Conversation that sums up my daily life:

Suzi: I want to be three again.
 
Me: Sorry, sweetie, you can only go forward, not back. 
Besides, I like you being four.

Sophie:  I like cotton candy.

Happy Birthday, Suzi-bug!!!

Last night, as I tucked you in and kissed you goodnight, I smoothed the hair back from your forehead and said, "This is the last night I'll kiss a little three-year old goodnight!"  You smiled sweetly and asked if you'd be a big girl tomorrow.  I assured you that you would.

This morning, you came in and I said, "Happy Birthday!"  After coaxing you into bed (MaMa Norma was asleep in the sunroom and you were dying to go wake her up!), I asked you if you felt any different now that you were four.  You rubbed your hands all over your face, and said, "Yeah, I do!"  Then you asked me if you hair was different, and I told you nah, it was still the same. 

A little while later, as I was looking through pictures to add to this post, you came in and I said, "There's my big girl!"  You looked yourself up and down and said, "No, I'm still teeny!"  That's true, I told you.  Then you pulled your hair in front of your face and said, "But my hair IS different."  You know what?  As long as it took you to get that hair, you CAN call it different now, if that's what you want!

That's life with you, my teeniest sweetie.

You are amazingly strong-willed and clever.  And incredibly beautiful, if I do say so myself.  As for smart?  Smart doesn't even begin to describe how smart you are.

But you still barely sleep.  I can literally count on one hand the number of two consecutive full nights of sleep that I've gotten since you've been born.  Even last night, at 12:15, you cried and cried.  Bad dream, I guess.  I kept going in and checking on you - making sure to tell you Happy Birthday first, of course - then I took you to the bathroom, then back to bed where I had to go back again to get you to stop crying.  I think you likely have a very active nighttime imagination.  Especially since I see every day the incredible imagination you have when you're awake.

You are my little buddy.  Most days, it's just you and me here, and while you miss Isaac and Sophie terribly, I love those special moments with just me and you.  Like when I take a break to come sit with you on the couch, where you've pleaded, "Mama, come cuddle with me!"  It's a request I find awfully hard to deny. 

Okay, to be perfectly honest, I find most of your requests awfully hard to deny.  You tilt your head and bat those big green eyes, then smile that irresistible smile, and we all melt.  Especially Bub and Sissy, whom you have wrapped around your fingers tightly.

As a matter of fact, today you told us over breakfast that you were going to change you name.  Now that you're four and all, you can do so, you tell me.  I queried as to what, and you told me, "Rainbow Love."  I personally would be SO COOL with that, but unfortunately, your father would not allow us.  If he would have, then when Isaac first suggested that we name you Rainbow, that's what we would have gone with.  Apparently when we told you that story several months ago, it stuck with you.  Rainbow came from Isaac's suggestion, and I'm sure Love came about because it's Sophie's middle name, and you think anything she does is AWESOME.  Right down to deciding what you want to eat according to what she wants to eat. 

You are our family's little sunshine.  You are truly phenomenal.  Hilarious and charming, ornery and wild, and worth every lost minute of sleep and then some.  You are my lucky little star, and I love you so very much. 

Happy Birthday, little darlin'.  I hope it's everything you've dreamed about and more!

Happy Birthday, Little Big Man!

You are the best son a mother could ever have.  I mean that, and I know that.  You such a kind, sweet, good-hearted boy.  You deserve every single happiness that this world has, and more.  And now you're nine years old. 

Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's true - like always, I'm amazed that you're already nine.  But you are not only such a tall boy, but such an amazingly good kid that it's hard for me to sometimes not imagine that you're a lot older.

Until I gaze upon that sweet smile of yours.  You've always had it, and I pray you always will.  It's a smile that lets me know that everything is going to be okay.  I just wish I could assure you of the same.

You are sensitive beyond your years, and it's been an awfully tough time for you lately, and I hate that so much.   I hope that when you look back at this birthday, the love and joy we surrounded you with all weekend is all that you remember.

You are the joy and strength of my life.  That's a big load for a little boy to carry, isn't it?  But luckily you were blessed with broad shoulders.  You often wonder why God made you so big, and all I can do is try to assure you that you are destined for great things and it will all make sense to you someday.

You are about 5'2" tall now.  Aunt Crystal and I took you and your sisters to Kings Island this weekend, and you really wanted to play a game.  We were going to play the "Test Your Strength" game, and while I know you would have done awesome for a nine year old, we were watching big strong men lose at it, so I steered you towards another game:  "Guess Your Age."  The lady guessed you were 13.  Thirteen!  You were thrilled to death to win...and I think your delight at the stuffed lion you chose helped convince her that we weren't lying when we told her that you were eight, but would be nine today.  Or the fact that you tried to choose a teddy bear holding a baby teddy bear for your sisters, so they would both have one, but they refused to accept your gift.  You are such a sweet kid.

I'm so proud of the young man you're becoming.  I'm proud of your spirit and attitude, and drive to succeed.  I could not be more proud of you reading more books not only than anyone in your class, or the third grade even, but you were one of the top four readers in the whole school.  That is an amazing achievement that you earned through hard work and dedication.  That is awesome.  YOU are awesome!

I can't help but think of the story that I refuse to read to you or your sisters anymore because I'm afraid that I'll scar you with my sobbing:  "Love You Forever."  But there's a refrain in the book that goes something like this, "As long as I live, my baby you'll be."

Always, little man, my baby you'll be.  I will always be here for you, and I love you very, very much.  Happy Birthday, little buddy, and here's to your best year ever!

Happy Birthday, Sophie-Bug!!

I know I say it every year for every one of you kids, but I mean it sincerely every time:  how can you be this old already??  SEVEN??  Impossible.  

You are still irrepresible.  Hard-headed, lovely, sweet, hot-headed, loving, and brilliant.  And I don't say a single one of those adjectives lightly.  You are intense in everything you do, and you hold everyone - yourself included - to very high standards.  More than once this year you cried because you didn't get 100% on a grade.  But you didn't do it very often for your grades are phenomenal.  You need to have 11 AR (reading) points by the end of the year.  You currently have 96.  You'll be reading this post on your own this year!  I am amazed by your drive and diligence.  Nothing is ever going to stop you, and if it tries, you will scream your head off about it until it gives up.

You also amaze us with your empathy and ability to read people.  You are so boisterous that most people miss the gentle nature you hide inside.  But you can not bear to see other people hurt...unless you're the one who has irritated them to the point of tears.

You are my child who asks the uncomfortable questions.  You ponder life and death, often to a point that worries me.  You can be a happy go-lucky-kid, and you often are, but you can also get a thought into your head that keeps you from enjoying your day.  You are a deep child, a thinker and a worrier.  A screamer and a crier.

A child that I love so very much.  A child that tests me to the extreme limits of my patience every single day.  EVERY SINGLE DAY.  But you are worth all of the angst you cause me, and much more.  You are a truly incredible kid.

I live for the love letters you give me.  You are showing glimmers of having the writer's gift, although you really want to be a singer instead.  I understand. I don't think either of us is destined for vocal fame, but I'm not fully convinced yet, and I hope you never are either.

Like most mothers, I just want you to be happy.  My silly, sweet, happy little girl.

My big girl.  My SEVEN year old.  When I think about how fast those seven years have flown by, I just want to grab you and squeeze you and never let you go.  And I never will, of course.  But you will.

And when you fly away, it will be AWESOME.  You amaze me every day with your mind, your lovely face, those green eyes that reflect your intense soul so clearly.

I hope you have a wonderful, happy birthday.  Even though you are, of course, planning for it to be the worst one ever.  Except for when you're planning for it be the best one ever.  But no matter what, I just hope you can feel how much I have loved being your mommy for the last seven years.  You are my sweetheart, and I love you, my sweet, sweet Sophie.  Happy Birthday!!!

Overheard

Scene:  The kids are playing outside, having a walking-on-gravel-barefoot contest.

Isaac:  "I'm pretending I'm walking on dragonflies."

Sophie:  "I'm pretending I'm walking on dead grass that needs to be thrown away."

Suzi:  "I'm a carrot!"

Good dogs.

Clearly, I have two very good dogs, for if you'll look closely, you'll see...

That Deltie has been awarded a Curious George medal....

And Gammie has been given a ball to play with!

Not naming any names, but I'm pretty sure the presenter was a super cute preschooler, one who loves her doggies!!

Outsmarted by a three-year old.

First a little history for you - for the last month or two...well, off and on for her whole life, really...we've been fighting a battle to keep Suzi in her own bed.  Make that "I've" been fighting a battle because since Suzi curls up with me, Chris doesn't much care if she crawls into our bed every night or not. 

Okay, so back to a few minutes ago, I run up to Suzi and played the drums on her noggin.  "Sorry," I yelled as I ran away, "Sometimes a mama just has to beat a baby." 

She hollered back with a huge smile on her face, "And sometimes a baby just has to get in bed with her mama."  Then she burst out laughing. 

This one keeps me on my toes.

Check out what my dad made me!

The little heart has a piece of mirror off an antique dresser of my mom's that she gave me years ago. I was so sad when I broke the mirror, so Chris gave a broken piece of it to dad, and this is what he made:

The wood is from slats that used to be on my nephew's bed. The bottom of the box is wood from an antique cabinet that was my brother-in-law's grandmother's.

 The jewelry box is lined in red velvet from an old dress that my niece Maddie wore when she was little:

I think it's such a cool piece of family memorabilia.  I love it!!

St. Patty's day festivities!

GROSS!!  This disgusting sight is what greeted my poor kids when they got up.  A leprechaun peed in their toilet...and left his droppings and a muddy footprint behind.

Then they followed the muddy footprints through the house....

And discovered that their trap was sprung!

But the lephrechaun was on to them, so rather than finding him and his pot of gold, they found a bunch of Hundred Grands.  The edible ones,unfortunately.

But all was not lost, for after they got decked out in green....

Their cousin Maddie (and her mom!) showed up in their finest greenery too!

We all went to a lovely Irish lunch at a local Irish pub where we were serenaded by live bagpipe music and posed with leprechauns. 

It was a very lucky St. Patrick's day indeed!

Shameless bragging!

 

This is an ice cream graph of how many points the kids in Sophie's class have earned by reading their AR books.  Guess who's is the tallest by a huge margin??  That's right, my sweet little lunatic!  No, seriously, I mean that - sweet AND lunatic.  Case in point is this picture I took a few minutes ago of the leprechaun trap we made tonight:

CRAZY.  But that's okay, because that crazy chic can READ!!