Little Mister Two

The birthdays always bring me back.  And this Little Mister had a big one in December- Two.
As He will tell you, proudly, brandishing an arbitrary number of fingers like He's displaying the ark of the covenant, "Ine TWO!"
What a Two He is, too.
Little Mister has had the effect on our family of figuratively (and very nearly literally) turning the entire house upside down and inside out.  He rips through our lives like a two-foot tall tornado that sings, leaving a trail of mess and chaos, and all of us feeling like maybe we just got off a carnival ride we don't remember getting in line for.
The thing about Him though, is that we turn to scold Him for it, and find this golden-haired angel, beaming at us with big innocent eyes, saying things like, "Ah wuv oo!" "cuddle time!" "sungle me up!" and then showering you with hugs and kisses and sighs of "MAma home!" (or Daddy, or Sister, or MissMiss, or whoever you may be).
This deep appreciation for your existence and generosity of affection entirely stuns the brain so that all you can do is melt into a puddle of warm-fuzzies and bask in the adoration.
Then, He's off to get Himself some milk (He does that), and you turn around, and through the stars in your eyes see the wreckage He he's trailed behind Him in a swath of destruction.  Argh.  That Mister.
What can we do with Him?!
He's impossible because He's impossibly sweet.  He's not so much rebellious as just spring-loaded. The absolute best way to imagine Mister, if you haven't met Him, is to envision the personification of a big bottle of soda-pop, having just been vigorously shaken.  So, so sweet.  SO about to explode all over everything.

His big achievements at two are:

Total mastery of the limbs
-From climbing and running and monkey bars to delicately removing the loose screws from whatever-it-is, Mister has the motor skills checked off the list.

The Alphabet
-uppercase, lowercase, spoken or sung- this kid rocks His letters and He's plenty proud to show you.

Counting (except for 14 and 15)
-He can get to 30, but 14 and 15 are usually a stumble, and after 10 the written form gets mixed up.

Shapes and Colors
-Thanks to bossy sisters, Mister knows not just His primaries, but His teals, lavenders, and fuchsias.  He thinks carefully if you ask Him what color something is, because He knows that if He calls turquoise green, He is going to hear about it.
-He's good with the basic shapes, kites, and pentagons, because He has a puzzle that says so and He has a small love affair with all puzzles of all kinds.

Headstands
-Thanks in part to His beloved gymnastics class and in part to His two personal coaches (Missy and Little One), Mister's favorite party trick for guests is "looka me this!" and running to the sofa or wall to do a headstand.  If you don't notice at first, no problem.  He'll just stay like that, turning red, until you notice.

The Potty.
-Unless He's busy and having fun. In which case He does not mind being wet so long as the train tracks link up so that the bridge connects to the whatever.  Fortunately, we have left the days of stinky pants far behind, but being dry all day still requires a lot of reminding and cajoling.

the iEverything
- Sigh.  I did all I could to keep screen time from Him entirely until He turned two, but He has seen all of us on a phone or tablet at some time, and so such devices have held this mystique that He is obsessed with.  Turn around for one moment and your phone is gone.  Wait, what? Wasn't it just here? Wait, what? Who emailed my boss from my account to say "asdfsgjgwieortjjdhfgjnfverBBB43fi9g"?!   And why is it so quiet....  oh there you are, Mr.  Hiding under my bed/in the closet/behind the sofa.  How did I find you? Must have been your giddy conversation with your crush, Siri.

The mastery of His sisters
This guy.  His sisters are basically the minions to His super villain.  The pawns to His king.  The tweens to His bieber concert.  And He knows it.  "Sissy, hab some?" blink blink.  Whatever they were eating is now His.  "Sissy, my want it.  Give me toy please".  His.  And I can't tell you how many times I've caught them comforting Him in Time-Out.  He has them wrapped around His chubby, drooly fingers, and they love it.

Things He loves include:

Food. The spicier, the better.  If He won't eat it, sprinkle on some of the Mexican chile-lime powder we stockpile for Him, and it will disappear.  Just don't give Him the bottle, or He will eat it straight, until His face turns red, the tears stream down His cheeks, and He is panting, "More...'picy....More 'picy... please.."   He loves Ethiopian food, Indian food, Cajun food, all the 'picy stuff.  We have even put cayenne in His oatmeal, upon request.  He loved it.

Chocolate- He is all my influence when it comes to desserts.  He loves chocolate and frequently approaches me out of the blue- "mommy.  Think a time a make a chock-it cake. Wan' some chock-it, Mama? We can make some, chock-it cake".  He knows He's asking the right person.

Cars/trains/planes and especially construction vehicles.  I'm still flabbergasted about how this information infiltrated into His tiny mind deeply enough for Him to become so obsessed with it. But He is constantly on the lookout for interesting vehicles, and if you call an excavator a backhoe, you will be corrected.  Believe me.

Repeated brain damage.  I sometimes take a big, steadying breath and wonder whether I would be arrested if an MRI was ever done on this child.  I send up a little prayer that He will retain a decent amount of control over His faculties as an adult.  Because He has lived like a linebacker pretty much all day every day since He could walk.  I promise I do my best to protect His little skull, but He seems to have a magnetic-type material in there that is attracted to all hard surfaces, especially those with sharp corners.  He is so constantly going, racing, jumping, crashing, diving into, around, and over things with no consideration whatsoever for any possible consequences, that we have simply come to think of blue as the normal color of His forehead.

Since we don't have a padded room (which might be a good idea), the next best thing is the trampoline.  And it is one of the great loves of His life.  We have a small one with the big net walls around it in the basement.  Plopping Him in there is like putting a hamster on a wheel.  He'll just go until He is so tired He can not stand up anymore.  He positively loves gymnastics classes on Saturdays, and the trampoline is the crowning glory of this day He waits for all week.  He can do seat drop, pike, open-closed with His legs, arms up and bounce in a circle, and a front flip, landing on His back.  We aren't sure whether to be proud or quite concerned.

Music.  Mister reminds us of Little One with His affinity for music and knack for pitch.  He sits through His Sister's piano lessons positively emerald green with envy, and often I have to take Him outside to wait because He simply will not stop clapping and counting to the beat, or loudly repeating the names of the notes His sisters read off. Or just random strings of letters that might be notes.  When they practice at home, He insists that He also has to have a turn to "practic my pano", and He sits there plinking along very seriously.
He loves music and dancing, and thanks to His sister knows all the steps to the Whip NaeNae, which is totally His song. Standing in line at the grocery store He will suddenly burst out singing and dancing- "watch me, watch me, watch me, watch me! Watch me yooooo, watch me supa-may-an.." and I never really know how to respond.

The alphabet.  Letter flashcards, puzzles, and games never get old.  His favorite book is Dr. Suess's ABC book, and He prefers to recite it to us, if you please.  He sees His sisters reading, listens to Missy practicing with me, and wants it so badly He's practically drooling.  It's like watching a baby on the brink of being able to crawl, two inches too far from a toy they want.  So...close....but so far.

My Do It.  Mister wants to help- stir the pot, put the laundry in the washer, put the silverware away, zip the zippers, drive the car, vacuum the house- ALL the things.  ALL by Himself.  Others who complete tasks of any sort without Him, are treasonous traitors and will be treated accordingly.
Elevator broken and we have to walk down four flights of stairs?  "NO mama, carry me.  No pick-a up. MY do it. MY self do."  I find myself frequently talking to me, like lunatic, reminding myself that independence is good, that this is a wonderful opportunity to practice patience.  Unless we are late.  In which case there will be screaming.

Telling it like it is.  Mister can not, as much as He wants to, drive a bulldozer.  But one thing He can do, is talk.  He has a voice.  He has a vocabulary. And He is not afraid to use it.  He will tell you all about it.  Whatever it happens to be.  He will be sure to correct you if you say something crazy like "no, you can't drive the bulldozer".  He will tell you long stories about His day:
"Oh, we play a game, chug some trains 'round, read a story, I see a alligator..." 
"you saw an alligator today?" 
"Yes!" 
"Really." 
"Yes! An' lookout! Still in here! Gonna bite you! Scary-yikes! Hahahahaha no it jus' me.  Got you, Mommy.  I scary you. HAHAHA!" 
He will patiently and lovingly take the time to teach you everything you need to know.  "K, mommy, now time for make a cookie, uh-kay? So, now time, you get out a shiny bowl.  Get em a-gredients weady a counter.  Need a spoon- my pick it- we make a cookie time.  My stir it, and we make cookies kay.  Mommy.  DON' washa bowl.  Don' wash it. My lick it, eat a cookie stuff in there.  Then-a wash it.  Ok? Ok Mommy.  Let's go.  Right now Mommy.  Mommy.  IN A KITCHEN TIME!" 
He will see you coming a mile away and stop you right there. "Mommy, ok, listen me.  Read a story me, ok.  Ok, read a story, but no is sleepy-time. No put a jammies, no zip a up. No singing songs, no sleepy time. No rocka chair, for no sleepy time now.  2 stories, mommy.  K, two story, then I chug some trains. Ok." 

His Sisters.  Yes, we have reached the age of metoo.  He works those little legs very, very hard trying to keep up with the Sisters, and whatever they are doing, He wants to do.  Whatever He is doing, He wants them with Him.  Most days, the first thing He does when He wakes up is call out for them, and if I get Him out of bed, the first thing He wants to know is where they are.  Lucky for Him, this adoration absolutely goes both ways.

His Daddy.  Little Mister at 2 is a 100% Daddy's Boy.  The look on His face when He stares up at J can only be described as the type of thing religions have been founded upon.  Whenever there is an option, "Daddy take me" "Daddy sing me" "Daddy read me" "I go Daddy" "I ride Daddy's car".  Nothing can cause Mister's sweet little face to fold and crinkle and dissolve into sadness like the dreaded words "Daddy is at work".  Nothing can top the exultation in His voice when He hollers "Daddy home!" Lucky for Mister again, this adoration goes both ways, too.

In fact, Mister is pretty hard not to adore.  Is He a human wrecking ball? Yes. Is He frequently regarded as the world's tiniest acting dictator? Yes.  Has He developed the indescribably annoying habit of shrieking when He is upset or at random times and do we hope this phase passes like the fastest kidney stone ever suffered through? Why, yes.  But is He also the gentlest cuddler, the most empathetic care-taker of us all, the most joyful, infectious belly-laugher, and the most hysterical source of crack-ups He could possibly be? Also yes.

Little Mister shaken soda-pop, we wouldn't have you any other way.  You are the chile powder in our bowl of life, and we love you.  Happy Two.

Little One Turns SEVEN

Today my Little One is seven.  Seven.
It has been a wild year, full of challenges.  She moved to a new state/town/home/school.  She weathered Her father disappearing into residency and Her mother going back to work.  She had three health emergencies at school, including on picture day and Her birthday.  She lost three great-grandparents, a grandfather, and Her dog.   She switched schools again.  She started riding the bus, 2 hours a day.  She found out that when the year is over, She will switch again, and oh- also be moving across the world.  (More about that later).  She adopted a fish, took on gymnastics, piano, and swimming, and had a sweet baby brother morph into a 25 pound wrecking ball.  And she lost a bunch of teeth.
 Little One has dealt with all of these things in the Little-One-est way possible; with grace, resilience, and cheerfulness.  Little One, surrounded by challenges, peers out onto a horizon of endless mountains and sees a grand adventure in each one.  Her first instinct on facing any steep terrain in life is to find a foothold and start climbing.
As my little girl begins truly to grow up, Her innate drive to Try Hard is something I find so beautiful and inspiring in Her.  It's this adventurous, open-hearted spirit and willingness to go through the struggle of something new that has brought Her through to being a seven-year old who seems to excel at everything She tries.  It's because She tries, and tries, and tries again until She gets it.  I might want to be like Her when I grow up.  In the last year, Little One has covered a lot of ground.  She has:

- Done well in school, and been accepted into the accelerated STEM program at the magnet school that is practically in Siberia it's such an long bus ride from Her mother.  Ahem.

-Become a self-described "book addicted person", consuming books like a flame.  In the last year she has read the entire magic treehouse series, fairy series (good riddance), and most of encyclopedia brown, in addition to stacks and stacks of others.  She usually gets about 20 from the library each week, and burns right through them.

- Started gymnastics for fun and was invited to team-track.  Last week She completed a gym right-of-passage and climbed 20 feet of rope to stick Her name tag on the ceiling!

- Become super interested in robotics, and for Her birthday asked for "small motors, lithium batteries, and lots of scotch tape".

-Begun cooking meals and baking all by Herself.

- Gotten pretty good on Her bike, though not yet ready to let go of training wheels.

-Managed to keep in touch with friends from Her old school, and also make great new friends on the bus and at Her new school.

-Moved forward in swimming and with Her grandad's coaching learned to dive.

-Been a flower girl in both Her aunts' lovely weddings!

-Taught Her brother the alphabet song, and also how to Cha Cha slide.

-Grown tall enough to ride some of the rides at a theme park

-Taken good care of Her fish.

-Eaten probably several metric tons of sushi.  (should I not have put those last two in a row?)

-Realized that Her parents are not perfect (that one stings a little)

-Loved us anyways (at least so far).

-Loved all of us, actually.  All of of us in the immediate and extended family, neighborhood, and basically the world.  She loves the whole world.  She wants to take care of all the everyone.

Her Loves and Not-Loves:

Loves:
Sushi
Seaweed in any form
Japanese food in general
Hot Dogs/Tofu Dogs/anything called dog that gets ketchup on it
Home made bread and honey
French Onion soup
Ethiopian food
Brussel sprouts
Sugar.

Reading
Robotics
Pokeman (because the bus kids play)
Anything that ends with Her covered in mud
Traveling/visiting new places
Learning about Anything
Making Mister Laugh
Art projects and pretend with Missy
Chasing the boys
Riding the bus
Dancing
Cooking (French Onion soup is Her specialty)
Vegan Baking (Brownie Pie is Her top recipe)
Riding Her bike
Being altogether silly
Pigtails
Headbands
Sparkles/ruffles/fancy shiny anything
Sleeping/snuggling with Her sister

Not So Much
Mushrooms
Bell Peppers
The idea of cheese or eggs.  The look and smell and existence of them.
Sitting at the Peanut-free table at school
Missing Her dog
When Little siblings don't get the memo about Her being In Charge
The "frog" stretch at gymnastics
Playing with dolls/barbies
Scary movies or stories
Lights Out at bedtime (She would read until midnight)
Sleeping/snuggling with Her sister

Little One at seven alternates between being curled up reading, practically in a coma She's so still and  quiet and unaware of the rest of the world, and being a whirling top, cartwheeling through the living room, dancing in the kitchen, creating utopian worlds in the backyard with Missy, constructing 4-foot cardboard robots all over the basement, and asking ALL. the. questions.  About ALL the things.

She's at a fragile stage of growing up, wondering aloud if there's really such a thing as a tooth fairy, but not daring to think about applying the same logic to Santa.  She wants the freedom to wear Her crazy mis-matched outfits and to ride Her bike beyond our line of sight, but still wants cuddles and lullabies before bed.  She's beyond wanting us to read to Her, but still likes to read right beside us.  She thinks She should watch these movies Her friends talk about, like Star Wars and Jurassic Park, but hides behind me when Bambi's forrest catches fire.  Sometimes in gymnastics I watch Her, steadily stepping along the high-beam, and it feels familiar.  She's walking the line between a Little Kid and a Big Kid.

Knowing how close that era of Her life (and ours) is now, it's impossible not to look ahead, as a mom, and go breathless with the wonders and worries of the more complex years ahead.  But being around Little One helps me to keep from panicking.  Hanging out and chatting with Her, it's hard to imagine She could ever not be sweet, fun, and fantastic.  When I'm with Her, I see all those challenges ahead in the Big Kid years for what they are through the Little One lens- adventures waiting to be taken on and made into successes.  Mountains waiting to be climbed.

Seven on the Seventh.  A golden birthday! Happy, happy birthday Little One, my golden little girl.  We love you so much, and love going through all your grand adventures with you.  May you always climb with such strength.   

Birthday

Yep.  I had one.  

It was kind of hard to tell, at first.  Since J worked like 12 hours that day, and I spent it cleaning bathrooms and organizing the basement and covering my ears and rocking back and forth signing REALLY LOUDLY to drown out all the WHINING from the kids who were stuck in the house due to a mosquito invasion of apocalyptic proportions, and neglected due to the bathroom scrubbing and basement cleaning.  

As a special treat there was the insurance adjuster who came to assess my birthday present this year, which will be a new car door, seeing as how I smashed the other one into a wall.  Tricky, those walls! He knew it was my birthday, so he brought me a back-scratcher shaped like a bear claw.  Er.  Thanks..

He also tried to give me the gift of "hey, you're not that old" by giving me his number, and repeatedly telling me to call and text him, but not to tell my husband.  Or to tell him about the back-scratcher either.  And if he were my man, he wouldn't be mad at me for wrecking the car.  ('Don't tell your husband I said that').  And then after he left, he sent a few text messages and then came back, texting me from the driveway to ask if he could come in and borrow some duct tape.  Really? At which point I directed him to the furthest hardware store and went back to the basement, where it was less creepy.

The Sisters wanted to throw me a "party", which means they got out every piece of everything and flung it around the room, draping beads and scarves and, ahem, my bras ("they're so fancy!") from the furniture and lamps and taping stuff to the walls.  

Then, while I tried to wrestle a two-ton angry crocodile (or maybe it was Mister, hard to tell which was what that day) into a nap, Sisters decided to bake me a cake.  I guess the floor in there was white anyways, so whats a bunch of flour and sugar and stuff? Right?!

The whole gang of them wanted in on decorating it, too, so we got out- the sprinkles. Which, all the moms who shuddered upon reading that know, are almost as bad as glitter.  

J had offered to bring a birthday dinner home, but he got stuck at work until after bedtime, and couldn't text me until the children were already gnawing on their own elbows they were so hungry.  So it was microwaved tofu-dogs and freezer peas for dinner.  And wine.  For me. 

I re-wrestled the crocodile into bed, and stopped at the door to chuckle.  

Because I mean.  

This day.

This day guys! 

Then, guess what?

I walked back to the dining room, where I'd left the sisters finishing their dinners, and there they were. Grinning. With such a beautiful chocolate brownie cake, a banner that said "happy birthday mommy we love you so so so so much", a stack of handmade cards, and two gloriously decorated boxes.  

They sang to me.  

We had cake, and I opened the boxes, which they had apparently been hiding under their beds for weeks.  They were filled with little treasures.  

We chatted and laughed and I was showered in hugs and kisses.  

It was the best birthday ever.  

It was the first time that my children, all on their own, threw me a birthday celebration.  They worked hard and they did it because they love me.  

I realize that as I've aged and grown another year, so have they.  There has begun a great tectonic shift beneath the surface of our relationship, a change by which now, and more and more from now until forever, I not only take care of my children, but they take care of me, too.  

My children have always saved me, taught me, and brought me joy.  But now, they do it on purpose. 

On my birthday I realized, there is certainly a gift in that.  

Little Mister One-Year-Old

Busy as things have been, I have utterly neglected to do birthday posts about Mister the last couple of months- including the biggest baddest birthday post of all!
That's right, Little Mister completed His first trip around the sun, and has kept blasting through since then.
It's so hard to believe it was a whole year ago that he arrived. 14 hours of stagnant labor and then BOOM! Baby.  But it was, and it turns out that is still His style.
After several months of cruising around the sofa without any interest in letting go, He took His first step at His birthday party.  He'd happily grace us with one, *one* step any time after that, but didn't seem to have any ideas about bipedal ambulation whatsoever.
Until last week, when we were playing together in the living room.  I was holding Him up by His hands, singing, and He let go to clap.  And didn't fall.  He balanced there, and a light went on in His eyes.  I didn't say a word, I just smiled and held my breath.  I held my arms out and He took one, two, three-four steps into my hug, and we cheered.  Then He pulled up again, let go, grinned at me, and then slowly, carefully, turned around- balance!- took a step- teeter...teeter...balance!- took a breath, and walked across the whole room.
And just like that, we have a walker. Boom.
And a climber.  As suddenly as He figured out walking, Mister became the stair master.  And also can ascend ladders and the slide, stack things to climb them and reach the sofa (or something dangerous), and open the drawers of the china cabinet and climb those to reach the glass doors and bang on them, looking probably for something dangerous.
He seems to be a danger-seeking missile, streaking through the world in search of whatever will terrify me the most.  He knows if the bathroom door is open.  By baby ESP.  He beelines for the toilet water.  (shudder).  He can pry the covers off of some of the outlets.  He goes right over the edge of things like a happy little lemming.  On Christmas, He figured out the child latch on the kitchen sink, busted in, and got a nice bite of dishwasher-detergent before I got to Him.  What's a holiday without calling poison control anyways?  He was very proud of Himself.
But Mister has accomplished all sorts of things since that last birthday post an eon ago.  He has arrived at a state of consciousness in which He is watching, listening, learning a mile a minute.  He understands what we are saying and, wonderfully, we are starting to understand Him too.
He has His words, nothing new so much as a more grown-up clarity.  "Ah-da" has become a true "All done",  "Da!Da!Da!Da!" is a concise "Do-g".  Common phrases we use are starting to take shape, the proper consonants are not there, but the vowels and the intonation mimic us so closely that I'm starting to know what He means.
Baby sign language, which has been fun for awhile now, has become a richly useful tool, saving us I'm sure from many potential whimpers and whines.  He now knows to not only recognize them when we use them, but to use them Himself to achieve things.  When He's hungry, He doesn't cry.  He pulls at our leg, grins and signs "food".  When He's wet, He signs for "change-change" instead of fussing. He is FINALLY, starting to tell us "all done" BEFORE making it clear by dumping all of His leftovers onto the floor. When He wants His sister's water cup, He points and signs "drink", and His adoring sister unfailingly hands it over, cooing all over Him about how smart He is and how sweet He is to want to share.
Yep.  He has them that wrapped around His chubby little finger.  Little Mister thinks His Sisters are the most wonderful people on the planet, and they more than return the sentiment.  I'm not sure any baby in the history of ever has been doted on like this one.
Now that He's big enough to be into everything, I had some expectations that His perfection in their eyes may begin to tarnish.  Not yet.  When He smashes their lego castles, they look briefly devastated and then say, "Yay, Mister! You sure crashed that tower right down! Want me build you 'nother one to crash?"  He claps and they are putty in His hands.  It's fun for me to sit by and watch not just the Sisters playing together, but all three of them now, zooming trains around the floor, stacking blocks, banging on instruments and making 'music'.  
Suddenly, I don't have two kids and a baby.  I have three kids.
This might be totally terrifying, if Little Mister weren't so unnaturally easygoing.
But He is.  He's happy as a lark to be played with, talked to, visited by anyone, hauled around wherever you want to go.  He's fine and dandy being left utterly to His own devices, to go bang on things and push them around the floor going "vvrrrrrrmmmmm" all day.  He eats everything, naps like a dream, and only bothers me sometimes at night.  And it's only because He wants a cuddle.
He has grown to really, really love a cuddle.
For a brief while, I was shocked to find my easy baby diverging from His even temperament to pitch little fits at the silliest times.  Until I realized the problem was that, other than the cuddles, He is just about over being a baby.  He wants to know everything, to do everything. By. Him. Self.
Once I got that memo, he went back to being the happiest little thing ever.
He no longer fusses in His highchair and bats away His food.  Because now I set down the bowl and the spoon or fork, and He feeds Himself.  It's actually less messy than it was trying to feed Him and getting steamed kale catapulted all over the dining room.  It turns out He likes the kale just fine (and anything else under the sun), so long as He puts in in His mouth Himself.  
He no longer writhes and hollers on the changing table, either.  Now I hold out the arm hole and say, "ok, get dressed", and He grins and carefully puts His arm through.  Now He helps fasten His own diaper, smiling and proudly signing "change" when it's done.  I set His pants out in front of Him and He steps in, one foot.  Then the other.  We pull them up together.
He doesn't cry at nap time anymore, either.  It wasn't the impending nap He objected to; He just wants to put on His own sleeper, to choose the story Himself from the shelf.
He doesn't mind my taking His toys away when it's time to go, just so long as I point to where they go, say "let's clean up", and leave Him alone to put them away Himself.  And He does.
He had hated my cooking or doing dishes, whimpering at my feet.  Now I let Him stand on the little ladder the girls use to help me, and let Him stir, help pour, wipe the sponge maniacally all over the counter, or splash in the water while I wash dishes.  He just wants to help.
Life takes more time, but it goes more smoothly.  And really, I'm too impressed with Him to be annoyed.  Maybe because He is the littlest of my Littles, I still see Him as a baby and am surprised each time He shows me something new He can do on His own.  There seems to be something else each day!

Favorites:

His fave toy was given to him by our neighbor, who also happens to be His pediatrician.  It is a wooden box with a hole in the top, and a xylophone on the bottom.  He sets a ball over the hole, bangs it with a little hammer until it falls through and rolls down the xylophone, making a lovely sound.  Repeat. Repeat.  Repeat forever.

He loves banging all things, really.  Especially with hammers.

He likes to take things apart, and try to put them together again.  To dump things out, then put them away again.  Except the kitchen cupboards.  That stuff He never puts away.

He likes to push stuff around.  Trucks, cars, trains, duplos, doll strollers, wagons.  His Sister's dress-up shoes seem to be a favorite.  Apparently, high-heels with pink fluff on top go "vvvrrrrrrrmmmmmm" when they slide across the floor.

He likes books so long as He selects them and gets to turn all the pages.

He loves the toy airplane ride-on and the tree blocks He got from grandparents for Christmas.

He likes to swing, to slide, to ride the merry-go-round.

He still LOVES water and His bath.

He still LOVES pat-a-cake and will play it with anyone, anytime, and sometimes with Himself.

He likes food.  All the food.  His favorite food is everything.  Are you going to finish that?  His favorite food is what you're having.

He loves music.  With passion.  With dancing, with clapping, with sounds of glee.

He loves dogs, especially ours, and children, especially ours.

And, ok.  He likes practically everything.

I tried to think of a list of things He doesn't like and really....I got nuthin'.

He's just a happy guy.

I already miss His babyhood.  I feel like I have slowed down to soak in it, to deeply appreciate it. Extra, because His Sisters have shown me how fast it flies, extra because who knows if it's my last, extra because He happened to be a baby during such an eventful, tumultuous time for our family, and so the minutes seemed to evaporate the moment they were born.
As much as I savored it, it slipped by so quickly all the same.  But as much as I miss having a baby, I am daily more aware of how lucky it is that at any age I will always have this Little Mister, this fabulous person, around in our lives.  Like a little rolling ball of fire; slightly destructive, but full of warmth and light.
Looking ahead to Little Boy Mister, I am just so excited about watching Him grow and learn and become.  He is a true joy to parent, and I don't think any of us could tell you how on earth we got along without Him before last year.
Happy birthday to my little ball of fire, my son-shine, my Mister.  We love you so. 

Little Mister 10 Months

Little One isn't the only one who had a birthday back on the 7th.  Mister hit double digits!
Don't let the fact that His weight is in the 4th percentile fool you (we grow em' light around here).  Mister has become a force of nature.
This little bundle of energy has become a wiggling, climbing, crawling, bouncing little tornado.  He leaves a trail of emptied cabinets, open board books, and stacking cups wherever He goes.
He always goes wherever His finely tuned sixth sense tells Him there is the most Danger.
The phone-charging cord left dangling from a socket.  The not-quite-latched door to the basement steps.  Sisters' room with the entrancing, magnetic dollhouse full of fragile choking hazards.  And, most especially, the bathroom.
Mister has fallen in love with the bathroom.  Any bathroom.  Because, of course, it is the household Mecca of Danger.  It has bottles of tasty-looking potions.  It has hot-water faucets just the right height to pull up on.  A tub to tumble into headfirst, trash cans to upend with who knows what inside and! Best of all! A perpetually filled water table just the perfect size to splash in! The toilet.
It is a constant exercise in vigilance around here to monitor the bathroom door. All of us have developed a Pavlovian response to, at the sound of a flushing toilet, holler "DID YOU SHUT THE DOOR?!" It has to be properly shut, too, not just pulled to.  He's too smart for those tricks.
He's pretty smart in general, though.  He's figuring out how to communicate more and more, He's figured out how to get my attention (with teeth), he knows all of our habits to an amazing degree.  He sees Missy show up in the dining room in the morning and instantly drops His toy and makes a beeline for Her room.  He knows she forgets to shut the door when She wakes up.
Mister at 10 months is getting close to being upright.  He cruises the furniture.  He's very, very proud to show you that He has figured out how to hold onto the outside of the seat on the anchored walker and push it around and around and around the play table.  And around and around and around.
He has very recently started to pull up, dawn the expression of a tightrope walker about to step out on the wire, and let go.  He balances a moment.  He realizes He's doing it- He's doing it!! He looks up to see if anyone is watching, He claps vigorously in admiration for Himself, He laughs, He falls.  Repeat.
He has discovered rocking toys and scooting ride-on toys, and thinks they, well, rock.  He loves to crawl and explore and itches for Freedom whenever He's been restrained too long.  Sometimes the way He writhes and squeals after a long car ride, and then hits the floor and bounds off into the living room, reminds me of a wild animal re-released into it's natural habitat.  The sweet baby snuggles are fewer and fewer.  He just has this insatiable need to move.  All the time.
In finer skills, He has figured out actual chewing, and also how to maneuver bits of stuff into His mouth.  Mr. Independent is so thrilled to be able to feed Himself, that He only very grudgingly allows me to feed Him by spoon when He's really hungry.  Once the edge is off He uses His (amazingly good) hand-eye coordination to fire His fists at incoming spoons like defense torpedoes.  It is the Iron Dome of "That's Not A Cheerio".
It comes with sound effects, too, as He makes a satisfactory "Alldone!" each time a spoon is blasted away.  "All Done" is probably His favorite thing to say.  Also the new one, "Dog".  He LOVES dogs.  He loves to see them, hear them, look at them in books.  He has tried everything a Little Mister could to get to ours in the yard.  He hears them bark and plasters His droopy face to the window, "Dog! Dog! Dog!" I think He may believe He is answering them in their language.
The biggest change in Mister over the last month is the development of preferences.  And by prefer, He means My-Way-Or-The-Cryway.  The spoon vs. finger-food is one such preference.  He also prefers not to have His diaper changed, to have clothes put on His body, or have anything with buckles holding Him back from sweet, sweet freedom.  He prefers not to have things stolen from Him, no matter what hazard they may pose to His health and well-being.  He prefers to play Pat-a-cake.  Again.  Again!  In fact Pat-a-cake is to this child as Fetch is to a labrador retriever.  Don't start, unless you plan on playing until one of you is unconscious.

Other favorite pastimes are:
-Counting things in books.  Either you point at and count things, or He points around the page snickering as you count whatever He is pointing at.  Reading the words in the books? Thanks-no-thanks.
-Things that shake, rattle, and/or roll.
-Music with a good beat.  Mister has found His groove thang and He likes to shake it.
-Dumping stuff out of places.  A guy could spend all morning doing this!  Really.
-Dance with me around the room.  SO hilarious.  All the better if Sisters are dancing too.
-Follow those Sisters around wherever they go, like a little tag along puppy.

Favorite Foods:
-Mister doesn't love a lot of sweeter foods, like banana or mango, or grapes.  His favorites are:
-Raw Tofu.  Seriously.  Almost as much as cheerios.
-Salmon
-Rice cakes (the new substitute for pacifiers)
-Apple slices to gnaw on
-Asparagus
-Kidney beans
-Brown rice
-And of course, Cheerios.

As long as He can get it to His mouth on His own, though, He's pretty happy with it.  That's our Mister.  Our first glimpses into His disposition definitely reveal a very independent dude.  Now, He still needs His quota of time in Mommy's arms, a kiss after a bumped head, and a good cuddle before bed.  He still likes to give and get hugs and kisses.  But He is usually happiest when He's just exploring the world on His own with His people nearby.  His preferences (and first tantrums) have surfaced, but all in all He's still an almost unnaturally easygoing baby, and spends so much time smiling it's a wonder His cheeks don't get sore by lunchtime.
I do love those cheeks, too.  As the babyhood clock winds down, I'm finding myself soaking up these days of chubby thighs and downy hair like rays of actual sun.  Which is about what it feels like.
10 months is so exciting, because He is still all baby, which I cherish so much.  But toddlerhood is clearly visible around the bend, and it's looking like an awesome time.
Little Mister, big or little, you're a bright spot of joy in this family and home.  You keep all of us cheerful when we might otherwise forget to be.  You keep all of us on our toes.  We love you so much, and can't wait to see what's around the corner.  

Little Six

Last week, Little One hit a big milestone.  As my dad pointed out to us, She now needs BOTH hands, to show how old She is.

My big kid six-year-old has hit plenty of other big milestones in the last year-
Lost Her first teeth
Learned to play piano
Became an independent, avid reader
Became a good hiker
Learned to ride a bike with training wheels
Figured out addition, subtraction, and how to make change
Became a "double" big sister
Had Her first surgery and
kicked Her fever syndrome to the curb
Traveled the country
Started kindergarten

These are all good and great. I'm proud of what She has accomplished, experienced, and achieved.
But what I'm really proud of, at six years old, is the kind of kid She just is. 

Little One is a bright and sunny, meet-the-world kind of kid.  She typically greets me early each morning, dressed, bed made, ready to help make breakfast.

She's a responsible kid.  I almost never have to ask Her to make Her bed, put Her dirty clothes away, clear Her dishes, clean up after Herself.  She will say things like, "That's a great treat mom, but can I save some for after dinner?  I don't want to eat too much sugar before my veggies."  She always eats Her veggies.  She is quick to help out, quick to offer a hand, and usually asks for permission or advice if She's not sure what the rules are.

She's a brave kid. A tough kid. She is small, always the smallest in a class or team.  But if She complains about an injury or illness, it really hurts.  In class She social butterflies around, chit-chatting with the girls.  But at recess, She plays mostly with boys.  Because it just happens that there is only one other girl (Her partner in crime) who is up for roughhousing, racing, roaring, wrestling.

That's my little paradox; She's into sparkles and dresses and earrings and pretending to be a mama.  She loves princesses and ballet and purple and pink.  She's also into mud and superheroes, pirates, dinosaurs, blue, and green.  She loves to sit quietly and read for hours and hours,  write in Her journal, draw, or experiment with Her snap-circuits or optics kit.  She also loves to run like a wild creature in the yard, wrestling the dogs, growling like a lion, climbing boulders and throwing rocks.
I once had someone ask me what "kind of" kid She is; tomboy? girly-girl? athlete? bookworm?  
Yes.  She is all the things.

She does it all with flair, too. Gone are the days of getting to pick out Her outfits and do Her hair.  She dresses Herself, puts in Her own, signature, low ponytail.  And Her crazy outfits have rules.  They usually must have a sash.  It does not matter if the sash matches, if the outfit is supposed to have a sash, or if it even is a sash, rather than a torn silk scarf or random shoelace or something.  The shirts must always be tucked in.  Tucked in mom, in.  There should be tights- not leggings- and also socks.  A cardigan is a must.  Pants are a never.  What matters is that a shirt and a skirt individually are liked, not that they match.  Dresses are highly preferred.  She's very self-conscious about what Her friends will think, a new thing, but apparently they think these wild ensembles awesome. Which they are.

She does everything with flair, though.  Her bed is never just made, just the covers pulled up.  Each and every single morning, Her pillows and stuffed animals and dolls are intricately arranged in a new display.  With maybe some necklaces strung into garlands, some socks folded into flowers, some feathers adding a flourish here and there.  Where did She get feathers?  No one knows.

She finds things. And She hoards them.  Little One is allowed one special drawer, just for Her, that She can keep secret treasures in.  And that thing is jam-packed.  There is all kinds of random junk in there, which is not junk at all but cherished sacred possessions.  Especially Her journal.

Little One keeps a journal that She usually writes in after She's been tucked in.  I don't pry into it, but She occasionally shows me pages, and it's pretty much the cutest thing ever.  It's mostly about the things and people She loves; how much She loves Her family, Her dogs, Her Puppy, Her friends.  It is literally rainbows and fields of flowers in there.  (And some sharks and dinosaurs.  So I guess She's balanced.)

Writing and creating are Little One's heartbeat.  She is always writing, drawing, crafting.  She loves to make things out of cardboard; houses for fairies, beds for dollies, a diorama of a Powhatan village. Today She hauled some big flattened boxes out of the recycle pile and spent 3 hours creating a castle with a working drawbridge.  Then She labeled a popsicle stick with each of our names, and built a slot we can deposit them into, like a key, so that She will know if we want Her to lower the drawbridge so we can visit.  Any time.  Any time at all.   Because She wouldn't want us to feel left out.

She doesn't want anyone to feel left out.  Or sad.  Or scared.  Or uncomfortable in any way.  There was a time Little One wished She had a super power, and I told Her She does.  She has a super-human sense of empathy.  This has made Her the care-taker of All Beings.  Real, pretend, or imagined.  It has given Her a lot of friendships at school, Her teacher tells me.  It has gotten Her sister out of a lot of chores.  One tear from Miss and Little One can't stand it- suddenly Missy's bed is made, Her blocks put away, and She's getting a story read to Her.

In fact Her love for Her siblings is something I find profoundly beautiful.  She has an infinite patience and tenderness for Little Mister.  She has an impressively large patience and camaraderie with Her sister.  And though She has given us more sass and moodiness since starting kindergarten, She is devotedly loving to Her parents, too.

At six, She's just starting to shift some of that importance over to Her peers. Starting to be too cool for things, starting to eschew "baby stuff" or "little kid stuff", now that She's all big-time kindergarten.  But I'm lucky that at six, She still thinks it's fantastic if I get to spend time in Her classroom; still likes to hold my hand on the way to school.  I'm lucky that She still thinks I'm fun to hang out with, and begs for special time "just us", and invites me to play, to draw with Her, to see everything She's working on (She's always working on something).  I'm so thankful for this, knowing how soon it may slip away.

Little One still loves music, singing, dancing.  She loves science, history, facts.  She tends to get microbursts of obsession.  Something will raise Her curiosity, and then She has an intense desire to know ALL about it.  We will get books, google articles, visit museums, until Her thirst for the subject abates and then it's on to the next.  This year She has gone through phases of interest in dinosaurs, the revolutionary war, greek mythology, geology, optics, wildfires, child labor, and Shel Silverstein poems.  I can't tell you how much I cracked up writing "internet article: history of the labor movement and child-labor practices in the 20th century" on Her school read-a-thon log.  Her teacher must think I'm a nutcase.  But the girl has a voracious love for learning, and it's one of my favorite things about Her.

But then, I have lots of those.
I love how kind She is.  I love how generous She is.  I love how open She is to new ideas, new experiences, new foods, to anything really.  She's always up for an adventure, always willing to give anything a try.  I love the way She will fail or get hurt and then get right back in the ring and try again.  I love the way She will struggle hard through something, and persist until She gets it.  I love the way She finds something beautiful and lovable in absolutely everything and everyone.  I love the way She protects Her siblings, and dotes on them.  I love the way She treasures Her grandparents.  I love how grateful She is for Her blessings in life.  I love how silly She can be, I love the musical sound of Her laughter.


Some stats:

Favorite Foods
-tunafish sandwiches
-blackberry anything
-injera
-breakfast
-Japanese food of any sort

Favorite Books
-Amelia Bedelia
-Shel Silverstein
-Non-fiction for early readers

Favorite Movies
-Frozen (of course)
-Sound of Music
-Cars

Favorite Games
-Card Games
-Pretend
-Chess
-Life
-Brain Quest workbooks


For all I've written, I could write forever.  It's a joy to be Her parent, to watch Her grow, to hear the funny things She says, to be the recipient of Her wonderful hugs.   At six, it's also a joy to have Her friendship, as She becomes more grown-up every day.

I love you my Little One.  Happy Six.

Don't Blink

There will be lots of words.  But for now, the fact that I have a SIX year old, leaves me speechless. 

Here I am with my biggest angel on the morning She turned six.

And here She is a few minutes ago....How does it happen?!
I miss that little pink baby.
But I wouldn't trade anything for the fantastic, amazing girl She grew into.  

Little Mr Nine Months

It's hard to believe it's been only a month since Mr's last birthday post.  He has been whizzing through the milestones. Brrrrrrrrrmmmmm! As He would say.

So what's new?

Well for one, Mr is now the proud owner of eight pearly teeth, which came pretty much all at once.  He's even figured out how to use them to chew, and has been eating up all kinds of good stuff.  He will occasionally make a pretty hilarious face when given something new, but He will eat ANYthing.  He's hungry! All the time! Because He's SO. BUSY.  

This kid, Peanuts.  Ay.  I love to watch Him learn and grow, be strong and explore.  But He's pretty much in constant peril.  He is ALWAYS MOVING.  So much so, that all these capital letters are totally necessary.  For you to get the point that HE IS INTO EVERYTHING.  

He has developed a special and weird affinity for the little bolt covers on the base of the toilet.  He lurks, guys.  He stalks the bathrooms.  If anyone (ahem Missy) leaves the door open even a crack, He bolts for it.  Before you know it He has wrenched the icky chocking hazard from the toilet and is holding it up like a glorious trophy, "ahaha! it's mine! MINE!" preparing to swallow it.  

When that's unavailable, there's always the trash-can pedal in the kitchen to pinch His fingers in (every time.  Every. time.) or the Sister's room to rampage for dollhouse furniture and neglected hair bows.  The shoe closet is an exciting place, when He can break into it.  And He's always scouting about dutifully, making sure I haven't missed a single crumb in my housekeeping.  Way to keep after me, Mr!  Got to have things spic and span.  Otherwise what's the fun in spitting up all over it?!

He's formidable to keep up with now, too, since He's finally acquired a full crawl, and has even started pulling up onto His feet and trying to climb things.  

All that thinking about how to subvert me and get into the bathroom has sharpened His thinking skills, too.  He knows a few baby signs (More, drink, milk, change, all-done), a few words (mama, dada, pat-pat, all done, hi), blows excellent raspberries, and loves to sing with me.  Which is even cuter than it sounds.  

The only things Mr doesn't like these days is being restrained too long (too long=over 5 minutes) and skipping naps.  Otherwise, the world is pretty much His oyster.  He loves crawling around exploring, likes the jumper and "hamster wheel" (anchored walker) for awhile anyways, LOVES His bath, and enjoys our thrice daily walks to His Sister's schools.  

He likes to talk, giggle, sing, and be tickled.  He loves anything that has to do with His sisters giving Him any kind of attention or just being silly near Him.  His favorite food is broccoli, His favorite games are peek-a-boo, rolling or chasing a ball, pat-a-cake, and yank-mama-or-sisters-hair-out.  He loves having His teeth brushed, which either tickles like the dickens or is just really really funny.

He has recently (in the last two weeks) been forced to go cold turkey on the pacifier.  While He occasionally laments this loss, He continues to be a fabulous sleeper, 12 hours at night and as much nap as I will give Him.  

While I wouldn't call Him cuddly, He does love hugs, kisses, attention, and a cozy lap for bedtime stories.  He does love to hug my shoulder, nuzzle my neck, and then give me a big fat raspberry on the arm and laugh hysterically.  He does love to hurl Himself into my arms for the occasional hug before moving on to explore some more ( my mother calls this the 'body-slam hug'), and He is fond of big, wet, slimy, baby kisses right on the face. When He's feeling really lovey, He loops one arm around your neck, then uses the other to pat your back gently, resting His head on your shoulder and purring, "pat-pat, pat-pat-pat".  

All I hear when we are out is what a happy baby He is, what a friendly baby He is, what a sweet baby He is, and is He like that all the time?  And yes.  Yes He is.  I find Mister at at nine months to be about as much fun as anything could possibly be.  He keeps me hopping these days, but it feels like a dance.  Like dancing with the music loud, dancing like crazy because you are so happy you can't help it, dancing till you're tired and don't care and keep dancing.  

Little Mister Nine Months, you are so busy.  So busy! You are so curious, so strong, so terrifyingly fearless.  Keeping up after you is a constant and never-ending activity, and it is the most wonderful fun there could be.  I can't wait to keep dancing with you.  Happy birthday.

Seven Months

Well. Little Mister.  His sixth month of life was so crazy that He got almost to eight before I knew what had happened.
When He turned seven months old, we had just arrived in a new home and were bravely conquering hordes of boxes.  We had just wrapped up two months on the road, and we were all in a whirl of sorting and settling, exploring and adjusting.
Except Him.
He had His own world of stuff going on.
At seven months, Mister had acquired the cutting edge of His first tooth.  He was not super thrilled with this.  He had come to the conclusion that there was a world beyond Him, full of wonderful things to gnaw on and shake, but it was always (always man!) just barely beyond reach.
He was coming around to the general conclusion that there might be a way for Him to move in such a way as to get at this big wonderful world, but the means were still elusive.
On His tummy He would stare with incredible focus at some object of ardent desire, and reach- rreeeeaaaaacccchhhhh- for it....wiggle the fingers and ssstttreeeettttccchhhh them as far as they could go (about 3/4 inch).  But no.
So He'd swoop His arms forward and back, kick furiously, and call to it.  We're not sure; He was either attempting to swim or to fly to it.  But again, no.
Finally, after long days of intense effort, He got His chubby little motor going so hard, that He started moving! Inching, slowly, along the floor!.... Backwards.
This was the first time I've ever seen His patient nature fail Him.  He would put such a heroic, all-out effort into getting to something just inches away, only to watch it slowly get further and further from Him, the harder He tried to reach it.  Finally He'd just screw up His face and give it a scream, then flop His face on the floor and lay there flat.  Giving up. A moment later mewing, "mamamamamamama" until rescued.
Never to give up completely, Mister would always rally to try, try again.  Finally, He perfected the art of forward locomotion in a style which, after caring for dozens of babies I have actually, truly, never witnessed before.
He would get up on His hands and knees (woo hoo!) and start rocking.  As He rocked, the Coveted Object would get closer, further away, closer, further away.  After awhile, He'd realize He was stuck in a vicious cycle and would just give it one huge, Hail Mary, 100% effort and lunge His whole body forward!  Landing squarely, flat on His face.  After a second of still recovery, prone, He'd peep up and check.  His eyes would light up- YES! VICTORY! Coveted Object was closer! So He'd get His arms back under Him, pull His legs back in, zero in on the target, start to rocking....and start the whole thing over again.  Until, two inches at a time, He would *face-plant* across the floor and reach His prize.  He was darn proud of Himself when He got it, too.
At seven months He also mastered jumping in His jumper, holding things out to show off, throwing stuff (all the stuff), waving "hi", and banging on things with every degree of enthusiasm imaginable.
Seven-month-old Mister didn't really care about all the moving in, He was just happy when finally He got a quiet room and a crib to sleep in at night, and room to stretch out and face-crawl during the day.
He continued to love snuggles, though His desire to see the world made Him quite wiggly to hang onto as He was toted around.
He still loved baths/swimming, silly antics by His Sisters, and being talked to more than anything, and still disliked practically nothing.  Mister at seven months was an easygoing, independent, but super sociable and friendly, guy who was (not that I'm biased) completely delightful to be around.
The best description I could give would be that of a great big, beaming, toothless smile, surrounded by cheerfulness, extending into playful curiosity, and really cute toes.
Plus, He truly was calling me Mama, and calling out for me when He wanted me.  Despite the fact that He mostly wanted me to be His minion and fetch Him things, the magic combination of sunshine and "mama" made me only too happy to minion whenever He wished.
Seven Has always been Mister's special number.  And this month was a sort of a crossroads for Him.  As Mister turned seven months old, He was beginning to leave infancy behind Him.  Rather than merely being the center of the world, He was heading out into the vast uncharted territory of becoming an interactive part of an infinitely larger world around Him.
It is clear that my days of containing all of His squishy cuteness and all of His attention inside the circle of my arms are waning, and already He's off on the long and inevitable road children travel- away from their parents.  Still, as much as I miss the tiny bundle of baby to snuggle, I can already tell that being a spectator, cheerleader, and guide along His way is going to be a whole lot of work.
Oh, yeah, and fun.
Happy seven months, Little Mister.  

My Birthday

I knowIknowIknow.
It's like I have no consideration for posting anything but birthday stuff.  Sorry, Peanuts. I get behind on Things.  On the eve of my not-so-young birthday I may as well admit- that's how it is.  It's how it's going to be.
I was probably meant to be a nurse, on so many levels.  I never was, but still- I triage.  Blogging things that probably only I care about doesn't often get to the top of the list.  Birthdays, though, well.  Those are sort of momentous.  I mean, if a person has a family blog, they can AT LEAST do the birthdays, amiright?
So.  This time, it's my birthday.
This birthday, I  have the exceptional gift in life to spend it with the person who gave it to me.  Mom.  Hi mom!
Tomorrow, Mom will be accompanying me on the last leg of this long, as yet un-blogged about journey. Because she rocks.
After I became a mother, I started sending my mother flowers on my birthday.  Because then, I finally Got It.  This year, the flowers would wilt in the car but I still want to say something to my mama on my birthday.
Mommy.
You did not always do everything right and make all the right decisions.  Nope.
Thank Goodness, because if you did how would you so totally understand when I come crying to you when I mess up? There are things you have done, or not done, that I have looked back on and given you and F for.  Being real.  Like there are things that I am doing already, and definitely will do when the Littles get older (this gig gets harder when they get big! Agh!), that I will be similarly graded on.
That is the thing about parenting, the thing about life.  You do the best you can; sometimes it works out better than other times.
But.
Looking back, here are the things I think you got totally right:
You found cigarettes in my room and instead of punishing me, left a note about how disappointed you were in my choice.  That was the end of that. Forever.
You told me I could go to any party any time, as long as I told you where I was and called if I needed a ride.  I did, and I recall a few times I left a rager (safely) in your blue minivan.  And lots of times my friends' moms thought we were "at a movie", while you alone knew the cross streets and what time I'd be home.
You let me read all the books I ever wanted.  And I loved learning because of it. Still do.
You worked at the school to afford me an early montessori education, which I credit with so much of my knowledge, personal development, happy memories, and love for nerdy science journals.
You took us out into nature.  Hiking, camping, skiing, biking, road-tripping.  You forced our tender little butts into the natural world, no matter how much we whined and sulked and protested.  And in so doing gave me some of my most treasured memories.
You drilled into my brain that girls can do Anything- and you lived up to that paradigm in every way.
You worked your still-hot-at-over-sixty patootie off to give me every advantage possible. Believe it or not, I take none of that for granted.
Most importantly?
You loved me unconditionally. Even when it wasn't easy.  Even when I didn't earn it.  I have not once in my life doubted that you would always be my biggest fan, and be there for me when the dust clears.  And you always, ALWAYS have been.  I don't take that for granted, either.
You taught me how to have fun. How to work hard.  How to embrace adventures.  How to have an open heart. How to look for the light ahead.  How to appreciate feminism, education, accomplishment.  How to appreciate being a mother, sticky hugs, splashing in puddles.
Tomorrow I will turn the same age you were when I was born.
Think of that!  Hard for me to imagine, with three Littles tugging at my hems.  In a lot of ways, I think you were younger at 32 than I am.  Maybe that's why you are still so young now- so young that people balk when you tell them your age.  At the same time, you raised me with a wisdom that I hope will become Little One, Missy, and Little Mister's lessons in life.
Be happy, be healthy, be strong.  Be who You Are.  Depend on YOU.  Find your own, unique, way in the world.  But, always, come home when you need some good lasagna and a hug.
On my birthday, I think of what it's like- trying hard, wanting desperately to do the Right Thing always and not always knowing what that is.  I remember what it's like bringing Life into the world- in a physical sense, in a philosophical sense.
I look back on a lot of flying and falling, stumbling and crawling, and I see the shadow of my mother's love beside me always.  All I can say is- thank you.
You made me and I'm not perfect. But I like being me.  You gave me life and it's not been perfect, but I love life.  You're my mother and I didn't choose you.  But I'm glad I got to be yours.
By the way. I love that you had me at 32.  It makes me feel, on this birthday that once seemed SO far away, that life is just beginning.  How fun that, once again, we get to begin it together.
Adventures await.

Six Months

With all the traveling and the business and the being away from the internet, I have not had a chance to tell you Peanuts so many things.  Looking back I'm not sure yet where to start, but in the mean time, Mister has reached a whole half year!  I had to take some time out of our trip to tell you all about the fun that is Mister at six months.

First of all, I have a whole post coming about the fact that Mister had a tongue tie fixed shortly before we left Virginia.  A whole post because it was that big a deal.  Since that momentous occurrence, Little Mister has been able to do this amazing thing: eat-for-the-love-of-goodness.
Now that He isn't half starved, and now that feeding Him is no longer an all-consuming, horribly stressful event for us both, He has stepped into the role He was destined for, free to be the Mister He has always been, inside.  Which is: The Happiest, Easiest Baby EVER.
Mister almost never complains.  He has to be way past due for a feeding, utterly and completely exhausted (sometimes not even then), or in actual acute pain of some sort in order to bother fussing about it.  The rest of the time, dude just sucks it up.

8 hours in a car seat? La-di-da, got His little crinkle toy, got His sisters' faces to look at, no prob.
4 hours in a backpack under the blazing sun, getting jostled around with wind whipping sand into His face? Sounds good, just along for the ride.
Sitting on a lap through an endless restaurant meal after skipping a nap? Hey, might as well enjoy slobbering on a nice shiny spoon.
Sleeping on the floor of a tent in 40 degrees?  Bring it on.

Mister loves getting His diaper changed, literally laughing out loud.  He loves His bath, laughing and splashing and gurgling even when the water runs into His eyes.  He likes being put down to sleep, He likes being awakened from sleep.  He loves being held, cuddled, and talked to.  He's happy to chill on a blanket with something to play with until you almost forget He's there.  He loves everything about His sisters and grins just when He sees them coming.  He laughs when there is wind on His face, when He sneezes in the pool, accidentally dunking His head under the water, laughs when strangers get all up in His personal space.  He's just a happy-go-lucky kind of guy.

On this trip, He has been ripped from any semblance of a schedule and dragged though all manner of environments, confined to His car seat a lot and forced to tough out hot sun, cold days, wind, rain, and even hail.  He's gone through it all with a smile almost continuously on His face.  He loves everyone, He loves just about everything.  And His favorite thing to do is laugh.  He just wants any excuse.  His sisters' antics, His parents' conversation, even thinking about getting tickled.  The world is just hilarious.

Now, on the physical front I don't have a lot to report.  After all, it's as if we have made a conscious effort to stunt His development by restraining Him in the car seat and backpack all the time for the last month.  So, He continues to do His push-ups, He still rolls one way OR the other, but hasn't put them together yet.  He scootches. but not very far.
He seems like He may be teething soon, since He chews on ANYthing like a labrador puppy, and produces enough drool to alleviate the draught conditions of any arid regions we may pass though.
He is finally growing some hair, but it's so blonde you can't really tell.  He has had His first sun and wind burns, but those are hardly milestones to celebrate.  
But while His body has been held back, I fear, by our travels, His brain knows no bounds! He has been learning plenty.  For one, despite having a constantly changing life, He has learned a lot about what to expect.  He recognizes His sisters and parents, He knows when He's about to be changed, fed, or put to bed.  He has learned how to use His own pacifier- studying it, giving it a good shake (for luck?), orienting it properly, and popping it in.  He thinks He can swim, getting His booty going like a porpoise in the pool.  He has moved on from raspberries to full-out conversations with various facial expressions and exclamations in the form of "da da daaa daaa ta t-t-t-ba baaaa goo!" And has a LOT to say.

He is hopelessly attached to His pacifier and to a little blankie that He likes to curl around and snuggle His face into when it's sleep time.  Other favorite toys include a little football toy, and empty plastic water bottles.
Yes, He is so happy that He's perfectly pleased to play with trash.  That's our guy.  Easy, sweet, happy as can be.  He has been such a blessing on this trip (and in life in general) because even when the going gets rough, Mister finds joy and laughter, and shares it with us all.  His joy and delight in everything  (or in nothing at all) becomes joy and delight to all of us, and He keeps us smiling and giggling.
How ever did we get along without you, Little Mister?  I have no idea.  But we're all happy we don't have to do it now.  Happy half-birthday my little son-shine. We love you. 

Miss Gives Away Her Birthday Gifts

When we were planning Little Miss's Kitty party, the cat adoption activity brought on a talk about animal shelters and cats that don't have families to live with.  It made Missy sad, and She asked if we could bring some birthday cake to the "sad kitties" to cheer them up.  I had to explain that cake probably wasn't the best food for a cat, but that She could always choose to ask for cat things at Her party, and share those.  Missy jumped at that plan, and so instead of gifts for Herself, She chose to ask guests to bring cat items to be donated to the local shelter.  This past weekend we gathered everything up and headed over to deliver them in person.

Miss at the shelter with some of Her birthday gifts  

Helping Hands

The shelter volunteers were wonderful; they were very excited about the supplies and even gave Miss a birthday cupcake as a thank-you.

Missy was pretty excited about that, but the best part was getting to go into the cat room to give toys and play with the cats.


She was in Little Miss heaven.  She gently pet and talked to all the cats, and one black and white kitty was especially fond of Her.  She got in lots of furry cuddles and was all smiles!

We dosed Little One that morning with allergy medicine, dressed Her in layers so She could peel off Her furry cardigan, and washed all over in the bathroom right after. So She got to participate in the visit, too, and though She sneezed and itched a little the rest of the day, it was worth it.

The girls also got a personal tour of the shelter, visiting dogs, bunnies, ferrets, rats, and birds.

We wrapped it up with an outing to our family's favorite restaurant for lunch, and it was an awesome day!  In our family, we do make-a-fuss birthday parties, and we consider that to be our gift to our birthday child.  So almost all the packages Miss unwrapped this year went to the shelter.
It's true that little kids love getting presents on their birthdays. But a new toy loses its novelty value and soon ends up with the others on a shelf somewhere.  Our Littles are very lucky to have generous grandparents and aunts who never let them go a year without a box arriving with something special just for them, and I think that the gifts they receive are more appreciated when they come from revered grandparents, and don't get lost in a mountain of coloring books and plastic ponies.
Besides which, I can honestly say to all the friends who brought donations to Her party, that they gave Her a gift far beyond the value of a bag of cat food.  For the worlds' greatest lover of cats, a whole morning surrounded by kitties was priceless.  I don't think any object could possibly have pleased Her more.
And though of course I can only surmise, I think that the feeling of being thanked by the shelter staff and seeing the cats bat at and chase the toys She brought them will outlast the memory of any toy we could have bought Her.
Sometimes, the best gift is the chance to give.

Little Mister FOUR Months

Four months.   FOUR! So it's official; Mister is no longer a "newborn".  He's a real, bouncing, BABY boy.  Now that we are in full baby-mode, Mister has lots of news to share.

Accomplishments:

BIG one! He rolled over!  Hanging out with me and my mom, rocking some tummy time, I was just saying how close He was to rolling, when He flipped over onto His back! He did it a few more times, just to show off, and was very proud of Himself.  We were too!

He has discovered feet.  Funny little devils.  Fun to stare at, chase after, and fun to kick stuff with. Kicking stuff has become almost as fun as hitting stuff. ( Insert gender-biased boy comment here).

He has perfected the Grab, and all persons with dangly earrings and/or long hair beware!  Most recently, He can also grab and shake, and it it pretty exciting.  I mean He shakes both the toy, and Himself.  

He has moved from the cradle in our room to His own crib in His own room.  With mixed results.  Mister can make it about a six hour stretch at night- but doesn't love to.  He would highly prefer, of course, to be snuggled all night.  And all day.  And just all the time.  But we are working on getting Him to fly solo at night.

It may be a long effort, though, because He continues to have some feeding issues probably due to his tongue-tie. Yeah, apparently that's like a real thing.  He may have to get snipped, but His sissy of a mama is dragging feet.  However, as a full night's sleep seems to get no nearer, I am reconsidering.  The problem is that He can't get enough milk to get really full unless He takes a bottle, and so He tends to wake every four hours still, starving.

He'd love to be a bottle-fed baby.  There is so little effort involved that He just kicks back like He's on the beach with a margarita and gets this glazed over look as He glugs it down.  Too bad for Mister, I am stubborn and He can just forget it.  But He has other likes that I can give in to:

- Bath.  Of course.  Still a huge fan, and getting very splashy.
- Books.  Loving trying to grab the pictures off the page, the more colorful the better.
- Sisters.  Nothing makes Him smile and wiggle quite like hearing His sisters come in the door, or getting one face-to-face.  It's awesome.
- Any direct attention.  He looks so honored when anyone talks right to Him.  "Me? Who ME? Are you talking to ME?! WELL HI THERE!!!"
- And loves a good back and forth conversation.  Even the serious talks eventually turn into comedy. This guy loves to laugh.
- Seeing the world.  During the day, His preference is to be carried around; going on a walk is even better, but getting toted about the house is also good, so long as we keep moving so the scenery changes.
- Hi sleep sack and pacifier.  OOooooh COzy.  He loves to snuggle in.
- Swings, gently being lifted up and down, getting danced around with.  A man of action!
- His hands.  Those things are delicious.  And fascinating! Did you know they can attach to one another?  Whoa.
- Baby toys.  He is finally erudite enough to appreciate the finer qualities of blue fuzzy elephants.  The ones that rattle are for sure the best ones.  Especially the blue, fuzzy elephant that rattles.

A few things still don't make that happy list:
-Boredom.  The worst thing ever is to be left on the play mat a few seconds past interesting.  Or to read one page past novelty value.  Or to be in a gosh-darn Evil Chair (car seat) for more than about two blocks.  BORing!
- Nursing.  It's a love-hate thing.  But for the most part, this necessary endeavor is frustrating and even a little painful for our poor guy.
- Poo.  He can't stand a dirty diaper.  And loves to be changed.  Unsnapping His onesie makes Him grin and gurgle.  It might also be the partial nudity involved, but He definitely loves to get clean.
-Hats.  So sad, because He is so bald and it is still cold.  We battle it out.
- Other people's sneezes.  He can take a lot in stride, including (thanks to the Sisters) a lot of noise.  But people sneezing freak Him out.
- Being upset.  Being upset, makes Him upset.  If I don't attend to Him right away, He seems to forget what He was crying about. All He knows is that He's unhappy, and He's going to scream about it until forever.  If He fusses from hunger and I don't get to Him before He's worked Himself up, then trying to feed Him only makes Him more mad.  "AHHHH! I'm already SO upset and now you're shoving stuff in my face! YOU MONSTER!"  If He fusses because He's dirty and I can't change Him right away, laying Him on the changing pad makes Him rage.  "AAAH! I'm already SO upset and now you're abandoning me on this surface of some sort! YOU MONSTER!"  If He's sleepy and I don't get Him settled into His crib before He melts down, putting Him in His beloved sleep sack only amplifies the screaming.  "AAAHHHH! I'm already SO upset and now you're cramming me into this sausage casing! WHY ME?! YOU MONSTER!!"  I have learned that when He gets going, I have to calm Him first, and then solve the underlying issue.  This can lead to some extreme measures.  In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm ready to try out for the circus, should I ever require a career change.

But I'm not looking to run off to the circus any time soon.  For one thing, with three kids, two dogs, and a move coming up, I can't imagine it would be a whole lot more exciting.  For another, even fuzzy tigers and dogs in tutus have nothing on the cuteness I get to indulge in here.
The newborn stage flew by so awfully fast, and I know that Mister's babyhood will too.  I can't slow it down, but the benefit to being the third (there's got to be some benefits, right?) is that I know that.  But I mean, I really, in my heart, in my bones know it.  And so I reflexively soak up the baby drool and giggles and gurgles every moment I can.  Little Mister, you were such a lovely newborn. I just know you will be a fantastic baby, too!