What we live for

Today we celebrated my grandma's 93rd birthday.

We celebrated at a Japanese steakhouse where they cook the food on the grill in front of you, complete with fire tricks to transfix the kids!

She told me that my kids are some of the things that make her life worthwhile, and make her want to stick around for a while. She said she wanted to be at Audrey's college graduation, which drew some laughter from the kids. Lance said, "Nunu, you would be 109! That's practically the World's Oldest Person!

They know they are special to her, but they don't know how lucky they are--they have always had her nearby. Lance only remembers the visit to Florida from pictures. Pictures and the story about how my mom dropped him on his head on the tile floor. She is a part of their lives in a more regular way, not living across the country for a couple of visits a year like I had. And since her other grand and great-grandchildren live farther away, I want mine to fill in all the visits that the others can't easily make.

And of course as I'm composing this post in my mind, I'm thinking about how seeing her face light up at the sight of my kids makes it all worthwhile, and gives me perspective to try to overcome the frustration at the daily bickering and dirty shoes and mealtime battles.

I know they will be grown up before I blink. But did that stop me from getting irritated when they whined about being bored in the car? Or when they argued over the new magazine that came in the mail? Or from snapping the book closed at storytime because Audrey was wiggling down from the couch, wheelbarrow-style, because she wasn't listening?

Not exactly. But it does remind me to keep trying. And to hope that someday, I will be 93 and have as much to be thankful for as my Grandma does.

Happy Birthday NuNu!

Ninety two

My grandma is 92 today.

When I was growing up, she lived in Connecticut or Florida, and while we did lots of visiting, it was still only a couple of times a year.

She has always been my biggest fan, and you can see it from my baby pictures. Her adoring smile is the same in every one, even visible through a very bad scan of an old photo.

Rachel, 2 weeks old

And the best part, one of the reasons she is such a wonderful Grandma, is that's how she treated my sister and all my cousins, and that's how she treats my kids too. She made us all feel like we were her favorite.

As I was going back through photos for her birthday post, I realized that since she moved up here to live near my mom in 2005, we have had 5 opportunities to celebrate her birthday with her. For that, I am extremely thankful.

2006: 87th (pre-Audrey) I have no clue where we are, blame the pregnant brain

2007: 88th birthday at La Fiama

pre-dinner with two squirming kids

2008: 89th birthday at On Rice.

Finally, we can sit at dinner and take a photo, thanks to Star Wars action figures!

2009: The big 90th birthday, complete with a private dining room, lamb chops with mint jelly, cheesecake for dessert, and a NuNu memory book!



In 2010, 91 was celebrated with poor photography but good company. She came to our house, which was clearly not good for the photos.

Kids trying to spell out "91" with their bodies. See, Audrey is the 9 and Lance is the 1?? Work with me here...

Birthday pie

We did connect with some extended family, 2nd or 3rd cousins, and had a wonderful time. Unfortunately, we still took terrible photos with one unwilling subject.

And now at 92, we are so lucky to be able to wish you another Happy Birthday!

Not so Bitty anymore--Four!

Four. It doesn’t seem possible. Our baby girl is four.

(don't ask about the elbow bandage. Major fall and scrape 15 minutes before we were to leave for birthday dinner at Red Robin. She's fine. But, oy, the tears.)

Bitty Girl,

You have grown up so much in the last year, but so many parts of you are just MORE this year. You laugh louder, play harder, ride your bike faster, argue longer, and stand up for yourself more. You are a sweet, kind-hearted girl who would share the last bite of her cupcake even if we didn’t ask. Clearly not a first-born.

You love to laugh, and your infectious giggle makes us all shine brighter. You’re working on joke telling, both knock knock jokes and riddles, and while the punch line is sometimes a mystery, you can laugh convincingly enough to make anyone think it’s really funny.

You are on your way to being a gourmet chef, mainly thanks to weekend breakfasts with Daddy. You can practically make pancake or crepe batter yourself. You love to help with everything—breakfast, toast, cakes and cookies, sprinkling cheese on nachos, and even doing dishes! Just this week you were literally filled with excitement to help make your own birthday cake, insisted on helping with everything, even racing upstairs midway through to don your chef hat and apron.

You can flour cake pans, use the mixer, measure flour and sugar, fold egg whites into batter, and crack eggs.

We switched you to a new preschool this year, the Shoreline Children’s Center where The Boy went, and you are thriving. You have your group of 2-3 best girl friends, and you greet each other with hugs and smiles. It literally said “Audrey is a joy to have in class” on your assessment/report card sheet. I think I cried tears of joy, or maybe relief. You love coming home with facts you learned at school—this month has been sea animals. You have demonstrated how a starfish moves on its suction cups, how long an octopus can stretch, and reenacted the entire egg-laying cycle of sea turtles. Guess you’re a good listener in school too!

I watch in wonder every day at your dramatic play—I cannot believe what you dream up. The details, the elaborate details of where people are going and which imaginary friend is calling you and why you have to pick up your babies from school and your grocery list and your plans for the weekend—astounding.

I do worry about the way you rush around, worry that you are mimicking me and my eternal state of being over-busy. You have to “go pick up brother” or “go teach my class” or “be a volunteer for the PTA and make lists” and so much of it sounds familiar. But you will entertain yourself for long stretches of time, reading to your babies or setting up your “classroom” or playing with your Pet Shops or Ponies.

You are the artist of the family, specializing in little notes and sculptures. You make us hundreds of presents, little letters or drawings on paper that is folded and taped (and taped and taped—you LOVE your scotch tape) into little packages that you hide for “Mother’s Day” or “Father’s Day” or “next year!”

At preschool, you are the Creation Station Queen, and the teachers know it. You insist on saving our toilet paper tubes and other recyclables to contribute, and we joke with the teachers about the “Circle of Life,” how we donate things and then you use them and just bring them home again.

Stubborn? Oh, the arguing and the negotiation! You might ask me what day it is, and I’ll answer “Tuesday.” Then you say, “No, it’s Wednesday.” And there is no changing your mind. It’s futile to argue, although I find myself getting sucked into the Typhoon of Argument Despair almost daily.

And heaven help us if we don’t know what you are talking about. You have a fairly short fuse, and often collapse into a puddle of whining and tears, complete with a foot stamp and stink eye if we don’t know what “thing” you’re talking about, no matter how few clues you’ve given us. Lucky for us, you are still easily consoled, rarely pout very long, and can often be cheered up quickly with a distraction. Or if you get what you want—this is an ongoing issue around here.

For your brother, though, you might just be the best little sister ever. You actually enjoy playing Pokemon with him. Once, when he was going on and on and on about his video game and I just got sick of listening, you said, “I’ll listen to you. Tell me.” He does leave you out sometimes, and has taken to locking his bedroom door, which breaks your heart.

Your worst little sister trick is one that I know and remember well—it was played on me. When he is getting in trouble, you pipe up to remind me how you are doing the right thing, or being polite, or having good manners, etc. I tell you that that doesn’t work—it didn’t work for Auntie Em and it doesn’t work for you.

I cringe thinking about the inappropriate words and tv shows and conversations that you hear and see, thanks to a 7 yr old brother. There is far too much Pokemon and potty talk for my liking, but luckily you seem to have a good handle on what’s appropriate at school vs. home.

I often tell the story about how we were ACTUALLY WORRIED that you weren’t talking that much at 18 months or even 2 years old. Compared to how your brother talked, you seemed fairly quiet. HA! Serves us right for worrying. The other day I had to ask if you could be quiet for 5 minutes, and I would set the timer, just to get some peace and quiet. Wonder where you get that talkative side?

Things you have learned/done this year include:

• Riding a bike with training wheels, and not just any bike: a pink and white princess bike
• Writing your name
• Starting a new preschool and making new friends
• Learning to play Crazy Eights
• Creating hundreds of paintings, drawings, and sculptures
• Planting a garden
• Learning to write your name
• Taking swimming lessons--and now you put your face in the water willingly!

We are so proud of you. You remind us to say grace at dinner, to get excited about beautiful flowers and airplanes and seeing the moon during the daytime. You share and find ways to include everyone, and really think about other people's feelings.

Happy Birthday - we love you to the moon, through outer space, and back!

Ninety One

Happy Birthday to our NuNu! She's 91 today!

Last year we threw her a big birthday bash, so this year we felt like we had to come up with something....

In honor of your big 91, we spelled it out...
OR (see the 9 and the 1??)

Rode it out....




Shot it out.....



and jumped it out...





We love you, NuNu!! We hope it's a wonderful birthday!

Seven

Seven years ago today, I was lying in a hospital bed, water broken but still on bedrest, waiting and waiting, and having no real idea that in just a few short hours, I would meet the most amazing creature who would change my life forever.

I’m having a hard time accepting seven. I read back on my “Happy 6th birthday” post, and evidently I have an annual “hard time accepting the birthday” thing. Although reading the Happy 5th Birthday post showed me we've beaten the Dec 12 curse! But he’s so BIG this year, and doing so many big things. The last year has included: Finishing kindergarten and learning to read, finally losing two teeth this summer, riding a bike without training wheels, really mastering swimming, playing a second year of t-ball and soccer, starting 1st grade and taking taekwondo. He’s taking it all in stride, and while he still doesn’t roll smoothly into new things, it’s definitely getting better.

Starting first grade was so much easier than kindergarten, after the initial transition of a new teacher and not having all his friends in his class. He knew where to go and what the school routine was like, what recess and lunch were like, the office staff (and yes, he’s visited them a few times this year already!). And he can read—oh, can he read! It just clicked at the end of the school year and now he’s reading everything. Street signs (a la NuNu), the sports page, the directions on his homework which he then does independently, Audrey’s books, my email and Facebook (eek!). He reads silently to himself sometimes, and I just stare at him in amazement! He loves math too, and while he’s still far too busy to sit down and write much, the fine motor part of writing is much easier now.

Maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s that he’s rocketing past me and away from me in so many ways, and that’s the part that’s hard. He tells me “no kisses” when I take him to school, and seriously rolled his eyes at me one day when he saw me peeking in his classroom window. I’m sure his thought bubble said, “OMG my mom is so weird. Look at her out there looking at me. Go away, mom!”

The other day I said something sappy like, “Do you know what I was doing seven years ago today?” and he actually let me start telling him the story of being on bedrest and my water breaking and going into the hospital. Then in the middle of the story, he interrupted me to ask if I knew the score of the Philadelphia game. Hmmmph.

Example #1 of ways he’s way past me: Sports. The boy is turning into a sports mini-encyclopedia, just like his daddy. He is constantly spouting off stats, wanting to know which team is ranked in which place in the top 25, who won the game, who’s the best player, who’s the worst team in each league, and he knows the players’ names and numbers. And while he’s still a fair-weather fan who likes to root for the team with a winning season, I feel a deep love of the Huskies coming on, just like his daddy.
Example #2: Taekwondo. We started a class at the YMCA, and he loves it. I was overwhelmed just watching, but he’s clicked with it and really learned the moves. Up until this point, I could follow along with his soccer and baseball, but now, he’s beyond me. It’s a different world, with “yes ma’am” and “no sir” to the instructors, although we could use a little more yes ma’am at home, that’s for sure. But it’s something about the white uniform and the serious concentration and the way he has just learned by watching (the “fake it ‘til you make it” instruction is given a lot in class) and not by ME SHOWING HIM. Pat has gone with him to class a lot, and helped him with some of the moves, but really, he’s just a student in a class learning from the instructor. And that’s such a big kid thing.

He is an amazing big brother. His little sister adores him, and with good reason. He plays along with her bossy little games, watches her preschool cartoons, and sometimes with a wink and a whisper from me, will let her think she’s winning. He is so proud to play the “big kid.” His class had a Thanksgiving feast, and he let her come sit in his lap while the class was watching a video—later he told me he was kind of embarrassed, but I saw how proud he was. Of course they wrestle and fight and tease, but they also snuggle and play and laugh. Lots of laughing around here—usually about poop or other bodily functions or something silly that involves throwing a ball inside way too hard.

Seven. He has so much ahead of him, and I’m so proud of the boy he’s becoming. I just can’t quite figure out how he got from there

and there

to here.

Happy Birthday, Big Seven.

A Very Bossy Birthday

I have a feeling that 3 will bring bossy to a whole new level.

This morning she woke us up saying, "I'm not a baby anymore. I'm a big girl. Wanna wrestle?"

We had a fun weekend, trying not to overdo the birthday business. Partly for the birthday girl, and partly for the older brother who really tried his best not to be jealous that someone else was getting all the presents.

There were treats, including Mommy's attempt at a "pastel petit fours" recipe. They were yummy, but somehow I have a feeling that Martha Stewart felt a cold chill run down her spine sometime around 2 pm Friday afternoon.

There were cousins, and she loved watching them argue about who got to sit next to her.

(notice the big brother face, and the look that she's giving him)

and grandparents (Nanny and Papa's turn is next weekend)

There were balloons

(again, note who volunteered to help her hold them but couldn't hide his true feelings)

And there was a Princess bike from Grandma and Papa.

Heaven help us all. Welcome to three. Nothing like a set of training wheels to inspire your big brother to master that two-wheeled business!

Today she had birthday lunch at Red Robin

was slightly overwhelmed with the birthday singing

had a dip in the pool at home this afternoon,

and wore herself out.

Happy Birthday, Madam Three!

The Big NINE-OH

NuNu turned 90 on March 10.

We gathered for a special dinner at the Willows

I failed in my photography and didn't get a picture of the little lamb chops and salmon, but I did get the cheesecake!

Cheesecake, anyone?


We showered her with gifts, memories, and songs

The presentation of the gifts

The reading of The Memory Book

She was serenaded by dear friends and family.

NuNu with Flip after her serenade

We took many photos to mark the occasion (not very good photos, unfortunately)

NuNu with her girls

NuNu with her boys

NuNu with the kids

And then carefully walked her back to her room when it was over.



We love you NuNu! Happy Birthday!

2190 days=72 months=6 years old

To our 6 year old boy,

I really can't believe it. Six.
Maybe it's because it sounds like SIXTEEN, maybe it's the kindergarten thing, or just that you are so long and tall and grown-up these days.

Every year at this time, I find myself wanting to hold you and snuggle more than usual. When the Christmas decorations come out, and we pull out the Christmas tree snow globe that I got from Grandma and Papa while in the hospital with you, I can remember it all.


That crazy pre-Christmas of 2002, where nothing else really mattered and we got to bring home our best present ever on Christmas Day. That little tiny present who peed through a million outfits that first night, who squeaked and squealed and slept every minute you weren't eating for several weeks. Who we kept sequestered for months, avoiding the germs of flu season and other kids.

Today Daddy was talking to you about the day you were born, and I cried remembering that time between 3:30 pm and 6:00 pm when he was up in the NICU with you before I was cleared to go up and visit you. Those hours I didn't realize I had missed, and that don't really matter now, but they still make me cry thinking about it. And we realized how thankful we were--again--that your sister arrived on time, so that you didn't have to wait 11 days to see her, since they don't allow kids in the NICU.

You, thankfully, have had no problems related to your early arrival. Except the fact that your birthday falls eleven days before Christmas. And it's always crazy busy during that time, we have to schedule around holiday parties and the toy stores are sold out. You are tall and smart and healthy and funny--I think I called you a "delightful tornado" one year. You're still delightful, still a tornado.

Since your 5th birthday, you have played on your first t-ball team, broken your arm, gotten four stitches in your eyebrow (a week after your cast came off), played on your first soccer team, and started kindergarten. It's been a big year. You're this close to reading on your own, and I expect it will click any day. You know all the letters and sounds, but the part of actually sitting still long enough to carefully grip your pencil and focus on forming your letters is usually more than you're willing to tolerate for long. You tend to rush through things so you can be the first one done, the first one to do whatever comes next. You have a brain for numbers, like your Daddy, and can add and subtract numbers in your head, love to count everything, and enjoy number games. We even made an equation cake, with 3 + 3 = 6. Ok, so it was because we didn't have a #6 candle, but you still loved it.



School has been an easier transition than we expected, although I wouldn't call it easy. You are still exhausted from all-day kindergarten, but you have an amazing teacher and have made lots of new friends. You are happy at the new school, and we love being five minutes away. Knowing a few kids from soccer definitely helped your comfort level, and you know lots of kids from your class and older kids from recess and class buddies.

We're just experiencing what we've come to expect as the "annual wave of obnoxious" right before your birthday, so we have high hopes for January. Something about holidays and birthday all rolled into one season is a lot for anyone.

Your birthday party was waaaaaay too big and a bit overwhelming, especially for you. I know it's over and you had fun in the end, but I still feel responsible, like I should have predicted it. But I hope you felt celebrated. And by the way, we'll never do that again. Ever.

It may not snow for Christmas, but you had a white birthday. Two inches of snow.. not enough for sledding or snowmen, but enough for a pathetic Northwest snow angel-where-you-can-see-the-deck-poking-through or two..


Wheeeee! It's my birthday!


Angel #1



Angel #2

It's official.

I am officially insane. But I survived.

The Boy's birthday party was today, and we made it. It got slightly out of hand with the invite list and ended up being 12 boys plus The Birthday Boy. Amazingly, they were great.

An hour of bowling, then pizza and cake and some video games.

Bowling..

See? Insane.

No drama, you ask yourself? Of course we have drama. We ALWAYS have drama.

Mr. Competitive had a slight meltdown during the bowling when he realized he wasn't winning, made a few wild tosses. One of these tosses knocked the bumpers down (they put the bumpers out covering the gutters for the little bowlers) so he managed to throw the only gutterball of the afternoon. Oops. He also threw the ball up onto the bumper, so it rolled down his own private gutter.

But he recovered, and I think the other kids barely noticed. Then it was time to eat and he even survived the candles not blowing out on the first few blows. See the smile?

The secret star of the show? Bitty Girl. No interest in bowling, but she just played around the whole time, sat in one of the riding toy cars, and enjoyed a big piece of cake. Angel.

She was only sad when we got home and she realized none of the presents were for her. Waah.

The worst part about inviting 12 kids to a party? You guessed it. Twelve freakin' presents. And he's 6, so I can't exactly donate them all to Toys 4 Tots. But I can cut back what he is getting for Christmas and donate stuff he doesn't know about yet.

But Mama was amazingly calm, so we'll call the day a success, and never have that big of a party again. At least it wasn't at my house so I didn't have to clean up.