On Jack . . .

Jack is enjoying Kindergarten, though he asks to stay home quite a bit.  I don't think it has as much to do with Kindergarten as much as it does him missing being at home and wondering what his brother and sister are doing without him.  His printing has improved drastically over the last month and every so often he'll talk about something else he did at school, but other than that we don't get much information from him about how things are going.  In one email, his teacher indicated he's doing well.  I'd love to know more and to ask questions about him in class, but I don't want to be THAT parent.  I'm still trying to navigate this whole "parent of elementary school student" thing.

He started soccer this month.  He had only 10 minutes of his first practice/game (in pouring rain) before it thundered and it was cancelled.  Last week he actually go to play.  I really enjoy watching him play and he seems to enjoy playing.

Jack has become really crafty.  Don't leave a cardboard box, scrap paper, string or anything else lying around.  It will become something new.  Ipads, checker boards, helicopters and other weird hovering vehicles . . . he has created more contraptions than I can name.  He loves to come and sit at the work table in my office and just cut things and create things.  I like to think he got that from me, though while I think that I'm creative, I don't think I'm very crafty.  He probably takes after my mom and my aunts in that area more than he does me.

His school pictures are today and he insisted wearing his Superman shirt.  Kyle and I were encouraging him to wear something else but finally gave in.  We don't plan on doing anything with these pictures, other than throwing them in his Kindergarten memories folder, so who cares?  And now forever, we'll remember how obsessed with superheroes when he was in Kindergarten. I did make him promise that he'd wear whatever I ask when I take them out for photos soon.  I'm so trying to let him make as many of his own choices as I can, and only stepping in on the big things.  That's so hard for me to do.

A few weeks ago, he was really upset with me about something and flung himself onto his bed exclaiming, "I don't want to be your son anymore!"  I was sitting next to Ben on his bed and said to him, "Well, Ben.  I guess that just leaves you and me."  I was, of course, joking.  We moved on with our bedtime routine.  A few minutes later, Jack still had his head buried in his pillow and I heard little sobs coming from his bed.  I went over and sat with him and didn't say anything.  He just looked up and said, "I said something that I feel so, so bad about."  He apologized and told me that he does, in fact, want to remain my son.  I apologized for joking about it and told him that he didn't need to worry because there was nothing he could say or do to change that.  It was a sour moment turned sweet.

The top three things I love most about Jack during this stage:  His helpfulness, his creativity and his sensitivity.

Remember when . . .

. . . I didn't have to start every blog post with a statement on how bad I feel that it's been so long since I've posted?  No?  Me neither.

It was after midnight on Monday when I started this post.and I should've been in bed.  It's now Friday morning.  I feel guilty.

I need to blog.  Not because it's been so long or because I have some sort of quota to meet . . . but because the three kids I have sleeping down the hall are growing so fast and life is moving so quickly that I can barely remember what happened yesterday.

I think if I could sum this "stage of life" up in a few words, it would be something like "kids are messy" or maybe "kids are time consuming."  Oh wait, no . . . it would be "kids are expensive."  I 100% love my kids and in a weird way, I love this hectic chaos that has surrounded the last month or so.  It's just exhausting.  And really, really hard.

We had our house professionally cleaned on Tuesday. {insert defensive statement about how my life is so crazy that I need professional cleaning services to keep me sane}  That same night, Claire dumped a potted plant on herself and all over the living room floor.  I had a bowl of chili explode all over my kitchen floor.  And then later, one child pooped on the bathroom floor . . . about 18 inches from the toilet.  Which was okay, because there was potting soil still all over the floor from Claire's bath and that needed to be cleaned up anyway.  It's hard to keep up.

The day to day is sometimes overwhelming.

It doesn't help that I'm averaging 4 - 5 hours of sleep each night.  Oh, and the back pain I've had over the last couple of weeks . . . let's not even get started on that. In addition, my business turns 5 years old next month and it's not slowing down.  FIVE YEARS!  In 2007, I had 17 sales total.  I sold more than that yesterday.  I still have a hard time wrapping my head around that.  Oh, right . . . and I still have a full time job at camp.  DId I mention that?

Life is chaotic and I sometimes find myself looking forward to a day when they're all self sufficient and Kyle and I will get more time together, but I don't want to wish this stage of life away, either.  A little more than six years ago, I wondered if we'd ever have children.  And six years ago next week, we heard Jack's heartbeat for the first time.  These kids aren't just our responsibility . . . they're our privilege.

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.

The first day

Jack made it through his first day and was excited to go back this morning!  The chaos of drop off and the stress of having a newly potty trained two-year-old really distracted me from being emotional, though when we were back on the road leaving, I did shed a few tears.  But just a few.

The things that broke my heart:

• His little cluster of desks where he sits includes him and three girls.  He asked each of the three girls if they could be friends.  They all said no.
• He really liked recess, but didn't have anyone to play with.

The things that encouraged me:

• He did say that he made one new friend that he really liked.
• He said that everything they did in class was fun.
• He really likes his teacher.
• He ate lunch with a friend from preschool, even though he's in a different class than he is.
• He seemed really excited that he saw Jasmine, Hailey and Samantha at recess.
• He informed us that we no longer need to pack a lunch because THERE IS PIZZA AT SCHOOL!  We informed him that we'll probably still be packing a lunch most days, but maybe once in a while he could get pizza.
• He chose white milk instead of chocolate at snack because he thought it would be healthier choice to only have chocolate once a week (we had previously discussed this with him, but we weren't sure if he'd really do it . . . but he did).
• He LOVED gym class.
• He has a doodle book to draw in during their rest time and that was right up his alley.

I'm sure there were more things that he told us, but I can't remember them all.  He was so funny when he told me that he can't wait until next year so that he can do a first day of school all over again!  I'm just glad to have the first day over with.

I love this kid so much.

Edited to add:  Printable signs now available here.

Staying Dry

Day #1 of potty training was hugely successful.  Shockingly so, really.  Ben had very few accidents and went both #1 and #2 on the potty!  I had no expectations that we would conquer #2 anytime soon, so that was fantastic.

He was dry during his nap and overnight (we did get him up once before we went to bed and he went then).  When he woke up this morning, he came out dry and I think saw how dark the hall was and just wet himself right there in the doorway.  Tonight, we'll leave the hall light on.

Today, on the other hand . . . well, let's just say it's keeping me humble.  Naptime was dry, but I think that might have been our only success.  He walked into the kitchen after naptime and said, "I don't have to go!" and then proceeded to pee right there on the kitchen floor.  I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that we've resumed our regular schedule today.  Yesterday, Kyle took both Claire and Jack and kept them out of the house for a lot of the day and Ben had my undivided attention.

He starts preschool a week from today, and while potty training isn't a requirement to go, I think it'll be helpful since he was ready anyway.

Enough

I've spent the last few weeks fighting the urge to impart last bits of wisdom to Jack about anything and everything that I can think of.  You know . . . thoughts on making friends, resisting peer pressure and not dating a girl who doesn’t consider modesty a virtue.

You know . . . the real kindergarten essentials.

I know it’s only Kindergarten, but this stage . . . this pre-school stage . . . it’s over.  I never thought that I’d be THAT parent . . . the one that stresses over Kindergarten.  I so badly want my kids to be independent and confident, and I didn't think I'd approach Jack's first year of school fighting the urge to not let him get out of the car tomorrow.

I cannot believe that I’ve been a mom for five years.  I cannot believe that I’m sending a child to Kindergarten.  I cannot believe that one of my children will spend so much time away from me every day.  I’ve found myself reconsidering homeschooling.  I’ve wondered if we should wait a year.


I've spent much of the last two months hoping that we've done enough and getting down on myself for the games of Candyland I said "no" to and the books I didn't read.

I know, I know . . . drama, drama, drama. 

Tonight, I was talking with him about what he was most excited about for tomorrow.  I asked him if he was scared at all.  He replied, "No. But I know there are probably other kids who are."  As we talked about the kids who are nervous (and I suspect he is a little too, but won't admit it), I was struck by his ability to see outside himself.  I love how compassionate and kind he is.

Then it hit me: We did that.  Well, not totally.  Some of it is surely innate.  But Kyle and I are also responsible for who this incredible little boy has become . . . and I think we've done a good job.  Have we done enough?  I don't know.  I do know, however, that the grace of God has filled in where we've fallen short.  We're really good parents.

As I've reflected on all of these things, I became thankful for my job's flexibility that has allowed me to spend so much time with him.  The late nights and early mornings of work suddenly seem like a small price to pay to have been there for so much of his time at home.  I'm thankful for the incredible babysitters we've had to fill in the other times.  I'm thankful for a husband who loves his kids so well and takes as much responsibility with the kids as I do, never just assuming that their care is "my job."

Jack starts Kindergarten tomorrow and Ben starts preschool next week.  My babies are growing up.

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

Anti-hoarder

I am the anti-hoarder.  I like to throw things away.  I mean . . . really, really like to throw things away.

I'm not super organized or neat.  My house is often a mess (by my standards, at least).  But I really, really like to simplify life by having less laying around . . . much to the dismay of my kids.

Happy meal toys last an average of 7 minutes once they're through the door.  Art projects are rarely saved for more than a day or two.  The really special ones do get left out for a while, but then move to storage.  When Jack was little, I had this grand vision of taking pictures of him with his art projects before we, um, "relocated" them, but I never kept the projects long enough to get around to photographing them.  A few times, we've had to dig through trash to find important lists or notes that Kyle has left laying around, because I thought they were trash and tossed them.  Back in May, I went through the boys' toys and got rid of half of them.  The other half were divided and stored according to our new toy storage system . . . which deserves an entire post of its own.


I do feel bad this week, though, after hearing about Jack's conversation with his grandma.  She told him that he left the mask he made in her car, and asked if he wanted it back.  His response was, "No.  If I bring it home, it'll just get thrown away."


Ugh.  That was like a kick in the stomach.


I don't really know how to find the balance, though.  Clutter makes me crazy.  I can't function in a cluttered house.  And honestly, what do you do when your child brings this home and wants to keep it forever and ever?

At the same time, I don't want my kids to feel like I don't value their creativity or have respect for what is theirs.  Will I look back 20 years from now and wish that I still had every preschool picture that Jack drew?  I don't think that I will.  But I don't want the boys to look back and remember a mom who was more intent on keeping the clutter down than on celebrating their creativity.


I hope that I can find that balance.  I would welcome any suggestions.

Dear Bennett, months 32, 33 & 34

Dear Ben,

I'm sorry it's been so long since I've written a letter . . . I've been busy.  Doing laundry.  And I'd say half of our family's laundry is YOURS.  You are the dirtiest little boy I've ever seen.  You like to play hard and you aren't afraid to get messy.  All of your summer t-shirts are stained, and the bathtub looks like a mud puddle after we get you cleaned off at night.  You always have sand between your toes.  And fingers.  And usually in your hair, too.  You're all boy.

Your independence has become both endearing and frustrating.  Your most common phrase is "I DO THAT ALL MY FELF!"  You don't like unsolicited help from other people.  I try to give you your space as much as I can.  You don't like to hold my hand ever . . . especially in parking lots.  Often if I tell you NOT to do something, you just stare me down and I can almost hear you wondering whether or not doing it will be worth the consequense.

Last night, we were in the car and you were especially ornery.  Perhaps because of the 10 empty peanut butter cup wrappers I found in your bed during nap time.  Or maybe because we had you out too late.  In any case, you were testing my patience and your limits.  You had your cup of water from the restaurant we were leaving and you took the lid off.  I told you to put the cup in your cup holder and put the lid back on the cup.  You looked at me, and with a perfectly straight face you tipped the cup upside down all over the seat and floor of the car.  So, I channeled my remarkable parenting skills and began yelling at you. 

I yelled.  And you threw the cup.  And I yelled more. And you continued to throw everything that was within your reach.

Not my finest parenting moment.  Not exactly a shining moment for you, either.

When these things happen, I always worry that you're "acting out" against something . . . like us not giving you enough attention.  Or that we've steered you wrong somehow.  But I think it's just the terrible twos. I think these are just exercises for your dad and I in patience and consistency.

Much to your dismay, you went to bed as soon as we got home.  You hugged me and told me how much you love me and I told you how much I love you.  All was right with the world again.  I hope that no matter what happens over the course of your life, that you'll always know that.  No matter what you do, or how much you throw at me, I'll always love you.

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