To My Daughter on Your Third Birthday

Three years! What a fine young lady you are turning into!

Oh, my pokey, daydreaming princess. Time holds no consequences for you right now. You can get distracted for an hour on your way to the refrigerator for a snack. It takes us at least ten minutes to walk from the car, through the parking lot, into the grocery store. Everything fascinates you (or at least captures your attention).

You are an amazing helper. There is almost nothing I can do that you are not tugging at my pant leg begging to "help". You want to learn everything. There is no book you don't have some interest in. (Case in point, right now you are sitting on the kitchen floor reading a cookbook.)

You are so smart. That is the understatement of the year. Your critical thinking skills are developing at a frightening rate. You apply almost everything you learn to multiple scenarios; and more often than not, you do so appropriately. Although you will outsmart us in less than a year, your father and I couldn't be more proud.

You are learning to control your anger. You try very hard to take a deep breath and/or leave the room when you are upset. We're still working on that one.

You are the queen of saying the darnedest things. Most of my facebook friends are only such because of you. Your perspective on the world and the intensity with which you see it and share it far exceeds normal kid antics.

Somewhere between the uncontrollable laughter and the screaming tears lies this perfect moment that we share many times a day. You feel everything so intently. Jokes and games and funnier to you. Insults and injuries hurt you more. When you love, you really love. When you fear, you really fear.

Even though I try not to, I find myself gazing into your future life, and knowing how hard it is going to be. Knowing at times the pain will seem unbearable. But also knowing you will find such joy as most of us never know. You will experience love closer to God than most of us ever feel. You will see beauty in people that most of us fail to notice.

I pray I am able to help you gather the tools you will need to survive the pain and thrive with the love. I pray you will find an insurance that will cover the cost of the therapy required from having been raised by your father and myself. Most of all, I pray I never take for granted even a single moment that God has allowed me to share with the most beautiful person I have ever known.

Slacker Mom

Every time one of my children reach a development milestone I find myself completely overwhelmed and the blogging stops until I've completed my adjustment period. Sam is smarter than me and Caius is almost walking and David is gone for two weeks. This is NOT the blog that gets it all going again. But in the meantime, they are just as sweet and precious as ever. Please excuse me while I go untangle his fist from her hair.

To My Son on Your First Birthday

I wrote you a beautiful (almost poetic) letter for your birthday. When I read it back to myself, I was really impressed with what I had created. Still, it was missing something. For days I have been trying to correct it. I was thinking about it this morning while the sun was coming up through the lens of my camera, and I found it. I found what was missing.

From the day I knew I was going to have you, you have been the most real, most sincere person in my life. Given your propensity for candor, I feel you deserve nothing less from me. So poetic prose will have to step aside. I'll just tell it like it is.

The day you were born was possibly the greatest relief I have ever felt in my life. When mothers say this kind of thing, it is generally an expression of how grateful we are that you are healthy and beautiful and wonderful and sweet and perfect. I am not ungrateful, but my relief came from you finally getting your heels out of my spine.

You are a nocturnal creature. My farmville farm was rockin' the first eight months of your life. I was really sleepy. Often.

You have a talent matched only by your father for creating unfathomable scents with nothing more than your own biology. I left you on the changing table more than once to be relieved of my lunch.

You teach yourself so much. You learn so fast. Your understanding of basics physics far exceeds the average one year old. Your father and I are so proud.

You wrap your arms around my neck every time I pick you up. You always have. You hold me more often than I hold you. You comfort me more often. I miss you every time I set you down. You warm my heart.

Your smile is more sincere than that of any creature I have ever witnessed. Your eyes are open and clear; your love radiates through them.

As I watch you grow, I know in my heart I would never trade you. Not for any person or experience or item that has, could possibly, or will never exist. And its a good thing. The warranty just expired.

Extra Pickles

This past weekend resulted in a LOT of big trash. Unfortunately, big trash day isn't until next week, so the large boxes and packing material will just have to remain stacked by the fence in the back yard. And while it is no secret that large cardboard boxes make the best toys and busting up packing materials can be the most fun (and one of the messiest) activities ever, it is still entertaining as a parent to see exactly what spin your child puts on the game.

Sam is playing outside. I'm watching her through the back door. She reaches into one of the boxes and pulls out a long piece of foam. She breaks the foam into several smaller pieces, and fills her brother's old Easter bucket from the toy chest. I can hear her talking the whole time, but the washer is running and I can't really understand what she is saying. After each piece of the foam is carefully placed in the bucket, she picks it up and opens the back door to come inside.

"Sam, what are you doing?" I asked.

"I'm selling tacos."

"Tacos?"

"Mmm hmm. With extra pickles"

My little entrepreneur.

Clean Up Your Solar System

I'm not the best housekeeper. You all know this about me. But I am working really hard on it. My mother was awesome at making sure our house was clean more often than not. The result was, we feel more comfortable in a clean house than a dirty one. I want my kids to have that too. So sometimes, we have to get creative.

Often, when Sam and Caius and I are going through the house picking up toys and laundry, we make a game out of it. Sometimes we pretend the toys are "animal's in trouble" and we are Diego and Alicia rescuing them. Sometimes we just have a race to see who can pick up the most things the fastest. But I've got to be honest--I'm running out of ideas.

Enter Sam, Queen of Bright Ideas.

Me: Okay, its time to pick up all our toys and clothes!

Sam: A game a game! Lets make a game.

Me: pause......(nothing, I'm stumped).

Sam: I know! Lets be rockets and we can clean our solar system! I'll clean Mars and you can clean Saturn and Baby Caius can clean Jupiter!

Me: Sam that's a great idea!

Sam: Mommy, be sure to collect lots of space rocks to bring back for science.

The Fruit Flower Monster

Me: Sam, what would you like for breakfast today?

Sam: I would like a fruit flower, please.

Me: Okay!

Sam: Without oranges, please.

Me: Okay.

Sam: And pink yogurt, not white.

Me: Um, okay.

Sam: And extra blueberries, please.

Me: Extra blueberries. Got it.

Sam: It needs to have six petals.

Me: Do you think you are maybe being just a little particular?

Sam: No, I just like my fruit flowers.

Bad Dog!

Setting: Its a windy day, partly cloudy, warm. 30% chance of rain. Weenie dog senses potential storm (in our house, we say the "s" word to avoid unnecessary puppy flip-outs).

Me: Peggy! Bad dog! Chewing cords is bad bad BAD!

Sam: Mommy, don't yell at her. She's just hungry. I need to feed my pets.