Eloise - ONE (and then some...)

Dear Eloise,

First of all, my bad.  You are nearly 16 months old and this is your first letter.  I guess some of that "poor third baby" stuff is true.  Thanks to the miraculous technology of our modern society your babydom is well documented with photos and video, but you have had a very wonky nap schedule and lack of letter writing. But, anyway... here we are.

You finally started walking this week.  You had taken steps here and there and loved to push around Lawton's Batmobile or any other large riding toy, but you stubbornly refused to walk when there was the option to crawl. I was never worried about you, though.  If you had been my first baby I might have been, but that is one of the perks of being a "poor third baby"; mommy is much less anxious about those pesky milestones. But still I have been relieved and overjoyed to see your little wobbly, zombie-like, teetering steps across the room and proud of the times you have stumbled and then gotten right back up.

I can't really put into words how you have changed our family but without a doubt it has been for the better.  You have been a true dreamboat of a baby since day one.  You were sweet and easy and quiet as a newborn, the perfect little sibling, always willing to go with the flow without putting up much of a fuss.  You loved the attention of your siblings and the dogs and loved being held by any and everyone. My friends joked that they would forget I had even had you since you were so content to just watch the action when we all got together. Of course that is no longer the case as you are devloping quite the feisty little personality and are learning how to make your presence known.  You are stubborn and determined and as quick to anger as you are to giggle. I can see a little bit of Lawton in you when you get frustrated with something and screech.  I can see Laine when you climb up into the rocking chair and flip through a book with the utmost focus. But mostly you are your own little special force to be reckoned with, which is never more clear than when you flash your little toothy grin at us (usually looking back as you go for the stairs yet again).  We are delighted by you daily.

I've said this before when your brother was small but I am still amazed by it- having you increased my capacity to love unconditionally.  All three of you are so different and interesting and special and watching you learn about and react to the world is truly inspiring.  Seeing you start to show us your own sweet, silly, spunky personality is fascinating and exciting and really just the joy of my life. I have a feeling you are going to keep me on my toes and continue to surprise me and do things on your own time.  You are going to push back against your brother and be competitive with your sister.  You're going to try things that don't work and get frustrated.  You're going to want to do things you are not quite big enough to do yet.  But I hope you will carry something with you from this early part of your life: know that I am always right behind you with my hand out (and probably an iPhone in the other hand taking a picture), watching with pride every time you stumble and then get back up.

I love you, Weezy!

Laine : FIVE

Dear Laine,

Last week you had your first gymnastics meet.  You were so nervous about the idea of having a judge watching and scoring you that you were nearly in tears on the way there.  Now, let me back track a bit and say that you are not, in fact, all that good at gymnastics.  I know, it surprised me too.  You've kind of been my little golden child for all five years of your life so far, effortlessly good at most things you try, eager to learn, smart and quick and bright and talented.  You're also usually among the oldest in your groups and classes, which never hurts.  So when you were recommended for the rec league at the county gymnastics program last fall I was thrilled but not particularly surprised. We took a break when your sister was born, but you couldn't wait to get back into gymnastics this fall and I was eager to see what new things you'd learn as part of a "team".  You have worked hard and you do seem to really enjoy it, but the skills of gymnastics just do not come as naturally to you as they do for the other girls in your group (that Jordan kid is just ridiculous).  So I was a little nervous for you as well, neither of us knowing quite what to expect at this meet.

Your group of four competed in four categories: bars, balance beam, vault, and floor.  Of course, being 4-6 year olds, the skill sets were very simple, but it was still an impressive and intimidating line up.  You were practically radiating energy out there on the floor, smiling and wiggling and hopping around, sending the older girls into fits of laughter with your antics.  You tried so hard and accomplished things I had seen you shy away from even trying in class. You waved and gave thumbs up signs to me and your dad and siblings whenever you finished a section.  I was amazed at how quickly you shed your nerves, and at how well you performed.  You were so brave and so confident.  And, sweet girl, you lost pretty much every category you competed in.

But here is the amazing thing, Laine.  You didn't even know you lost.  You stood up there on that 4th place podium like you had just won gold at the Olympics.  You looked at your participation medal like it was the most majestic thing ever to hang from a neck.  You were so proud of yourself.  And I was so proud of you too.  You faced your fears, you showed up, and you followed our two big rules: you had fun and tried your best.

I am writing all of this to say that, while you truly are a gifted student and artist and performer, it is your attitude and the light you bring to the lives of everyone around you that is really exceptional.  We often joke that you could raise yourself, that you are the "easy child", and in some regards it is true.  You are independent and sensitive and respectful of authority and sweet and a whole laundry list of things that make you "easy" to parent.  But you are also such a remarkable little human being that I feel I must rise to the occasion as your mother and really foster the amazing curiosity and love of learning and compassion and talent that I see in you.  I am lucky to have the hard job of raising such an easy child.

I can't believe you will be 5 tomorrow.  There have been moments this week that I have looked at you and felt like I was seeing years flash by before me; I could see the teenager, the young woman, the adult that you will be one day.  I am so excited to see what you become, but so eager to relish this time I have with you while you're still little.  You are artistic and funny, generous and bright, an avid reader, an eager student and loyal friend, and an amazing big sister. You bring me and our whole family so much joy.

So basically what I am saying, Lainey-bug, is that I could not be more proud that you are my daughter.
Even if you are certainly no Olympic gymnast.

I love you!
Mommy

Lawton : THREE

Lawton,

How funny that the last time I wrote on this blog was for your second birthday, exactly a year ago today.  I knew it had been a while but I didn't realize it had been a full year until I logged on to write you this letter.  I guess it has been a busy year.  We added sweet Eloise to the family, daddy got promoted and added another job at the hospice, we bought, renovated, and moved into a much bigger house, Aunt Chelsea got married and moved to Denver, Aunt Kristin got married and had baby Preston... our family has been growing and changing and moving nonstop.  And so have you!

Growing, changing, and moving are three very apt words for you this past year.  You are a whirlwind, a force, a lightning bolt.  You stop my heart daily, either from the force of my love for you or from sheer terror... often both, but rarely at once.  You are fearless and wild, energetic and intense, dramatic and exuberant.  Sometimes I feel guilty about how often I joke to people about you:  that you are my test, my challenge, that your sisters are the easy ones, or that I have three times as many gray hairs as I did when you were born... you get the idea.  But truthfully, you have taught me a lot in these past few years and I am grateful.  You've taught me patience and humility, and to have faith in myself and my instincts.  You remind me to be playful and spontaneous, to be engaging with friends and strangers alike, and to delight in life at every turn.

As I type this I am calling up the stairs for you to go in your room; I hear you sneaking around in the hallway.  You're probably looking at one of your new books or imagining that you're on some kind of animal rescue.  I hear your little feet scurry away when I say your name and the click of your door closing.  I know you must be tired after a busy weekend with family and friends but you will never admit it and you will probably come out at least one more time, to see if I'll notice as much as to finish whatever it was you were doing.  In the old house we had to turn the doorknobs around in your bedroom so we could lock your door from the outside during naps.  Otherwise you and I would battle for hours, ending with us both crying and exhausted by the end of the day.  You can not be contained.  You are my wild one.

As much as you do love to test your boundaries, I can not say enough about what a charming and sweet boy you are.  You have spent the past few weeks inviting everyone we see to your "jungle birthday".  ("You want to invite me to my party?  We can hang up a big tiger!")  You also invite them to our house to watch the "Keeeeermit the Frog" movie or play with your cars.  You can not ignore a pretty girl, often asking to go say hi or sit with them when we are out.  You love your friends and teachers at school, you adore your sisters (you have given Eloise the nickname "Weezle" and she is just delighted by you), and you are generous with compliments and affection.  It is balm for my soul when you tell me I'm the "best mommy" or ask me for a "looooong kiss" or say how much you "woooove my pretty dress!".  You are also one of the funniest little guys I know.  You often have entire groups of people in stitches and you seem to already have a knack for comic timing.  I can't wait to continue to watch your sense of humor develop; I have a feeling we will have a class clown on our hands.

There have been many times in the past year when I have sat and wondered if I am a strong enough, good enough, patient enough mother for you.  I wondered if I can do enough to teach you to be the kind of man I know you are capable of becoming.  I wondered if you felt my frustration, my anxiety, and sometimes my straight up ANGER and thought it was directed at you as a person rather than at the circumstances or your behavior in that moment.  But I guess I just have to hope... no, I have to OWN that for better or worse, I am the mother you were given.  And when you ask to wear the shirt that I said you looked handsome in, it is because you sensed my adoration.  And when you looked back toward me when you jumped down from the tree at the playground all by yourself, it is because you sensed my pride.  And when you are sitting up in your room right now pressing the button on your Superman birthday card that I gave you over and over again (yes, son, I can hear you), it is because you feel the love I have for you, my little superman.  And you know that I believe you can do ANYTHING.  And it (and I) will be enough.

Happy birthday, Lawton boy.  I just adore you.

Mommy

Lawton : 2

Dear Lawton,

Just starting this letter I found myself grinning and letting out a big sigh.  In part because I can not believe my baby boy is TWO, but also because those are two very common reactions you elicit from me on a daily basis.  While you certainly love to test boundaries and push buttons and tempt fate, you are also sweet and affectionate and bright and funny as can be. 

Of course as the second, soon to be MIDDLE, child, it is hard not to compare you to your sister.  Did you meet your milestones when she did?  Do you talk as much or as well as she did?  Do you react to things the way she did?  But you are so clearly your own person already.  You are smart and precocious and curious like your sister was and is, but you are also loud and confident and daring and stubborn and sometimes a little bit wild.  You love to meet new people and are quick to offer hugs and affection.  Even as a baby you won people over just in passing, and you still do.  People fall in love with you right away and you eat it up, always amused and excited by attention and praise.

So much joy for me lately comes from watching you with your sister.  You are by far her biggest fan and you want to do EVERYTHING she does.  Laine takes gymnastics?  Well then sign you up.  Laine has fairy wings on?  You'll wear some and be a superhero.  Laine wants something to drink?  What do you know, you're thirsty too!  You are both attending the same three day preschool now in classes across the hall from each other and, even though you are only apart for three hours, if I pick you up inside (rather than in the carpool line) you run to each other and embrace like it has been weeks.  It is so much fun for me to see you grow to love each other so much and learn how to play with one another.  I'm sure eventually you will want to set your own rules but for now you are content to tag along with your big sister and do whatever she tells you to, namely being Tinkerbell's sidekick Periwinkle or Ariel's fish friend Flounder.

While you love playing with Laine and happily identify any and all Disney princesses, you are also so very much a little BOY.  You are newly obsessed with Lightning McQueen from the Cars movie (you have McQueen and Mater little wheelie cars that we must know the whereabouts of at all times OR ELSE).  We were lucky enough to get a handed down train table, which fueled your loves for trains (especially Thomas and friends).  You love trucks and buses and construction vehicles and basically anything with wheels.  Your birthday presents were all tremendous hits, but your current favorite is definitely the Batmobile from your aunts Chelsea and Tricia, combining your loves of riding on things, superheros, and cars.  You have already mastered zooming around corners, pressing the button that proclaims "back to the batcave!" and grinning like a fool.  I love it.

In a lot of ways it's been harder to acknowledge that you are no longer my baby than it was with Laine.  When she was your age you were already here, so her title as "baby" was usurped pretty early.  But now that you are officially two years old, in preschool three days a week, talking in full sentences and asking me "aw... WHY" every other minute, I can't really argue that you are becoming a little boy.  I'm so proud of you and the little person you are and are growing into.  You make a lot of people smile all the time, and I have no doubt you will continue to do so.  I am so lucky and thrilled and proud to be your mommy.

I love you, little stinker.

Mommy

a letter to my daughter and son

Laine and Lawton,

Kiddos.  Let me me start by saying that you are both amazing.  I mean it.  You AMAZE me.  And, almost as amazing, somehow you both manage to have the entirety of my heart.  It's like each time I gave birth to a baby, my body also generated a new heart so that each of you could have your very own.  And so now I'm getting a third new heart, a third amazing little person.  And I could not be more excited to share this with you both.  Laine, you have been a rock star of a big sister from the day we brought Lawton home.  You are helpful and sweet and as patient as your 3 year old self can be.  You are certain New Baby is a girl and already want to buy her things and draw her pictures and set aside certain toys for her.  It makes my heart soar.  Lawton, seeing you as a big brother will be such a hoot.  You are so full of life and joy and energy and love and I know you will be amazing at sharing that with your new sibling.  I think I have held onto you being a "baby" for longer than I did with your sister and so it is odd for me to think of you as being old enough to be a big brother... but with your birthday less than a month away it is kind of hard to ignore anymore.  I am so proud of the boy you are becoming.

I find so much joy in the love you two have for one another.  Lawton, you ask for Laine as soon as I come to get you out of your crib.  Laine, when I took you on a special girl morning and Lawton was at MMO you asked and talked about him almost the whole time.  You are both ecstatic to be going to school together starting in a few weeks.  You teach, help, encourage and amuse each other constantly.  I feel so much hope when I see you two hug spontaneously, or when I hear you cracking up in your room together, or see you share a toy without prompting.  One of my most fervent prayers as a parent is that you maintain and foster and nurture that relationship into adulthood.  My sisters are like touchstones in my life, constant sources of pride and laughter and comfort.  I want that for you both, with each other and with your sibling to be.  I love how you love each other.

Don't get me wrong, kiddos, you are not perfect children any more than I am a perfect mother.  You challenge me and stress me out and test my patience, and I know you get frustrated with me and each other.  We have bad days, we have hard times, we have time outs, we raise our voices.  Being your mom is a hard and exhausting job.  But man oh man, so rewarding and a tremendous source of pride. It is important that you know that you are treasured, valued, appreciated, and so so very loved... no matter what.

I'm thankful to be your mommy, and grateful that New Baby will have both of you for siblings.

home

My family is currently in a major state of flux the likes of which I have not known for all of my 28 years.  Change has never been my favorite thing, and apparently neither is reevaluation of things I have been happy to take for granted.  Among these things:  home.  I can't really classify my family's current house as a "childhood home" (we moved a number of times when I was in elementary and middle school and I have warm memories set against the background of a number of houses), it is certainly as close to one as I have.  Before we moved in the house belonged to my grandmother, who bought it with my grandfather when my mom was only 18.  So even when the house wasn't ours it was part of our family: an oasis by the pool in the summer, a cozy place to spend the holidays, a treasure trove of sepia toned photos and hidden figurines and unusual musical instruments.

Right before Christmas the house went under contract.  Suddenly I saw parts of the house in stark relief; my initials in the cement of the driveway, my sisters' scribbles in the backs of closets, the "hobbit hole" in the bathroom designed mostly as a hanging space for my mom's stained glass, the quilted fabric I picked for the curtains in my bedroom, curtains hanging in the window where my husband used to throw rocks to summon me downstairs for our early morning walks before school, the living room home of my high school "playdates".  The house is full of little pieces of my history and my family.  Losing the house seemed like a symbol for everything else I was losing, for the loss of the ability to define myself and my family and my home with ease and comfort and assurance.

But there is a house and there is a home.  There is what I knew and there is what I will always know.  And I always know that I have a home in the love of my family.  I have ease and comfort in the laughter I share with my sisters.  I have assurance in the support and confidence of my parents.  The house may be a symbol, but it is a symbol of the time and investment we all made in creating memories that exist outside of walls and a ceiling.  Those pieces of history are mine to keep.

For what it's worth, the contract on the house fell through.  For a bit longer we get to surround ourselves in the comfort of a house that is still our home.  We get to take smaller steps on this new journey rather than one giant scary leap at a time.  But I will remind myself with each step that no one can take a home away from any of us as long as we remember to look for it inside ourselves and within each other.

"I'll never be a stranger and I'll never be alone.  Wherever we're together that's my home." 

Billy Joel

resolve

I got mad at one of my best friends a few weeks ago.  I was having one of those days.  My prospects for success looked bleak, my ego was fragile, my abilities were few and inconsequential.  And I felt fat.  I was listing off all of the things at which I felt mediocre at best and he told me "if you want to be better at something, work harder".  In the moment that advice felt more like an insult.  I'm not good enough because I haven't MADE myself good enough?  Well then life IS over because by golly I can't DO anymore.  This is as good as it gets and it is NOT ENOUGH.

But it's a new year and a time for resolutions and I've realized (and he will LOVE this) that he may have been right.  The beginning of a new year is a time when it is appropriate for other people to ask you what you don't like about yourself and how you plan to change it.  Because what is a resolution but a promise to ourselves that we will get better at things by working harder?  We resolve to improve upon ourselves so that this year can be better than the last.  Rather than listing our inadequacies and expecting someone to tell us we are wrong, we list them and hope to be held accountable as we find ways to do something about it.

So I'm starting here.  Last year, I wrote only seven blog entries.  Writing is something that I enjoy and that I have been encouraged to pursue by people that I trust and yet I have not worked to improve myself as a writer.  If I want to get better, I have to do more.

I'm also going to run a 10K.  I started running last year around this time and have completed two 5K races.  I met my weight loss goals and have been able to maintain to a satisfactory degree.  But if I want to get better, I have to do more.

My other resolution seems a bit counter intuitive to the rest of what I have been saying, but I feel like it still applies.  I need to relax.  If I want to feel better, I need to do more for myself.  I need to invest time where it is valuable, I need to seek out things and people that bring me joy and peace, I need to mindfully, actively, and consistently be kind to myself.  If I want to be better, feel better, do better, live better, give better... I need to be, feel, do, live, and give MORE.  I will start 2013 resolved to be proactive.

And hopefully I will greet 2014 with AT LEAST eight blog entries.

a letter to my three year old girl

Dear Laine,

Three years, one hour, and five minutes.  That's how long it's been since I met you face to face.  Since your daddy got the privilege of announcing to our eager families that you, our girl, had entered the world with a flourish and a cone shaped head to prove it.  Since you made me a mommy.  Three long years.  And three short years.  The relativity of motherhood.

It's so funny to think that I didn't know you until three years ago, and now I know you better than I have known anyone in my life.  I know your fears, your joys, your waking and sleeping schedule, your favorite things, when you eat, what you eat, your weight and size and shape, your smile and laugh and cry and voice. Yet even now, after studying you for years, you can still surprise me.  You are growing into a little person right before my eyes, developing a sense of humor, honing your own personal style.  Everyday you seem to grow a little, know a little more, discover something new.  And you pass that joy along to me.

I've never been the kind of person who thrived with constant change.  To be honest, I usually find it intimidating.  Your Grammy still makes fun of me for a pair of Sketchers sandals I wore until the buckle literally fell off of them while I was sitting at the dinner table.  And the curtains and paint color in my old bedroom have been the same since I picked them out when we moved in when I was in middle school.  But I know that change is a constant in all of our lives.  Sometimes there are changes we would rather not face, things that are as comfortable as old Sketchers sandals that we are reluctant to leave behind.  But that buckle will inevitably fall off.  Things WILL change.  And we all have to learn from it and grow in it.  You teach me that every day.  You face the world with such unbridled enthusiasm and joy and hunger for knowledge that I can't help but get swept up in it.

I was about to type that the one thing that will never change is my love for you.  But that's not true.  I can see that even from these past three years.  As you change, I change.  Our relationship changes, and the world around us changes.  I find new things to love about you, new ways to encourage you and challenge you.  I find joy in letting go as much as in holding on because I know that you are brave and smart and strong.  You are a light in my world and I know you will be for so many others. 

You truly are an amazing kid, Laine bug.  You are so smart and articulate and verbally gifted.  You love to learn new songs and have a memory that blows me away.  You are a kind and devoted friend and a wonderful sister, enthusiastic and generous with your affection.  Your imagination is amazing; your stories keep me either giggling or fascinated or both on a regular basis (I think you must have about 87 imaginary dogs running around by now).  You are thriving in your new preschool and your teachers always comment on how much you love it and what a sweet girl you are in class.  You make me so proud.

Every year for these three years I have sat down to write you a letter on your birthday.  Every year I stare at the cursor wondering what to write.  I wonder when you will read them and what you will think of your young, silly, inexperienced mother.  Who will you be all those years from now, reading back about who you were all those years ago? I have so much hope for you, so many dreams.  That's one of the most amazing things about being a mother; suddenly having dreams for someone else's life instead of just your own.  Dreams that started even before I met you three years ago.  Dreams that started before I even knew you existed.  Dreams that you make true already every day because, really, you were the dream to begin with.

I love you so very much.  Happy birthday, sweet girl.

Mommy

letter to lawton

Dear Lawton,

It's nearing midnight on August 31, 2012.  In less than an hour, it will be your first birthday.  A year ago tonight I was getting restless bursts of sleep in between weak contractions, fighting to get comfortable on a tiny hospital bed with an IV in my arm.  We had been stuck back in a quiet corner of the labor and delivery floor waiting to be relocated to a bigger room in the morning when things had quieted down for everyone else and picked up for us.  I was so nervous that night, anticipating not only labor and delivery itself but the total rocking of our world that was imminent with your arrival.  When your sister was born I was terrified of the unknown, of how I would handle being a mother and how our lives would adapt to the challenges of parenthood.  This time I was anxious about all of the things I KNEW were coming (the struggles of nursing, the lack of sleep, the constant shifting of schedules) as well as the added difficulties of integrating you into our little threesome while still keeping Laine on a familiar routine.  I'll be honest with you, my thoughts strayed to her even as I was preparing to meet you, worried that she would feel lost in all of the new baby hubbub.  That mommy guilt is a strange beast, Lawton boy.  The second I would start to worry about Laine and her feelings, I would feel guilty for not being focused solely on you, anxious that you would not get the same uninterrupted attention she had had for almost two years.

While Laine may have gotten more of my undivided time and attention, I have to say that in some ways you were lucky to come second.  You got a more confident, strong, relaxed mommy.  Don't get me wrong, I can still rock a routine like it's nobody's business, but I have learned where I can let things slide and sometimes I do.  I knew what to take special joy in during those difficult newborn months, soaking up the weight of your little body on my chest, the tiny uncontrolled movements of your hands, the soft smell of your head after a washcloth bath.  I delighted in your milestones without consulting a single book or website.  I did the best I could and knew it was enough.  And now I celebrate the passage of this magical, crazy, wonderful, exhausting first year with pride in both you and myself.

I remember being astounded when Laine turned one at what a huge change seemed to come over her in a matter of weeks and I have noticed the same phenomenon with you.  All of a sudden you seem so much less like a baby; I get glimpses of the toddler and the little boy you will soon become.  You've entered the "dat" phase, wanting me to identify every new thing and person you see over and over and over (and OVER) again.  You point at and reach for and touch and look at and study and chew on EVERYTHING.  You pull up and wave bye bye and nod yes and shake your head no and mimic animal sounds and kissy noises and are soaking things up like a little sponge.  Watching you and your sister learn and discover things has truly been the greatest source of joy and pride in my life.

You're a little terror and a little delight.  You get into everything you're not supposed to, discovering things I never would have thought to baby-proof.  We can't go anywhere without you befriending everyone we meet, charming them with your enthusiasm and your smile and your silly little tuft of bright blonde hair on the back of your head.  We also can't go anywhere without you trying to stand up in the seat of the shopping cart but that's another story.  You adore your sister and your dogs, throwing balls, dancing, and climbing in the Cozy Coupe and waving bye bye.  You are so fearless and spirited and loud, quick to get frustrated and vocal with your anger (or your "baby rage" as your daddy and I call it), but just as quick to giggle and shriek with joy.  You make me laugh out loud every day.

I was worried about so many things while waiting in that tiny hospital room because, as you will learn, your mommy is a worrier.  But now, a year later, I realize that I had nothing to worry about.  You were exactly what and who was meant to come into my life, your daddy's life, your sister's life.  You have added to our family, not just in number, but in joy.  I am proud and blessed and happy and so, so very lucky to be your mommy.

I love you so much, my little man.  Happy birthday!

Mommy

9/1/2011

nine

This past weekend marked nine years since the loss of one of my nearest and dearest.  I've written something about it here for the past few years and felt remiss in not doing so this year, so here we are.  I feel a bit rusty coming back to the blog, so I guess this is as good a place to start as any.

The weekend of the anniversary I was doing a show with a small group of some other nearest and dearests of mine.  It was a pet project of sorts that we had scraped together all on our very own out of common interest, desire, and talent.  I opened my dinosaur of a Caboodle the night before we opened (yes, I do still have a Caboodle and yes, it is purple with sparkles) to the picture of Jaime and me doing Tea in the Nutcracker that has been there for nine years now.  It still makes me catch my breath a little, and shake my head, and smile.  That's why it's still there, I guess.  And as a reminder, not only of him, but of the kind of performer I want to be and am capable of being.  Dancing onstage with Jaime was a delight and an honor and a joy, and I never want to forget that feeling and the desire to recapture it in other performances.  There was no better place to honor and remember him than onstage, and no better people to be with than the four that shared the stage with me.

The odd part of this particular anniversary for me personally is that I am on the cusp of turning 28, which is how old Jaime was when we lost him.  It is so strange and sad to me that from that birthday on I will always be older than my memories of him.  It was impossible to think of Jaime as "old", but he was just enough older than me that it seemed distant.  Almost thirty is so far away when you're barely twenty.  But here I am, and I realize with dizzying clarity just how young Jaime really was.  Just how much he didn't get to do, how much he didn't get to see ME do.  And the older I get, the farther I am from 28, the younger and younger he will seem to me.  My big brother, my "older man" crush, will never again be older than I am.

As with every year that passes I think of all of the things I would love to be able to share with him, namely my children.  What joy it would bring him to see what a smart and talented girl Laine is becoming, and what a little goofball Lawton is.  And I know they would have adored him as much as I did.  It's a loss for all of us.

Yet another nearest and dearest, Erin, always astounds me with her eloquence and maturity and never more than when I find myself at a loss for words.  I hope she won't mind me sharing what she wrote about Jaime this year...

"Two things Jaime wrote to me that I still hold onto:
1-That if I keep my heart as pure and full of love and life as the summer we shared a stage together, than I will have succeeded. 2-Always believe there is something of a wonder to the world and a magic which makes it worth living in.

Nine years is a long time to be without his magic but we've all tried to add some extra love and light and art to this world in his absence. And he may be gone, but he owed me a dinner and I still plan on collecting on that someday."

I'm planning on joining them.  Still miss you, Jaime.

eight
seven
six

never grow a wishbone

This brings to mind the letter I posted before that Tina Fey wrote to her daughter, just in a little more serious tone.  I love things like this that encourage strength and ambition and spunk in little girls.  As much as I enjoy watching Disney princess movies with Laine and hearing her sing Part of Your World at the top of her little lungs, I never want her to feel that she has to change herself to find love. 

For My Daughter

By Sarah McMane
“Never grow a wishbone, daughter, where your backbone ought to be.” – Clementine Paddleford
Never play the princess when you can
be the queen:
rule the kingdom, swing a scepter,
wear a crown of gold.
Don’t dance in glass slippers,
crystal carving up your toes --
be a barefoot Amazon instead,
for those shoes will surely shatter on your feet.
Never wear only pink
when you can strut in crimson red,
sweat in heather grey, and
shimmer in sky blue,
claim the golden sun upon your hair.
Colors are for everyone,
boys and girls, men and women --
be a verdant garden, the landscape of Versailles,
not a pale primrose blindly pushed aside.
Chase green dragons and one-eyed zombies,
fierce and fiery toothy monsters,
not merely lazy butterflies,
sweet and slow on summer days.
For you can tame the most brutish beasts
with your wily wits and charm,
and lizard scales feel just as smooth
as gossamer insect wings.
Tramp muddy through the house in
a purple tutu and cowboy boots.
Have a tea party in your overalls.
Build a fort of birch branches,
a zoo of Legos, a rocketship of
Queen Anne chairs and coverlets,
first stop on the moon.
Dream of dinosaurs and baby dolls,
bold brontosaurus and bookish Belle,
not Barbie on the runway or
Disney damsels in distress --
you are much too strong to play
the simpering waif.
Don a baseball cap, dance with Daddy,
paint your toenails, climb a cottonwood.
Learn to speak with both your mind and heart.
For the ground beneath will hold you, dear --
know that you are free.
And never grow a wishbone, daughter,
where your backbone ought to be.

i'll be back

I promise I will return to blogging eventually... one of these days.  It is something that I so enjoy doing and yet I find that it consistently slips to the bottom of my priority list.  A list that is mighty lengthy these days, hence the long absence.  I HAVE managed to keep up with the rest of my new years goals this year though and have missed only a handful of days posting on my tumblr photo-a-day page.  I have also been writing in my question-a-day journal every night before bed, have stuck to a consistent workout and diet plan and lost a little over 30 pounds (I've been wanting to blog about that whole "journey" for a while now... it will probably be my next "real" entry), I ran a 5K and am registered for another one next weekend, I'm doing another musical with Town and Gown Players... my plate is full and my life is fuller.

Yep, fuller.

natural

I don't think that I am a "natural" when it comes to parenting.  For a while I thought that the whole instant, all-consuming, blinding love as soon as your baby was handed off into your arms was a myth, some part of the whole mommy-guilt package, something you were "supposed to feel" but that no one ever really did.  But now, after having more friends have children of their own and say without hesitation that they did in fact have those feelings, I realize that I was wrong.  I just didn't feel that way.  I've talked about this before, especially after having Laine, and I always have a pang of guilt writing about it.  Don't get me wrong, I felt a fierce kind of motherly love that I never experienced before the second I knew I was pregnant, let alone when I finally got to see my little ones face to face.  But it felt more instinctual, more like protectiveness and ownership, less like "love".  It took me weeks, even months, to fall in love with my babies as little people rather than just my offspring.

So, no, I don't count myself among the "naturals".  But what I know I am is a GOOD mommy.  Because while I may not have fallen head over heart over heels with my little pink, squalling, cone-headed newborns, I really and truly LIKE my children.  I find the experience of parenting fascinating, almost like an incredibly consuming but equally as rewarding hobby.  I devour parenting magazines and books, scour calendars and websites for activities we can all enjoy together, delight in other people's stories and experiences and pictures.  I feel genuine excitement when we get new toys and clothes and books for the kids, and I love rediscovering things from my childhood that I can share with them (I spent hours on ebay over the past few days trying to find Disney DVDs for Laine).

So while the patience and the sweetness that seems to come so easily to some other mothers may not be natural to me, I can honestly say that I enjoy the time I spend with my kids.  I feel like I know them now, better than I've ever known anyone else in my life.  Laine is smart, charming, funny, precocious, and full of spunk.  Lawton is a ball of joy, independent and wiggly, ready with a smile from the moment he wakes up in the morning.  And they both have brought more joy into my life than I even imagined as they blinked up into my eyes for the first time.

letter to lawton

Dear Lawton,

First of all, thank you for overlapping your nap with your sister today allowing me time to even consider writing a blog entry.  Much appreciated, bubs.

The past four months have been such a whirlwind around here adjusting to adding you into our little house and into our lives.  For the most part you have been quite cooperative and I feel like we have yet again won the baby lottery.  Both you and your sister have been champion sleepers starting at around 3 months and I could not be more grateful for that.  It's amazing how much more confident and HUMAN I feel on a solid night's sleep (although we do need to discuss this recent 5:30am wake time you've started trying out...).  We kept you in our room for longer than we did with her (mostly since your bedrooms are so close together) and you slep in your bouncy seat for a while once we moved you to your nursery, but you have now adjusted nicely to sleeping in your crib every night and even for some of your naps! 

You're a much better eater than Laine was, which you proved by weighing in the 90th percentile at your 2 month check up.  You were back down to the 50th at your 4 month appointment but seem determine to make up the loss with a growth spurt this week which has you wanting to eat close to every 2 and a half hours again.  I'll take the trade if you keep sleeping 10-12 hours a night!  I'm confident that we will be able to stick with nursing exclusively this time, which is very exciting for me and your daddy (and our wallets... formula ain't cheap, buddy boy!).

You just started trying out Laine's old jumper and your new johnny jump-up that hangs in the doorway and you seem to love the new perspective.  You're strong and independent already and love being able to be in on the action with your big sister in a whole new way.  Speaking of which, you ADORE your sister already (and the feeling seems to be mutual so far).  If you're having a fit, she can instantly calm you.  If you're playing near her on the floor, your eyes are glued on her.  I think she even got your first official smile!  There is nothing I love more than watching the two of you together and I can't wait to see your relationship grow.

Your other new favorite thing is screaming.  LOUDLY.  You scream when you're happy, sad, tired, frustrated, amused, excited, you name it.  It is your new vocalization of choice.  Most of the time it's pretty funny, but every now and then Laine and I BOTH are asking you to knock it off!  Laine reminds you often of the "no screaming in the house" rule, but you don't seem willing to play along.

I'm not gonna lie, I'm relieved to be moving out of the newborn phase into infancy.  I love watching new expressions grace your sweet little face and hearing new sounds (minus the screaming) escape your mouth.  I love watching you start to notice and explore your surroundings, grabbing onto toys, chewing on everything you can get your hands on, and even rolling over for the first time yesterday!  I also love seeing the many ways you have changed our little family:  I enjoy watching your daddy with a new little baby- his first SON!- and seeing Laine grow into such a special, helpful big sister.  And most of all, I am just so glad to be your mommy. You are and will always be my little handsome man.

I love you very much,
Mommy

gc365

Hey family, friends, followers, infrequent readers, and stumbled-upon-by-accident-ers!  In honor of the fast-approaching end of the year I have done some thinking about what I wanted my resolution(s) to be for 2012.  I have already gotten halfway through the Ease Into 5K program, registered for a 5K at the end of January, AND am trying to consistently maintain a food diary with MyFitnessPal, so I felt that any kind of health and fitness related goal would be a little redundant (although of course maintenance will be key in 2012).  So I started thinking of other projects I would like to undertake and LO, unto me a new blog project was born!  And I laid it in a tumblr, wrapped it in a fancy template, and called it gc365.  My goal is to document my daily life through photos, one a day for at least a year.  A lot of people have done this "project 365" and had albums on facebook, but posting to Tumblr directly from my iPhone (yeah, I'm super fancy, y'all) is really ridiculously easy and I am all about simplicity when it comes to sticking with something.  SO.  I'll still be posting here as regularly as I can manage, but feel free to follow along with me on my photo journey as well... and prepare yourself for gratuitous cute kiddo photography, probably via Instagram.  What can I say, they rock a filtered photo.

adventures of bubba and the bug

(A beginning draft of a children's book I've been ruminating on...)

One day (probably a Wednesday), Bubba and the Bug set out on a grand adventure.

Now in most books about grand adventures, you begin with an "unlikely pair".  But Bubba and the Bug are about as likely as they come because, you see, they are brother and sister.

Bug is the fearless leader of the two, a singer, dancer, painter, lover of pink and voice of many a stuffed bear.

She's mostly the fearless leader because Bubba is a baby.

Most grand adventures also involve a great deal of complicated traveling, but Bubba and the Bug had nap times to consider, so for this grand Wednesday, travel was limited to wherever Fancy Car might take them In Town.

The Bug surveyed the land from her Special Seat and announced to Bubba that the adventures of the day would begin with errands.

But both were disappointed about the decidedly non-adventure-y feeling of errand running.

(What should Bubba and the Bug do next?  What do you think?)

letter to my (TWO YEAR OLD) girl

Laine,

Today I was folding and sorting some of Lawton's laundry, pulling out the newborn onesies and sleepers that are now too small.  As I placed them in their own little pile to be relegated to the attic I had to stop and catch my breath for a moment thinking of you, my big, beautiful, smart and sassy little girl, fitting into those same newborn onesies only two years ago.  Only two years and yet... two whole years!  I think only a parent can understand how a length of time can seem so long and so distant and yet have flown by.  I remember so clearly the doctor's appointment when I learned you existed, then standing on the balcony of our tiny one bedroom apartment going through my contact list to let everyone know I was PREGNANT (oh the joy and the terror and the triumph and the anticipation and the anxiety and the excitement wrapped into those eight letters).  And then 39 long/short weeks later, laboring for so long in the hospital and finding out you were a girl (!!!).  I remember bringing you home (to a TWO bedroom apartment), watching you grow, filled with anxiety and wonder and pride, moving you into our first home as a family, seeing you learn to crawl, start to speak, take your first steps...and all of this was just in one year.  And now you're two.

In your second year I found out I was pregnant again in January and had your brother on September 1st (it's been quite a year for both of us, sweetpea).  You went from being my only child to being my first.  And you became a big sister.  If I was proud of you before, I don't know the word to describe the swell of emotions I feel as I watch you with your brother.  Whenever people hear how close in age you two are they always ask me how you're doing... if you're gentle with the baby, if you're a good helper, how you've handled the changes.  My response is always the same:  you're a rock star.

Being a big sister is not the only thing at which you are excelling (and blowing Mommy's mind with).  Holy smokes, girl, are you SMART.  Your vocabulary has skyrocketed and your diction is truly impressive.  Even your pediatrician looked at me across the exam table with raised eyebrows when you started talking to him.  You speak in full sentences, connecting thoughts in way that sometimes surprises me.  (When I got pulled over on our way home from Augusta - NOT for speeding... apparently I didn't slow down enough when passing a police car - you were entranced by the police officer ("the man" as you referred to him) and asked if he was "like Robert", a police horse in a book we hadn't read in weeks.)  You're funny, precocious, flirty (btw, you may want to back off of Travis a little... aunt Chelsea might be getting a little jealous), stubborn, and sweet.  You love to sing and have really remarkable pitch for a 2 year old.  You take that "dance like no one is watching" quote very literally.  You devour books like candy (which you will also devour... like... itself) and have many of your favorites memorized.  You still sleep like an angel and eat like a champ.  You are learning so much so fast about being kind and sharing and taking turns... not that you always do it, because you are a willful and spunky little goober sometimes and certainly know how to have a fit with the best of them.  But basically what I'm getting at here is that I could not have asked for a more remarkable child.

Darling daughter, I just plain adore you.  You are beautiful to me and I can assure you that you always will be.  I am so happy to have added your brother to our family, doubling our number of children but exponentially increasing our joy, but you will always be my special girl, the one that shares my middle name, my first baby.  You light up my life, warm my heart, and fill my soul.  I am so grateful to be your mother.

I love you very much.

Mommy

schlumpy

Today has been one of those days in which I walked by a mirror at approximately 3pm, stopped, walked slowly backwards, and gave myself a good, long, horrified look.  No make-up, no shower, no change of clothes since I rolled out of bed at 6am to answer the call of a certain Mr. Fussypants.  A runny-nosed coughing toddler and a squirmy whiny baby will do that to you I suppose.  Motherhood is not glamorous, that's for certain.  But my oh my if it isn't rewarding... in it's own wearing-my-husband's-old-tshirt-and-yoga-pants kinda way.

PS - One of my little "rewards" turns TWO on Friday.  I'm working on her birthday letter.  And by "working on" I mean that I've thought about it, freaked out for a moment, and then wiped up some spit up or other bodily fluid from one child or the other.  (How much longer can I use having a baby as an excuse to not get much of anything done?  I've got a while, right?  RIGHT?)

semi-extreme makeover: bedroom edition

We moved into our first house when Laine was only about 4 months old.  I spent a lot of time and energy fixing up her room (transferring wall decals tediously from her old room on wax paper then obsessing over where it should go in the new room, turning her curtains into mounted canvas wall art when they didn't fit the windows, organizing her HUGE closet) and painting the rest of the house.  My mom and I matched wall colors to rugs and moved the living room chairs about 87 times and re-purposed the guest room closet into a tiny home office for Joe.  But in all of that, the master bedroom kind of fell to the wayside.  I found a paint color I fell in love with and my mother-in-law did a beautiful job painting the room and the attached bath, but that was about it.  We inherited our bedroom set from my parents when they got new stuff a few years ago (free = awesome) and while I was so happy to not have to scrounge furniture from thrift stores and yard sales, it's not really my style.  Our old bedding went into the guest room since it didn't match the new color scheme so we settled for an uncovered duvet and some new sheets.

 This is a pretty accurate "before" shot, although I did do an artsy project and paint a bunch of different red, black, silver, and white "C"s and hang them over the bed.  The jeans on the floor on Joe's side of the bed are also quite accurate.  There's nothing wrong with the room, it just doesn't do anything for me.  Yawn.

So as part of my Christmas list, I told Joe I wanted to finally do something about the room.  I started looking for inspiration pictures on Pinterest and trying to pin down (HA) exactly what I wanted to change.  But every room I liked had either white or black furniture and I just couldn't envision the room looking much different as long as we had this furniture.  And we can't exactly afford a whole new bedroom set right now.  Soooo...

We PAINTED it!

The transformation is not complete... we still have to paint the huge dresser that sits on the wall across from the bed, I think I'm going to take down the "C"s and put up a collage wall of black and white photos, I want to replace the lamps and the bedspread and my giant ugly alarm clock, move the hampers from the foot of the bed to somewhere that Joe's clothes might actually come in contact with them, put a bookshelf on the wall to the right for added storage options, etc.  BUT it's a great start.  We even managed to get the swirly carved thing off the headboard (and the dresser mirror) before we painted!  I'm really happy with how it changes the look of the room so far and it's definitely motivated me to continue working to make the room somewhere I am proud of and enjoy being in.  Here are a few more "during" photos...

 The nightstands getting primed and ready! (HA... I'm on a roll today, y'all.)

 Joe getting in on the action... and a glimpse of Bag-lady Laine in the background.

 The mirror that attaches over the dresser with the funky swirly thing that we managed to pry off.

My nightstand, painted and dry but still needing a little TLC in the decor department.

And a Fitness magazine.

BOO!

One of the best things about having kiddos is having an excuse to get crazy excited about the holidays.  And to go see all the new Pixar/Disney/Muppet movies.  Not that I really needed an excuse.

Anyway,  Happy Halloween from my little monsters!