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.

Them's fightin' words

The latest snort-causing antics around here... While it wouldn't be appropriate at preschool, it's hilarious to watch...

Bitty Girl (hands on hips, sassiest look on face): You want a piece of me?
The Boy: No, I want HALF. Chop, chop! (makes karate chop motion to chop her in half)

I laugh every time. Must get it on video for the full effect of the sweet, high little voice trying to sound so tough.

Today was a difficult day. Tomorrow will be better.

I wish today was one of those days where I was glad The Boy had another day off school, so we could spend some quality time together.

But it wasn't. Instead it was a day where the highlights consisted of the Kids Zone at the YMCA and a few good block-building sessions, and the lowlights featured me losing my temper more than once, several timeouts for both kids, and one embarrassing moment of quiet defiance right at the YMCA exit gate in front of the staff and his friend's grandparents.

So I made pumpkin chocolate chip bread after the kids went to bed (a mix from Trader Joe's, don't get too excited..) and I felt slightly better. At least it smells good so far.


During one of the brief peaceful interludes of sibling harmony today, Bitty Girl did have a funny moment.
I came upon a huge explosion of toys in the dining room corner and asked her to clean it up. She said, "It's for Nanny!" Quick thinking Mama said, "Let's take a picture, send it to Nanny, and then you can clean it up!"

Mess for Nanny


In another harmonious moment, her big brother actually helped clean it up.
Let's hear it for the weekend--our first with no soccer games since August!

Making the chaos worthwhile

Sometimes, we have glimmers that remind us why we had two of them. And an argument for not overscheduling. You need to have time to make pizza.


It doesn't look like much, but there was a pizza kitchen in our front yard this weekend, and two busy pizza chefs, gathering sauce and "spicy stuff" and cheese and pepperoni from the nearby plants and trees and my weed bucket. There was cooperation and planning and a good time was had by all.

Bitty Girl's Combo




The Boy's Wood or Veggie options

Good clean fun

Or not so clean, in their case.

Guess who taught his little sister how to make mud pies?

And please do not say "Shaun Cassidy." I know her hair looks terrible. She had a top ponytail for her nap, and then took it out, leaving Shaggy Doo behind.

She has never had more fun in her life.

Notice the blurry hands and the complete concentration. She was deeply involved in a physics lesson, entitled "Velocity and Distance Mud Travels Based on Speed of Hand Waving"

Maybe next time I'll send her outside in grubby shorts and something other than a white onesie and her best butterfly jeans. God Bless OxiClean.

We actually hosed them down on the deck before heading upstairs for a bath. See "mud sleeve" on her right arm..

Bitty Window

Just watching Bitty Girl tonight, I must have laughed 500 times. I wanted to get it on video, but knew she'd stop once she saw the camera.


They were outside in back, The Boy and Daddy were playing catch, and Bitty Girl was trying her best to pretend like she wasn't trying to get in the middle.


First she played in her water table for a while, happily splashing and pouring.
When she noticed the boys weren't paying any attention to her, she switched to her ride-on bike. She zoomed toward Daddy first, very obviously running over his toes on purpose. She alternated between using her tiptoes to zoom and walking/dragging the bike.


Then she switched to riding with one knee up on the seat, imitating Grandma with her scooter after her recent foot surgery. I wish I had a picture of the smug, delighted look on her face when she realized she could do that kind of zooming without falling over. Daddy intervened briefly when she put both knees/feet up on the seat, but then went back to his game.


Now she was getting desperate. She turned the bike on its side in the middle of the court and ran to get a bowl of water and a towel. By golly, if they won't pay attention to me, I'll WASH MY BIKE in the middle of their game.


One of the best parts that I left out at the beginning was her outfit. Green long-sleeved tshirt that she's quickly outgrowing, khaki flowered leggings, pink Merrell mocs on her feet, and her pink flowered bike helmet.

Heimlich, anyone?

The life of a second child...

She is most thrilled when she's allowed to play with her brother's tiny little toys. The above choking hazards are from his Playmobil pirate ship. Not pictured: another 20,000 tiny men and hats and feathers and swords. She was given strict instructions, along with "The LOOK," about not putting any of it in her mouth. And she didn't. She's not dumb--she knows if anything goes in her mouth, it's off limits. I was right nearby, in case anyone is thinking I've gotten that relaxed by baby #2.

When The Boy was nearly 2, not only did we not have those toys in the house, but I would barely have let him get within 10 feet of a toy that small. Haven't I come a long way?

I know they're still on the forbidden list, along with grapes, raisins, raw carrots and everything else she wants to eat. And if she choked, I would have to reevaluate my lax parenting. But until then, the wee lass is going to "Ahoy there me hearties" and "Aaargh, you're walking the plank" to her hearts' content.

I am not kidding...There is light at the end of the tunnel

The following is 100% true.

Tonight I DUSTED my bedroom and put CLEAN SHEETS on my bed while the kids played.
In the other room.
For about 15 minutes.
Without anyone screaming or getting hurt or requiring my presence.

I thought it was Freaky Friday.

Pat left at 5 pm to have dinner with a friend, so we ate early. As I was cleaning up from dinner, the beautiful sibling non-rivalry started as they played together with what I lovingly call "the junk box." It's a big tub of The Boy's miscellaneous toys that were deemed "Not Bitty Girl Safe" when she was smaller, and so she thinks it's like a forbidden treasure. There are binoculars, walkie talkies, random latex gloves from his glove phase, neon-tinted safety glasses from Daddy's science teacher days, some necklace from a birthday party, playing cards, etc. You get it--junk.

But she loves it. They scattered the cards around the room, she came to show me the funny glasses, called Nanny on her play phone, and put on the necklace. I heard a loud "NUNU!" from her at one point, and turned to see her triumphantly holding up a magnifying glass. Last weekend she saw that my grandma (NuNu to the kids) had a magnifying glass in her purse to help her with reading. The girl forgets NOTHING.

I got a little overconfident and tried to take the clean sheets out of the dryer, because by some crazy alignment of the stars, I managed to wash our sheets this weekend. Bitty Girl runs over like she wants to help, and I cringe, because her version of helping with the laundry is like the line from the Free to Be You and Me song, "Helping," 'Some kind of help is the kind of help... we all can do without.'
But I realize she's making monkey sounds.
The rare Mama light bulb flash goes off in my head, when I actually figure out what she's saying! Monkey pants... Her new favorite pajamas have monkeys on them, and they were in the LAUNDRY last night, so I told her she couldn't wear them.

SHE'S TELLING ME SHE'S READY FOR HER PAJAMAS!!!

Upstairs, in jammies, she wasn't ready for bed. They wanted to play longer, so they moved into The Boy's room. I gave them 15 minutes and snuck into my room to do the abovementioned dusting and making the bed, thinking there was no way I'd actually get it done.

Here's what I heard from them during the 15 minutes of quiet, non-screaming, non-injury play...
"Bitty Girl, want to play hockey?" (Ok, I had to check--they were using Tinker Toys)
"Yeah"
"No like this. Hold it like this. That's not right. Shoot it here. Push it with your stick."
"Bitty Girl, do you want to play hockey or not?"

I'm going to call him The Boss instead of The Boy. But she was thrilled to play, and my room was dusted and the sheets were clean.

I was speechless, and that doesn't happen often. Maybe this will actually get easier someday. Maybe even soon.