The Most Amazing Brother Ever

Today is the birthday of the greatest brother whoever walked the Earth- my big, brother Chris. He and I have very different views of him, which I think is pretty common among any two people. Today, Chris is 39 years young, and has already accomplished more in life, with such great success, than I will ever achieve. Besides being tall and gorgeous (I used to love watching the girls fawn over my brother), he is an amazing Dad, fiercely protective of his family, managed to marry a wonderful woman willing to put up with our family's quirks, and is phenomenal at matters of business.

My big brother was not thrilled with me at first. I heard stories of him trying to dump me out of the cradle and push me out of my Mom's arms. As soon as I could move, we transitioned into a pretty common brother/sister relationship. We were best of friends one day and worst enemies the next. Having kids of my own, I understand now how this must have driven my Mother to the brink of insanity. My brother stood up for me to the bully, and included me in explorations of the woods and fun time with his own friends when I had nothing to do. My brother let me sleep with him for weeks when I was terrified and tried to get me to wear jeans on the first day of middle school so I wouldn't look like a dork in my dress... I didn't listen, but gosh I wish I had. My brother used to pick me up from school or drop me at a friend's house when he could drive and I couldn't. He moaned, he groaned, but he did it anyway. My brother taught me 'the rules' of drinking in high school- number 1 rule- don't embarrass him. (I broke rule number 1- a lot!)

Today is the day we celebrate him! His fantastic arrival in this world and his very presence that adds value to everyone he touches. I hope in the next 39 years, my brother learns to value himself as much as others appreciate him. I wish him the confidence in the love of a family who would walk through fire for him. I wish him the success he deserves as he embarks on the scary journey of starting his own business. I wish him the moments to stop and smell the roses (sorry about the cliche), but I wish him the gift of appreciating the moment in the moment, not in hindsight. Jack will only make his first hits once, and Addison will only dress up like a princess for so long, and there may come a time where he and his wife won't be able to dance on the back patio. I wish for him to go exploring like we used to do, build a fort out of an abandoned sheet of plywood left in the woods, build a soapbox derby car, lay on your back and stare at the clouds or the stars, and bring home flowers either picked from the road or picked up as an afterthought at the grocery store. Be as grateful for each breath on this Earth and accept that everyone you touch, is touched forever by your intelligence, sincerity, love, and truth. Thank you for always showing me how to be a better person, and for loving me and accepting me, even though I am a quirky annoyance (aka little sister!)

I love you Chris! Happy Birthday!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Happy St. Patrick's Day. Today I miss Savannah! I miss the town shutting down to join in celebration. I miss the bands in the streets, the kids clammering to see the parade and finding nothing eerie about sitting next to a cemetary. I miss laughing at the college kids stumbling on the cobblestones because they have had too much to drink at 10 AM. I miss holding Phil's hand as we walk and enjoy springtime in Savannah and stealing kisses whenever I want. I miss crazy, expensive St. Patrick's Day t-shirts and buying 25 cent beads for $5. (I still have the beads!)

Those Special Moments...

Shea Austin is growing up! Sometimes it makes me sad because every time I turn around... POOF! Another sign she is growing up. This weekend she donned her social butterfly wings and fluttered around Eustis seeing one friend after another. Friday night she had Ari sleep over at our house, Saturday she had Morgan's 'Fancy Nancy Birthday Soiree' (hence the beautiful get-up) and spent the night Saturday with Elizabeth. Surprisingly, she was not grumpy on Sunday- but did still insist on wearing her Fancy Nancy gear. Shea now talks about things with meaning. She discusses her hair- the long, blond locks she is terribly proud of, but refuses to let anyone near with a pair of scissors. She has informed me that pickles are 'blehhck', and on Sunday we had a long conversation about the injustices of being the baby of the family. Shea is now capable of cleaning her own room and doing other chores. She is interested in gardening and asks me questions about the different plants that are growing. She can TELL TIME, count by 10s and 5s, and can tie her own shoes- even though she is still amazed that Mommy is so much better at it! Next time I turn around, we will be arguing over the same things I argue with Ryley and Casey about- no you can't wear make-up, yes those shorts are too short, and no boyfriends- yet! Right now, I am enjoying the five-year old arguments- who loves who more, why can't I wear my princess shoes on my scooter, and my favorite- plaid and stripes do match Mom! If Shea is growing up this fast for me- I can only imagine what is happening for the rest of you!

You are my Shea-shine- my only Shea-shine.

You make me happy when skies are grey.

You'll never know dear, how much I love you!

Please don't take my Shea-shine away.

You know that saying about an old woman and cats? Does it apply to men too?

Last Christmas we lost Chubby, Phil's bulldog and longtime companion. Chubby had been through a lot with Phil- lived in Ohio, Georgia, and moved to Florida with us too. Chubby was a messy dog- slobber everywhere (a disgusting mass of goo!), hair everywhere, and finicky as the day was long. All in all, he was a great dog and we have some great memories of him. He is now safely above our refrigerator until Chubby's Garden can be started in the backyard.

My husband has always despised cats. I never heard him say a good word about a cat, and this always saddened me, because I am much more a cat person than a dog person. However, being a Mom of 4 has made me a 'no pet' person and I really understand why my Mom always said no. Anyway, to my shock, Phil came home last spring and asked how I felt about him bringing home a cat. I was really glad I was sitting, or I would have fallen over. Apparently, at his office, several stray cats had started hanging around. Phil became attached to Smokey. "This cat is different," Phil would say. And Phil would also tell me that Smokey was turning white already in the face and paws, so Smokey would be a great 'transition' pet since he had to be old. So, Smokey came home and he has been a wonderful pet for all of us. Phil had a new buddy. To me Smokey meant a stall on the timeline of getting a new bulldog and the agreement was no new pets until Smokey passes. Of course, when I took Smokey to the vet, we discovered that his is not old, he is actually only about 3 and I was also informed that the vet is currently serving a 26 year old cat. This discovery led to a rant-filled phone call to Phil reminding him of our deal and making sure he understood that our grandchildren are going to get to meet Smokey!

Of course I tapered off with the ranting, and we started thinking that maybe Smokey would like to have another cat around to play with while we were gone during the day. We went to the Humane Society to find them kitten-free and added our name to the waiting list. The next week, I was driving home from Lowe's and the friend we hire to help with the yard started yelling. "Mrs. Latta, Mrs. Latta, that guy over there is throwing kittens out the window of his car!" I said, no that he must be mistaken, the car must have stopped for the 'squirrel' I saw running. No, that's what Caleb had thought too until he saw a second kitten being chucked out the window.

I turned the car around and we began to search for the kittens. The white one was easy to spot and we snatched her up quickly. But we couldn't find the brown one. As we went further into the woods, the kitten ran further from us- it seemed hopeless. Of course the girls were ga-ga when we got home with a kitten. She could barely fit in the palm of your hand. Phil was not happy, until he came home from riding and saw how adorable she was and so we named her Bella.

The next morning the temperature had dropped 45 degrees. I was taking Molly to CCD and she was talking about the poor little kitty left in the cold woods. So, we pulled over so Molly could meow, just to see what would happen. We didn't hear anything at first, but as we drove another 15 feet from where we had last seen the kitten, Molly meowed again, and the kitten started screaming back at her. I was able to trample down about 10 feet of brambles to get to the kitten and called Phil, who promptly came and grabbed the kitten. He named her Atilla because she attacked everything in his truck, much like Atilla the Hun.

I had several offers from people to take at least one of the kittens, but who won't let one go? Phil- the anti-cat man! So we went from one transition pet, to a house of three cats. The two new kittens provide hours of endless entertainment, and Smokey has adjusted as well as can be expected. Now, instead of watching my husband grow old with his dog, he will be the Ol' Man with the Cats!

I Got Tagged!

I got Tagged by Becca. Since I am not very involved in the Blogger world, I really do not have anyone to 'tag' after me. But, Becca wanted to see how I have aged and the requirement was a self-portrait. Since I am sitting at school, I really can't shoot a self-portrait, but either Phil or one of the girls took this just a few weeks ago and it will have to do. I still prefer to be behind a camera rather than in front of it- can't you tell? Am I off the hook now Becca?

The Value of a Dream

At Christmas my husband presented the girls and I with tickets to see Taylor Swift on March 1. We were thrilled, excited- especially the girls because Taylor Swift is one of their idols. We carefully put away the tickets and began a large countdown... 2 months until we go to the concert, 1 month.... etc. etc. Somewhere in there, my husband forwarded me an e-mail from Taylor Swift's management company. Somehow, he had gotten us backstage passes. As many of you know from my blogs and our life, my husband can come across as a gruff, tough guy. But let me tell you, he is nothing but a puddle of goo on the inside... this is what he wrote...

PLEASE READ BEFORE YOU DELETE. I am sorry for the caps, but I had to try my best to get your attention. If you please take the time to just read my story, I would be appreciative beyond words. I am the step father to 4 of the most incredible little girls one could meet. I married their mother after I had been single for 36 years. I must say I was really set in my ways. The adventure we all embarked on has been one filled with incredible ups and downs. Ten days after getting married, we moved from Savannah, Georgia to Central Florida because I took on a new job. The family moved with me without blinking an eye. This is the first time my new wife or the girls had ever done something of the sort. It was not easy for them to leave their comfort zone, but they did. One year later, my wife and I found a building lot, purchased it, moved again, switched schools=again, and started building our own home. When I say building our own home, I mean, my wife and 4 little girls. That was not anything anyone was ready for. There were a lot of missed activities, late nights, nights without good night kisses, having to deal with a grumpy step dad because I was stressed out from working 40 hours a week and trying to build a house too. But through it all, they remained strong, positive and always supportive and full of love. They would clean up as their mother & I would make the mess. Finally the day came,almost a year later, we moved into the new house, and changed schools AGAIN. This meant new friends, new teachers etc. Through it all, they remained strong, positive optimistic and most of all, full of love. One of the things that helped them get through this is their love for music and their love for Taylor Swift. My 5 year old knows most of the words, and several made up ones, to almost all of her songs, and loves to belt them out whenever she can. They really are awesome kids. I never thought I would be able to learn so much about unconditional love from 4 little girls, but they have taught me more in less than 3 years, than I have ever learned in the previous 36. I won't ramble on any more and get to the point. For Christmas this year, I purchased 5 tickets, (daughters and their mother) for the Florida Strawberry Fest concert on March 1, 2009. I know you probably get a million emails asking this same question, but I would give or do anything to be able for these girls to have a chance to meet Taylor for a quick photo and autograph. They deserve it so much and have asked for so little after giving so much. If there is anything that you might be able to do to help with this, you would make all of the lows over the past couple of years seem so small for these wonderful little girls. They deserve it, and so much more. Thank you for your time, and taking the time to read there story. God Bless, and Merry Christmas. Best Wishes, Phil Latta

Eleven Years and a Day

Yesterday we celebrated the 11th anniversary of the arrival of our first daughter. So today is the first opportunity I have had to catch my breath and reflect on the impact she has made to my life and what the coming years mean. After all, the gift wrap is thrown away, the leftover cake is on the counter (although I am sure there won’t be any left by the time I get home tonight!)

Eleven is double digits. It seems more significant than ten because eleven is heading to middle-school, eleven is discovering puppy love, eleven is wanting a straightening iron for a birthday gift, eleven is wearing junior’s clothes, wanting independence, and POOF- becoming a pre-teen complete with the drama and the attitude.

The past eleven years have gone by so quickly that my head spins. I worry that the moments I captured with the camera in my mind will fade, that they will become dim and I will confuse this magnificent being with one of her sisters. (Goodness knows my Mom still tries to make me believe I was the one who loved mashed potatoes when it was my brother!) The first time she smiled, the look on her face when she was tubing, or driving a go-cart for the first time. Tears when she moved from a friend. The possessiveness of the first time her baby sister came home. The wonder of cooking with her Grandma. The focus of homework, and the pride of a straight A report card. Catching her watch herself in a window- admiring herself for the first time.

I know she struggles with her identity in a family of four girls, and unfortunately, with being the first, we experience firsts along with her. How are we going to respond to sleep-overs, or going to the movies with a friend (without a parent), or spending money, name-brand clothes. Like I said, it makes my head spin! My husband laughs when I share these concerns and just tells me to hang on, that we haven’t seen anything yet- high school is coming up quickly.

I still remember the first time I saw her, this magnificent daughter of mine with her olive skin, dark eyes, and gorgeous auburn hair. I wanted her to look like me. I wanted her to have some outward sign that she was mine. I tried convincing myself for years that I saw this of me, or that of my Mom, but even I had to give up the dream because this precious girl is completely her Dad’s side of the family. I remember not being able to sleep unless she was in my room, then she had to be in my bed. I remember going days without doing laundry or any other household chore because I had to hold her at all times. I didn’t experience that with any of the other girls. My other daughters I could put in the swing or the bouncy chair and leave them be to get this done, or that done.

The road with my daughter has not been easy and in ways unseen to the naked eye, she is exactly like me. She is eager to please others- a little too eager, like me. She cares too much about what other people think- again all me! She would walk through fire to help a friend… this is a trait I am proud of! My daughter has been through a divorce, several moves, and diagnosed with a chronic illness- things that would make adults crumble and many days she came darn close- but she fights. Sometimes she rages against me, and many times I have crumbled in my closet in tears. Sometimes she rages against herself and again, I crumble in my closet in tears.
I worry about this daughter of mine. I worry that she will give up on herself. I worry that she will give up on me. I worry that she will face disappointment that she can’t handle. Of all my girls, she is the one I can see waving good-bye to for college and then only seeing her every other year for the obligatory 2 day visit home. I pray for this daughter of mine. I pray that she enjoys her life, that she really lives her life, that she reaches beyond the stars. With this girl, anything is possible and wherever she goes, a part of me will go with her.