My beautiful grandma.
92 years young.
Years and years ago, Brooke bopped her on the head with a hair brush. She responded, “Ouch! That’s my head, not a football!” Brooke thought it the funniest thing she’d ever heard. Now, every time she sees her — EVERY time, Brooke starts to laugh. “Say, “That’s not a football!” she says, giggling. And EVERY time, Oomah does.
This was right before she asked (again).
(Great) Auntie Marilyn and Uncle Julie.
Who SEE my children.
Who love them.
Who welcome them.
Who celebrate them.
Who make them BOTH comfortable being their goofy, beautiful selves.
Pinky Hugs for Papa and Grandma Noe.
The genius life hack from Grandpa DD.
Love — in the comfort zone.
And finally, this.
The look on my dad’s face.
The one that says I love this child so much I could swallow her whole.
The one that melds the seemingly opposite forces of ferocity and tenderness as only a parent’s love can.
That is the Mama that I am.
This is why.
I posted the picture of the girls with Auntie Marilyn and Uncle Julie yesterday on Diary’s Facebook page with the caption, “I’d argue that there’s a side effect of teaching our children to embrace who they are that gets far too little attention. Happiness.”
A reader very sweetly commented, “I’d like to know the secret to the awesomeness that envelopes your family.”
To her I’d offer the following response – Authenticity.
These people are who they are. There is no pretense – ever.
And by being who they are without reservation they invite those around them to do the same.
And that reader is right.
It’s kind of awesome.
And I am very, very grateful.