Edie Wadsworth

I was pregnant with her during my last year of residency, which means, she learned early to be a fighter.  During the first year of her life, I adjusted to a new baby, a new marriage, a new job, and a new mortgage in a new town.  I worked weekend nights as an ER doctor in a small town and stayed home with her during the week.  I was able to nurse her until she was six months old, notwithstanding the four episodes of miserable mastitis, that tempted me to stop after 4 weeks.

She was always a spit fire.  She cried for hours in the evenings and wouldn’t go to sleep unless I laid with her in her room every night.  She rattled me and despite the fact that she was my third child, she pummeled my mothering self-esteem.  I read books on parenting as fast as I could read them, but in the heat of her red-faced fits, nothing ever seemed to work.

But, oh was she charming.

She had gorgeous blond curly hair, which she twirled with one hand, while she drank her “chocolatey”, as she affectionately called her chocolate milk, in the other.

When she was four, we thought it might help her stubborn streak if we tried soccer.

During her first game, she stood in the middle of the field screaming bloody murder.  The coach and I ran to her, hoping she that by the sound of her screams, she hadn’t ruptured internal organs, or some other such serious injury.  When we asked her what was wrong, she said,  “EVERYDODY’S JUST RUNNING SO FAST AND KICKING AND IT GETS ME MAD!”.    Yes, my dear, that’s what they call soccer.

So, we took her to ballet and prayed she didn’t get kicked out.

Then, the years at home twisted both our hearts inside out.  We fought and cried and stood our ground until we learned to give in and forgive and give our ground away.

Today, I couldn’t be more surprised and more proud of her tenderness.  She’s quick to see her fault, quick to say I’m sorry, and always finding a reason to laugh.  She LOVES babies and dogs and is so talented with her hands.  She’s a dancer extraordinaire and has a creative streak a mile wide.  All those years of stubborn heartache have come to this—to a thirteen year old who is full of grace.

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I can’t remember my life before her.  She has always been my girl.  I was 22 years old when she was born, a mere babe myself, and I toted her to biochemistry with me when she was a week old.  She went through a lot of schooling with me and now we study her nursing together and I can’t fathom how the years roll on.  She is the girl with my smile and my eyes and the oldest one, who bears the brunt of my hard fought learning.  We have  had our share of heartaches, her and I, but the depths of what we have forged together  through tears and loss and joy and laughter, can never be plumbed.

Her voice and her smile melt my heart and she has a way of knowing and forgiving that are way beyond her years.  She has an old soul and a generous streak and incredible eyes.

She is the funniest girl, and yet, wise and discerning.

I am so blessed to be her momma, to share in her story, to watch as she grows into a woman full of grace.

These two middle girls of mine are similar in so many ways—it’s only fitting that their birthdays are together.

I pray they always lean on each other and learn early that there’s nothing in this world like a sister.

And I pray they learn live always from a place gratitude, eager to serve and love and forgive.

Happy Birthday, girls.  You make me look like I know what I’m doing, when we all know that I’m just fumbling around in the dark, hoping and praying for grace.

May you stay forever young.

I love you,

Momma

Okay, y’all.

It was the best party ever.  I’ve got no lies to tell.  We were celebrating milestones;  Caiti turning 21 and Emme turning 13.  And would you believe me if I told you that there was not ONE decoration.  Not one.  Not even a single solitary “Happy Birthday” napkin.

What we had was this—we had cake and we had karaoke.  

So, before you go and judge me and throw me out of the cute party decorations club, here me out.

When I say we had cake, we had cake, dear ones.

It was delicious and worth every bit of effort.   But, it wasn’t close to being the star of the show. Not by a long shot.

Karaoke is my love language.  And my kids love music, so we decided to have a little fun with a borrowed karaoke machine. (Thank you, Shawna!)  So, after scarfing down some cake, we  scurried downstairs to start the karaoke party because if I know one thing about myself, it’s this:  6 hours of karaoke won’t be long enough.  Amen? Amen.  We were lamenting our lack of decorations because we felt like we really needed a back drop that matched the quality of the karaoke.  That’s when we decided to set Buck up right behind us.  He was perfect in every way.  And quit trying to press play on that awesome photo, it’s a screen shot, a teaser, if you will.  All in all, it was a fantastic ab workout, because I don’t believe I’ve ever laughed so much in one day.  I came upstairs and the look on Stevie’s face was priceless.  I said, “It’s pretty awesome, huh?”, to which he replied, “Oh, it’s awesome, alright.”

Sister and I warmed up on Coal Miner’s Daughter and Stand By Your Man.  And when you sing with all the fervor that we do, even those two’ll wear you out. All of our girls and two of the girls’ friends were there (Bless their hearts) and we knew that if we just kept singing, the teens and tweens would soon join in.  For a good two hours, we tried to entice them with the likes of Delta Dawn, Ring of Fire, Hello Darlin’, and Mama Tried.  There was a lot of eye rolling and eye brow raising, and in general making fun of the mommas.  But, I can’t be deterred by a little critique from a few teenagers.  What do they know about life?  Watch Coal Miner’s Daughter a few more times and then we’ll talk.  So, sister and I took a short break, to rest our voices, and head upstairs for more cake.  As you might have guessed, the lure of the microphone was too much and what do we hear from the basement but a few girls singing some mellow Maroon Five. I can’t say I totally support their choice of music, but those girls can really sing.  We enjoyed hearing our girls lightly whisper their tunes and were  happy they finally decided to embrace the joys of karaoke, even if somewhat begrudgingly.

And this cutie pie can pretend she was asleep, but we all know she was loving every minute of it.

After the UT was over, we begged Taylor to join us.  He reluctantly took his seat between the sisters and sang Mama Tried with us.  Real musicians have little patience for karaoke, but he humored us.

Then, the girls sang some more, but our time was running short so we finally wrung the microphones out of their greedy hands to finish up with a grand (repeat) finale of Mountain Man by Alabama and Coal Miner’s Daughter by my hero, Loretta Lynn.  And if it weren’t for the fact that I would sit in my basement all day singing old school country songs, I’d get myself one of those karaoke machines.  I haven’t had this much fun in years.  Well, not since that time, back in the 90’s, when JamieKnoxville and I wowed half of Atlantic City with our mad skillz and sang, “Did I Shave My Legs For This?”

Caiti, who turns 21 tomorrow, humored us by singing Stand By Your Man with us.  I feel like it’s a right of passage for a young woman much more important than the being able to buy alcohol. We put her right between us and tried not to drown her out, since she actually has a stunning voice.

So, my final thought to you is, who needs decorations when you have this kind of passionate entertainment?  And what could be better for the 13 year old psyche than to karaoke with your mom?

I can’t think of anything.

I was tempted to upload a little snippet of audio for you, but, my computer kept freezing up, and  honestly, whatever you’ve conjured up in your mind is ten times better than the real thing!  I mean, just look at that photo—a picture is worth a thousand videos.  We were in it to win it.

p.s.  If you need high quality entertainment for you next party, you know where to find me.