Happy Birthday Daniel

Life can be crazy when you're the first born.  There were a lot of dreams and expectations placed on this little head.  On this poor guy's first birthday I gave him a present every hour.  He got tired of me coming at him with a new gift to unwrap. I do not believe that was  healthy.  Luckily for him, God saw his plight and sent a little brother 19 months later to divide my attention/obsession/abilities/controlling tendencies, and gave him a buddy.

Over Daniel's lifetime the characteristic that has really impressed me is his ability to turn weaknesses into strengths.  

I mean, in these pictures you see him eating candy, ketchup, french fries, and hot dogs (with buns). I believe he hid some smouched candy outside his bedroom window and snuck it at night.   Now he eats chicken, eggs, almonds, salad (no dressing) and maybe one piece of candy at Christmas just to show his holiday spirit.

When he was 1 1/2 it was cool to put children in swimming lessons at early ages, so I did.  It was a "Mommy and me" class.  Talk about traumatic...for both of us.  All the mom's would start singing "Ring around the rosy."  Daniel would start to panic, and the look of fear would come into his face as I put him under the water for 1 second.  Then both of us would cry.  We put the "early swimmer" notion to rest for a while and he went to swimming lessons again when he was 5 or 6.  This time it went slightly better.  He slowly improved until as a senior he up and joined the high school swim team.  He always swam the 800,  the perfect event for someone who refuses to "not" do something.

This is a picture of Daniel's room.  I'm the one that put him in the unfinished basement, but he's the one who chose what it looked like.  When he grew up he married Erica and now his house is beautiful and very organized.

So Daniel was a boy scout. One of my biggest parenting battles had to do with his uniform.  He refused to wear it.  I told him he had to.  He barely complied by wearing it unbuttoned and untucked or for a few minutes until he was out of sight.  It was conveniently lost or didn't fit blah blah blah.  And then he went to the Air Force Academy.  Not only did he wear his uniform properly, he joined the honor guard.  That is the place where cadets don't just wear their uniforms, they obsess over their uniforms.  He was cleaning his shoes with a Q-tip.  I hadn't even seen him polish shoes before.  And do you know what?  He looked good in it.

 As a senior Daniel wrote some advice to future early morning seminary students, "Sleep early and often and take your breakfast to class so you can sleep a little longer."  He was a typical teenager who loved sleeping.  I believe he still loves sleeping, but gives it up to feed babies bottles, fly around at night looking for bad guys, get ready for paratrooper training (which he says means sitting and waiting a long time for your turn,) and who knows what other soldier shenanigans.  Good job Daniel, sleep is for old people.

When Daniel was a young teenager. I asked him to help me reach a rough spot while painting the exterior of our house.  He did it, but he didn't seem exactly calm about the idea.  It was then I realized that he was  kind of afraid of heights.  I mean, I don't blame him.  I had passed the job on to him.  It just makes me smile inside as that fear is really nowhere to be seen.  Bring on the outdoor Christmas lights, pilot.

 Daniel has been a good son.  For one thing, he moved to the state that I live in.  And he's also a good brother.  I appreciate the effort he makes to keep our family connected.

And he has a good dad, and he is a good dad.  Happy Birthday Daniel.  I love you.

 

Happy Birthday Aaron

When my 4th little boy was born I recalled my 17 yr. old self telling a witness that when I got married I wanted to have all boys. (I'm thrilled that I ended up with 2 daughters also.)  It looked like my wish was coming true and what a beautiful boy he was.

Okay, when Aaron was little he was so cute it makes me cry.

  But, looking through pictures in preparation for this blog post pulled up a wide variety of photos.  I'm not saying he's not photogenic, but sometimes the pictures come out with this smile:

This does not warm my heart so I found pictures that show the sunshine in his soul.

Now that we know his cuteness I want to talk about what he teaches me.  He teaches me compassion.  When he was little he brought me gifts...raspberries, flowers, etc. and he melts my heart with love texts and "Thank you, Mom" that brighten my day

He knew this little brother was bored, so he read him a book.

He also took care of real babies.

Even though he had his own problems (black eye) he fed this care bear a bottle (bead toy).

When Aaron was 2 he went around the house helping, he emptied the dishwasher, killed flies, took out the garbage, vacuumed.  When he was a little older he asked his dad for the Stoker roll recipe.  He wanted to make sure he had it written down so he could make them for his family.  He teaches me to work at the skills I want to improve.

Andrew (Aaron's brother) saw a baby picture and said, "Aaron always looked like he was thinking about things."  Well, frankly he was.  He is smart.  Okay I said it.  When he was a toddler and I was talking on the phone, and he thought I'd talked long enough, he'd climb into the cupboards and start eating candy.  Doesn't that scream "Genius?"

It takes some high level thinking to get yourself into your mom's dish water.

Anyone who can stand on a book, with a measuring tape around his neck,
a toothbrush in his mouth, carrying a hoodie is bound for greatness.

From Aaron we also learn that sports are everything.  Well, maybe not everything, but they're important.  We always joke because Paul  asks if the people that the kids are dating play volleyball.  Aaron said, "We act like that's funny, and not everyone needs to play sports, but I love sports.  Shouldn't I marry someone who likes sports too?"

The last thing I learn from Aaron is don't be afraid to have fun.  He's so good at this it may appear that he doesn't take life seriously.  He takes life very seriously, so seriously, he needs some serious breaks from his seriousness.

Aaron was here

Happy Birthday awesome boy.  I love you.

Gifts minus Envy plus Love equals Joy

Well it's that season again...football yes, cooler temps true, but the season I'm really talking about is the season of the College Application.  It's the time when all the sweet and hopeful children who would like to further their education try to put all the complexities of their attributes, gifts, desires, experience, intelligence, abilities and achievements onto a couple of 8.5 X 11 pieces of paper.  If I were running an admissions department at an accredited university I would definitely ask for everything they ask for...ACT, SAT, GPA, etc. but I hope they know they're really disrupting the chi.    This is the time when I hear, "What did the other Stoker's get on their ACT?"  "What was _____'s GPA?"  "What if I can't get into college, will I be the family loser?"  Now I always expect to hear a little grumbling of the sorrow of the damned, "Why didn't I STUDY MORE?"  But what breaks my heart a bit is the narrow measure of gifts and the envy of other gifts and blindness to own gifts.

When I plant a flower garden I seriously would never plant all of the same flower.  I need blooms in every season, cool colors, warm colors, delicate blossoms, bold focal points, dependable greenery, various textures, all coming together in marvelous beauty.

A football team only needs 1 quarterback (well, and maybe a couple of backups just in case the starter is stinkin' up the place.)  The main thing is whatever position you play be prepared, work hard, condition, practice, develop, improve.  You know, "What e're thou art act well thy part" and all.

Growing up in a large family we had a pretty abundant amount of sibling rivalry present.  I was acutely aware of the gifts my siblings possessed that I lacked.  When I watched "Gone with the Wind" for the first time I suspected that I was a little more like Scarlett and my younger sister a little more like Melanie.This was not an unhealthy recognition.  It gave me something to work towards.

A little harder to deal with perhaps is that family members have many gifts in common.  This is where I see some struggle for "How do I fit in?"  I noticed that one of my children played the piano less and less as the other played more and more.  They might have mistakenly supposed that we only needed one pianist in the family.  The truth is that everyone grows up and takes only themselves and their skills with them.  If a person can play the piano they should play the piano and use any other talent they can develop.

I'm always happy to go to Miller family reunions.  The first day is spent reveling in time spent with people like me.  We laugh a lot, dance, sing, laugh a lot, talk about movies and movie stars, laugh a lot, make treats, play charades, and then reality.  Bring on the in-laws because the Millers have lost their keys, forgotten the can opener and gotten lost. (I acknowledge that not every Miller has the same traits, but I'm speaking to trends not specifics.)  And that's what's so great about the plan.  Together we make it beautiful.

So I want my children to love their gifts and love their sibling's gifts and be thankful for the gifts of those that do the things we never could.  There's not only room for all, but a need for all.  Especially if we're trained and ready.  And if we have a pilot/warrior and an economist and a doctor and a dentist and a physical therapist and an educated mother and whatever anyone else wants to do, (or two or more of any of these)  that makes for a nicely balanced community and a very lovely garden.

Be grateful and kind, little princess.

To clear up any confusion in this generation or the next I would like to state that my official and legal date of birth is September 17, 1959.  There's really no way of knowing if this is my actual date of birth, but I'm going  with it.  I had always celebrated my birthday on September 18 until I was sixteen.  I made contact with my birth certificate in anticipation of acquiring my driver's license and discovered, to my horror, that the date listed on said certificate was September 17.   I alerted my mother who responded that they had made a mistake.  She certainly knew what day her first-born child had come into the world.  I was calmed by that reassurance and went on with life with that fun little glitch in my official documents.  As time went on, however, having a legal birthday and actual birthday on different days was rather inconvenient.  Last year I was at the Dr.'s office, and the receptionist was trying to check my insurance. She couldn't find me under 9-18-59. I said, "Oh, well check 9-17-59."  She gave me an exasperated look and said, "You need to get that fixed."  I thought of my future posterity trying to look up my name on Family Search and the potential frustration for them and decided I would go legit.  I have now aligned all written manifestations of my birthday and public declarations with the legal date of 9-17-59.  My parents and siblings don't know this, well, and some of my kids, but let it be known to all that my birthday is Sept. 17, 1959.

The other thing I would like to explain to my children's children's children is that although I was named Laurie Miller as an infant, when I was a young adult (and married I might add) my mom gave me a middle name.  She apparently didn't want me to feel bad that I was the only child without a middle name so gave me hers.  She made it official with an addendum to my birth certificate and everything.  My legal name is Laurie Janet Miller Stoker. ( FYI future genealogists related to me.)

Which brings me to the topic of this post.  Today is my birthday... or tomorrow...I mean today, whatever.  My mom told me that when I was very young she planned a birthday party for me.  It was to be a grand event with friends and cake and presents, but all I did was cry.  This explains a lot.  I have a little birthday princess complex.  There are a few contributing factors, but my goal is to get over it.  I'm the kid that could never sleep on Christmas Eve, even if I knew what I was getting.  The excitement killed me.  There is no time span longer than going to bed December 24th and 6:00 am December 25th  (the designated minimum wake-up time.)  I think I must have an over active anticipation synapse.

Third BD.  My beautiful mother made this amazing elephant cake.

Cute sister Susie and me on my 4th BD.
I'm a little tired because my Dad had taken my friend, Wess,
and I to the Portland zoo on the train.

 So when it's my birthday, even though I try to be mature about it, I exhaust myself with the excitement of it  possibly being a special day.  In other words, I have expectations.  This is a very dangerous situation for my immediate family.  Because it would be presumptuous of me to verbalize these expectations, I keep these expectations a deep secret in my mind.  This is a problem because 1. It is impossible to meet uncommunicated expectations.  2. As the day goes on and my expectations are not met I start to feel sad.  This manifests itself in grumpy behavior and who likes a crabby birthday girl?  3. I feel bad for being selfish and I really am just glad when the day is over.

I remember talking about this to a friend and she said, "Oh for me my birthday's just another day.  I'll probably go to dinner with my family the weekend before and that will be it."  This was such a refreshing attitude to hear.  I don't know if I can quite master her nonchalance, but I'm working toward being a more merciful, grateful and kind birthday princess.

As I approached this day with my new resolve, I noticed something.  My life is already awesome.  So much of it already shouts "Happy Birthday!"  My family may not plan ahead, but they are loving and work pretty hard to make me happy.  And speaking of planning ahead, aren't I the person that mails the birthday greeting on the birthday even though it takes several days for the mail to get there?  Yay for prolonged celebrations!
I have to hand it to my husband this year.  He took my son shopping 2 days ago.  Who can ask for more planning than that?  And don't I have birthday flowers on my kitchen table?   And 8 family members said "Happy Birthday" already.  Here's the big reveal, I don't really care what my family does for my birthday as long as they do something.  They can keep working on the celebration and I"ll work on merciful expectations, gratitude and kindness.

In anticipation of this special day I went around my house and took pictures of some of the things that make my life birthday-awesome.

I have running water.  I do not have to bring my water from a well.
I also have indoor toilets.  My life is great.

I do not have to wash my clothes on a rock in the river.
I also do not have to sit at the laundromat.
I can wash and dry clothes any time I want.

I have air conditioning.  My house is a comfortable 77
degrees in the summer in Atlanta, GA
A miracle?  I say, "Yes."

I have a heater for air and water.  Hot showers any time.

I have a gardenia blooming, plus my encore
azaleas are blooming again...on my birthday.
My life rocks.

I have a car and a driver's license
I can drive to Target clearance,
the grocery store, another state,
and I have GPS so I don't drive the wrong direction for
long distances any more.

I have dedicated parents who love God and family

I have a husband who has loved me for
33 years even when I'm a little
birthday princess.

I have these 9 beautiful babies

And God.  Happy Birthday to me!