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

What we've been doing . . .

You know how sometimes people are unaware of their own injuries and trauma because of the adrenaline pumping through their system after an accident?   But then after a little while, the evidence of the trauma is more obvious and they lose consciousness after the adrenaline wanes?

Wait, is that even true?  Or did I see it on Grey's Anatomy?  Everything I know about medicine is thanks to Ellen Pompeo and Sandra Oh. 

Anyway, I just sat down in Panera for a few minutes while Jack is at a pirate art class and that kind of happened to me.  I was feeling ready to get some work done, but about 5 minutes after getting here, I was nodding off.  Just sitting here at my computer, with my  fingers in the ready position and my eyes closed.  I've been running on adrenaline.

This is our first week of camps, after two weeks of pretty intense staff training.  It's going well, but it's hard. Juggling that schedule, the schedules of three kids, all while maintaining sanity is proving to be more difficult this year than ever before.  Maybe we're getting too old to keep up.  Maybe it's having three kids.  I don't know for sure, but I'm exhausted.

Jack's in Adventure Day Camp this year and I have to physically restrain myself from going over and asking him how he's doing and making sure he's wearing sunscreen every time I see him.  Kyle and I trained the counselors . . . we know that they're awesome . . . we have no doubts . . . so what is my problem?

I saw Jack walking with a group of friends on Monday and he waved.  I waved back and blew him a kiss and instantly wished I could take it back as I saw him smirk and his face turn red.  He looked away, embarrassed that I would show any sort of affection toward him IN FRONT OF HIS FRIENDS.  But as they walked away, he stayed in the back of the group and turned around and blew one back so that no one could see him doing it.  He'll love his mom no matter how old he gets . . . he tells me this on a regular basis.

Bennett really likes being at camp but is TIRED and isn't napping well.  He is go-go-go all day and I think has a hard time falling asleep when he's not in his own bedroom.  I'd dare say that he's the cutest 2-year-old I've ever seen or heard.  I love talking to him, because he has such an adult vocabulary and way of putting sentences together, but still talks like he's a 2-year-old.  I can't help but smile every time we talk.  It warms my heart just typing about it.  He loves his balance bike and scoots around on that thing faster than I think he would with pedals!

And Claire . . . sweet Claire.  I've never seen a baby as happy as she is.  It's so funny when people look at her and she smiles at them and they say, "Oh my goodness . . . she smiled at me!"  I hate to burst their bubble and say, "She'd smile at a wet rag if you held it in front of her" so I just say, "She must really like you."  She's getting playful and loves to pull the burp cloth off of her head for games of "peek a boo."  I'm thinking I'll start her on solid foods this week . . . if I find the time.  I gave her a sippy cup with water today and she liked gnawing on it.  She pushes herself in circles, but isn't really close to crawling yet.  Ben and Jack were both crawling and pulling themselves up by 6 months, so it's nice to have things move a little more slowly.  But I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel a tiny bit guilty about the fact that she rarely has tummy time.  I don't think she's any worse off for it, though.

Life is good and I don't want to wish away the summer.  But sitting here at Panera right now, I'm thinking about how lovely September will be.

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.

Preschool graduation

Jack's last day of preschool.  Please excuse the landscaping fail.

Compare to his first day of preschool 2 years earlier:

 And here he is at graduation with Mrs. Tippens off to the right. 

 

And of course . . . his typical preschool antics.

 

Miscellaneous . . .

This post is totally random . . . and honestly, I think I might have done a post a lot like this before.  After 5 1/2 years of blogging, I'm bound to get repetitive.

When I was nursing Claire the other day, I was thinking about how I'll always associate certain television shows with each of my children.  There were particular things that I watched a lot of through their first few months, mainly during the time I spent nursing them.

Jack was born during the summer, which meant network re-runs.  However, we still had cable back then, so I watched a lot of home improvement shows.  Flip That House, Designed to Sell, etc.  Oh, and Last Comic Standing.  Also, VH1's Best Week Ever . . . I loved that show.   I remember watching 16 and pregnant, too, and thinking about how lucky Jack was to have me.

After having a child during re-runs, I decided that planning to have Ben during network sweeps was the best decision*, so we had him in September.  Glee came out that year, so I watched a lot of that show.  Of course, I had a toddler at that point, so I spent the overnight nursing sessions working through my tivo lineup. I also watched all of the Grey's Anatomy seasons that had aired up to that point.

With Claire,  I watched all of Downton Abbey and Madmen.  Because of this, ]I fear she's developing a British accent and a smoker's cough.

I'll also associate certain foods with each of them.  When I was pregnant with Jack, I couldn't get enough of McDonald's french fries.  With Ben, Fazoli's cookies were my favorite.  And with Claire . . . pop tarts and Ghiradelli chocolates.

Random, I know.  But as they're getting older and I'm forgetting these things and I need to get them down!

*Kidding, kidding.  We didn't really plan to have Ben during network sweeps.  

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.