he's all over this." Quite the opposite. I think that God trusts Etta so much that he sent her to me. The correct phrase is this "God must really trust Etta with you." He knows I'm going to mess things up a lot, but he trusts Etta enough to be a part of my life, and I'm forever grateful for that--to God and to Etta.

I really don't know a lot (contrary to those who affectionately think of me as a know-it-all). But I know that I love Etta. I know that I want her in my life. I know that the list of grateful moments I've noticed sense attending that beautiful funeral is larger and could go on and on.

I know that a little family lost a daughter and it brought them closer together. What I bet they didn't know was that the loss of their daughter and their subsequent coming together has put my mind in motion and has helped bring me even closer to my own daughter. And I'm grateful for that.

I can't imagine the heartbreak they must feel, but I can imagine the love they also feel. And I can see the love they radiate. And I hope I can always continue to feel and radiate that love towards that little 28 inch, 26 pound, wrecking ball of joy that has lived in my home for 14 months now.

Thank you to everyone.

North Korea Tension--It Affects Us All

As I was traveling this last week I started reading my most recent issue of Sports Illustrated and the cover story featured Dennis Rodman and his now famous trip to North Korea to apparently hang out with the dictator Kim Jong Un (who, by virtue of me typing his name in my blog is probably now well aware of my blog and who I am).

I laughed at the thought of Rodman indirectly representing our country with North Korea and wondered what exactly will ever come of that, if anything.

Then, just before take off, I glanced at a picture of Etta on my phone and I teared up and had to look away in order to maintain my cool guy persona I go for. But, in that second I realized the key to figuring out the conflict with North Korea, and it's Etta.

I started thinking--you'd be hard-pressed to come to a unanimous consensus amongst the American and the North Korean leaders as to the adorableness and the gentleness of one Dennis Rodman, but you throw Etta in there as America's "representative" and suddenly both countries find themselves in complete alignment--on one issue at least--the adorableness and gentleness of Etta.

I don't know, it's worth a try, I mean, nothing else anyone else has tried seems to be working.

In my life, I realize that I am terribly too hard on myself in many respects and terribly too easy on myself in others. I realize that certain days I really like what has come to be "me", and other days I'm not exactly the biggest fan of "me." I realize I'll go days, weeks, months of bottling up every emotion that I feel until they all seem to come out in a manner of minutes. And I realize, more than anything, that it's not exactly a healthy response--but it's me, and I have to deal with it.

But what I've also realized is that when I feel my own North Korea tension in my life, it always seems to be Etta's presence that calms things. It's always that sweet smile, her scrunched up nose, her wrinkles on her face, that ease the tension.

I'm no different than most people--my life is full of North Korean tension moments. Anxiety, stress, failures, etc...but what I do have that makes me fortunate is an Etta to alleviate the headaches.

Several weeks ago, my softball team lost a really tough game on our weekly double-header night on what I deemed to be a bad call by an umpire. I was so upset. After voicing my dissatisfaction to the umpire (who happened to be a good friend of mine), I realized that softball was really just the medium for me to reach that type of boiling point and that the combination of my North Korea tension had been too much for me and it had finally boiled over. I was steaming mad and not even sure what I was most mad or stressed about.

After the first game, I walked out of the dugout to switch fields with my team when I noticed Annie and Etta walking towards the field. They hadn't come to the first game, but made it down there for the second game. I instantly smiled. I instantly forgot about all the conflict, controversy, and tension from the first game and from life in general. Etta had a giant smile when she saw me and I couldn't help but smile back, bend down, kiss her, and proceed to the next game with a bounce in my step only a proud daddy could have.

She had done it. She solved the North Korea tension in my life--if even for a moment.

As I think about Etta, I realize that there is a list of about a thousand things that will make her happy at any given moment and will make her forget about the things that are causing her stress or frustrations in her little life. First on that list is watermelon.

It doesn't matter what has happened to Etta or why she is mad about something. If you give her some watermelon, she's fine. It's like the worst thing in her world that just happened never existed.

Her list of pacifiers (not actual pacifiers, just things that make her forget about her own North Korea tensions) include, in addition to watermelon, her sippy cup, a grown-up water bottle, her keys, my keys, Annie's keys, my phone, Annie's phone, the vacuum cleaner, walking, more walking, even more walking, her swing out front, getting the mail, Sandy, her blankie, her toothbrush, her comb, the lavender bottle, her actual bottle, her bathtub, her bath toys, cookies, chips, an empty Diet Coke can, and did I mention walking...?

These things, in addition to a myriad of others,  are so simple, yet so effective. They calm her right down. They ease all the little stresses, anxieties, frustrations that can intrude on her little perfect life. It's happiness in simplicity at it's very best. She exemplifies happy.

I tried to make a list of things in my own life that have the safe affect on me--a list of things that cure the North Korea tension in my own life--and I couldn't. I wish I could sit here and say that my list included, my scriptures, my hymn book, my DVD of Saturday's Warrior or even my Atlanta Braves.

I'm not sure I even have a more trivial list of things like a sippy cup, a blankie, walking, etc...in fact, I know I don't.

Really, my biggest thing in my life is her. It's that little, talking, walking resolution to conflict, stress, and frustration that is Etta.

It's the moments we get in the car and I look back and she extends her hand to me so that we can hold hands while I drive (a regular occurrence). It's when she laughs at my jokes. It's when she smiles when I chase her. It's when she claps when I hide from her while she's in the swing.

It's when she closes her eyes to give me a kiss. It's when she walks up to me and hugs my leg. It's when we share a cookie. It's when she sits on my shoulders and I catch her reflection in a window and see her smiling with her hands on my head. It's when she dances--sometimes when there's not music in earshot. It's when we dance together. It's when I just dance and she laughs. It's when she gets excited to take garbage to the trash can. It's when she waves goodbye to people five minutes after they've left.

It's when I cry from literally just thinking about her. It's because despite all my shortcomings, despite my insecurities, my inadequacies, my inabilities, she loves me.

As she grows up, her list of things that ease the North Korea tensions in her life is going to change, and it's going to include stupid things, I'm sure, (phone, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, stupid boys, boys who are probably nice, but are still stupid to me, pop singers, movies, probably chips and cookies still, etc...).

And while she ought to make her list in pencil as to allow for all the change, I'll go ahead right now and write mine in permanent marker.

My list is her.

Shut The Gate, Kyle. Shut The Gate

EDITORS NOTE: Etta's fine. She's ok. 

The staircase in my house has 12 stairs that lead from the kitchen to the basement.

When we first set up the gate guarding the entrance to the staircase from the kitchen, I never imagined that someday I would step out into the downstairs hallway just in time to see my daughter's walker be launched from step six and flip her over and slam her little body down face first on the hallway floor.

But tonight, that horror happened. And it happened fast.

I've walked those 12 steps holding Etta hundreds of times. I've helped her walk up the stairs dozens of times. And I've shut that stupid gate over and over again. Each time I've gone down, I've shut the gate. Each time I've come back up, I've shut the gate.

Tonight, I didn't. I ran downstairs to set the Braves game to record. I was standing by our office desk and heard a noise. I stepped out in the hall just in time to see it unfold in front of my eyes.

There are some things in life that simply can't be unseen. I'd give anything to unsee the image of my little daughter helplessly skipping the last six steps of the staircase in a tumbling walker.

But since I can't unsee it, I will say that I was super impressed and I attribute her well-being to the fact that her body did nothing of any type of attempt to brace itself--which I think probably helped her avoid serious injury. What I saw rolling through the air was a limp, noodle of a body...and I think that helped keep her safe.

I got to her quickly. Pulled her out of the walker, completely unsure of how she was. I kept her neck stable because the way she landed on it was haunting. I carried her into the living room downstairs. Laid her on her back and hovered over her. I quickly checked her legs and her arms, hoping and praying that I didn't find a broken one. I kept her head steady until she, completely freaking out, rolled over. At that point, I figured she was probably ok, as far as her neck and limbs went.

I picked her up as she opened her mouth screaming. As she opened her little mouth, blood ran over her lips and onto her chin. She coughed and spit blood. She drooled blood. At that point, her little nose began bleeding as well. Her little hands worked tirelessly to clear the blood away from her mouth and nose and as a result, smeared blood all over her round face.

By the time I was carrying her upstairs, Annie had called an ambulance (because of how she saw Etta laying on her neck at the bottom of the stairs). I held Etta close and tight, still not sure how she really was. She screamed, and screamed, and screamed. I cried, and cried, and cried.

In the 3-5 minutes that passed between when I came upstairs and the ambulance arrived, I uttered the phrase "shut the gate Kyle, just shut the gate" at least a hundred times.

I understand the "don't beat yourself up" logic, but I can't seem to let it apply to me here. I'm crushed.

The paramedics arrived. Assessed the situation. They were fantastic. They were quick, friendly, supportive, loving, and most importantly, concerned with Etta's well-being.

I don't recall their names, but I'm very grateful for their reassurance that Etta was just banged up, but that she would be ok.

After the paramedics left, Etta screamed hard off and on before I rocked her while she ate a bottle. The bottle calmed her down and she finished it with a smile. The left side of her face is rugburn, her eye is swollen and bruised, her face has a couple cuts and her mouth is cut. But she's ok.

Fortunately for her, she'll forget that it ever happened. Unfortunately for me, I can't. Probably why I'm writing a blogpost at 1am.

I've often talked about getting an Etta tattoo on my arm. I noticed that one of the paramedics had our address written on his forearm in pen--I'm assuming he wrote where he could when getting the call about Etta, and his forearm seemed like a logical place because it was easy to see.

While I can't say for sure if I'll get the Etta tattoo on my arm, I'm very much considering the phrase "shut the gate, Kyle" tattooed across my forearm.

If I never remember another thing in my life, I'll forever remember to shut the gate.

The paramedics and our friends and families reassured us that babies are resilient, and I'm forever grateful for that.

One thing that's not feeling resilient right now: my emotional psyche.

The staircase in my house has 12 stairs that lead from the kitchen to the basement.

All 12 of them have a new meaning to me now.

Happy Mothers Day (No Apostrophe on Purpose)

A mother has many distinct and unique attributes and abilities that no one else can duplicate or replace. 

A mother can be nurturing, kind, sympathetic, a teacher, a disciplinarian, a friend, a corrector, a life-navigator or just someone to call, text or email about random subjects. 

My mother embodies all of those characteristics and a myriad of ones I left off the list as well. Along with recognizing my dear mother for all of her hard work over the last 30 years, I thought it appropriate to recognize ALL the mothers in my life--hence the reason I left the apostrophe off in the blog title--so, Happy Mothers (plural) Day! The following are the mothers in my life (in no particular order):

My Mom, Kimmy Sue: Throughout my life, I've counted on my mom for laughs, hugs, smiles, kisses, support, etc. In all of my years playing baseball, I don't recall a game that didn't feature my mom in the stands...yelling, barking, cheering or even crying out of sadness, happiness or fear of any injury I suffered. She'll never know what all those moments I looked up and saw her sitting there meant to me, but suffice it to say, those moments are invaluable. 

I once wrote a blogpost as a tribute to Yolo County's greatest export--my mom--and I stand by those words today. Now that I've had the chance to watch her operate as a mother while also operating as a grandmother, I've learned just how valuable she is to my family. I've learned so much from her and I'm forever grateful for her. While I've certainly done wrong in my life, I know that there is one mind out there--my mom's--that I've never done wrong in, and that's the way a mother should be. So, thank you mom. I love you. 

Etta's Mom, Annie May: I talked to Etta on the phone the other night and I asked her what her thoughts were about her mommy. She responded by yelling at me, laughing at me, smiling at me, and then throwing her toys at the phone. After some rough translating, I realized that what she was trying to say is that Annie is the greatest mom in the world and that she (Etta) is so very fortunate to have her. 

I'll never forget the day we found out we had lost the second pregnancy at about eight weeks along. I'll never forget Annie in that doctor's room. I'll never forget the pain I could see a mother going through. And when juxtaposed with the look on Annie's face when she first held Etta, I know now that her love as a mother is stronger than all the pain and grief that she's faced before. She has her Etta and she slipped into mother mode right away and hasn't looked back since. 

Etta and I have a special bond, no doubt about it. And we love hanging out together all the time. But when I observe Annie and Etta, I know there is something extremely special there. Etta responds to Annie. Etta respects Annie. Etta turns to Annie in sad times. And I don't blame Etta one bit. 

While mothering Etta, Annie has, on occasion, mothered me. And while sometimes I react like a child, she continues to love me like a mother continues to love her stupid child. I'm forever grateful for her motherly impact in my life. So, thank you Annie May. I love you. 

Marie Stott: It seems appropriate to mention my very very very good friend, Marie Stott, since she literally just became a mother for the third time last week to another adorable little girl--this time named Molly. Molly is a very lucky girl because she gets to be with Cora and Penny as siblings, Pete as a dad, and especially with Marie as her mommy. 

Marie has been mothering me before mothering me was cool and popular. She's stood up for me, defended me, criticized me, advised me, and never dated me--all things a good mom does. I've asked Marie for advice on many occasions and I'll continue to do so. So, while she may not have a biological son, she's got me. So, thank you Marie. I love you. 

Robin Strong: I'm so lucky to have a mother-in-law like Robin. She's one of the kindest and accepting people that I've ever met. It brings me so much comfort to see that Annie is becoming just like her mother. Robin is so strong and so loving. I love watching the patience she exudes when talking to or interacting with her four grandchildren. It's clear that they all have a special place in her heart. 

I'll forever be grateful for Robin letting me into their home and family. She is the perfect mother-in-law--because she knows when to mother and when not to mother. I'm sure she's wanted to step in so many times and mother me...I don't blame her. So, thank you Robin. I love you. 

The Work Girls: Oh, the work girls--as they've affectionately become known as in my life. ALL of the work girls in my life, in that little cubicle space, have meant so much to me. While we joke that I've always had three or four extra mothers in my life because of the work girls, it's absolutely true, and I'm grateful for all of them. 

Fe
w people have had as much patience when dealing with me in long stretches of hours, days, weeks, months or years as the work girls. What they don't quite understand all the time is just how much their perception and opinion of me means to me. I hope they realize how much I respect and appreciate them, in all of their motherly ways. I'm forever grateful for taking my current job because it gave me a chance to meet all of them and have them all in my life. So, thank you work girls. Love you ladies!

Karissa Kay and Kaity Cole: These girls have 28 and 24 years experience respectively in mothering me. In fact, aside from my own mother, these two girls have had the longest running career as a mother of mine. Karissa has always kept me on track and helped me with perspective. One of my favorite stories involving Karissa's motherly approach to my life came when I fell off a cinderblock wall and into a pyrocanthem bush--literally trapped by sharp thorns and sticks all around me. At the tender age of 10 I was trapped and hurt. As I landed in the bush, I exclaimed "oh crap!" My motherly sister Karissa (then eight years old) was brought to tears. But she wasn't brought to tears because of my injuries. She was brought to tears because I said "crap", a bad word in our house at that time. Rather than helping me out of the bush, motherly Karissa yelled "I'm telling!" and ditched me in the bush to go tell our mom that I said a bad word. 

Kaitlyn's motherly impact on me has meant so much as well. She's been a little bit more of a silent motherly example to me than Karissa, but just as important. She's taught me so much without every directly sitting down and teaching me. She's one of the most amazing examples I've seen of someone who is caring and nurturing and loving. She does amazing work with troubled people and has so many goals and aspirations to continue helping people. She's an amazing person. And I'll forever silently observe her as one of the foremost examples in my life. So, thank you sisters. I love you.

Sisters (In-Law): Growing up, I always wanted an older sister. So, it's been fun to have Annie's sisters in my life...to fill that role of older sister!

They are both mothers themselves to adorable little boys that I love so much! But they've been mothers to me as well in a way--they've had that motherly impact. I love watching them teach and interact with their children, who are 3 years old (Millie's twin boys) and five months (Sarah's little fella) old. It's been fun to watch them talk to those three because I notice similarities in the way they talk to me or have talked to me in the past...a tribute to their consistency when dealing with children's minds. So, thank you sisters-in-law. I love you. 

I'm so grateful for all the mothers in my life. I'm a better person for knowing every single one of you. I hope you never stop mothering me and putting me on the course of life you think is appropriate and best. 

Happy Mothers Day everyone. I love you all. 

The Best Tears I've Cried

I'm a super novus poet...so novus in fact, that I shouldn't even say poet...more like, super novus guy at putting emotions into a formal outline. So, that said, don't laugh at me and my attempt at writing a poem!

But as I watched Etta throughout the day today (lucky enough to have lunch AND dinner with her!) I kept thinking about how much she means to me. I watch her with her mommy and realize how special they both are.

I helped get Etta ready for bed and reflected on the last couple of nights when I've walked into her room to check on her while she's sleeping, and realized how special those moments are when she's asleep and I'm checking on her.

So, I thought I'd try a poem. If it sucks, just don't tell me, ok? I'm a Leo. We don't handle rejection well. :)



                                                             The Best Tears I've Cried

Many tears

Have many causes

Some happy some sad,

Some over real losses.

An internal struggle

Has once been mine

To fight back my tears,

And dodge emotion's line.

But by your crib

And by your side

My eyes well up,

The best tears I've cried.

 Inhale, exhale

Then you repeat

Asleep you stay,

Sweet dreams you meet.

My mind slows down

As I import

All of God's beauty,

No man can thwart.

And by your crib

Me, by your side

My heart takes over

The best tears I've cried.

This kind of love,

I've never had

Belongs solely to me

in one word, "dad."

Breathe in, breathe out

You do once more

A smile from me

You subtly implore.

Crib, bed, or life

Me, by your side

Enjoying, always

The best tears I've cried.

Happy 50th (blogpost) Etta!

It came to my attention today that this is my 50th post on The Flan Dad blog--a blog that I started over a year ago as we were anticipating the arrival of little Etta!

I've very much enjoyed being able to use my blog as an outlet to express my thoughts of being a dad to the greatest daughter to ever grace the earth. :)

To celebrate post number 50, I quickly made a video to a song that I was recently introduced to called "Daughter" by Loudon Wainwright III. I absolutely LOVE this song and thought it went well with pictures of little Etta--emphasis on quickly, it's not pro-quality, so don't judge me!

Along with the video, I thought I'd take a moment to list my Top 50 things I love about little Etta! (Truth is I could make a top 50,000,000 list, but for time, I'll keep it to 50.

So, without further ado, enjoy blogpost 50!

Top 50 Reasons I love Etta:

50. Her zest for playing with her toys in a very aggressive, organized, and precise way.
49. The way she yells when she plays with anything.
48. Her cheeks.
47. The way she looks at her mommy. :)
46. Her eyes.
45. Her smile.
44. Her scrunchy face smile which she delivers in very special and funny situations.
43. The way she looks around the room at other people when she thinks something is funny...as if she's making sure they all got it.
42. Her belly.
41. Her thighs.
40. When she wears skinny jeans.
39. The fact that she could probably benefit from a bra.
38. That she thinks her Uncle Tyson is as weird as the rest of us do.
37. The way she plays with her toys at Grandma and Grandpa Strongs and Mamo And Papa's homes...and watching them play with her like they're little kids as well.
36. The way she melts the hearts of her Uncle Ben and Uncle Sam.
35. When she comes to visit me at work.
34. How she's changed my perspective on so many things.
33. How I tear up at random times throughout the day when thinking about her.
32. When I hear her mommy reading her books and I see her participating in the reading.
31. That I haven't had a day where I didn't smile since her birth.
30. The fact that she makes me genuinely, sincerely smile...like the type of smile that kind of makes you cry.
29. When she helps me get the mail.
28. When she eats her puffs.
27. When we go on walks and she sits in her stroller just silently observing.
26. Our trips to the park and watching her on the swing.
25. How ticklish she is.
24. That she can go from screaming mad to so happy just by us letting her walk while holding her hands.
23. How much she loves being in her walker and speeding throughout whatever room she's in.
22. When we clean out her ears and she nearly falls asleep.
21. When she falls asleep in my arms while I'm feeding her.
20. When she bonks heads with me in our "bonk heads" game.
19. That she finds me hilarious most of the time (I think many people could learn from her on that!).
18. Her lips and tiny mouth.
17. That she gets loopy when she's tired.
16. That she's generally as annoyed by the dog that lives in our house as I am.
15. That she sleeps through the night...most nights anyway.
14. The way she people watches in public places.
13. That she's a huge Braves fan...totally unprovoked.
12. That she loves tickling and "getting" mommy and daddy.
11. When she waves hello and goodbye.
10. When she gives me a high-five.
9. When she holds my hand when I'm carrying her.
8. When her other arm is on my shoulder or around my neck when I'm carrying her.
7. When she scoots across the room on her bum.
6. When she throws a mini tantrum.
5. That she laughs when I "booooooooooo" her.
4. Her crazy morning hair.
3. How much she loves being in the bath and playing with her bath toys.
2. That she's here. She's ours. She's living in our home and is a part of our lives. That all the pain, hurt, tears, trials, disappointments, frustrations, confusions, and even anger in the journey to get her here are all 100-percent worth it and all things I would do a thousand times over--and at even a thousand times more intense--just to have her here with us.

1. Moments like this, tonight:

Happy 50th (Blogpost) Etta!