Bob's first day of kindergarten

Happy October! Actually I'm calling it 'blogtoberfest' -- 31 days of bliggity-blogging, that's my goal. Feel free to call me out/wake me up if it's 11pm and I haven't posted yet. I'm sticking to it. (There is a pretty good chance that blogtoberfest is gonna flop but is that a reason not to try? Of course not!)

UPDATE: whilst trying to finish this up last night my computer died. Day 1 = fail. Oops.

Post number one I wrote weeks ago -- the Saturday after the first day of school. Just now getting around to loading in the photos and hitting 'publish.' Glad to report that school's still going swell...

...

It's Saturday morning; we all got to sleep in a little today. Bob came crashing into our bed at some pre-dawn hour and woke up Maisy... and girlie snuggled and boobed around for a little while until she settled in across my face and neck... and somehow we all went back to sleep (except I believe Ben was fragglin). And despite the stiff neck when the Loot decided to get up off me (please read that bit a little ghetto style), I was totally glad to wake up with little can't-wake-up pup's face next to my face, still so little despite his big first week at kindergarten.

Just like the day he was born, I fully expected to ball my eyes out on his first day of school, and I didn't.

Somehow -- how!? I guess because my boy was so brave -- I held it together.



I almost did cry once, as I walked away from the school that first day after having left him there for a big change on his own and I suddenly thought: I forgot to remind him to be kind and brave! And for a second a part of me wanted to run back into the school and scoop him back into my arms and give him one more minute of lovins and reminders. And for another second a part of me wanted to break down at what a failure I had been on the first day. But! I pulled it together and I reminded myself: Silly Mama, that's what these past five years have been for: training him up! He is kind and brave. So of course he will BE kind and brave. He is totally ready for this. And somehow, here I am the mother of a kindergartner, and my moistened eyes didn't even quite cry.



After school he was all smiles -- proud and also excited to see us! -- and my heart swelled huge.

"How was it, bud?"

"Great! Um, mom... could you get my new friend's number? Her name's Alexis and she's in second grade."

Well then.

It was all pre-arranged that Owen and I would bake cookies for eating after school.



The m&m chocolate chip reunion was pretty sweet. And so is my boy.

He's gone off bravely and joyfully into the new world of school and I'm super excited for the ways he's always growing.



PS.I didn't pay much mind to the people who thought Bob should go to preschool, and I don't listen to the people who tell me I should cut his hair. That one's up to him, as was his first day of school outfit. Which was awesome.
And PPS. I still love his hair.

--A.

last day of the year

I've just not been in the mood this year, folks.  But I love this little bliggity blog and all that it is for me -- a journal of the little details of life that are sure to be forgotten and lost if I don't record them somewhere, a way to share the cuteness with family far away, a little bit of release and self-therapy, something to do with the photos I take every day or a reason to keep taking them -- so... here goes.

It was a big New Year's Eve around here!  Owen did his second consecutive poop on the potty (getting number two to splash down has been an ongoing challenge), and Bob lost his first tooth!  I had been naming all the ways that the tooth could fall out before midnight, and then what do you know, it happened.  Bob was messing with the tooth while snuggling his blankie and playing duplos with Owen and Maisy and suddenly, "Um, I'm sorry to tell you, but--" and I turned around and there he was holding it out in his hand, licking a little drop of blood off his lip.  He put that first fallen piece of his mouth's babydom into an envelope which he lettered "TOOTH" and at bedtime he snuck it under his pillow.  Bob had high hopes of staying up until midnight this year but instead we had an extra silly silly time and cheered Happy new year! at 8:00 before settling into bed.  I promptly forgot about the tooth until after Bob had woken me up in the morning, but I was able to save the magic by suggesting that he had checked under his pillow when it was actually still night and asking him to put something away while I ran upstairs and made the switch.  A note and 50 cent coin were then discovered with much excitement.  And so we entered the new year.

I technically stayed awake into 2015, but I was upstairs getting Maisy back to sleep and then I fell asleep too and didn't make it back down until Ben and our one guest had retired as well.  No exciting party tales.

The "New Year" doesn't really stir all that much emotion in me.  Because if you want to change something about your life, there is absolutely no reason to wait until January to do so.  January isn't exactly the most inspiring time of the year for me; it is cold and dark and there is still a whole lot of winter ahead.  But that's not to say that I'm immune to reflection, and 2014 was a bit of a difficult one I guess.

Is it possible for one year to simultaneously be the best and worst of your life thus far?  I think: yes?  I can see so much blessing this past year: a cozy home in a beautiful place, a loving hard working husband, two sweet sons, the welcoming of our precious daughter, health, a productive garden and always enough food.  Really, life is good.  I'm really lucky and not complaining.  And yet, my heart has been heavy.  Heavy, heavy.  There have been some heavy, heavy thoughts weighing on my heart and mind ALL THE TIME.  Heavy.  That's the only word.

In the true fashion of a long line of feeling-suppressors, I've been mastering a combination of numbing and bottling up my dark thoughts, to the point where the resulting mass inside me may have been crushing my heart a little bit.  Which finally led to a recent spewing of truths to a couple of trusted individuals, which was not easy for me, but which I've realized was completely necessary.  (I heard all those whiches but I'm rolling with it.)  We can't battle our demons alone.  We can't.  We need to bring them to light and let someone say, "Wow, that is a lot for you to carry, you need to drop that load right now."  And we need to cry and let it out and just feel up the feelings sometimes.  I need to afford myself the same grace I try to extend to my children -- that feelings are a-okay and we need to let them out, not lock them in.

The art of hiding behind a humor of sarcasm, while perhaps making me amusing to be around at times, hasn't exactly fostered a host of lifelong connections with other vulnerable human beings.  And that right there, that's been another lonely realization to come to terms with.

In the fall of 2013, I lost a friend.  She didn't die, she just stopped calling, but it almost felt like I was grieving a death.  Or a breakup perhaps.  It was like being broken up with, but not even told.  My girlfriend, my one local friend that I actually saw regularly, explained that she was "maxxed out" at the moment and that was that.  And it hurt so much.  And I started to realize -- and all through the next year the realization sunk in deeper -- that somehow, 30 years in, I had no friends.  (Not true; I have two or three, or four if you include my husband!)  I've always felt like I had friends, never felt hated, everyone has always been friendly to me, and yet it's clear now that my high school Spanish teacher was right -- these people that you think are your friends are not really your friends, and you will have only two or three real friends that last in your life.  We laughed at her, my "friends" and I -- ha ha! we have dozens of best friends and always will!  Well.  I can't even remember the teacher's name but I remember that one conversation vividly.  And you know, it gives me some consolation knowing that I'm not alone, even if facebook and tweeter and instograham can make it seem like I am.

I know now that real friends are the ones who, when you finally let down your guard and say I need you, they come running.  Like, right then.  That same day.  And I know now that I am very lucky to have even a couple of friends like that.

I think, this new year (see here I am getting on the bandwagon after I already declared that I don't do that sham!) I'd like to let myself be a little more vulnerable.  I'd like to meet a new friend, and actually open myself up to her so that she can do the same, and also I want to really be there for the people I know, and tell them so, so that they can call on me and know I'll come running.

Boom.

And now I can (hopefully) get on with my regular lighthearted record keeping, and do a massive recap catchup, and move on into this new year with self-forgiveness and acceptance and grace and trust in God that all will work for good if I seek Him.

Maisy thumb sucker! {a respectful parenting introspective}

Maisy spent the past two days in bed, almost all day long.

She has been working really hard at her hands lately -- sucking on her little paw, chewing on her fingers -- just constantly trying to figure out those amazing extremities.  A few nights ago, I went up to bed and found her there lying on her side sucking her thumb -- a big accomplishment and was she into it!

So then, day before yesterday... I took baby girl upstairs for her usual second morning nap around 10:30 or 11:00, gave her some nursies, left her in a daze on the bed and off to sleep she went.  And then, also as usual, we went about our business, listening for sounds from her and peeking in occasionally.  Normally she might spend a couple of hours up there, sleeping then waking and wanting us, or waking and looking around for a while and then wanting us, letting us know with her little grunts or cries.  But yesterday the two hours passed and I checked and she was up there on her side, sucking away at her thumb again, eyes almost closed, little paw helping to hold her left hand in place at her mouth.  It was taking every ounce of baby girl's concentration to control her arm and stop it from flying away and keep that thumb in her mouth so she could suck on it.  Clearly she was busy, so I left her to it.  She fell back to sleep, she woke and worked her thumb into her mouth and sucked again.  I checked and checked all afternoon.  At one point I snuck some photos and laid my face down by hers and smiled a little and whispered quietly, "I'm so happy for you.  I love you so," very intentional about not interrupting her focus but just offering a little love and support.  She squinted at me and made a few little grins at mine.  I went to leave once and she let out a sad whimper, so I took that as a sign that she wanted me to stay and put my head down by hers for a little longer.  And then I did leave and she slept more and sucked more.  And when she was finally making noise and ready to greet us with smiles, it was after 4:30 in the afternoon!  Yeppers, an almost six hour stretch on the bed.  Then, yesterday we followed a similar pattern.

I may have been tempted to pick Maisy up after three or certainly four hours of "napping" saying, "she's been resting long enough!"  But I've been reading {this book} {thanks, sara} and it's helping me become far more intentional about letting Maisy focus when she's busy, leaving her in her zone to stare or kick or suck her thumb.  Because to us it could have seemed like nothing, but she's been working hard the past couple of days to lock in her newly discovered skill and hobby.  Without the time and quiet to practice (she can't do it anyplace but on the bed yet; scratch that, last night she managed to suck her thumb while I was holding her) she might not have gotten it.  Instead of helping Maisy develop her focus and attention span by quietly observing, I easily could have interrupted and undermined the importance of what she wants to learn.

This concept applies to the boys as well, of course.  And while we are less inclined to interrupt our children than our babies, we still do.  Lunch need not be served at twelve o'clock on the dot if the littles are engrossed in what they're doing; a natural stopping point will come and then we can move on.

Lots of food for thought.  I totally recommend the book.

super soaker potty training

I told him if he pooped on the potty, he could blast his poop with the super soaker.

And what do you know, it worked.

Owen's first ever poop on the potty today -- all I had to do was let him spray his business with a water gun!  And so we're off and rolling with undies and marbles in a jar as incentives {like we did with Bob}.

Day one went better than expected, and here we are -- about to have just one in diapers again.  I can't say I'm one bit sad about that.

Is he proud of his undies-wearing, marble-collecting self?

You bet.

off-roading

Recently our bike riding has graduated from round and round the driveway to dirt and jumps.  Before hitting the trail, Bob has to suit up.  The gear is just as important as the activity, of course.  Sometimes I think that seriously these boys are going to kill themselves -- but mostly, if they're confident, then I am. If they think they can do it, then they probably can.

It's fun being your mom, little four and a half year old Pupper!