Apple Orchard

It was a beautiful Fall day in Canada, with just enough crispness in the air to make us wonder when Winter will come knocking. In an attempt to savor the last bit of gorgeous weather until our Spring thaw, we decided to take Savannah to an apple orchard. We went to one in Michigan a year or two ago and got completely ripped off... pay to park, pay to pick, pay for donuts, etc. But I found an orchard that's just a few miles from our house here... you don't pay to park, you pay for your apples by the pound, and there's a cute little country store that sells baked goods and apple wine and the like. Even better, all of the apple trees are dwarf trees, meaning we didn't need a ladder or have to pick Savannah up to reach the trees. Savannah loved it! I think she ate 3 or 4 apples just as we were walking through the rows of trees. She'd pull one off a tree, take a few bites, and throw it on the ground just to grab another. It was adorable!

A few pictures of the fun:

Super Superlatives!

Todd's mom is an elementary school teacher - Grade 2 and Grade 3, I think. She didn't start teaching until Todd was in college, but she has such a passion for it and is so well-suited for the job. "Grandmere" has been buying books for Savannah since before she was born and encouraged us to read to my belly. She's the one we call if we're wondering if the most recent statement out of Savannah's mouth is advanced for her age. She's the one encouraging us to teach Savannah to write her name with capital and lowercase letters, instead of just capital letters. She's our very own, personal educational guru.

So it's no surprise that Savannah's 2-week "summer school" started in the car, on the drive from Tallahassee to Tampa, after Todd dropped her off after her two glorious sand-and-sun-filled days at the beach where her brain literally took a vacation of its own. Todd's mom decided to teach Savannah about superlatives... small, smaller, smallest... big, bigger, biggest... skinny, skinnier, skinniest. And then she got to the superlative that I'm sure will be erased from Savannah's vocabulary for all eternity: F-A-T!

The conversation went something like this...
Grandmere: Okay, Savannah, let's try "fat". Fat, fatter, fattest.
Savannah: Grandpa is fat.
Savannah: Uncle Matthew is fatter.
Savannah: But, Grandmere, you are the fattest!

Okay, so that didn't go as planned!

This is Savannah schooling Uncle Matthew in "Don't Break the Ice".
I'm pretty sure the only thing he's fatter than is the stick he's using to break the ice!

Look Who's 4!

We went to a snazzy little photo studio on July 2, where Savannah was the center of attention for an entire 45 minutes... needless to say, my little ham loved every bit of it! I had to narrow 250 pictures down to these four poses. And then I got crafty with the wallet-sized photos!

Beach Vacation!

Savannah is four and has never really been to the beach. Yes, we went to Myrtle Beach for a wedding when she was 9 months old, but it wasn't exactly beach weather. Remember this picture?

And, yes, Todd's parents live in Florida, but they don't really live near "pretty" beaches. Lucky for us, our dear friend Greg offered up his parents' condo in Destin... better yet, he even offered to join us for the week! So we spent the week of the 4th soaking up the sun on the beautiful white sandy beaches of the Florida panhandle. Seriously, it was like a picture straight out of a Corona commercial!

Savannah was only with us for two days before she headed off for a few weeks with Grandmere and Grandpa. She's not such a fan of the "big lake", preferring to spend her water time in the pool, but she loved playing in the sand. She's an expert water-carrier and foot-burier! :)

"Big Girl" Room

We didn't really decorate Savannah's room when we moved to Canada, so we thought her fourth birthday was a good excuse to create a "big girl" room. We bought new bedding at Target last weekend and I spent most of this weekend creating a myriad of nick-nacks to hang on her walls. While I'm not completely finished, I must say that I like where it's headed!

Bookends and a pillow sham.

Her name decoupaged on wooden squares... and some hand-painted flowers!

Wooden picture frames that I covered with fabric.

I'll add B&W pictures and collage them on the wall.

A plain ole wooden mirror, spiced up a bit!

Pottery Barn, beware! : )

1... 2... 3... 4!!!

My sweet little Savannah turned four last week. Yes, four! I'm still trying to figure out how that happened... and how to stop time right in this instance so she'll stay cute and sweet forever. We spent the weekend in Michigan, so we didn't really have a birthday party for her. But we all woke up early so she could open presents before she went to school, then we met some friends for lunch on Saturday where she got more presents, and then our friends had a cake and sang "Happy Birthday" to her at their party Saturday night. It was a birthday weekend for her... one in which we constantly heard "I'm the birthday princess" or "it's MY birthday". Cute.

Four seems to be a magical number for Savannah...

She rationalizes things and gives explanations for her actions: For example, she had a potty accident as she was leaving day care on Friday afternoon. When Todd asked her why, she said "my pee pee in my butt was talking to me and telling me it needed to come out. I told it to wait, but it didn't listen." Totally logical to a 4-year-old... and a perfect explanation that she tried to not wet her pants.

She threatens when you don't do what she wants: "Daddy, you're not listening to mommy so you're going to lose priviledges" and "Well I want to watch Dora and you won't let me, so I'm gonna tell on you." Okay, thanks Savannah, but I'm the mommy and I make the rules!

She stopped wetting the bed overnight. Literally. I'm not sure why this surprises me, because she stopped her pacifiers cold-turkey when she turned three. But she went from having a pull-up that weighed 15 pounds in the morning because it was soaking wet to wearing big-girl underwear that stay completely dry. In the week since she stopped wearing pull-ups to bed, she's only had one tiny accident at night.

When we tell her we're proud of her for doing something, her immediate response is "it's because I'm four... and four is big." She's so excited to be four... so proud of her four-year-old self... so independent... so stinkin' smart... and so cute!

Savannah, my sweetpea, you never cease to amaze me. You are the light of my life and a true joy to be around! While you still have many moments of whiney toddler behavior, you really are becoming such a big girl. You are as sweet as pie and the world's biggest cuddler. You give hugs and kisses freely and randomly throughout the day. Your laughter is contagious. You are smart, so smart! You're about to spend three weeks away from mommy and daddy, but you seem thoroughly thrilled to share your love with family in Georgia and Florida. You've made new friends quickly and are becoming less shy. You love making jewelry with beads and reading books, and you're even starting to enjoy playing with your baby dolls. Anything Dora or Diego is still thoroughly entertaining to you. You carry on normal, grown-up conversations on the phone with your Grandmere and your Grampa. You love wearing dresses... every day it's a dress! You are such a blessing in my life and I'm so grateful to have you. Happy 4th Birthday, princess!

Dear Ole Dad

Is it strange that I find Father's Day one of the most difficult holidays to be away from home? I do. In fact, I would gladly give up every other holiday, and the days off work that go with them (!), if I could spend Thanksgiving, Christmas, and Father's Day at "home" with my family.

I don't think Father's Day has always been an incredibly special day to me. In fact, I think it was always more of a Hallmark holiday than anything. Sure, we'd tell Dad "Happy Father's Day". And we'd recognize all the daddies at church on Sunday morning. And we likely made him gifts in school or scouts or something. And he'd get the obligatory card and some kind of little gift. But that was it. Father's Day never came with the fanfare that seems to accompany Mother's Day. Dad didn't get breakfast in bed or a special dinner out or a day to do whatever he wanted. He spent Father's Day just like every other Sunday; reading the Funnies, going to church, napping in his La-Z-Boy, mowing the lawn, cooking dinner.

Then again, I don't think my Daddy is the average dad... He never wanted the special recognition. He does his job as "dad" because he loves it. He doesn't do it to get praised or rewarded; he doesn't do it to earn a new tie every year; he doesn't do it to be pampered for one day. My Daddy is the dad he is because he loves it. My Daddy loves being a dad. And he is one of the sweetest men you will ever meet; that is a fact! I live 1100 miles from my Daddy, yet he would drop everything in a heartbeat if he knew I needed him. Similarly, he would give you the shirt off his back if he knew that's what you needed. He's caring, compassionate, selfless, and loyal. He's the go-to guy for a lot of people and carries that load with joy. I've never met a person that didn't love my Daddy... because there's nothing not to love.

I've always been a Daddy's Girl. Always. And that's something that is never going to change. I may look an awful lot like my mother, but my personality is that of my Daddy. And, even more, my heart is that of my Daddy. My Daddy is the one that taught me to love... whole-heartedly, unabashedly, without hesitation. He's the one that taught me to be passionate in everything I do. He's shown me that life isn't always easy but you'll always come out on top if you let your heart lead the way. My Daddy is my biggest cheerleader, constantly reminding me that I'm a strong woman that can accomplish anything I put my heart into. My Daddy's encouragement when I was younger truly laid the foundation for the woman I've become today. Though it was routine for me to make good grades, he continually acknowledged and appreciated my success... though I was always on the go, he never hesitated to rearrange his schedule so I could get to yet another activity I wanted... though I wore my heart on my sleeve, he was always there to wrap his arms around me and comfort me when my heart was hurting. He never missed a softball game, a football game, a spelling bee... he took me to every flute lesson, cheerleading practice, and bible study... he packed my lunch, cooked my dinner, and kept pop-tarts on hand... he loved my friends as much as he loved me and always kept our door open... he reminded me that, though society often thinks otherwise, being female is not a fault or a hinderance... he encouraged me to spread my wings, follow my dreams, and be my own me.

When I got married, I downright refused to have a Father-Daughter dance at my reception. It wasn't even a point of discussion, it just wasn't going to happen. I nearly broke down when I was all dolled up and saw my Daddy for the first time, knowing he was about to walk me down the aisle, give me away, and ship me off to Michigan. There's no way I would have survived that dance. And that's why I did it. It's selfish, I know, but it was my wedding and I didn't need any more emotion than I already had. If a song had started playing and the whole world was watching my Daddy dance with me, I would have become a basketcase... worse yet, I think my Daddy would've too. I think it hurt him that he didn't get that opportunity, but I think he also understands why. When my cousin got married in November, my aunt tried to get me to dance with my Daddy during one of the sweet little songs... and I still couldn't do it... a full five and a half years after my wedding and I still couldn't dance with my Daddy! Maybe I'll have the courage to do it at my brother's wedding in April?!

My heart belongs to my Daddy. I'm the girl that cried for days when my Daddy left Michigan after moving me up six years ago... I'm the girl that wanted nothing more than to share her newborn baby daughter with her Daddy, so she could be loved the way I am loved... I'm the girl that dreads saying "goodbye" to my Daddy at the end of every visit Home and still cries when I leave... I'm the girl that refuses to turn off the radio when "Butterfly Kisses" or "My Little Girl" is playing, even though I'm blubbering like an idiot... I'm the girl that will never be too grown-up to call her Daddy in tears... I'm the girl that can never have too many hugs from her Daddy or tell him "I love you" too often... I'm the girl that will conspire with relatives and devise a plan to spend Christmas with my Daddy, without him knowing until I'm already in town on Christmas Eve... I'm the girl that knows no physical gift will ever mean as much to my Daddy as my love... I'm the girl that can sit in a room with my Daddy, completely quiet, just happy knowing he's there... I'm the girl that still misses her Daddy, even though I've been away for six years and have a family of my own... I'm the girl that will call my father "Daddy" until I'm 112... I'm the girl that will always think that no other man can fill my Daddy's shoes.

My Daddy is a man of honor. A man of passion. A man of courage. My Daddy is my stronghold. My role model. My hero. I admire him beyond words and cherish him with my all. And, no matter what, I will always be his Little Girl.

Happy Father's Day, Dad! I love you!!