Dear Claire, months . . . er, 11 - 15ish

Dear Claire,

Oh darling third child . . . I love you so much.  It's been a long time since I've written a letter and I don't even know how to sum up the last four months.  Had I written monthly, every single letter would have been very different.  You've transformed from an easy going, smiles-all-the-time child to a scowling, has-her-own-opinions-and-her-own-timeline child.   You're not difficult.  Sometimes I think you are, until I remember that I'm just comparing you to how you were four months ago, and not to truly difficult children.  You've just developed an attitude.  I think it will serve you well in the future, but right now it just makes things more challenging.  You scowl at every new person you meet, simply because people laugh at you every time you do it.  Along with your attitude has come this high pitched shriek that I have nightmares about.  It's your way of being heard in a noisy house with two very active brothers,  I know.  Nonetheless, your dad and I cringe every time we see you winding up!

One thing that hasn't changed is that you still LOVE me.  You prefer me to anyone.  Even when one of your grandmas is around, you eventually make your way back to me.  I love it when we see each other for the first time when I get home from work, or when you wake up.  Today was probably my favorite.  Your dad got you up from your nap and you heard my voice in hall.  "Moooom!" you screamed.  You can mimic your brothers' way of calling me so well.  You scream "Moooooooom!" from your crib each morning and after every nap.  I don't even know that you think of it as my name as you do a way to get someone's attention.

Today, though, I heard you scream it from your room as Dad was changing your diaper.  I peeked my head around the corner into your room and then pulled back real quick.  You gasped and then gave this low, continuous chuckle that made both your Dad and I laugh.  I feel the same way about you.

The lessons I'm learning so far in 2013 revolve around expectations of relationships and, well, not to have them.  Actually, no . . . I wouldn't actually say that I'm learning this in 2013.  I would say that I'm realizing this, after 34 years of experience.  Don't place expectations on relationships, because they'll likely be unmet and you'll often walk away disappointed.

The exception to this rule is, of course, my relationship with your Dad.  My expectations of what our marriage would be like have far surpassed anything I had hoped before I met him.  I hope you'll feel the same way about your husband someday.

I know that the paragraph before last makes me sound bitter or jaded, but it isn't meant to.  I guess I'm just more aware.  Whether it's friends or family, often things just don't turn out the way you think they will.  Friendships that you are sure will be close forever drift apart, simply because of circumstances or geography.  The expectations you have of how relationships with family will play out aren't always met.  There are also acquaintances that you never really expect much of that become some of your best friends.  Had someone told me this 15 years ago, I would have scoffed, thinking that I had control over these things.  But there are some things in life that just happen.

I tell you this because I sometimes wonder what our relationship will be like 20 or 30 years from now.  Will you call me?  Will you see me as a nag?  Will you hold a grudge toward me about something that I said when you were 6, that you just can't let go of?  Will we be friends?  Will you admire me?  Will you talk to me about your classes or relationships?  It's so hard to imagine that you, for whom I make every decision now, will someday be completely independent from me.

Will we get together for lunch?  Will we live close to each other?  Will you ask for my advice?  Will you ask me not to give so much advice?  I will try not to be overbearing or worry about this too much.  But if you're reading this right now and you're 30, give me a call, will you?

Love,
Mooooom!

Dear Claire, Months 8, 9 & 10

Dear Claire,

You have become super chatty.  Some might say that makes you a lot like me.  We'll see.

The other night, I was spending some time with you before bed and you kept looking at me and saying "Daba! Daba! Daba!"  You said it with such conviction that I felt like I should know what you're saying.  My interpretation was: "I'm so tired, and I'm doing my best to stay awake so that we can chat for a while."

You've also started saying "ga ba bye" every time someone leaves or is headed toward a door.  We wonder if it's just a fluke, or if you really are saying "Go bye bye."  Or maybe you've just learned that when you say "ga ba bye" you have four people who stop,  smile and give you all of their attention.  That could be it, too.

I love our chats now, but I really look forward to our chats some day.  I love talking with your brothers and I know I'll love talking with you.  It makes me think a lot about what my relationship with you three will be like as we get older.  I picture us as good friends, but I push those expectations out of my mind almost as soon as they enter.  I've learned in my 34 years of life that expectations about how relationships will be often leave me disappointed, so I try to not to expect much. But I can hope, can't I?

Your "baby-hood" is almost over and the toddler stage is quickly approaching.  Just typing that puts a lump in my throat.  You've taken two steps on your own now, but only a few times.  Just like you have with everything else, you're taking your sweet old time.  You have just a tiny bit of hair.  Enjoy it while it lasts though . . . give the genes on our family, you'll eventually have more hair than you can handle.

All four of us are totally in love with you, Claire.  The boys take care of you so well and sometimes your dad and I just look at you and then smile at each other in disbelief over how beautiful you are.  We love you so much!

Love,


Mama

Claire at 9.5 months

At 9.5 months, Claire . . .

. . . weighs 21 1/2ish pounds and measures 28 1/2 inches.  Is that right?  I think it is.  I have trouble keeping it all straight.

. . . loves peas and peaches.  Does not like pineapple.

. . . Will stand on her own for a minute or two at a time.  She's taken 2 steps on her own, but really had to be coaxed.  She never falls back to the ground.  She slowly lowers herself and sometimes pauses half way down in a way that makes it look like she's practicing the wall sit.

. . . sleeps 12-14 hours at night and still naps twice a day. Since she's the third child, we're aware of how lucky we are.  Though, she really does okay if we skip her morning nap, so I think it's probably on its way out.

. . . wears 12 - 18 month clothing.

. . . continues to be the happy, easy going baby that she's always been.  Sometimes I can't even believe how great she is.

. . . has a smile that will light up even the darkest of rooms.

. . . stops whatever she's doing and crawls furiously whenever she hears the door open.  Seeing her dad or brothers come in induces arm flapping and squealing.

. . . squeals whenever we take the gate down because she knows it means we're taking her downstairs to play with her brothers.  She loves those boys.

. . . makes a funny little gasping noise (that so reminds me of Bennett) that makes us laugh every time.  Between that and her stink face, she knows how to make us laugh.

Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing

I pre-ordered Thoughts to Make Your Heart Sing soon after I learned that it would be available.  It arrived yesterday and Ben and I spent a while looking through it and reading bits and pieces.  I love it.  So does he.
 

Dear Bennett, Month 36

Dear Ben,

I cannot believe you are three.  I'm sure I'll say that every year, but I'm stunned by it. I'm not sure I've met a 3-year-old cuter than you.  There are so many things that you do and say that make us smile.  The voice that you use when you're pretending with your toys, is this deep throaty voice . . . and it applies to any imaginary character or situation.  The voice you use when you talk to Claire is high pitched and, well, a little bnoxious.  You also have this quiet, shy voice that you use when you're asking for something that you know you know that you probably shouldn't have.

You started preschool and you started using the potty all in one week this last month.  Potty training went remarkably well.  We've only had one accident at night and none during nap time.  You've had relatively few daytime accidents.  I can't help but marvel at how easy it's been.

You started preschool without problems, too.  Every day when I pick you up, you say, "I had fun!" and little else.  Every so often, you'll mention the name of another child that you play with or what you had for snack, but that's about it.  Your teacher says you're doing well, so I guess I'll just take her word for it.

I still sing to you sometimes at night.  You ask for it regularly and it makes me feel good that you like it so much.  Someday you'll realize that I don't sing well, but until then, I'll oblige.

One of your favorites for me to sing is "Step by Step."  Here are the words to the chorus:

Oh God, You are my God
And I will ever praise you
Oh God, You are my God
And I will ever praise you
And I will seek You in the morning
And I will learn to walk in Your ways
And step by step You'll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days

And I will follow You all of my days
And I will follow You all of my days
And step by step You'll lead me
And I will follow You all of my days 

You always sing this one with me and some of my most special memories with you will always be laying with you, almost nose-to-nose, while you sing "I will follow You all of my days." Every time we sing that together and I hear your little voice singing the words "I will follow you all of my days," tears well up and I pray that it will be so.

I love you Bennett!  Happy Birthday!

Love,
Mama

Claire at 8 months old

At 8 months old, Claire . . .

. . . crawls faster than we can keep up.  She'll crawl a few yards and then stop to look back and see if anyone is coming after her.

. . . pulls herself up on pretty much anything, whether it's stationary or not.

. . . semi-cruises, but mostly around things and not really between two things yet.

. . . when crawling, pushes her self up on the soles of her feet and using only one hand so that it looks like she's about to get up and walk away.

. . . has once again, found her voice.  Every time we think that she couldn't get any louder, she proves us wrong.  She jabbers like crazy.

. . . really missed her brothers while they were gone last weekend and looked all over for them.

. . . wears 12 month clothing.

. . . will clap her hands, but only when she feels like it.  Never on demand.  She sometimes uses clapping to sign for more.  If we don't see her signing that soon enough, she just shoves both fists into her mouth and cries.

. . . loves cheerios and peas and would probably eat them in unlimited quantities if we let her.

. . . also likes bananas and peaches, and would probably like them more if it didn't take so much effort for her to get them into her mouth.

. . . enjoys gnawing on wooden toys.  I think she enjoys the sound that her teeth make on them, too.

. . . still sleeps 12 - 13 hours at night and takes 2 hour-ish long naps during the day.

. . . nursed for the last time on her 8 month birthday.  She's doing better with it than I am.

. . . raises her arms high above her head about 30% of the time when someone says, "soooo big."

. . . continues to be super agreeable and easy going, but has shown a little more fiestiness that I think is preparing us for what is yet to come.

Dear Bennett, Month 35

Dear Ben,

There's a game that we like to play together called "Scavenger Hunt."  It's really good for when I'm feeding Claire or trying to keep your mind off of getting into trouble.  It's pretty simple:  I call out a shape or color or letter and you have to go put your finger on an object that matches my description.  For instance, I'll say "go find an orange triangle" and you'll run all over the place looking for the puzzle piece or block that is both orange and has three sides.

The best part of this game is that every time I give you a challenge you respond immediately with, "Oh, that's easy."  And then you run off to find it.

Oh, that's easy.

There are so many things that come easy to you.  You're smart, strong and capable.  There are things, however, that don't come as easily.  Like . . . sitting still.  And obeying.  And not hitting.  There are moments when I see teeny glimmers of hope.  There are times when I ask you to do something and you respond with "Okay, mom."  Or I ask you to NOT do something and you say, "Alright."  These moments don't come along very often, but I treasure each one.  And someday, these moments will come easily, too.

 One of my favorite things to watch is how well you play with Claire.  She LOVES you and she looks as if she won the lottery each time you walk into the room.  You sometimes play a little too rough, and I have to step in, but she doesn't really seem to mind.  I walked into the room yesterday and you were sitting on the chair and she was sitting on the floor below you.  You were gently popping her in the head with the sole of your foot, just enough to make her rock back a little.  She laughed each time you did it and the game persisted for about 10 minutes.  It was so funny to watch.  You two have a very special relationship.

You have a fun relationship with Jack, too.  You look up to your big brother and get upset when he doesn't let you play with him or doesn't acknowledge what you have to contribute.  When you're getting along, though, you two invent games and stories that entertain your dad and I to no end.  Together, you invented a game this week called "Come and get me whoopsie."  One of you yells "come and get me" and the other runs after him.  Then the caller jumps out of the way and yells "whoopsie" as the runner flings onto the bed.  So, so funny.

I love you so much, Ben.  I love your honesty and your playfulness.  I love how you take care of your sister and how much you admire your brother.  I love it that when I ask for help, you jump at the chance.

There are some things about being your mom that are difficult, but loving you is not one of them.  Loving you is easy.

Love,
Mama

What I shouldn't be doing . . .

. . . is blogging.  I have approximately ONE MILLION projects on which I should be working, but this sad little blog has been neglected long enough.  It's hard to remember a time in which I wrote here daily.  It was a different life. 

Here's a hodgepodge summary of the last two weeks:

Jack's at VBS right now, so I've been working the last few nights from Panera.  Our church does a fantastic job and I'm so glad that it fell after camps were over so that we could bring Jack.  He asks every night if we'll be able to do it again next year!

Our summer youth camp season ended on August 3, which is the earliest it's ever ended.  The last week was rough, for so many reasons, including, but not limited to, the fact that all three kids had a mystery virus that caused alarmingly high temperatures for all of them.  That wasn't fun.  Summer is a crazy time and being forced to slow down and take care of them ended up being a good thing, but was still stressful.

The Sunday after camps were over, we left on vacation, but now we're back at it.  We have tons of cross country camps, soccer camps, rental groups, etc. and  we have adult and family retreats from the end of August through the beginning of October.  And then we start planning for winter camps, spring retreats and next summer.

Vacation . . . I don't really think "vacation" is the right word for a trip with three young children.  Don't get me wrong.  We had fun.  It was just a lot of work.

I didn't pack my usual bag of games, toys and snacks for the ride up.  I just bought a few new DVDs.  They love to watch movies in the car and I wasn't going to fight it.   All the way there.  All the way back.  Claire slept and played with the toys I handed her.  4 1/2 hours with no stops . . . easiest trip ever.

We rented a house near the campground where Kyle's entire family camped.  And while it was fun to go to the campground and beach, I was SO glad to be in a house and not in a tent or a trailer.

Claire is full out crawling and pulling herself up now, so I think a dusty campsite would have been rough.  And I'm convinced that my two-year-old ran out into the road every time we were there, simply to see the panicked look on my face.  The house was perfect for us and we enjoyed getting away. 

We hiked up to the overlook in Boyne City and it was beautiful.  Getting three kids up to the top (mostly the two youngest) was difficult though.

Ben and Claire started this way:

 And ended this way:

Yeah, that's Kyle carrying both of them.  Almost 500 steps.  Super fun for him.

But the view at the top of Lake Charlevoix was lovely.

We tried to get a "cousins" picture, but this was the best that we could get Ben to do.

I celebrated my 34th birthday while we were up there.  It was kind of a crappy day.  I just wasn't feeling well, and nothing really went as planned.  Kyle had scheduled a massage and facial for me that day, but I got a sunburn earlier in the week that would have made both of those things uncomfortable.

Oh, the sunburn.  I haven't had a bad sunburn in so many years.  I used to get them all the time.  I wear sunscreen constantly, but my back just wasn't used to that much direct sun for the 2 1/2 hours we were at the beach that day.  Even with SPF 50, I didn't stand a chance.  I had chills and felt sick almost all night and it made me uncomfortable for most of the trip.

Even though I got that sunburn, we did have some good beach time.  The boys played in the water with Kyle, I sat and dug a disturbing amount of sand out of Claire's mouth.  I sat at the edge of the water with Claire for a while and just let the waves of Lake Charlevoix splash over her legs and belly.  She was a little unsure at first, but seemed to really like it eventually.

We did get a chance to play miniature golf . . . which was pretty much the only thing Jack requested that we do while we were there.  Kyle beat us all.  I did get a hole in one . . . though I didn't even know it because as soon as I hit the ball, I saw Ben splashing in the bottom of the waterfall and ran after him.  I still kind of wonder if Kyle just hit it in the hole for me because it was my birthday.  At any point on the course where there was water, either Kyle or I had to be standing right with Ben to make sure he didn't . . . well . . . go for a swim.

I took family pictures for Kyle's sister and brother-in-law and nieces.  I worked on a few pictures while the kids were napping one day, but they're now sitting here as one of my unfinished projects.  It made me wish I had hired someone to come take our family pictures while we were there.  I have tons of great pictures of other people's families.  Very few of my own.

On our last day, we went to Petoskey and let the boys choose any toy (within reason).  Jack chose a puzzle and a license plate with his name on it.  I bought an educational toy for both of them to share.  And Ben?  Ben chose a push broom.

Seriously.  A toy broom.  And he had fun sweeping the streets wherever we went for the rest of the day.  I love that kid.

So, we're home.  We're getting ready to send Jack to Kindergarten and Ben to preschool . . . both of which I have anxiety about.  Our beloved babysitter of the last 3 1/2ish years let us know at the end of July that she was picking up more hours at her real job and wouldn't be available to watch the kids anymore.  I got the message in the dairy section of Walmart and tried to hold it together, but ultimately finished my shopping while ugly-crying.

It wasn't just that message. The message from the babysitter was just kind of the straw that broke the camel's back.  It has just been a rough summer.  We never really figured out a routine with babysitters and child care.  Logistically, camps were harder than they ever have been before.  I've been dealing with a neverending sinus infection and ear infections.  I just felt anxious and frustrated for a good portion of the summer.  And then three kids with mystery illnesses that last week?  It was just the icing on the cake. 

That said, I also think that this summer was the one that we saw more lives changed and more spiritual growth in our campers than we have in a while.  So, it was definitely all worth it.  I just need to keep that all in perspective.

Claire at 7 months old

At 7 months old, Claire . . .

. . . gives sweet slobbery kisses anytime we ask.

. . . likes to dance.

. . . loves, loves, loves bath time.

. . . sleeps from 6:30 - 6:30 and then naps for about 90 minutes in the morning and 45 minutes in the afternoon. 

. . . crawls forward and has chaffed knees from doing so.

. . . will eat pretty much anything like a champ.

. . . will sometimes wave when we say goodbye.

. . . makes a noise that sounds an awful lot like "hiiii" whenever we say "hi" to her.

. . . "sings" when the radio is on in the car.  Stops when we turn it off.

. . .  nurses only in the morning now.  Has bottles the rest of the day.

. . . does this funny little thing where she smiles and tucks her head down to hide her face when someone smiles at her.

Dear Claire, Months 5, 6 & 7

Dear Claire,

It happened.  You've become the "typical third child" category with my delay in monthly letters.  If you knew how guilty this made me feel, you'd totally forgive me.  Yes, you have fewer letters than your brothers, and I'll probably take less pictures of you than I did of them, but when they've gone off to college and you're the only one living at home, getting anything you want, you'll be glad to make that trade off.



Let me remind you of an important advantage of being the youngest . . . you have four people who absolutely adore you.  In the eyes of your brothers, you can do no wrong.  They're the first to try and calm you when you cry and the first to applaud you when you do . . . well, anything.



The last three months have brought so much change that I don't even know where to begin.  You're sitting up, eating solid foods, almost-crawling, giving sloppy kisses, squealing with delight, waving 'hi' and 'bye', and babbling like crazy.  You're a different kid than you were the last time I wrote.


Something that has NOT changed is that you are HAPPY. About 92% of the time.  With the exception of evening crying when you were 6 - 12 weeks old, you've been one of the happiest babies I've ever met.  Sure you fuss sometimes and can get frustrated when your needs aren't being immediately met, but in general, your disposition is lovely.  I can't get enough of you.  I keep waiting for everything to just come crashing down and for you to become more of a challenge.  Maybe it'll be when you start crawling more.  Maybe when you hit the terrible twos.  Maybe your teenage years will be full of angst.  But for now, I'm enjoying your sweetness.



Perhaps your good nature is a result of the massive amounts of sleep you get.  You sleep 11 - 12 hours at night and then take 2 decent naps during the day.  Sometimes 3, but usually just the 2.  You fall asleep within minutes of me laying you down and you wake up all gurgley and smiley. 



I sing to you most nights, but it doesn't last very long because you like to be laid down pretty quickly.  Rocking isn't really your "thing."  I can normally only get through one verse of any given hymn.  But when I lay you down, I always end with the doxology.  As I sing the words "Praise God from whom all blessing flow" I can't help but count you as one of those blessings.  You bring us all so much joy, Claire.  And even if you wake up cranky tomorrow, or you become a defiant two year old or grow into a moody teenager . . . we'll still be delighted by you!

Love,
Mama

Claire at 6 months old

At 6 1/2 months old, Claire . . .

. . . makes all kinds of noises, ranging from high pitched shrieks to low grunts that her brothers call her "lion noise."  She also makes "goos" and "da das" . . . but her favorite is "ya ya ya ya ya . . . "

. . . will get up on her hands and knees but can only move in reverse.

. . . weighed 19 pounds, 4 ounces at her 6 month check up.

. . . is super smiley and is rarely bothered by anything or anyone.  The 100 degree temperatures tested it last week, but she was still in good spirits.

. . . measured 27 inches long. at her last check up.

. . . has just shown a few signs of separation anxiety.

. . . eats solids, when we remember to feed them to her.  She eats really well at home, but not nearly as well at camp, where distractions are abundant.

. . . is super distracted while nursing and prefers a bottle.

. . . sometimes waves when people say "hi" and "bye" to her.

Dear Jack, Month 60

Dear Jack,

You are five years old.  I'm not sure how that happened so quickly, but it did.  When you were born, people always said things like, "This time flies by" and "Don't blink or you'll miss it."  I politely smiled and nodded, not really understanding what they meant.

But you're five now, and I get it.  I've written 52 monthly letters in your 60 months of life (hey . . . no one's perfect) and I still remember writing your first.  It feels like yesterday.  In it, I wrote about how full your dad and I felt after you were born.  Not necessarily complete.  We already felt complete.  The only word I could think of to describe it was "full."

Full of love and of awe . . . and of fear.  And we still feel that way today.  We love you more than you can know.  We're in awe of what an amazing little boy you're becoming . . . on some days because of us and on others, in spite of us. We also realize that we're only 5 years in and we still have many, many years ahead of us . . . uncharted territory.  We fear that a little.

This is going to be the last monthly letter I write to you here in this forum.  It's not because I don't have anything left to tell you.  I still have a lot to say.  It's because so many of the things I want to write to you about are private.  You're getting older and making friends.  And some of those friends have parents who read this blog.  And some of those friends might even find this blog themselves someday.  Some of the things Dad and I will be teaching you in the years to come are things that you might prefer not be broadcast across the Internet, and I get it.  I might still write you open letters every now and then, when appropriate.  They won't be monthly, though.  But for the most part, what I write to you will be kept private.

I know that I embarrass you sometimes . . . you're five now and you told me last week that sometimes I still treat you like you're 4 1/2.  My apologies.  I've become good at being a mom to babies, toddlers and preschoolers, but I'm still learning about this next stage.  Be patient with me.



You are the best five-year-old I know.  And I'm not just saying that because I'm your mom.  You're so funny and other people love to be around you.  Being your mom is a privilege.

If I had to wrap everything from my last 52 letters up into the three most important things I want you to know, it would be these:

1.  We love you so much.
2.  You are so capable.
3.  I don't care nearly as much about your future happiness or success as much as I care about what kind of person you're becoming.

I love you.  Have I mentioned that before?

Mom

The Batmobile

Jack got this batmobile pool for his birthday and was thrilled when we had a chance to take it out this morning.  I told the boys to get in and strike their best "superhero post."

I guess I should have been more specific with Ben . . .

Claire at 5 months old . . .

At 5 months old, Claire . . .

. . . weighs 18 lbs.
. . . will sit for short periods of time unsupported.
. . . loves her exersaucer.
. . . doesn't nurse well because she spends so much time trying to engage me by smiling and giggling.
. . . love, loves her brothers.
. . . sleeps and naps really well.
. . . sucks on two fingers while she sleeps.
. . . blows out of her diaper about once a day.
. . . splashes like crazy in the bathtub.
. . . turns herself in circles on her belly.
. . . has had a little bit of banana and a little bit of avacado that I mashed up between my fingers at a restaurant.
. . . rarely cries, which is why I so love the picture above.
. . . stares at and lunges for every thing that goes into our mouths.
. . . has very sensitive skin.

Cooking with Mom

Sometimes, I'll pull Claire's high chair into the kitchen with me while I'm cooking.  Or at least I did.  I don't cook much during this time of year.



Anyway, back in April (that's the theme this week), I gave her a spatula to play with, in place of her usual toys.  She picked it up and banged it on the tray so hard that she scared herself into tears.  It was so sad.  Of course, I had to grab my camera before I offered comfort . . .

Five years

I've been flipping through pictures of the day Jack was born . . . five years ago today.  I felt a lot of things as I was looking through them, but the biggest realization to wash over me was "we had no idea what we were doing."

We really didn't.

I had read dozens of books.  I trawled websites and asked questions.  Still, on June 2, 2007, we were in totally over our heads.  I was looking at a photo of Jack laying in his crib for the first time on the day we brought him home.  I remember that moment.  I remember looking at him there and thinking, "What have we gotten ourselves into." 

But, thanks to Jesus and google, we've kept him alive and happy for five whole years.  We've officially been married with kids longer than we were married without kids. Our house is louder and messier, and I haven't had free time since . . . well, I can't even remember.  But I wouldn't have it any other way.



I love this picture.  It's not the best picture of the two of us, but it was at that very moment that my capacity to love was stretched beyond what I knew was possible.  I had already been his mother for 41 weeks already, but at that point, I actually felt like his mom.

Happy birthday, Jackson William!  I'm so grateful for you!

Happy (belated) Easter

Jack wrote an Easter book back in April . . . complete with binding made out of Cars stickers.  It was really cool, because he did it all on his own, without prompting or asking us for help.  I was proud.








He explained that the black crayon was supposed to show that it got dark when Jesus died.




This is Jesus walking out of the tomb (apparently, this is the "behind the scenes" version of the resurrection story).




And this is Jesus going up to heaven.

Makeshift ipad

Back in April, Jack was banned from the ipad for a few days . . . I don't even remember why.  If I had to guess, he and his brother were fighting over it.

Anyway, that ban inspired some creativity and he made his own.  And I think he did pretty well.

Virginia Vacation

Remember that vacation we took?  To Williamsburg, Virginia?  Back in October?  I'm just now getting around to posting photos.

I'm awesome.

See more photos here.