From 3 to 4

The 3+ inches pictured above are but one measure of the past year. So much has happened from 3 to 4 for Amelia. Life did not stop, slow down, or make it easy. In the midst of everything...moving from Boone to Durham, new school, new friends, new church, new house, new, new, new...Amelia has thrived. I'm not saying it has been easy, that there haven't been tear-filled nights, fits of rage, the silent treatment, late nights and early mornings. What am I saying? That through it all Amelia has grown, learned, struggled, cried, laughed, and loved.

I'm so proud of who Amelia is and has become. Naturally, we're selfish little beasts. Our own self-interests outweigh those of others....No! That's mine. She's in my space! I want it now! I don't want to share! However, many more times than not...she's there to help: with the laundry, hold her sister's hand, welcome a new friend, say hello to a stranger, ask how we can help...in short...figure it out

So happy birthday Amelia! I hope you're new town is ready for you, and here's a wish for all of us: May we all be more like Amelia. Write a card to a neighbor. Give an awesome high five. Tell a terrible knock-knock joke. Talk to a stranger. Help others. Run and laugh until you can hardly breathe. Wonder in amazement at just how awesome life is (side note: I wish I had a picture of how hysterical and maniacal Amelia was at the pool this weekend!). In short, love! You probably won't grow 3+ inches this year, but how else will you grow?

Pink and Red Playground Party

On Saturday, February 17, the day of Eleanor’s first birthday, Amelia declared that she wanted to have a “Pink and Red Playground Party” to celebrate her 4^th birthday.  This pronouncement rang true for the next four months as she counted down the months, then weeks, then days leading up to June, with the excited perseverance that only a child anticipating her birthday possesses. 

At first, I waited to see if her requested party theme would morph into something different – maybe she’d go character related, Cars or the Incredibles or Toy Story or Doc McStuffins, or maybe she’d go with unicorns or rainbows, as the little girls’ clothing section of almost every store currently seems to proclaim as the decoration of choice, or maybe she’d suddenly change her favorite color of the past year from red to green or purple or yellow.  I should have known.  Once Amelia gets something in her head, it stays.  Be forewarned; never tell my daughter anything unless you are absolutely and unequivocally prepared to follow through.  She never forgets.

Once I was positive that the “Pink and Red Playground Party” request was staying put, I encouraged it.  It seemed straightforward, an easy party to pull off and my little family of (current) extroverts loves any excuse to have a party.  Amelia and I shopped for pink and red plates, deemed pink and red sunglasses the perfect party favor and brainstormed pink and red foods to serve, all while accommodating my request that it be a simple party.

We scheduled the party to fall on the Saturday before Amelia’s actual birthday at our church’s playground.  As the day approached, we began watching the weather.  Amelia told everyone who would listen that she was having a “Pink and Red Playground Party,” but if it rained, she would have a “Pink and Red House Party.”  Even though she had a plan, the idea of having that many three and four year olds, along with all of our other guests, in our house felt daunting to me.  So, I hoped and continued to wear out my weather app, utilizing the hourly forecast and the radar as the party got closer.

The day of the party arrived.  Amelia’s Nana and Granddaddy, as well as her Uncle Kyle and Aunt Lisa, chipped in on the day of the party to set up, get Eleanor to the party, and clean up.  Nana filled bags with popcorns so it would look pink. We decided on watermelon, strawberries and grapes to be our red food and ordered pink cupcakes.  We borrowed cornhole and a tailgating tent from Granddaddy.

Adam and I continued to obsessively check the weather.  That entire morning, the radar looked ominous, but as the hours passed, the written forecast was more optimistic.  We knew that Amelia would feel celebrated whatever we chose to do, but we ultimately decided it would be best to push through with the playground plan.  I found myself wondering if people would still attend; if the threatening clouds would frighten them away. 

When 3:00 rolled around, we were there.  We set up food, put out a few chairs, took Amelia’s picture with a “Happy Birthday, Amelia” banner and took advantage of the fact that we could put the pink cupcakes inside the church, both to save them from possible rain and to keep the icing from melting in the already formidable Durham heat.  Amelia ran from place to place, excitedly trying to help and asking when her friends were coming. 

Right on time, people started coming.  She had family, friends from school, friends from church, and even a couple of her parents’ coworkers and their families.  I was humbled by the turnout for my girl.  We made it for thirty solid minutes before the rain started.  We were grateful for the cover provided by the trees, but soon it was obvious that putting the cupcakes inside had been the right idea.

We took cover in the fellowship hall with our cupcakes. We took advantage of the time, taking group pictures of the kids in attendance.  Amelia beamed as her friends sang “happy birthday” and she talked for days about how she got the first cupcake and it had a candle in it.  Amelia licked every bit of icing off of her cupcake; I’m not entirely sure if she tried the actual cake. 

As we all dripped dry, several kind and well-intentioned partygoers carried in food and napkins, rescuing several things from the continued showers outside.   Meanwhile, Amelia and her friends played and ran around.  Before anyone could lose interest, the rain stopped.  Slowly, people trickled back outside, just in time for on and off showers to continue. 

Astoundingly, the rain deterred no one.  People hesitated, people mentioned it, but unanimously, they decided to stay, to celebrate, to laugh, to talk, to let their children play in the mud and the “creek.” 

I know that Amelia is only four years old and I, both consciously and unconsciously, am contributing to who she will grow up to be, in so many ways.  I hesitate to name or list things that I perceive her to be, since she may well change or feel that I projected it onto her.  However, now that I’ve acknowledged that risk, I’m going to face it to share with you what I learned at Amelia’s “Pink and Red Playground Party.”

I learned, or was reminded, that right now, at four years old, Amelia absolutely loves people.  She loves people in a kind and inclusive way that I hope to cultivate.  From the moment the first guest arrived, Amelia greeted each person with genuine enthusiasm.  She independently thanked guests for coming and needed no prompting to invite children to join in whatever she was playing, so much so that several other adults mentioned it to me.  I cannot think of a better or truer compliment for my Amelia.

I was once told that Amelia has a “light” and while that is true of everyone in their own way, right now, Amelia’s shines brightly.  One of Amelia’s party guests was a member of her Friday morning breakfast club.  Adam, Amelia and Eleanor go out to breakfast on their way to work and school at the same restaurant every Friday.  It just so happens that a group of senior adults do the same thing.  My family has been welcomed into that group so fully that one member took the initiative to come to Amelia’s party.  She had invited the group en masse the Friday before and while only one person could attend, they came bearing a card signed by everyone.  Amelia has started actual, real friendships with many different groups in the short time she’s been here in Durham, in spite of so many changes. 

I learned that Amelia wants to help.  She wanted to pick out things for the party, help with the invitations, make sure as many people as possible were included, set up for the party, make sure every single child got pink or red sunglasses to take home, clean up afterwards and she was very interested in donating books.  We told her friends to forego birthday gifts, but that if they wanted to bring something, they could bring a book to donate.  Amelia was unsure at first, but when it came down to donating the books, she was thrilled.  We discussed how not everyone has books and she was excited to share what she could.  As we left the donation center, she asked if there were other things we could share.  Yes, Amelia, there are so many other things we can share, so many things we can do to help. 

The party reminded me that Amelia wants to wear a particular outfit and make sure it matches, but will not hesitate to play in the mud or run or climb in it.  She will sit down anywhere, at any time, to look at a book, no matter what is going on around her.  Amelia will eat icing all. Day. Long.  She fiercely loves her sister and while they are entering a phase that involves more picking at each other, she wants Eleanor by her side.

Most of all, at this long anticipated, rain-soaked, perfect for Amelia, “Pink and Red Playground Party” I learned that my Amelia truly is growing up.  Four sounds (and looks and acts) so much older than three.  Kids learn so much while they’re four and by this time next year, I have no doubt that she will be more than ready to take on kindergarten and quite possibly, the world.  Amelia still wants to be hugged and cuddled, but I can feel her starting to assert even more of her independence.  She still wants to hold my hand and skip, but also wants to insist that she can walk by herself in a parking lot.  Amelia tells her own stories now, but will still listen for as long as I would read.  More often already, she chooses to follow a friend to play rather than stay with me.  I could not be prouder of the gracious, friendly, kind, brave, resilient little girl she has somehow already become. 

So, that’s why we celebrate.  That’s why we threw a party.  What’s not to celebrate?  Another year survived as parents, sure, but not just survived.  We’ve had an entire year to see her grow, to see her learn, to see her become.

As always, I am grateful to those of you who helped us to pull it off.  We couldn’t have done it without you.  I am grateful to each of you who celebrated with us.  I am grateful to you for being there, for braving the weather, for being a part of her life and most of all, for loving our Amelia.

Obsolete Children and Grown-Up Thoughts

“As a child I assumed that when I reached adulthood, I would have grown-up thoughts.”  

-David Sedaris

May and June are busy for our family.  It’s not only the end of a school year, although since I work for a school system, the school calendar continues to dictate the tides of our day-to-day life.  We have several family birthdays and special occasions during the month of May, in between Mother’s Day and Father’s Day; we have five birthdays to celebrate.  On May 17^th, I turned thirty-four.  Thirty-four, for those of you who may not have experienced it quite yet, is apparently the age at which you have to start counting up how old you are.  I found myself doing math or thinking about how old Amelia will be before I could confidently answer the question, “how old are you?” Thankfully, I work in a job where it’s not only acceptable, but also entertaining, to respond by asking, “how old do you think I am?” to which I am immediately either told something around the age of 17 or something around the age of 65, both of which, for the current moment, are too far off to have any affect on my self esteem.

This particular year was a very mom-ish birthday.  We had one daughter who was sick enough to need to stay home from daycare, it rained all day, we were packing to leave for Tennessee, and I had several meetings at work. It was just another day.  We did manage to eat cake after we put Eleanor to bed; I feel that teaching Amelia to eat cake just before bedtime has been a parenting win.  Thankfully, our bathroom leak and subsequent industrial dehumidifiers weren’t temporarily put in until the next week.  It wasn’t a bad birthday at all and I truly appreciated Adam’s effort (along with that of my parents and brother/sister-in-law) to make it special. I’m grateful for the last year in so many ways and thrilled to see what the next has in store. 

In fact, it was a good birthday; any day with cake and celebrations are good days. Bring on 34!

All of that aside, it is a strange feeling.  I continue to be undeniably adult with a stable job (in a career I’ve been in for ten years), two kids, a dog, a marriage to my best friend that’s nearing its seventh anniversary and a house payment.  I have officially entered my mid-thirties.  When I look at the decades, I consider 30-33 to be early-thirties, 34-36 to be mid-thirties and 37-39 to be late-thirties.  Argue it as you will, but that’s how I’m calling it. 

“Adults are just obsolete children…” 

– Dr. Seuss

Anyway, on the night of May 17^th, as I watched Adam light thirty-four birthday candles, listened to Amelia sing “Happy Birthday,” tried to make a concrete birthday wish without telling so as not to break the magic, and worried about whether the massive flames above my cake would set off the smoke alarm, I felt very adult.  

“I am convinced that most people do not grow up…we marry and dare to have children and call that growing up.  I think what we do is mostly grow old.  We carry accumulations of years in our bodies, and on our faces, but generally our real selves, the children inside, are innocent and shy as magnolias.” 

–Maya Angelou

For the first time, life isn’t racing toward the next big event.  I’m not counting the days to a wedding or a birth or a move.  Adam and I have built a wonderful and strong life together, but until now, that life hasn’t been quite so rooted.  For the first time, we aren’t talking about where we’ll live next, what house we may look at, what town we could try or what job applications to complete.  It’s a strange feeling, and honestly, not necessarily good or bad.  I can’t say with certainty that we won’t move again or add to our family in the next few years, but I also can’t say that we will.  This is one of those realizations that is somehow simultaneously suffocating and liberating.

There is always something to work toward, to improve and with two busy, growing girls, there will be no shortage of firsts, of changes, of mistakes, of fears, of growth.  We definitely haven’t arrived, but this is how things turned out.  There's no time to waste; there's no excuse.  This - today - is life. 

Baby Dirt and the Opposite of War

Now that we’re in our own house and have a little more yard space than we did both at our apartment and our last house, Adam and I have been talking about having a garden.  We don’t exactly have vast amounts of time on our hands, but we are going to at least try to tackle a couple of beds.  When Amelia was smaller, we planted some seeds in a few pots and she adorably called it our “baby dirt.”  She constantly wanted to water it, check on it and of course, play in it.  During that round of gardening, Amelia was the equivalent of Lenny from Of Mice and Men.  Needless to say, we didn’t quite reap what we thought we sowed. 

This time around, Amelia interest was piqued again.  We started our little project today with some seed started pots.  Eleanor bounced between attempting to eat dirt, trying to help and doing her best to escape our porch to get to the back yard.  Amelia, however, stuck with it.  She poured dirt, planted seeds, and watered them all.  I had expected her to tire out or lose interest, but it didn’t happen.  We had a few mishaps of accidentally spilling a couple of the pots, being very concerned about a beetle, dumping almost all of one type of seeds in one pot and insisting on filling up the last few pots with a spoon.   All that aside, she saw it through. 

After we finished, Adam mentioned the “baby dirt” to Amelia and in the true nature of someone who is over three and a half; she insisted that it isn’t baby dirt anymore.  With kids, so much changes so quickly. 

It was a beautiful day to plant seeds.  Amelia made the beginning of a garden today.  Hopefully, if all goes as planned, we will be able to nurture those seeds into plants.  In so doing, she and I were literally planting proverbial seeds (may I remind you that cliches are cliches for a reason) for childhood memories and maybe a new and lasting interest.  

We all want that, in our own way; to make something.  I have hopes to raise my girls to create.  Mark in Rent had it right when he sang from the top of a table, “the opposite of war isn’t peace, it’s creation.” We all work from the spark of our creation towards creation of our own.  My girls will know that they have the power, the value and the calling to make something.  They can make space, make decisions, make art, make a stand, make peace. So can we.

That feels even more significant this weekend.  Tonight, I hugged my girls a little tighter, rocked a little longer, read one extra chapter and deeply felt gratitude that my girls are safe.  There are children (and men and women) who desperately tried to sleep, not to a white noise machine and a harried rendition of “Baby Mine,” but to the soundtrack of an air raid over their home. Don’t let this be just another day; to create space for those who are persecuted, we can’t keep them at arms’ length or only on our social media feeds.  We are called to make true connections and to create peace. 

Being the Little Sister

I have two little daughters.  I know, thank you, Captain Obvious.  Anyone who has Facebook stalked me, read one of my blogs or knows me in any capacity, knows that.  All of that aside, my two little girls are on my mind tonight, as they almost always are.  Tonight though, it isn’t about their accomplishments, their goals, their potential, the world around them or how I am attempting to help them grow, learn and become the best humans possible.  Tonight, it’s just about the fact that there are two of them.

No matter what the circumstance in any family with children, there is an oldest child and there is a youngest child.  I happen to fall into the oldest child category.  I am the older of two children and I happen to be the oldest grandchild on one side of my family.  On the other side I am the sixth of seven grandchildren.  There were times when I wasn’t the oldest at family events, but they were not that often.  So, it’s been extremely interesting to watch Eleanor, as she learns what it means to be the little sister.  Because of that, Ramona, Amy March, Lucy Pevensie, my aunt Susan, or my cousin Kayla would have been able to write this better than I have.

So far, Eleanor is my wild one.  She has little to no fear of anything.  She has Spiderman-like climbing abilities and an independent streak that appears to be ever expanding.  Eleanor likes a challenge, especially those involving finding a way out of anything confining, like a seatbelt on a high chair.  By the way, they should make five point harnesses for high chairs and shopping carts. Sometimes a restrained and screaming child is better than one who is either constantly escaping or toppling out headfirst as their parent reaches for the cereal.

Anyway, very little holds Eleanor’s attention for long at this point in her life.  There is one thing though, that Eleanor finds constantly entertaining and that is her big sister, Amelia.  She would follow Amelia anywhere.  Even now, as a toddler, Eleanor makes every attempt to keep up.  She watches it all and takes it in.  Our house is set up so that Amelia can literally run laps around our downstairs when the mood strikes her.  When that happens, you can find Eleanor toddling along behind, being lapped, but contentedly a part of things.  Amelia has recently learned what it means to “copy” someone.  Thanks, daycare friends.  This has been the cause of many a complaint regarding Eleanor lately, who is unabashedly copying her sister.

I know how tough it can be to be the big sister.  To be the first.  To pave the way.  To be the one with whom parents figure things out.  But, now, I can also see how tough it must be to be the little sister.  Eleanor goes as quickly as her legs will carry her, but she can’t catch up.  She reaches for Amelia’s jewelry or clothes or toys or books only to be told that she is too little.

There will come a day when that won’t be the case.  There will come a day when my girls will be able to share clothes or when they will go to each other with problems instead of me.  At least, I hope and pray that they will grow closer together rather than apart.  I’ve seen siblings who have done both.  I don’t have a sister.  I love my brother and would not change my family at all, but I am glad to have been able to give my girls a sister. 

As their parents, we are trying to plant the seeds of a relationship that could flourish between two sisters.  We are trying to teach them the value of each other, to show them how much family matters, to foster a relationship that is strong and healthy.  As we were driving home from supper last night, I caught a glimpse of what could be.  I turned to look at the girls, who were being suspiciously quiet for two awake kids in car seats.  They had reached across the car toward each other and were holding hands as we drove.   Amelia caught me looking and giggled, but didn’t drop Eleanor’s hand.  My hope is just that; that they will always be able to reach each other and that nothing will cause them to let go.

The Next Chapter

Anyone who knows Amelia knows that in some ways she is undeniably mine.  One of the things that I am thrilled to have passed on to her so far is her love of books.  Even as a baby, Amelia would sit and look at books.  They have always been her favorite toy and the love of pulling books off of the shelves quickly morphed into turning the pages, pointing at the pictures, begging to be read to, sitting for as long as we will read and now, “reading” to her sister by making up stories and naming letters. 

On non-school days, Amelia struggles to take naps.  So, on some of those days, when Adam and I don’t feel like fighting a battle or when we especially want to make sure she’s ready for an early bedtime, we let her have a “rest time” instead of a nap.  This rest time consists of sitting in her bed with books.  Since instituting the book option, it isn’t unheard of for Amelia to sit in her room, by herself, for an hour looking at books. 

I knew it wasn’t a given for every child, but I don’t think I realized how unusual the intensity of Amelia’s love for books was until always-moving, can’t-turn-the-pages-fast-enough Eleanor came along.  Recently, Eleanor has begun cultivating an interest in some books; especially those with touch and feel parts or pictures of animals.  We are working on fostering her patience with books as well.  But, for now, back to Amelia…

Recently I’ve realized that Amelia is becoming more and more aware of the content of her books, even when we aren’t reading them.  She has always had preferences and favorites.   She has also always had a good imagination; she would engage in pretend play from an early age and loves to play in the “pretend play” center at school.  Amelia will make-up stories and gives us all a role to play, complete with setting and dialogue.  Like me, Amelia feels as though characters are real.  The stories are real to her, in their own way.

So, I felt like it was time.  It was time to step things up a notch.  We’ve been reading longer and longer books.  Some of our favorite books right now include Rosie Revere, Engineer, Strictly No Elephants, She Persisted, Good Night Stories for Rebel Girls, King Jack and the Dragon, Truck Stop, Otis and the Puppy, Farkle McBride, and Princesses Wear Pants, among many others.  While Eleanor would be happy pretty much exclusively reading Peek-A-Who, Hi and Pat the Zoo, Amelia has a good rotation going.

This time, we tried our first chapter book.  Amelia and I read together (and Adam helped) an adapted version of Heidi by Johanna Spyri.  This also happens to be the first chapter book that was read to me as a child.  We checked it out from the library and I wondered what her reaction would be to a book with so few pictures.  Amelia ate it up.  She begged for another chapter each time we would read.  She could retell me the story and would ask questions about the characters at random times throughout the day. 

It’s a sweet story and it made a definite impression on me as a child.  I was surprised to find that I remembered most of the plot and all of the characters.  I am so excited that we’ve started this.  Obviously, Amelia is not ready to sit through To Kill a Mockingbird, Little Women or even A Wrinkle in Time, but we’ve opened a door.  There’s an entire world out there of books that we can share, explore and devour together. 

I know Amelia won’t always want me to read to her, but for now I adore it.  Reading is one of my most favorite things; books have had a profound impact on my life and I hope that Amelia will be able to say the same thing.  I believe that it won’t be the only interest we share; I’m not ruling out movies or travel or sports or anything else.  But, for now, I’m thrilled that we have books.  What recommendations do you have for a very young reader (and by reader, I mean listener) of chapter books?

She's a Wild 1

With lots of laughs and so much fun,

Our adventurous Eleanor just turned one!

A year ago, at this time, we were adjusting to our new normal and finding our footing as a family of four.  Meeting our newest daughter was life changing, of course.  Over this past year, Eleanor has smiled, waved and climbed her way into the hearts of so many people around her.  She is a happy and outgoing baby who has never met a stranger.  She loves animals, people, waving, clapping, climbing, food, music and most recently, books.

From the moment she was born, Eleanor’s presence in the world has kept us on our toes.  She has endured Amelia’s love from the get go, even when it isn’t always gentle.  She is Scout’s best friend and loyal follower.  She is our little bit, who isn’t so little anymore.  Where Amelia hasn’t stopped talking since the moment she was born, Eleanor hasn’t stopped moving.  Seatbelts, shelves, steps and chairs are no match for this one.

Eleanor is a brave girl with no fear.  Hopefully, a healthy amount of fear will turn up during her second year of life.  She has been brave in the face of ear infection after ear infection, a cranial ultrasound, unidentified allergies, eczema and ear tubes.  We are so grateful that these are all minor battles.  Eleanor smiles through it all.

So, when it came time to celebrate our littlest girl, we did not hesitate on a theme for her party.  As soon as we came across the idea of a “wild one,” we knew it fit her perfectly.  We approached it more as an adventure theme, but decorated with wild flowers and wild animals.  The party favor was animal masks; the decorations were all pinks and greens.  The food included “Choose Your Own Adventure Trail Mix,” “Hippo in a Blanket,” “Lion Cheese and Crackers,” “The Watering Hole,” “Zebra Cookies,” and of course, cupcakes (which were arranged in the shape of a flower).  My favorite decoration turned our banister into a jungle of monthly pictures depicting an ever growing, but always-recognizable Eleanor.

Eleanor simply loved her party.  I will admit that she had moments of uncharacteristic clinginess, but this was minor.  She loved having people in our house and spent most of her time crawling from person to person.  Eleanor’s least favorite part of the party was the icing on her smash cake.  She didn’t hesitate to put her hands in it, but once she tasted it, she immediately gagged.  That lovely moment aside, Eleanor was a big fan of her birthday.  We didn’t have to deal with any meltdowns or tantrums.  Eleanor (and Amelia) was social, content and only dealing with a slight-sugar high.  Like all overzealous parents, we took picture after picture.  So, prepare your hearts, social media, for an onslaught of even more pictures of my adorable one year old and her party.  They’re coming.

As we celebrate the near-constant milestones as a family with young children, I am once again overwhelmed with gratitude.  I am thankful for the family and friends who not only celebrated with our girl, but who also cover her with love daily.  She is one lucky little girl and as her parents, we are so grateful to be a part of her adventure.

Thank you for celebrating our wild one, whether it was in person or from afar.