To Adeleigh, on your 5th Birthday

August 24, 2015

Dear Adeleigh,

Five years ago today, we welcomed you into this world. Today, we sent you off on a journey to change it. You started Kindergarten today, on your 5th Birthday, and we are so proud of you. I secretly (and selfishly) wanted to keep you with me all day, but I knew you were ready for something new.

For months, we'd been preparing you for this day. And you have been so excited all summer long for it to arrive. Excited for new friends, a great teacher, a new backpack and lunchbox. Excited that you were assigned the classroom with the puppet stage in it. Excited to be five! This morning, you woke with that contagious smile on your face, to floors and walls filled with balloons and ribbon. You dressed and got ready without any reminders. You buckled yourself into your carseat before I had to ask - your carseat, which you've grown with and buckled in and out of countless times since you were one. You said to me as we drove, "Mommy. I won't be able to play with Atticus today."
"Yes. But that's okay." I replied.
"Yeah, Mommy. That's okay. Because I will play with new friends today. And Atticus will play with you."
My heart melted. We parked the car. I ugly-cried while I held your hand the whole walk up to your classroom - your classroom, which is smack-dab in the middle back of the school. So every single parent and child waiting in line outside potentially saw your mess of a mom. I looked around at other parent's faces, expecting to see a whole city of tears and Kleenex, but everyone else was smart enough to wear their sunglasses. As we approached your classroom, I could see for the first time, your nerves overpower your excitement. And I clung onto your hand tighter. So tight, that when your teacher opened the classroom door and welcomed the kids inside, I wasn't fast enough to let go. In the bustle of first day jitters and craziness, the door closed and you remained by my side.
I turned to your Daddy and he laughed. Oops. We stood there with a few other confused parents, wondering if we should just turn around and go home because we missed our chance to send you off to school. Instead, I knocked on the door. Your teacher opened it again, smiled, greeted you as we gave you hugs and kisses, and inside you went - all 5 years of you - with your new friends, your great teacher, your backpack, lunchbox and puppet stage. Then the door closed.
Atticus cried as he watched his favorite play-mate go. I cried the walk back to the car while Daddy held my hand that had been holding yours. I cried the entire drive home. It took every fiber of my being to not call your classroom every few hours and check in, the way I used to do when you were in daycare. Instead, I called the school a few times to ask random questions of the front desk lady. It was my way of checking in, relieving a bit of my own first-day jitters.
We know you are in good hands, Adeleigh. And we know that you are ready for this. You are strong, and capable, and adaptable. And you make friends everywhere you go. You'll do great! And we'll look forward to seeing that smile of yours at the end of each day.
Go change this world, Adeleigh Rose. In your 5 years, you've already monumentally changed ours.
We love you. And Happy Birthday!
Love,
Mommy, Daddy & Atticus

That smile running towards us at the end of Day 1

8 years

Dear Phaeton,

I didn't get you a card today. But that's okay, because you didn't get me one either :) Today was still special. Not just because of what we're celebrating. But because we were together.
Today was like most Saturdays - The two of us desperately trying to sleep in as much as the kids would allow. But today was special because we both woke to Adeleigh sticking Post-It love notes on our bodies and giggling as she scurried off, and Atticus handing us our baby finger-smudged glasses.
Today was like most Saturdays - venturing to Old Town and grabbing a special treat. But it was special because today, we left the kids with Grandma while we enjoyed our longest date out since becoming a family of four. We enjoyed our fill of Italian food and chocolate cake. And just like every year since our wedding, we reminisced about the memories. And laughed. And cried. Well, I cried. And just like every time I cry, you gave me your hand and that look - you know - It's that look that tells me you're listening. That you care...I appreciate that.
A lot has happened in our 8 years of marriage - 2 homes, 5 cars, countless trips, 2 degrees, 8 jobs, 3 pets, 2 VERY spunky, loving, awesome kids who love each other so much it makes our hearts melt.
I love that we can talk about the memories with such joy, and with such ease. I also love that we can talk about our struggles - those times where we didn't really know what to do, or what to say, or what the end result would be. We just knew that we would come out of them. We'd come out of them together, and stronger. And we have.
Today concluded like many days - brushing baby teeth before bed, wiping marker out of ears, soothing tears that formed after an airplane deliberately smashed its way into Big Sister's head, administering Advil to a toddler who has managed to bust his lips open four times in the last two days, reading stories, and lots of hugs and kisses. But today was special still. All the ordinary days, the ordinary moments are all so special because I've got you to share them with. And I'm excited for more. Because there's no one I'd rather help soothe a busted lip or bruised forehead with than you.
Happy Anniversary, Phaeton.
I love you.

Things I let them do...(#2)

...in an attempt to avoid the need for a full-body cleaning every time I pull out the paint.

(Tattoo compliments of Ashton, applied by Mommy. She only cried a little. Not because it hurt, but because the bird is facing the wrong way.)

Things I let them do...

...so that I can do my hair once a week -

There's a reason why I don't shower

A dear friend messaged me this morning to tell me that her only time to shower is after midnight, after her 2 kids are in bed. All I could think was, OMG. I have to try that.
This morning, after having skipped yesterday's, I "attempted" a shower. Here's how it went:

"Hey Adeleigh! I'm jumping in the shower and Atticus is upstairs with me. I'm going to close the baby gate.  Do you want to come up too or hang out with Daniel Tiger?
"I'll stay here, Mom!"
Cool.
I shut the gate and started the water, shut the doors to the rooms with potential hazards for kids, and pulled out some books and toys off the kid's shelves to try and keep Atticus entertained.
I hopped in the shower as Atticus walked into the bathroom behind me. Ten seconds in, I peeked out to see the entire roll of toilet paper strewn across the ground. Twenty seconds in, I heard him rustling underneath the cabinets. We really need to babyproof in here. (By "we", I mean "Phaeton".)
Thirty seconds in, I felt a breeze as the curtain was opened and Atticus peeked in with a grin. Then he threw the lint roller into the shower and it made a loud noise. He liked that.
I grabbed it and handed it back to him, only to have him shake off the water and throw it back into the shower. So, we played "fetch" with the lint roller. He'd throw it in the shower, point to it until I picked it up, then I'd throw it soaking wet into the hallway. He giggled and ran after it. That lasted 2 minutes.
Next, he pointed to the bar of soap that I was currently using on my armpits. "You can't play with this. I am using it right now. Where is the lint roller?"
He screamed and his face got red as he pointed to the soap again.
"No thank you."
His screams got louder and his face got redder.
Ugh. Fine. I handed him the soap. It was so slippery, I figured just trying to pick it up might keep him entertained for a few minutes. He grabbed it from me, no trouble, and walked out.
I stood in the running water for thirty seconds or so when I started to question his whereabouts with my soap.
"Atticus?! Where are you? Come back here please!"
He walked in with the bar of soap, wearing one of those guilty grins.
"Atticus? What did you do?" He started to gag. I gave him a second before getting my hand ready for the mouth sweep/bite down, but he swallowed it. Then he grinned at me again, pointed to the soap and yelled.
"Um, no thanks." And I put it up high.
I felt relieved that he didn't choke and then I started to question if I needed to call Poison Control. I remembered when Ralphie from A Christmas Story had soap in his mouth and he was fine. Then after evaluating my soap for bite marks, I found it was completely intact, minus a small little shaving. He'll be fine. It's Dove.
I began to question if I had time to wash my hair when I heard the baby gate shaking. Adeleigh wanted upstairs.
Ugh. I turned off the water, grabbed my towel, let her in and took off Atticus' sopping wet, soapy clothes.

Maybe I'll try again at midnight.

It makes sense when you're 4

This afternoon while getting the kids ready and dressed (because we were in our jammies until 2pm today), Adeleigh and I had a slight disagreement -

Me: "Okay, Adeleigh. Time to get dressed. Go ahead and pick out your clothes. Let me know if you need help."
Adeleigh: "Mom, I need you to help grab what I pick out....I want to wear this sweater under a t-shirt."

Now, I am all for allowing my child to pick out her own clothes, no matter how mismatched, or worn, or out of season they may be. But sometimes, I have my limits...

Me: "Adeleigh, this sweater is too bulky to wear under a t-shirt. I don't think you would be very comfortable."
Adeleigh: "Mom, I will wear what I want. I am wearing this sweater under a t-shirt. The way Daddy does."
I was trying to remember the last time Phaeton wore a sweater under a t-shirt...
Me: "Oh, do you mean how he always wears a t-shirt under a sweater? You can do that! Which t-shirt do you want to wear under this sweater? I'll grab it for you." I assumed we were on the same wavelength...
Adeleigh: "No! Mom! I want to wear a sweater under a shirt! I will wear whatever I want to wear!"
I took a deep breath and had one of those moments that later became a "wish-I-could-have-a-re-do-because-I-don't-need-to-have-this-battle" moments. I grabbed 2 sweaters and 2 t-shirts, laid them out on her bed and said, "Adeleigh. We don't wear sweaters under t-shirts. We wear t-shirts under sweaters. That's more comfortable and makes more sense. You can pick which t-shirt you want and which sweater and then find a pair of pants. Let me know if you need help."
She got dressed on her own and we went downstairs to play. About fifteen minutes later, she looked at me with tears in her eyes, "Mom, you really hurt my feelings."
Me: "Oh no, Adeleigh! What did I do?"
Adeleigh: "Upstairs, you wouldn't let me wear the sweater like I wanted to. That really hurt my feelings."
Me: "Adeleigh, come here." I sat down on the ground near her. "I am sorry I hurt your feelings. And I am sorry I said that. What can I do to help you feel better?"
She came over and sat on my lap.
Adeleigh: "Give me a hug." I gave her a big hug. Then she said, "And don't do it again."
I smiled. I realized how grown up my little girl is and how I shouldn't have cared so much in that moment about what or how she wanted to dress. And in a moment where I was trying to teach her something that wasn't necessary, she ended up teaching me something way more valuable.
:)

I love my little 4-year-old firecracker, style and all -

(Taken last summer before a walk to the park)

Hermey

We've not yet gotten on the Elf on the Shelf bandwagon. I've wanted to, but I couldn't justify the cost. So this year, I had a thought -
What if I just buy a toy elf, plant him somewhere in the house and tell Adeleigh a brief, and completely believable story about why he's here???.....That'll totally work.

Then two days ago while shopping at Target, I found an endcap display of classic Rudolph stuffed animals. One was an elf for $5.99. Perfect.
That night, I stuck him on top of a canvas near the Christmas Tree. I decided to start out simply before getting all Pinterest-ed out on the little guy.
The next morning, Adeleigh, Atticus and I walked down the stairs together. The first thing she noticed was the elf.
"Mom, what's that?"
"Oh, Adeleigh! Santa must have sent one of his elves to check in on you and your brother during the day! How cute!"
"No, Mom. That's not a real elf."
"What do you mean? Of course it's a real elf!" Generally, I wouldn't lie to my children, but this time I did.
"No, Mom. It's not." She grabbed our classic Rudolph board book collection, pulled out a  book, flipped to a page and said, "See? It's that guy...What's his name?"
"Well, what do you think his name is? You get to pick what Santa's elf's name is."
Keep in mind, I have not read the premise to Elf on the Shelf. All I know is a family gets an elf, the kids name it something cute, and then Moms and Dads make it do silly things like poop chocolate chips on the counter tops.
"Mom. Mom. It's not Santa's elf. It's that guy, right there. What's his name? Hermey?"
"Yes, he looks like Hermey to me. Santa must have sent Hermey then!"
"No, Mom. No. It's not a real elf. He's too soft. And his ears aren't pointy."

I was stumped. I had nothing left to say. And I planned on getting my $5.99 back for the failed scheme.
"Well, Adeleigh. If he's not real, then do you want him to leave?"
"No. He can stay. He's our elf now. But he's not one of Santa's elves. And he isn't real. Stop saying that."

So Hermey is here to stay. And my 4-year-old is smarter than me.

Things to do at Urgent Care on a busy Saturday when you are three

Eat lollipops.
Read every children's book that has sick-kid boogers on them.
Claim all stickers with pink on them as your own.
Announce to the entire waiting room that your Daddy put pee in a jar for the doctor.
Fail to mention that it was your pee, not Daddy's.
Open up all the drawers and try to play with all the sterile equipment.
Spin around in circles on the wheelie chair.
Wash your hands with green soap, then pink soap, then clear soap.
Play with tongue depressors.
Open up the Biohazard trash can (the one with the skull and crossbones on it), despite Mom & Dad's desperate attempts at keeping you away.
Count the dead moths stuck in the ceiling lights.
Remind the doctor that there are dead moths in the room and that they need to be cleaned.
Blow up surgical gloves and see what animals you can create with them.
Bounce blown up surgical gloves around the room and scream as loud as you can while doing so.
Pocket a few surgical gloves to take home after realizing how much fun this is.

Two hours and a $30 co-pay later:

Leave (without a diagnosis and a pocket overflowing with lollipops, stickers and surgical gloves).

When can we do this again?

Nubi

She loved the scruff on Phaeton's chin. She loved belly rubs. She loved earplugs, hair ties and easter basket grass. She loved Rico. And she always made sure to meow her loudest when the babies were crying, just in case we couldn't hear them already. She loved us. I think the only thing she didn't love was the vacuum. She was a great kitty. The greatest kitty.

We had to say goodbye to our sweet Nubi today. After a short, yet aggressive battle with cancer, we made the decision to end her suffering and allow her the peace she was needing.

She purred until her last breath. Phaeton said she followed him home from the clinic. And I believe him.
We love you, Nubi.

Nubi and Adeleigh

These two have always shared something special.

Adeleigh decoded

"No, I didn't lick Atticus' pacifier."
Translation: I totally just licked Atticus' pacifier.

"I only took 1 m&m." (Followed by a smirk, lack of eye contact and running away)
Translation: I totally just ate 5 m&ms.

"I only took 1 m&m...I did."
Translation: I really only took 1 m&m.

"Mom! There's a bee! I need you to kill it!"
Translation: Mom, there's a tiny little speck of something near me! And you, with your insane shenanigans and reactions to anything bug-like, have forever instilled in me to have a melodramatic, borderline crazy person response to anything resembling bug-like tendencies. Including but not limited to: a gnat, a piece of dirt blowing across the floor and the fly in the neighbor's yard air. But ladybugs and roly-polys - those are cool.

"I would like peanut butter and jelly for lunch, please."
Translation: I will eat berries, cereal bars, cheddar bunnies and drink my milk. But, I will definitely not touch that PB&J sandwich I asked you for. And if I do happen to touch it, it will only be to smear it all over my face, the couch and the carpet. And before you ask me to - No. I will not clean it up.

"I want you to lay with me."
Translation: You WILL lay next to me until I fall asleep. You will also rub my back like this...Stop. Now rub my arm. Now this arm. Now rub my back again. No not like that. Like this...

"Just go, Dad."
Translation: In the middle of the night after I have crawled into your bed, kicked all the covers off the whole family and taken your pillows hostage, YOU, Dad, need to leave so that I can have more space. Go sleep in my pink bed.

"No bumps, Mom."
Translation: In the morning after you have gotten me a cereal bar, turned on a show for me on your bedroom TV and laid back down to snooze awhile longer, you must lay perfectly flat and still for the next thirty minutes, so as not to obstruct my perfect view of Curious George. Otherwise, I will scream and kick and wake you and Atticus back up. Every. Single. Time you move.

"Don't look to me, talk to me, or sing."
Translation: I have to poop.


She thinks she rules this house...