To Evelyn, Who is Four

My little girl.

I could stop there and that would be enough, really.

But I can't believe that you are four already. When you were 2 I thought that when you turned 4 I would be really sad that your baby-hood would be coming to a close. But I'm not sad. I'm so happy for you that you are growing into that marvelous person that you will be. Fun and giggly, quick-witted, and perceptive.

You weren't part of the original plan. We were only going to have 2 kids. That both were boys mattered not- pregnant with Alex, I had declared that he would be the last. But somehow, as soon as that labor's-the-kind-of-pain-you-forget kicked in, I felt that pull for another. But even then, I expected a boy. I wanted a boy. Girl things, pink toys, frilly clothes were not what my heart desired.

And then, you. A girl. Oh! A girl.

It was the best present that I'd never hoped for. And the rest is history. You have been dazzling us with your girliness ever since, and we eat it up. I love that you are four. Each year with you is more and more fun, unfolding more and more of that which makes you you. We are so proud and happy to have you, my heart aches about it. You are my favorite third-born kid of all time.

Happy Birthday Missy.

To Alex, Who is Six

Oh, my little guy. I loved the way that you came into the world. You woke me about 6am, letting me know with that quirky little, funny little, something's-amiss-here little feeling. That today-was-the-day kind of feeling. We not only stayed home, you and I, we also stayed in bed. Almost my whole labor I laid down, listened to a great tape (yes, tape) that your Daddy made for me (The Labor Mix) while Daddy counted the minutes. And at some point in there, minutes gone by, hours gone by, he whispered - "they're 1 1/2 minutes apart." You were on your way.

If it wasn't for your Dad being so stubborn about not wanting to deliver the baby himself, at home, completely unprepared, I wouldn't have moved. (Jeez.)

And about 45 minutes later, in the hospital, you came shooting out, leaving me sideways on the bed, yelling. And the first thing I said was, "Ric, remind me that I DON'T want to do this again!" (More on that later.)

The best was that you were a boy. A brother. And then we were four.

You have been a shining light in my life. You may cry too much, whine that life's not fair, and I think you wrote the book on dawdling. But when you smile and me and snuggle up close, you are the best. I hope that you always stay true to yourself- a little bit spacey, a lot out-of-the-box, and so very, very loving. You are my favorite second-born kid of all time.

I love you, Alex. Happy Birthday chicken head.

Birthdays by the Numbers

2 birthday kids,
13 kids in attendance,
2 cheese pizzas,
17 ice cream sundaes (yes, I know- you do the math)
30 minutes to spare when the party was over.

What exactly do I do with 12 kids, 30 minutes left over, and all jacked up on chocolate ice cream with chocolate syrup and chocolate sprinkles with a chocolate hershey's kiss on top?
Eyeball the wine, that's what. (And merely wish that I'd had the forethought to partake before the party started!)

No, really, it was a great time. Alex and Evelyn had a ball, loved having all their friends in attendance, loved all the GREAT presents (since Mom, Nana, and Auntie only gave clothes on their actual birthday dates).

But I did actually have to shoo the neighborhood kids home early... in my sweetest, most loving voice...
"I'm so sorry, but the party ended early and I'll have to ask you to head home now. But you're welcome to come back and play with Ethan, Alex and Evelyn on a day when there are fewer people here."
Neighborhood kid: "But my mom didn't come to get me yet."
Me: I know, but we finished early and I really do have to ask you to go. (From the door-) Look both ways before you cross the street now! Thanks for coming!"

With this strategy, I whittled the kiddos down to about 4 guests, a much more manageable number when there's the post-sugar high and new presents around.

And now, with my tea, I say, "Whew!"

If you're looking for pictures, my camera broke- not a one. I'll just have to put this one in my actual brain to remember it.

Happy Birthday Alex and Evelyn. I had fun too.

Flashback to 1984

Last night the kids' school had a fundraiser at Skate City (roller skating), which they do now and then during the year. Most times that we've gone, Ric skated with the kids and I either didn't go or didn't skate and kept an eye on Evelyn.


So this time the little girl wanted to skate, so I got us both rentals. Mostly I just held Evelyn's hand and slowly helped her get around the rink, waving at the boys as they passed us....again....again.....again. But toward the end Evelyn and Alex hung on the side together, too pooped to go around again, so I took off to loosen up after all that crouching with Evelyn.


Wow, talk about reliving the day. Even the music was still 1970s and 80s. It was like I never left the rink from 7th grade...except that everyone else there was a lot smaller than me. I almost expected some cute boy to come up and ask me to skate. Oh! There's one! It was Ethan. I couldn't believe that my 7-year-old who won't even let me kiss him goodnight (only hugs) was holding my hand! Cool.


At the end of the night, getting in the car, Ethan said, "Mom, you're a really good skater."
"Thanks, buddy." (*wink wink* I still got it.)

To Trap a Leprechaun

Yesterday Alex spent a good few hours designing and building his Leprechaun Trap (a K assignment). There's gold on the top to lure the little guy (they like shiny things), a flag that says "Please Don't Take This Gold" (leprechauns don't obey signage apparently) and then a cleverly disguised hole in the top that will trap the green guy inside the box when he falls in while trying to take the gold pieces.

I thought Alex did a great job thinking about all the elements, deciding what it should look like, and putting it all together - with a little help from Mom to cut the hole in the top, hold the box still while he painted- you know, the few things that are tricky.

How surprising it was when I looked at the other kids' leprechaun traps. They were all so different and creative, it was such a cute project.

Except one thing. There are a few that look suspiciously like maybe an.... adult might have done a LITTLE (a lot) of the work. Like, as a parent, you can't even let your kid write the words on the little sign? A little too much parental ego wrapped up in this assignment I think. Back in Feb, on the Hundred's Day project ("create a project displaying 100 objects"), one student had 100 origami swans hanging in a mobile. As if.

I suppose we'll be seeing this throughout elementary school - a Kindergartener's project that looks more like a sophomore in high school created it, a 5th grade science project that looks as though a student from MIT put it together. Is it so hard to understand that in order for the kid to learn, the kid has to do? Whatever.

I'm proud of my little Kindergartener who made a Kindergartener's project. Great work, Alex.

Alex's Art

Alex likes to secretly take my camera and shoot pictures of different things around the house. It's kind of amusing to find random pictures on my camera that I don't remember taking. And I like his shots, actually. He doesn't just take all plain stills...sometimes he arranges the subjects and sometimes he takes movies - usually by accident. Ethan and Evelyn don't do this.

By the way, he's also the one mostly to blame for making the pee stains on all my toilet seats. Alex has better things to do that pay attention to where his pee is going. But he's still my favorite second-born boy ever!

5 Not-So-Obvious Things About Me

Sounds like fun...here we go:

1. As a kid and teenager I was really bad at all sports, especially the team kind. I did have friends so I was never "picked last," but the captain probably wished he had after I got on the team. As a young adult in my first job I joined a "mainstreamed" softball team where half of the players had significant disabilities. I still sucked.

2. My brother and I could be twins if we weren't born 6 years apart. When I was a teenager I told my mother that I wanted to marry someone like my brother. Now, both my brother and my husband are the same height and the same age, and are both part of the military special operations. They know a lot of the same people, even though they are in different services, and now, even different countries. It was completely unexpected for each of them to join (and stay) in the military, it is so contrary to their personalities. (Ric joined long after we met.) Both are very successful and happy in what they do. They are, indeed, very much alike.

3. I often talk to myself out loud when I'm alone. It helps me process things.

4. My mother wanted me to be named Julianna. My father chose Kathleen.

5. I am a registered Democrat but addicted to conservative talk radio (Rush Limbaugh, Sean Hannity, Laura Schlessinger). Even though they drive me crazy and I disagree with just about everything they say, I listen almost daily.

Ode to a Minivan

Oh, Soccer-Mom-Minivan you were so fun and new when we first picked you up. Clean seats, nary a crumb, low to the ground, so easy to get into and out of, the clever sliding door. We were enamoured with you, oh Minivan. They crowed, "can we keep this Minivan?" "Can we change our car and get a Minivan?" Oh how fun you were, and how loved. You did the morning carpool, and we took you to soccer, even. You even called my name, etched in the license plate. It was like we were made for each other. You were such a good FIT!

And then I brought you back to get my regular car, "Good-in-Snow-Suburban." And there was a small patch of snow on the ground on the shoulder of the road. And when I went to turn, oh Minivan, you just let go of all your responsibility to my family! You gave up. You froze, you choked. That was your chance, to show me what you were made of, Minivan and you blew it. Slid us right into the curb, slammed so hard your tire blew out and went flat as a pancake. All the life deflated out.

Oh, Minivan. There was hope for you in our family. There was a shining ray that maybe you were the car for us, that maybe we could just trade in this gas-guzzler for a clean-burning, efficient vehicle like yourself. We were seeing the light. And then this.

Good-in-Snow-Suburban would have just rolled right over that curb with a smirk that it dare get in the way. Oh, Minivan. You'll just never do. Not while we live in Colorado. You'll just never do.

P.S. Imagine my expletives when I get this flat tire 4 feet from where I'm supposed to drop this car. Fortunately, that insurance that you're never supposed to buy because you're already covered and that I cursed myself for purchasing out of fear actually came in REALLY handy today.

P.P.S. After going all the way home with my shiny, fixed Suburban, getting comfy on the couch with my girlfriend to watch some taped Oprah, I get the call that I FORGOT TO LEAVE THE RENTAL CAR KEYS!

Oh, Minivan!