Cora Sue at 15 months old

She's still a baby of many names. BA calls her Corabelle. To Evie and Quinn she is exclusively Coco. T calls her Little Nut, which stems from another of her nicknames, Coconut. I mostly call her Cokie Roberts, or shortened to Cokie (sometimes Diet Coke!) I also call her Cor and Cora Sue, even though she's really Cora Nicole. Maybe someday she'll be really confused about what her name really is, or maybe someday she'll love that we love her so much that we can't help but pile her with pet names.

At 15 months old our baby girl loves her bottle, her blanket and her binkie. Like, LOVES the three of those things more than anything in the world. She signs please and more, says Mama and buh-bye, and is super awesome at hollering and pointing until we guess what she wants to eat, or hold, or do. She likes to take my hand and lead me around the house and is starting to run instead of walk, which is always one of my favorite firsts. She has a mouthful of teeth and is finally a rockstar eater after a slow start. Her very favorite food is watermelon, but she also likes hardboiled eggs, black beans, cheese and fishies. She knows how to take off her shoes, her bow and her diaper so things are getting real toddlerish around these parts but we love our sweet Cora more than she loves her three b's, and that's a lot!!!

This was the first and last time she wore these little boots that were worn by both Avers and Quinny because she tore the zipper right off during Sacrament Meeting. Luckily I snapped a couple of pictures of her in them before they were placed (with a tear) in the trash. I can't believe how big my baby is!

Celebrating Winnie

Grandma Winnie had a birthday (and us Wigs LOVE birthdays) so after church we piled into our trusty van with cake, flowers, presents, cards and party hats and headed to Bruce's place in Oceanside to give her some birthday love. It was a delicious dinner by Bruce and a wild party with these crazy kids who scarfed down that german chocolate cake faster than fast. Happy birthday Winnie, glad we could celebrate with you!

Flu Shots Followed By Ice Cream Ain't so Bad

No one likes to get a flu shot but scheduling the appointment at the same time as your best friends and then getting Thrifty ice cream after definitely sweetens the deal. There were no tears from our crew and I'm thinking this is the way we're going to get shots from now on. Sound good, Melissa?!  

  

This was Coco's first ice cream cone that she didn't have to share and I don't know if you can tell on her face (wink wink) but she loved every last bite of this baby!

That baby photo bomber in the background was cracking me up!

 

When they're nice, it's nice

Oh what a delight it is to walk into the girls room and find all four of my babies cuddled together on Quinny's bunk for a bedtime story. I think some of the peace that night was due to Quinny and Everett being separated (those two!) but hey, I'll take the quiet and the love anyway I can. Talmage is such a big brother and really steps up to his oldest child responsibilities, and how cute (and blonde) is little Coco joining in on the story with her siblings. Geez, I'm blessed.

Running Man!

James has a new running goal and it has been thrilling to watch his happiness skyrocket as he accomplishes his daily exercises and works toward his first marathon. It's been 15 years since he ran cross country in high school but he picked up right where he left off and dang! this boy is fast! He ran a 5K in Long Beach a few weeks ago, his very first race, and he placed second to a 20-something who ran cross country at an Ivy League and just recently graduated. Not bad, I'd say! More than anything, he had a blast and the kids and I were so excited to claim him at the finish line. 

We have a 10K and a Half in the near future, and let's not forget about an early 2018 marathon, so we all better get used to seeing running pictures on this blog!

If he was nervous at all you'd never have known it. Me on the other hand...

Maybe my favorite picture EVER of my favorite people. 

Lunch after his big race. We seriously demolished this delicious platter!

Wigginton's Love

A few weeks ago I attended back to school night for my boys on two consecutive Thursdays. Logistically these nighttime parents-only events are a little bit loco with James always at work and the kids always needing to do homework and go to practice, get ready for bed and eat (the nerve! haha!) but I'm always so grateful to be at their school, learning about what they're learning about and trying to let their angel teachers know how much we love and appreciate them.

I'm always impressed that even just a few weeks into the school year I can find their amazing artwork and written words covering the walls of their classroom. Four years into this formal education adventure and I still get a little emotional that my kids are lucky enough to attend school and better themselves. Not every child in the world has the opportunity and our good fortune is not lost on me. Anyway, here are a few of my favorites from that night: 

They've already learned so much this year and especially my little Ever Knight is shocking me with his wonderful writing. He's so proud of his words lately, but it doesn't hold a candle to how proud I am--I seriously have his school papers plastered all over our kitchen! I can tell that first grade will be a year of blossoming for him and I can't wait to watch him succeed.

T's work made me smile as well, but I must admit that the best and proudest part of my night in third grade came somewhat by accident at the very end of the event. I was walking through rows of desks en route to the exit when I looked down and saw T's name jumping off of the page. As I sat there and read the letter the newest member of the class wrote to his teacher I couldn't help but think, "Yes! This is who Wigginton's are! Wigginton's love others and always make them feel welcome!" Talmage had mentioned to me in passing that he sat by the new kid so that he would feel included, and it clearly made a big enough impression on this new friend that he mentioned T by name in his letter.

I want my kids to learn to read fluently at school, I hope they learn to write creatively and solve tough math problems, I wish for them a world of academic success and fulfillment but more than anything, I hope that they continue to love, respect and include the people around them. Wigginton's love, that's what I always tell them. We love people, we love parties, we love a lot of things (just fill in the blank) and I hope they will continue to learn at both home and school how important it is to emulate that love to others. Being a brilliant mind is second to having a good heart in my book, and I love that I saw T's goodness loud and clear that night.

Shavasana

My boys are at school. My girls are at co-op. James is at work and I've parked myself on the blue velvet couch in our living room. The house is cool and quiet and without the big screams from little mouths that usually fill these walls I hear sounds I didn't know existed in my domain--the gentle hum of the breeze through my open window pane, the chirping of baby birds on our birch, an occasional revved engine on Westwood Blvd sure, but mostly I hear the silence of solitude. Being alone is louder than I remember it, and so unusual for me that I'm finding it hard to concentrate, hard to relax, hard to enjoy. I told myself that today would be the day that I ended my writing strike and hashed out some words once and for all and that time is now, I'm alone and only for another 30 minutes, but the hum and the chirps and the revs and yes, still a few uninvited scurries in the attic find me paralyzed and unsure of what I should say or write or do or be.

On Thursday a few friends and I got together for a session of twilight yoga. It had been a typical day in my abode which basically means the kids and I were shuffling from one activity to another at tireless speeds with over-tired crabby girls and excessively-energetic crazy boys. I shoveled food in their faces, the babysitter showed up with moments to spare and I was off to Back to School Night for my Ever Knight. The plan was to leave early because I was, in fact, slightly responsible for this yoga event at the temple but since I'm invariably late at life I found myself changing from jeans to spandex in the parking lot and running barefoot across the lawn to meet up with my sweet friends who had already started their session. I'm admittedly not a yogi. I can't touch my toes, or my knees for that matter, and this was the first formal yoga I've ever done. I downward dog-ed with the rest of them, albeit sometimes modified, but was shocked during the session at how sore the whole thing was making me. I mentioned it to the instructor who I think thought I was joking because seriously, did I really think that these stretches were instantly making my body sore?! Well, no, I guess not. But then what was I feeling?

We closed our yoga session with a 5-minute Shavasana. Previously unaware of what that word even meant, I quickly learned that it's basically the definition found in the dictionary describing Heather's heaven. Lying flat on our backs with soft music playing in the background, we were misted with lavender spritz, had cool rags placed over our faces and feet and were given time to think, and feel and be. It was a struggle to calm both body and mind at first, but before long the whole me was heavy and my soul felt free. It wasn't long before the tears were flowing and I understood that what I had mistaken for sore muscles caused by my stretching was actually tense muscles caused by my life that I am usually too busy, too stressed and too stretched to address. Me is lost in the sea of them at this stage of my life, and while I know that what I'm doing is important and meaningful and the right thing for our family, I still find that in many ways I'm a ghost and a stranger to who I used to be, and maybe even to who I currently am. My body was tense and it took a 30-minute stretch sesh to feel it and minutes of meditation to give it words, and just typing that makes me feel sorry for a body that's strong and beautiful, sacrificing and generous, but so often forgotten and under-appreciated.

I don't know why that memory just came to me as I sit here in silence on my blue velvet couch, but maybe last week's Shavasana is trying to teach me that I'm worthy of a moment to be still and ponder who I am and want to become. Heck, I'm worthy of a moment to be still and ponder absolutely nothing at all! Maybe I'm supposed to learn to exchange my current anxious feelings of "I should be accomplishing something RIGHT NOW" with feelings of peace and love and the knowledge that in allowing myself some time I may be accomplishing something greater than any dishes or laundry or even a great piece of writing ever could. And maybe when my soul feels safe and free and heavy with acceptance even just for a few minutes, inspiration will flow and once again I'll find my words.

There's only one way to find out.

Namaste.