Instead, I’ll stick to my favorite topic: Lillian. In line with my lack of blog posts is my lack of video sharing. I apologize. But I’ve got some doozies to share with you that I hope make up for my short comings.

Today is Lillian’s 22-month birthday. I can’t believe it. Although I miss my teeny, snuggly baby, I can’t help my smile at this intelligent, funny toddler. She fills my heart with so much love.

Here’s three videos that I hope make you smile.

Giggle Book

Bath and Barney with Lillian

Lillian speaks elephant

As I have the previous to two times I’ve attended this conference, I scheduled an extra day or two to take in all there is to do and see in DC as it’s one of the coolest places on earth (in my opinion). The difference this time is now I’m a mommy. To this point, the longest I’ve been away from almost 18 month old Lillian was less than 48 hours. “I can do it,” I kept telling myself, thinking six days would be no big deal. Then Friday night rolled around. I had my alarm set for 3:30am to get to the airport by 5:00 for my 6:20 flight. At 1:30am I had what can only be explained as a panic attack (I don’t think I’ve technically had one before, so I’m not sure what they feel like). My heart was racing, I felt like I was going to vomit…I can’t leave my baby! I spent the next two hours completely beside myself thinking about how I wouldn’t see Lillian until Thursday…and I hadn’t even left yet!

Needless to say I didn’t get any more sleep that night (nothing like a good three hours of sleep to prep you for a day of travel across the country). I showered, finished packing and waited for Grandma Jo (Lillian’s pseudo grandma who came over to stay with her while Trav took me to the airport – she’s a saint) and began to sob uncontrollably. Again, for anyone who knows me this is no surprise. But this sobfest was a ridiculous display, complete with hiccuping waterworks the likes of which have never been seen (even for me). Trav was taken back by this level of blubbering and just let me ooze tears and snot all over him (what a keeper).

I cried all the way to the airport, but managed to gather myself for the ensuing flights. Of course, by this time I’d already made the decision that I couldn’t wait until Thursday to get home. No way.

After some fun in DC, a once again awesome conference and five days away from my loves, I booked it home a day early. Well, I tried to book it home. Flights that should have me home by 12:50 turned in to 4:00, but it was all good as soon as I pulled into the driveway to see my baby girl smiling and waving (which she is exceptional at, by the way) at me.

Immediately I noticed her hair had grown, she was walking even better, had mastered the word “no” (and I mean mastered it – it’s the only thing out of her mouth. Well, next to “duck”) and has picked up some sweet new dance moves from her father.

How did all this happen in FIVE DAYS?! I’m never leaving again.

And for your viewing pleasure, here’s the new dance stylings of Lillian Ro:

Fatherhood is pretending the present you love most is soap-on-a-rope.  ~Bill Cosby

I had 26 Father’s Days with my dad. Not nearly enough as far as I’m concerned, but the one that sticks out the most in my memory is the last one we spent together in 2005. I’m not sure why, but I recalled that somehow my dad had lost or misplaced his baseball glove so I went to a local sporting goods store and bought him a new one. For those of you who must not know anything about me or my family – we’re pretty big baseball fans. Seriously. It’s in our blood. Our St. Louis Cardinals red blood. I’ll continue. I called my brother, Andy, who was living in Lindsborg at the time and told him to bring his copy of “Field of Dreams” to our parents’ house and cue up the classic scene at the end where James Earl Jones (playing the role of Terrance Mann) performs the monologue of all monologues telling Ray (the main character in the film played by Kevin Costner) why people “will most definitely come” to a baseball field he built in the middle of his corn field.

Not long after that scene, we watched when Ray is finally able to have that one last catch with his dad, the one wish that so many of us dream would come true.

Of course I bawled like a ninny watching that with my mom, brother and dad. (I’ve always been an emotional basket case for the record.)

After the credits started rolling, Andy and I brought out the gift bag containing the new glove and like Ray, we asked Dad if he wanted to have a catch. So just as we did countless times as kids, we walked the block and a half to Soderstrom Elementary School’s huge grassy field to play catch. It had been years since I’d thrown the ball around with my dad, and I’m not sure why it hit me to do it that Father’s Day, but I’m glad I did. I think someone was telling me it was important to make this one special.

That August, Andy, his girlfriend Jillian, me and Dad took a last minute trip to St. Louis to catch a few games. We were all busy and debated calling the trip off, but again, I think divine intervention once again came in to play. We made the trip. Our last games with Dad. It was the last year the Cardinals played in “Old” Busch Stadium, the stadium my dad watched being built in the ’60s. The stadium where he took all four of the “Bishy Kids” to see countless games over the summers of our youth. The stadium where he taught me how to fill out a scorecard as we plowed through huge bags of peanuts in the shell and a thermos of Coke. The stadium where all of us would hold on to each other for dear life after a game while crossing bridge that led us to our parking spot (what seemed a million miles from the ballpark). The stadium where, when I was eight years old, the game was on the line in the bottom of the 9th with the bases loaded and (as my dad would tell it) “Katie got hyper!” Oh the memories.

A few weeks later my dad was diagnosed with metastatic carcinoma of an unknown origin. Put simply, really bad cancer. A few weeks after that, my dad died. But before he passed, we made sure he knew that he’d have his place at the New Busch Stadium even if we’d never get to be there with him for a game. We had purchased a memorial brick for him, hoping to take him to a game during the inaugural season and surprise him by showing him his place in St. Louis Cardinals history. Along with a brick being placed at the new stadium, we also got a replica brick. We gave it to him in the hospital one night when things weren’t looking good. I’ll never forget, even though he was so weak and heavily medicated to control the pain, he knew what it was and as his eyes welled up with tears he asked, “So I’ll always be a part of the new stadium?” Sure will, Dad.

To honor my dad the following Father’s Day, we loaded up the entire Bishop family and significant others and headed to St. Louis for two games. It had easily been 15 years since we were all at a game together. We found Dad’s brick and wished more than anything that he was with us.

As more and more Father’s Days pass, I still wish my dad was here to play catch.

Andy arranged “The Natural” – A Suite for Brass, Organ and Percussion (the soundtrack to the film) a few years ago, which he dedicated to my dad. He created a DVD of the performance (composer Randy Newman gave his blessing for a one-time only gig) and at the end is a collection of photos of my dad, our family and the love we all share for the St. Louis Cardinals. It’s pretty awesome.

Now that Travis and I have Lillian, Father’s Day has a new special meaning. Watching Trav with Lillian fills my heart, but there will always be something missing on Father’s Day – a catch with my dad.

More and more words are coming every day. She really loves yelling “Dad!” at the top of her lungs. Seriously. She loves it. Ask Trav.

She is also a bookaholic, which makes mommy VERY proud. Some of her favorites include, Peek-a-Who?, Brown Bear, Bear, Hop on Pop, Hoppity Hop Peekaboo, Barnyard Dance, The Going to Bed Book and Goodnight, Grover. The best part is that she also loves “reading” to mommy and daddy.

And for a baby who was in a full body harness for the first four months of her life, walking seemed like it was a lifetime away. Well kids, it’s time to break out the baby book because Sweet Baby Lillian is off to the races.

Because I work for a nonprofit specializing in education and therapies for children with special needs, I see people every day who believe that anything is possible. They are the ones who “see things differently”, who “change things”. Even further, you will not see a product in this spot. It was not pushing Apple’s latest, greatest invention. It was simply sharing the message that “misfits, troublemakers, ones who have no use for the status quo” are those who make the biggest impact. Simple, thought-provoking, moving. That is what makes this spot so effective. And I for one agree that, “The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world are the ones who usually do.”

Growing up, having a sister who was “different” was tough – especially during our teenage years. Not because I wished she was like all my friends’ sisters (ok, maybe I did a little), but more so because I always worried about how she was being treated by others. Since Sara (my sister) was exactly two years behind my older brother Andy in high school and two years ahead of me, she (thankfully) was never left to endure one of those formidable years without one of us looking out for her – not that we could shield her from all the tough situations. We were lucky though. We grew up in a small town where, for the most part, people were good to Sara. Most of her classmates accepted her for who she was and there were some people in her class that were genuinely nice to her. Of course small school or not, there are always those who make things hard. But like I said, for the most part, she’s always had someone close to her to be her advocate, helping her along her journey. For the last 17 years that’s been her boyfriend Jamie, who through thick and thin, has been by her side. They live exactly one block away from my mom in Lindsborg and enjoy living their lives they way they want to live them. She loves her job as a people greeter at Wal-Mart and is dang good at it, too. Seems she’s doing awfully well for someone who many thought would never move out of my parents’ house.

This week, my job took me to four different schools, from elementary schools to high schools, to film Heartspring’s Autism CARE Walk commercial. The gist of the spot is to highlight the successes that various children with autism have experienced – to show that, just like kids without an autism diagnosis, there are things they excel at and enjoy. One of our stars was voted friendliest student by his entire school. Another loves science. But what touched me the most (and left me very close to tears) was the last stop of the day at an area high school. We went to film Matthew and a bunch of his buddies (all freshmen) on the football team. Their job was to tell the world how special Matthew is and what an integral role he plays on the team as manager. What made this experience so significant is that every one of the boys that surrounded Matthew wearing their Andover Central football jerseys truly cares about him. They weren’t there for their 15 minutes of fame. Each one has been a good friend to Matthew – many since early elementary school. One boy in particular really stood out and I later learned from Matthew’s dad that he has taken Matthew under his wing since fourth grade. Their bond was immediately evident and it was moving. Think back to your freshman year of high school. What was it that most concerned you? For this young man, it’s making sure that Matthew is accepted and treated with respect. How’s that for mature?

Travis and I have often talked about how Lillian will grow up around individuals with special needs. She actually doesn’t have much of a choice since she was born into the Heartspring family. It’s important to us for her to learn acceptance and compassion at an early age. With all the bullying and hate that peppers the news on a nightly basis, it’s our duty to help her see beyond any external characteristics and focus what’s good, what’s special and unique about everyone she encounters - to not see disability, ethnicity, or sexual orientation – but to see that, more often than not, they are fabulous people worthy of our kindness and respect. I was reminded of that Monday while watching those eight boys in Andover.

A reminder to all parents: hate breeds hate and ignorance breeds ignorance. Take the time to educate your children about the Golden Rule. Heck, take the time to remind yourself.

Here’s the finished commercial. I hope you get something out of it.

I’ve made phenomenal friends, recruited volunteers and donors for Heartspring, received quick answers to questions (Twitter is the new Google) and was one of the first ones to know about Michael Jackson’s untimely passing thanks to Twitter and Facebook.

Most recently, the power of social media once again revealed itself to me this last weekend. I should probably start at the beginning…

Thursday, as I drove home from work, I noticed a big ‘ol truck parked on our lawn. I’d seen the same truck around the neighborhood, so I knew they were doing some sort of work (water, electrical, etc), but paid little attention to it (bad move).

Fast forward to Saturday morning. Sweet Baby Lillian was up about 6:30. I had a full day ahead of me, so I thought I’d knock out some housework bright and early. I started my first load of laundry about 6:45, followed by two more. I was pretty proud of myself for taking the bull by the horns so early on a Saturday. Little did I know that bull was gonna buck me  in the very near future.

I use the corner tub in our master bath to house my drying rack (sad, but true), and as I was placing a sweater or two on the rack, a hat fell off (ok, so I also use the drying rack as a clothes tree) and I heard a splash. What the what?! I look down and there, in my nice pretty corner tub, is about two inches of standing water.  At first I thought maybe I’d somehow hit the faucet and turned it on, but then it dawned on me that the water wasn’t draining…and the the water was dirty. I screamed for Trav to take a look only to realize my shower looked the same – as did the other first floor bath tub.

Immediately we called the city as we assumed they were the big trucks that were out Thursday and Friday (since I didn’t pay much attention to it, I didn’t really bother to see the name on the side of the vehicle – again, bad move). The city water guys were out right away and flushed out our lines which solved the standing water issue, but then they told us that we had a big clog somewhere (which is crazy since this house is only seven years old) and we needed to call a plumber.

Thankfully, we have a neighbor who has befriended everyone on our street and he mentioned that the guy who lives next door to him is a plumber and his brother is a sewer guy. A quick phone call later, they were over checking our lines. I’m thinking, ‘Sweet! These boys will do what they gotta do and I can get back to my laundry.’ Wrong.

Trav comes in the front door and states that we’re screwed* (*language edited in case my mother reads this). What our handy neighbor plumber and sewer buddy (we learned they were not brothers, just friends) found was that whoever was doing whatever with those big trucks severed our sewer line and it would have to be replaced.

Now we had no idea what do to because neither Trav nor myself really bothered to pay much attention to the name on the side of the truck (have I mentioned what a bad move that was?). But, our good ‘ol know everybody neighbor did. Ah ha!  A starting point. Of course no one was available to talk to at said company until Monday. This was Saturday morning. So Trav checked out all the flags that had been put in the ground and called every company whose name was on a flag. Nothing. So at this point, we have a washing machine full of Lillian’s clothes just sitting in water (the Girl Scout in me told me to stop doing laundry as soon as I saw the nasty water in my tub), a sink full of dishes (I wish I wasn’t a procrastinator), and a full weekend ahead of me in which I use water for everything. This was bad. Bad, bad, bad.

Thanks to good friends, we were able to shower and bathe our child over the weekend, but still had no idea what we were going to do about the gaping hole in our sewer line – who was going to fix it, who was going to pay for it and when the hell this was all going to happen. That is, until social media saved the day.

In my frustration, I posted on Twitter:

Katie Bishop Grover

Thanks, Diamond Engineering Co, for cutting into my sewer line and not having anyone available to talk to til Monday. Having no water is no fun.

Thinking, we were just SOL until at least Monday (which was also President’s Day and I’m still not sure who is open on this day or not), I about peed my pants when I opened my email Sunday morning to find a Facebook Inbox message from my friend Jason:

Katie, Call me at XXX-XXX about your line that was cut. I have direct numbers to Diamond and will b happy to help u out with this situation. Jason.

HALLELUJAH! Jason, who just happened to see my post on Facebook, has taken care of everything for us. He works for a company that contracts Diamond Engineering and he knew exactly who to call. In fact, he came out himself to talk to Trav yesterday. His main concern was getting our house back in working order.

I’m not going to lie, I was in tears when he called (go on, roll your eyes). You have no idea the weight that was lifted off of my shoulders when I saw that message from Jason.

At 7:30 this morning Trav got a call that our sewer was top priority at Diamond. At 8:30, three men were in my backyard and by 9:30 a backhoe was digging up the earth.

Side note: I really do feel bad for our neighbors – it’s their yard that’s getting destroyed.

So, long story long, social media saved the day (and my sewer). Thank you, Jason, for being my friend.

For those of you who question the use of social media or view it as nothing but a time suck, take notice. Now excuse me, I’m going to spend the rest of the day flushing toilets…because thanks to social media’s help,  I can.

I joked earlier in the evening at my friend Harjo’s birthday party that Baby G could be coming that night. I stress the word “joked” as I was still a good six days away from my due date. But as we drove home at about 10:30, I started feeling off. I wasn’t in any pain, mind you. I just felt, well, weird. Fast forward about a half hour and I was doubled over (as doubled over as you can possibly be at 39 weeks 1 day). Following what we learned in baby class, I got out my pain management chart and started to write down my contractions. The problem with this, my friends, is that the damn things never stopped! Quickly I determined it was time to go (much to the chagrin of my husband who, after a few celebratory drinks at the party was waiting on his frozen pizza to finish baking. Though, when picking between meeting his child and pizza, he wisely chose the baby).

So at 11:45ish, we were off – headed to Via Christi St. Joseph to meet Baby Grover. For those who have picked up my blog since Sweet Baby Lillian was born, you should know that we didn’t find out what we were having. Funny thing is, we thought for sure we were having a boy. Go figure. I digress. So we’re off to the hospital. Being  prepared first time parents we’d had the suitcase in the car for a good two weeks already, so there was no last minute packing, we were just out the door. I don’t remember much about the 20 minute drive to the hospital. By that point, I was just ready for that fabulous epidural that magically takes the pain away, because as you all should know (if you’ve ever met me), I don’t do pain. Hell, I just about pass out a paper cuts. When we got to the hospital, Travis dropped me off at the ER (again, following what we learned in baby class) as it was after midnight. I’ll never forget the gentleman at the front desk as I walked in and announced, “My name is Katie Grover and I’d like my epidural now.” He just laughed and asked,” Is it time?” Which now seems like a silly question to ask. I’m bigger than a house and I just asked for an epidural. What do you think? Geesh.

We got upstairs to the holding pen (for lack of a better term) where they keep all the soon to be moms just to be sure they’re actually in labor. So help me God, if what I was in wasn’t labor I don’t know why any woman would choose to go through such an experience. But, as I suspected (based on the mind numbing pain I was in), it was real labor. My time in the holding pen was also a big blur. All I know is that I couldn’t wait for my epidural, I threw up, and Travis is lucky to still have one hand after the death grip I had on it. The most poignant memory from my time in that room is when they informed me that I was too far along for an epidural. What the what?! Poor Travis. He thought I would flat out refuse to have the baby (which, for the record, is physically impossible – that Mother Nature is hard core).

But instead of freaking out (which I still can’t believe I didn’t), they wheeled me into the actual delivery room and about 3 1/2 hours after arriving at the hospital, I was a mommy. Lillian Ro Grover was born at 3:47 am weighing 6 lbs 5 oz and was 19 inches long. It was the hardest, most amazing experience of my life. And worth every pain-filled second.

It’s hard for me to believe that it’s been one year since that momentous night. The last year has been filled with smiles, tears (of joy), laughter and love (to the point my heart hurts). One year gave me one million (I tend to round up) memories.

What would a birthday post be without taking a look back at the last 12 months?

January: Lillian came home with us on January 18th, wearing the fabulous hat that Steph Barnard made for Baby G. For the record, had Baby G been a boy, I think he would’ve looked just as cute.

February: Lillian was baptized on February 28. She wore the same baptismal gown that her Grandma Bishop, Great Uncle John, mom, aunt and uncles wore.

March: It wouldn’t be March Madness in the Grover house without some ‘Cuse gear.

April: The Easter Bunny didn’t forget that Lillian was born. He stopped in Wichita and Lindsborg to bring her a basket.

May: Lillian went to her first ever WSU baseball game in May. I do believe she inherited her mother’s love of the game.

June: Just five months old and she’s changed so much.

July: Lillian’s first 4th of July was a rain out. But she sure looked festive thanks to the dress Aunt Carin gave her.

August:  Tell me this face doesn’t make you giggle. I know she’s wishing her mother would just stop taking photos already. My response? NEVER!

September: Chubby cheeks and blue eyes, two of my favorite things about Lillian. That double recessive eye color is a doozy. We thought for sure our child would have brown eyes.

October: Some bunny loves me.

November: Lillian’s first trip to Prairie Pines to get the Grover Family Christmas Tree.

December: It’s not really Christmas until you have the hat.

And that brings us to right now, just a little over six hours before Lillian is officially one year old. That’s 365 days of pure joy.

It wasn’t until we went to Upstate New York over the holidays that I realized that Lillian hadn’t experienced snow yet. It was so much fun to watch her face as Travis took her sledding in the toddler toboggan that Grandpa Harry got her.

Of course, I do believe Travis had just as much fun as Lillian did.

When we were there, Trav’s parents were telling us how they were close to breaking a record for snowfall in December as they’d already had 73 inches and the record was 78 or something like that. SEVENTY-EIGHT INCHES! The average snowfall in Kansas is maybe 16 inches. And we don’t even hardly reach that most years.

Needless to say I wasn’t holding my breath for a “big one” as my dad would say (a snowfall of mammoth proportions), and I’m still not. But, we did have several inches fall Sunday night into Monday this week, so Lils got to don her snowsuit for the second time for some romping (ok, sitting) around in the white wet stuff. Seems she likes Kansas snow just as much as New York snow.

And this time Mommy got out from behind the camera (this never happens, folks).

Now, growing up in snow-infested Upstate, Trav is very adept at snow removal. However, a snow blower didn’t make the move with him to the Sunflower State. This really wouldn’t be a big deal, but we ended up buying a house with a four car garage. That, my friends, means a whole lotta shoveling.

Please note, we don’t have a vehicle for the third stall, so that lane gets neglected. I didn’t want to kill the poor man.

So that’s it. I love snow. Love it. Now it’s time for me to return to my glass of wine, snuggle back up by the fire and sleep well knowing that with lows hovering around zero tonight, that snow isn’t going anywhere…at least for one more day.