Today (March 13) is my oldest child's 21st birthday. Yes, to some degree, the fact my oldest child is now of legal age to purchase alcoholic beverages makes me feel old. But not nearly as old as I will feel when my youngest child obtains his driving permit next December. 

Caitlin Rose Turner was born in the mid-afternoon after less than 8 hours of artificially induced labor. (My OB/GYN was concerned that I wouldn't make it the 1.5 hours from my house to Aspen Valley Hospital.) She weighed 6 lbs., 10.5 oz., and was 19.5 inches long. A "peanut," the nurses said. My husband and I were all of 20 years old, younger than my daughter is now.


She was a spitfire from the get-go, but the perfect, ideal "starter baby." Completely clueless as a parent (I had never even changed a diaper before she was born), she and I engaged in frequent battles of will from early on. I clearly remember dragging her away from the dog food bowl, attempting to distract her, and then watching her scramble back to the kibble on her hands and knees, laughing.  

I expected too much. Demanded too much. I know that now. (Hindsight, you know.)

Again and again, she rose to the level of my expectations, and exceeded them. An excellent student (homeschooled from 6th grade on) she blasted through her ACT exam (beating my own combined score by one point) and aced her online college classes. She got married at 18, with her parents' blessing, and charged into adulthood. Her first ever airplane ride (and her hubby's) was out of the country, to Mexico, for their honeymoon.

Last year she finished the required work to receive her associate's degree in early childhood education, wrapping up her finals in the same month she gave birth to her first child, Talen Liam Walker, who turned my life upside down all over again. The girl-child who made me a mother has now made me a grandma, and will bless me twice in September with grandbaby #2. There is, I am convinced, no greater blessing for a parent.

But it's not her ability to procreate that amazes me, or her skills in household management, or holding down a job while caring for her husband and little one ... It's her boundless creativity, imagination, spiritual insight, and sense of humor. She has her own blog now (www.walkerwhimsy.com) where she shares her adventures in parenting, her craft projects, and a dose of wit and inspiration that never fail to make me laugh out loud (LOL, for the un-textiated.)

If your babies are still small, demanding, exhausting, and you feel overwhelmed, believe me, the reward is worth the sleep deprivation, the frustration, the confusion, and the generalized state of terror. The result of all those crazy parenting maneuvers is well worth the challenge!

Happy birthday, Caiti Rose... I am SO proud of you, for so many reasons! You continue to amaze me every day! 

Eighteen years ago today I brought forth my second child, my oldest son.



Be aware, mommas: That little boy clinging to your leg will be a man with his own ideas, opinions (Lord, have mercy!), dreams, and destiny by the time you wrap your head around the idea of him not sleeping in footie pajamas anymore.

Today, I can relate to what Eve said after Cain was born far better than I could back in 1992.


Happy birthday, Ethan. I'm proud of you, and I love you very much. (Which is why I'm such a nag.) Keep your eyes on God, your trust in Him, and your ears tuned to the voice of His Holy Spirit, and your life will continue on the course of peace and prosperity He has planned for you!

At 6:04 p.m. today I will have attained two-score years.
I like the way the French language expresses age...  j'ai 40 ans ... I have 40 years. As if it were an accomplishment!
As someone who was once told by a doctor I needed to give myself permission to take a nap, I think the following list I ran across on Tumblr tonight might be a good set of guidelines for the coming year. I need to post these all over my house as a constant reminder. Care to join me?
Here's to a year of peace, joy, love, and dreams accomplished!

Sixteen years ago today I was enormous. My third baby was due July 10. It was the hottest summer Colorado had experienced in 30 years. It hadn't rained in weeks, and everyone was parched, edgy, and irritable.

On the evening of July 2, I lumbered my small cottage-sized body off to bed, only to be awakened by thunder and lightning in the hours before dawn. I remember thinking, "Finally! Maybe it will cool off!" Moments later I heard our Lab mutt attempting to break through the screened kitchen window to escape the thunder. Since hubby is notorious for sleeping through nighttime emergencies, I hurled myself out of bed and race-waddled into the kitchen. I didn't want the darned dog to shred the window screen. I let the dog come inside before traipsing back to bed, hotter and sweatier and more tired than before. I woke up in labor.

Lucas Cameron Turner made his entrance into the world at Aspen Valley Hospital in Aspen, Colo., a little after 1 p.m. He was a whopping 21-1/2" long, 8 lb-13 oz. baby boy - the largest of my four. The midwife and delivery room nurse commented on his long, dark eyelashes. He had the neck and shoulders of an NFL linebacker. We couldn't even snap the top snap of his Pooh Bear sleeper. Apparently, my intense craving for ice cream sandwiches during my pregnancy was his fault.

"Lukey" was a sweet baby. Mostly quiet and generally peaceful, with the occasional vindictive streak. A vile round of ear infections during his first and second year nearly threw us all for a loop, but God prevailed, and we all survived.

Tomorrow Luke turns 16. He's bigger than me, bigger than his big brother, and almost bigger than his dad. He's a computer whiz, and consistently amazes me with his ability to teach himself complicated computer jargon, and then apply it to fix people's computers. He's also an immensely talented drummer, playing on our church praise team and in a band with his brother.

The quiet, peaceable child has grown into a remarkable young man. He's our peacemaker, sibling counselor, and an incredible writer. His wit, dry humor, and ability to debate an issue with the best are a source of parental  pride, occasional frustration, and frequent raised eyebrows.

I'm so very proud of you, Luke! May this next year be full of blessings for you in every area!
Love you,
Mom