The Wiggle

D turns 8 today.    How in the world is that even possible?  The ride to this point was way too fast.
He was born on 3-24-03 at 4:23pm.  In my mind, he is extra special because of the transposition of those numbers.  I know, I know.

Some days I wish I could shrink him back down to baby/toddler size and do it all over again.  Mostly because I just miss squeezing on him and his cute baby laugh.  But also because I would do so many things differently with him that I have now learned by having 2 more little people.  Isn't that what most mothers of first-borns say?

I didn't plan on having kids and frankly, didn't even really like them all that much until I had one of my own.  I was not the girl who fawned over newborns and wandered all dreamy-eyed through baby sections in stores.  No, I was the girl giving mothers and children the world over a pretty serious stink-eye when out in public and too much racket was being made.  I had barely held a baby, much less changed diapers or given bottles or knew when to call the doc.

But then I had my Wiggle Worm...named of course for all the wiggling he did in utero as well as out of the swaddling mess I attempted to cocoon him in to bring on the sleep.  I can still remember holding him in the hospital room, just the two of us, and whispering to him over and over again how much I loved him.  I can remember everything about the day he came home-how we didn't know how to install the car seat as we were preparing to leave the hospital, how he looked sleeping in his new bassinet with his little fists tightly curled and how I felt super energetic.  Then, reality hit.  I can also recall standing in my kitchen in my robe, unshowered and hair on end, wondering if I could remember how to operate the coffee maker.

Now he is a "big kid" as he likes to remind me.  I love the little person he is becoming-he is sweet, funny, shy, smart, creative, goofy and incredibly handsome.  I have had friends tell me I baby him too much.  For most of his kindergarten year, I warmed his clothes up in the dryer every day.  It started because in the mornings it was cold and he was hard to wake up so I thought if he had something warm to slip into, it would help.  But then it became a habit of mine, not something he was necessarily expecting.  I quit doing it cold-turkey and he has never uttered a word about it.  Although.
The other night he comes out of his bathroom dripping wet and informs me that I forgot to leave his towel and pajamas out for him.  Whoa, Tonto.  Who is this kid?
Oh, that's right.  He's mine, the one I over-indulge out of sheer guilt.  Guilt for not playing with him enough, yelling too much, forcing things on him, not requiring him to do enough.
A load of crap to sort through that I would wager a lot of mothers of first-borns feel.
How do you know you're getting it right?  Now that I have 2 others and something tangible to compare it to, I know better.

Did my yelling make him shy?  Should I have forced him to do things he didn't want to when he was younger like other moms did?  Would that make him more competitive?  Do I want all that?
Who the hell knows.
I know that I adore this kid and everyday I appreciate more and more his amazing imagination and creativity, his unwillingness to always conform, his love of nature and his general goodness.  I am so thankful that God gave him to us and for his good health.
Maybe my Lenten intentions this year should have included not second guessing my parenting skills and just being happy that I AM a parent.

Happy Birthday, D!  I love you more than any words could convey on paper.

Random Musings

So I have my first guitar lesson this week.
I finally bit the bullet and signed myself right on up.
D thinks this is incredibly funny.  When asked why, he couldn't really answer me but he just knew it was funny that a mommy was taking guitar lessons.
In fact, he mentioned to his friend today that "his mom is taking guitar lessons next to an ice cream shop".
Well.  When you say it like that, it sounds a bit removed from say, Juilliard, now doesn't it?
Well, maybe it is.
I had to pony up and tell my soon-to-be teacher that my goal is to be able to play the guitar solo in "Sultans of Swing" by Dire Straits.  Nothing like reaching for the stars, right?  I am certain that my weekly pickin' lessons at the music shop NEXT DOOR to the Dollar Cone will put me right up there with fellow guitar gods like Clapton and Mark Knopfler in to time at all.

So the weather here was fantastic this weekend and we are all grubby, tired and a bit hungover from it all.  Not the little people on the hungover part, just me and Big Daddy.  Between surprise parties and cocktails by the outdoor fireplace, we were done in.  LOVE my neighbors-in case I forgot to mention it.

GoGo is rockin' swim lessons.  I'm not sure which she enjoys more, the ruffled swimsuit or kicking the water hard enough to make sure the other kids get splashed.  Wonder where she gets that from?
She has begun requesting music off my Ipod and it's not MY music-it's the stuff Daddy put on there for her.  So this weekend she asked to go to a Black Eyed Peas concert, wanted to hear the "Melt Your Popsicle" song and boogied her way through some Lady Gaga.

Lord, Help Me.  Note to Self-BUY GOGO SOME HAIR PRODUCT.

And this one just continues to eat, drink and Be Merry.  Her new favorite words are MINE, WHEE! (if we see or approach anything that looks like it could make her hair blow) and today it was WHERE DID IT GO?  Which isn't quite that crystal clear but close enough.  She puts her hands up and shrugs when she does it, which just kills me.

Loving spring, friends and Blue Moons, dirt under the nails from planting hydrangeas, watching my kids dance and hugging them after bathtime.  Thankful.

Those Crazy Kids

Well, GoGo discovered that our new computer has a built in camera.  How, I have no idea.  But based upon the evidence of over 80 self-portraits, it seems she may have a future as a photographer.  

Or, possibly an extra in a Mike Myers movie.

Meanwhile, D decided to take the Lego thing 3-dimensional.  I especially like his palm trees and fencing.

He also has been writing newspapers, weather reports and short stories.  I totally dig his creative vibes.

This one has been under the weather but is still sweet and singing around the house. 

 I am afraid that paci will never leave us.  At least not before our road trip home to GC.

Sunny Days are Here Again

Glorious weather this weekend.  The kind that makes you certain there IS someone in charge upstairs.

We spent today with my inlaws, up on the lake and it was awesome.  

My kids had a great time, we ate too much food and everyone came home tired and a bit dirty.

Agent P received some good grandparent lovin' today.

This appears to be some sort of lunar landing, only on a putting green.

I would love to know what she found so funny.

I suppose all of the fun-in-the-sun just flat wore them out, hence the collapsing.  

Again, with the golf green.

I can't believe this beautiful boy will be 8 soon.  Blows my mind and breaks my heart, all at once.

Evil Knievel, coming down the hill.  She scares me when she won't acknowledge either brake on her bike, opting instead to only use the tips of her shoes.  

It cracks me up how lily-white my girls are and then D looks like he stepped off the boat from Italy.
That Irish/German blood runs deep!  Probably why Agent P grabbed an empty Blue Moon bottle from the recycle bin and paraded around my driveway yesterday.  Also why Gogo pointed to a Blue Moon display at the Teeter and said rather loudly, "Look mommy, for You!"
Not all Irish/German blooded people enjoy beer.  Just most of the breathing ones, in my family.

In other news, D began working on his Pinewood Derby car for Scouts, Gogo begins swim lessons next week and Agent P is apparently going to sing before speaking in complete sentences.  She sings what I can only assume is the ABC song, Old MacDonald and Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.  All day long.  But her actual words consist of maybe 2 word phrases with some grunting or finger pointing to assist.  Maybe she'll become a UTube sensation at 4 and sing her way into college and mommy's retirement.

D's car will be cool-maybe won't win first place but he did most of the work himself and has it all planned out.  He also did a good deed to get his Tiger Scout badge right-side up now.  Proud of him.

Gogo is already making her birthday wish list and it's only February.  She also is planning her swim wardrobe for the summer, telling me she needs a 2-piece and a few "fancy fashion" coverups.
Oh my word.  What will she be telling me at 15?  I am very afraid.

Which is why mommy enjoys her Blue Moon.

Brotherly Love, Tiger Scouts, Etc

I always wanted a big brother.  I inherited 2 older step-brothers via a wicked stepmother, but that didn't quite "cut the mustard" as my dad would say.
So now I just love to watch D with Agent P.  He really enjoys her and loves helping.
Not necessarily in the same ways as Gogo-not with diapers, feeding, or dressing.
No, more along the lines of teaching and playing and just being.  


He loves her many facial expressions and her giggle and he loves to read to her and often attempts to "teach her letters".  For her part, she loves to hug him when he gets off the school bus and sometimes claps for him when he shows her something he's drawn or built.
They are each others very own fan club, it seems.

He is of course, also big bro to Gogo.  I don't know if there is a fan club thing going on, but they do love each other in their own dysfunctional ways.  There is more competition there with school, bike riding, who eats more veggies, etc.  But there is also love-Gogo is more likely to show it in front of God and everybody whereas D is more likely to let it fly under the radar.  Like hugging her at lunch very quickly, when Mom and Dad can't see.  Or agreeing to play school with her to help her with math word problems.  Or building her a fort in her room.

D also made Tiger Scout last week so we are on our way to becoming a Wolf!  Next up, the Pinewood Derby and his super fast race car.

Gogo continues to wonder who in her class wants to marry her and has been pondering just what to do when she gets big-doctor, mommy or builder person?  I tell her she has plenty of time to figure it all out and to enjoy being a kid.  She tells me she is not really a kid anymore, since she is "such a Big Girl now".  Yep.  Just keep riding that Barbie bike for a few more years, will ya?

Agent P Update

Either I'm shrinking her entire wardrobe or she is growing at the speed of light each day.  An outfit that fit her literally 4 days ago, will not today.  What is that about?
At her 18 month check-up, the doc said she is the size of your average 2 1/2 year old.
Could be, she inherited some tall genes.  Or, maybe its her love of carbs and sweets.
Either way, she is my chunky-monkey and she is precious.
And funny.  And sweet.  And smart.  And I simply adore her.
And wish I had a spare of her in my backpocket, just in case.

She has the BEST giggle.  And she loves to rock out with mommy.  She loves to hug GoGo and D when they get off the school bus.  She calls me "ma" when she calls for me in the middle of the night.    She follows me around the house, chatting and gesturing with her hands on her Minnie Mouse phone as I chat on my own.  She claps for herself all the time.  She is very slowly beginning to potty train.  She loves to give hugs.  I could eat her chubby little hands right off.
I am just so thankful for her, so glad we went for a 3rd, so trying to appreciate every day with her at this age-because it all goes by much too fast.  Love You, Sweetness!!

Love and The Letter

I have a new love.  Two brothers whose music is really not my type at all, in that it was made in the 21st century and not about 40 years earlier.  In that it is a band with a banjo. 
But in love I am, with the Avett Brothers.
Their lyrics are stunningly beautiful and hilarious.
There is one song in particular that I keep replaying on my Ipod and in my head..."Murder in the City".
No, it's not gangsta crap.  In my head I picture a gunslinger in the Old West, singing a song to his family in case of tragedy.  There is a line instructing his family to read a letter, a list he had made for them of "to-do's".  Reminding his loved ones how much he loved them and his gratefulness of sharing his name with them.  That line blew my mind the first time I heard it and I simply love it.

So.  The Letter.
I have been meaning for a long time to write a letter to my grandma, telling her things I could never say in person without bawling like a newborn baby.  Because I am a WUSS.  But, that can't be helped.
So today, with my newly beloved Avett Bros in the background, I wrote her my letter, my list.

I cried the whole way through it.  I told her how much I appreciated her, how I wouldn't have ended up anywhere this side of normal without her, how I can't imagine her pain of losing her daughter and her best friend all at once, how I noticed all she did without to give me everything and I remember all her sayings/rules/superstitions.  And I tell them to my own children all the time.  Most of my best childhood memories are with her.  She represents everything that is safe and sane and warm and welcoming in this world to me.

I have a very different relationship with my grandma than many probably do with their own.  She was my grandma and my mother all in one and that was both a difficult role to assume and accept.  I lived with her every weekend and many summers from the time I was 8 until I was a senior in high school.  Most of my ideas and definitions of what it mean to be a woman, come from her.  She is a lady through and through.  Her "face on", hair done and outfit pressed to perfection before we could even walk to the corner market for a newspaper.  I can count on one hand the number of times I have heard her curse (at worst damn) or lose her patience.  I can only hope for an ounce of her patience and gentle spirit.  Clearly, the ideas I have of being a woman have not translated into my reality so easily.  There is hope.

So I printed the letter with no copy and mailed it today.  I don't need to read it again.  I will have all those words and more with me forever.

And now I am on to find scalped tickets for the Avett Brothers show in April.