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| Photo: Amanda, before she learned how to smile |
THEN (mostly):
Though there were five years between Bo and Shana, Amanda was born only 17 months after Shana. She was to be Lila's youngest child, her baby, and the last girl that would be born into our family since that day over 30 years ago. If Bo hadn't had to good sense to adopt his step-daughter, Kimmy (Princess, to me) and share her with us we would have nothing but boys for the last 30 years! As it is, Kimmy is an adult, so all the youngsters in the family are male. I would later have two sons, Tanya would have two sons, Bo would have three sons (and our Princess) Shana would have a son and a step-son, and Amanda would have two sons and a step-son. In our family we throw out that "step" word most of the time. Son/step-son... either way it's a son so why waist any extra breath or complicate things? Also, Lila would raise three foster sons, so we had plenty of boyness to make up for all the earlier girlness, and my dad and Bo looked around one day and realized they were no longer outnumbered. Amanda was soon nicknamed Nana, to match Shana's nickname of Nona, and that was what both of them were called for many years of their lives. "Here come Nona and Nana!" To me they were Baby and Hope.
Amanda was thrust into the chaos caused by Shana's weak lungs. She barely had a moment in the spotlight before Shana was on death's door again, unintentionally sucking all the energy from the family. Still, a newborn as beautiful as Amanda demanded contemplation. Like her sister before her, she was gorgeous. They are a study in lovely opposites. Shana was fair and bubbly. Amanda was dark and quiet. As she grew she gained an exotic quality that caused people to do a double take. She was not smile city, like Shana, but when she smiled it would melt a frozen heart. Mostly she looked at you with deep chocolate eyes, quietly, making you wonder what she was thinking about. In those eyes you could see an awareness, a curiosity, a bank of secrets you could not get to. I knew immediately that Amanda was an old soul.
Hope spent much of her babyhood with an intense, somehow amusing, scowl on her face. It wasn't that she was being hateful, though she was certainly capable of that. It just seemed to be the way her face naturally arranged itself. Even when she was truly in a bad mood, if you let her be, you were safe enough. One of our favorite cousins, Teresa Kay, brought Hope a Care Bear shirt. It had a cloth flap that you could flip from "Today I feel Cheerful" (with an image of Cheer Bear) to "Today I feel Grumpy" (with an image of Grumpy Bear.) I confess that one of my favorite things to do was to switch my nieces shirt to "Grumpy". To me, it suited the scowl on her face, but it always made her, well, Grumpier. So, It became a game for me, trying to distract her enough to switch the shirt to Grumpy without her noticing. Sometimes she busted me and yelled, "Hey! Stop that!" Sometimes I was quick enough and sly enough to get by with it, briefly. She would eventually notice, and there was always heck to pay! She knew exactly who had done that to her shirt and she came after me quarreling as hard as she could and shaking her finger at me. I would pretend innocence, but I don't think I ever fooled her. It was wonderful though when she began to smile more. I remember the absolute joy I felt at getting a photo of a genuine smile on that lovely little face. Eureka! We loved her deeply and dearly, cheerful or not.
When she got a little older, Hope took a look around her and picked up the worries of the world. She didn't express one second of jealousy over Shana's unfortunate limelight, but instead, out of a great love for her sister, her mother, her family, Hope switched places with Shana. Hope became the big-little sister. She showed deep concern for Shana and would fetch cold cloths for her fevered head, bring her glasses of water or juice. It wasn't long before the vibrant little sister had outgrown the less healthy big sister and they looked their switched roles. Some people refused to believe that Shana was older than Amanda.
First thing in the morning, she would come into the living room, wearing her nightgown and a scowl. Often I was already attempting to get the knots out of Shana's hair, but Hope's would have to wait until she was more awake and less grumpy. I told Shana many mornings that she must have made the hair fairy angry because she woke up with the messiest hair on the planet. I would smile at Hope and wish her a good morning. In a very froggy little voice she would drag out, "Gooood moornin'." That froggy voice was one of my very favorite sounds.
When she was about three, I was staying at Lila's and was snuggled in bed with the two little girls, trying to get them to go to sleep. Hope begged for one story too many. I was practically nodding off myself, so I suggested, "Why don't you tell me a story?" I was sneakily thinking I could go to sleep while she was talking and then she'd go to sleep as well, but her cute little girl voice whispered, "A man came home... to see his wife and children...but there was bloooood all over the floor... and there was blooood all over the walls..." We got up and had chicken noodle soup and ice cream and watched some t.v.
She was about 12 when I made the mistake of telling her she had been "Amanda Hope-For-No-More". I thought it was funny because she was the baby of the family and my sister did get a sterilization procedure not long after Hope was born. But I think I seriously hurt her feelings at the time, and I wanted to be able to suck those words right back into my lungs.
She is different these days; almost all smiles but less healthy. It's as though all the illnesses that skipped her as a child have come calling on the adult she now is. She gets really sick, really quickly. It's frightening. She's been rushed to the ER. She's battled sepsis and many strep infections. These days it's sometimes Shana's turn to be concerned.
Today Amanda Hope is a lovely wife and mother. She has a husband and three boys. She's still ultra responsible. She's a hands on mom and keeps her kids as straight as arrows. She loves deeply and laughs freely. I haven't heard her froggy early morning voice in too many years... Maybe I should call her some morning at about 6am, just to hear that croaky "Gooood moornin'." That lovely sound would still be a joy to my heart, because in reality she is my "Amanda HOPE-For-Many-More".
Amanda was thrust into the chaos caused by Shana's weak lungs. She barely had a moment in the spotlight before Shana was on death's door again, unintentionally sucking all the energy from the family. Still, a newborn as beautiful as Amanda demanded contemplation. Like her sister before her, she was gorgeous. They are a study in lovely opposites. Shana was fair and bubbly. Amanda was dark and quiet. As she grew she gained an exotic quality that caused people to do a double take. She was not smile city, like Shana, but when she smiled it would melt a frozen heart. Mostly she looked at you with deep chocolate eyes, quietly, making you wonder what she was thinking about. In those eyes you could see an awareness, a curiosity, a bank of secrets you could not get to. I knew immediately that Amanda was an old soul.
Hope spent much of her babyhood with an intense, somehow amusing, scowl on her face. It wasn't that she was being hateful, though she was certainly capable of that. It just seemed to be the way her face naturally arranged itself. Even when she was truly in a bad mood, if you let her be, you were safe enough. One of our favorite cousins, Teresa Kay, brought Hope a Care Bear shirt. It had a cloth flap that you could flip from "Today I feel Cheerful" (with an image of Cheer Bear) to "Today I feel Grumpy" (with an image of Grumpy Bear.) I confess that one of my favorite things to do was to switch my nieces shirt to "Grumpy". To me, it suited the scowl on her face, but it always made her, well, Grumpier. So, It became a game for me, trying to distract her enough to switch the shirt to Grumpy without her noticing. Sometimes she busted me and yelled, "Hey! Stop that!" Sometimes I was quick enough and sly enough to get by with it, briefly. She would eventually notice, and there was always heck to pay! She knew exactly who had done that to her shirt and she came after me quarreling as hard as she could and shaking her finger at me. I would pretend innocence, but I don't think I ever fooled her. It was wonderful though when she began to smile more. I remember the absolute joy I felt at getting a photo of a genuine smile on that lovely little face. Eureka! We loved her deeply and dearly, cheerful or not.
When she got a little older, Hope took a look around her and picked up the worries of the world. She didn't express one second of jealousy over Shana's unfortunate limelight, but instead, out of a great love for her sister, her mother, her family, Hope switched places with Shana. Hope became the big-little sister. She showed deep concern for Shana and would fetch cold cloths for her fevered head, bring her glasses of water or juice. It wasn't long before the vibrant little sister had outgrown the less healthy big sister and they looked their switched roles. Some people refused to believe that Shana was older than Amanda.
First thing in the morning, she would come into the living room, wearing her nightgown and a scowl. Often I was already attempting to get the knots out of Shana's hair, but Hope's would have to wait until she was more awake and less grumpy. I told Shana many mornings that she must have made the hair fairy angry because she woke up with the messiest hair on the planet. I would smile at Hope and wish her a good morning. In a very froggy little voice she would drag out, "Gooood moornin'." That froggy voice was one of my very favorite sounds.
When she was about three, I was staying at Lila's and was snuggled in bed with the two little girls, trying to get them to go to sleep. Hope begged for one story too many. I was practically nodding off myself, so I suggested, "Why don't you tell me a story?" I was sneakily thinking I could go to sleep while she was talking and then she'd go to sleep as well, but her cute little girl voice whispered, "A man came home... to see his wife and children...but there was bloooood all over the floor... and there was blooood all over the walls..." We got up and had chicken noodle soup and ice cream and watched some t.v.
She was about 12 when I made the mistake of telling her she had been "Amanda Hope-For-No-More". I thought it was funny because she was the baby of the family and my sister did get a sterilization procedure not long after Hope was born. But I think I seriously hurt her feelings at the time, and I wanted to be able to suck those words right back into my lungs.
She is different these days; almost all smiles but less healthy. It's as though all the illnesses that skipped her as a child have come calling on the adult she now is. She gets really sick, really quickly. It's frightening. She's been rushed to the ER. She's battled sepsis and many strep infections. These days it's sometimes Shana's turn to be concerned.
Today Amanda Hope is a lovely wife and mother. She has a husband and three boys. She's still ultra responsible. She's a hands on mom and keeps her kids as straight as arrows. She loves deeply and laughs freely. I haven't heard her froggy early morning voice in too many years... Maybe I should call her some morning at about 6am, just to hear that croaky "Gooood moornin'." That lovely sound would still be a joy to my heart, because in reality she is my "Amanda HOPE-For-Many-More".
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| Photo: Amanda, after she learned how to smile Photo By Skitch |
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