Six

Dear Freddie,

As a parent, you know your kids will grow up and you know there will be a birthday every year where you reflect back on that little baby.  Sometimes it comes and goes easily.  Sometimes it smacks you in the face.

You are six.  SIX.  It is a smack in the face kind of birthday.  Five is still a little kid, but six feels like big kid territory.  I'm not sure I'm ready for you to be a big kid.

Freddie, you are such a special kid.  I am so lucky to be your mom.  We are all so lucky that you burst on the scene.  You bring such love and laughter to our every day lives.  I'm not sure what we would do without you.

You have the biggest heart of anyone I know.  And when I say anyone, I mean anyone - kids, grown ups, girls, boys.  You love so unconditionally and so completely.  I love how much you love with abandon.  You get your heart broken regularly.  Little things can just crush you, but you still love.  Still dive face first into love.  This is my favorite thing about you.  You are so open to love, that you never consider getting hurt.  I hope you stay this way forever.  It is such an amazing and rare quality.

And you are funny.  You make people laugh to a fault.  I know this because I've already had the first parent-teacher conference regarding my "class-clown."  I asked you why you were making up words to a school song, and why you were shaking your naked belly at your classmates, and why you were dancing during quiet time.  You had a very simple answer, "I just wanted to be funny and make everyone laugh."  Of course you did.

You are super smart.  I love to watch that big brain of yours work as you roll a problem or question around and around until an idea or inquiry comes out of your mouth.

You talk endlessly.  I remember having friends who's second child talked later or barely spoke, because they had this big brother or sister that did so much talking.  Well, you have that big sister, but you could never be out-talked.  Every day, you skip off the bus, jump into my arms and start.  And you go and go and go.  Telling me stories, asking me questions.  Sometimes the stories are funny, sometimes they are about things you learned, sometimes they are things that hurt you.  Always something new.

I hope that your heart always stays so open and young.  I hope that this world doesn't crush you.  I hope you always share everything you are feeling.  I hope you always love with such passion.  I hope you always tell me your joys and your sorrows.  I'll always listen.

Happy birthday Fredders!  Don't get too big, too fast.

Love,
Mommy

Eight

Dear Ainsley,

I didn't realize this before hand, but apparently eight is a big deal.  When you're a kid birthdays are always a big deal.  Soon, you will snuggle into eight and it will become well worn.  It will be comfortable and you will be itching to be nine.

But as an adult, I am looking at my eight-year-old and realizing that this is one of those times that I will look back on and think, "That was the moment when everything changed."

Maybe I'm being dramatic, but over the last few months there has definitely been a shift.  Your thinking is different, your attitude is changing.  You're maturing and aging and it's like I can see it happening.

Some of it's good, some of it is...difficult.  But you are definitely growing up.  I've seen that happen for eight years, but this past spring it's become very apparent that you will not be a kid forever.  Something that my head knows but my heart is not quite on board with yet.  So we have to take baby steps, because just like you've never been eight, I've never had an eight-year-old and we are navigating these new waters together.  So we give little bits of independence and judgement, then we pull it back when it gets too scary.  I think ear piercing is a good place to start.

You've been begging me for pierced ears for three years.  I originally told you, you had to wait until you were nine.  Why?  Who knows, ask Grandma.  That's when I got my ears pierced, so I figured it was a good age.  But I won't lie...I couldn't wait to buy you little earrings.  So when you begged and pleaded on your seventh birthday I made you a deal.  You show me how responsible you can be and I would take you on your eighth birthday to get it done.  Well, I'm not going to lie and say you were suddenly the poster girl for responsibility, because you so were not!  But I think I wanted your ears pierced as much as you did, so I conceded.

It was a stressful event.  I was so worried for you.  Not about the actual piercing and if you would be allergic or get an infection.  Those are all things we could deal with.  No it was more the way you handled it that ripped me apart.  You were so brave and insistent that you did not want to cry but you were afraid that you would cry.  Ugh...how did you get so grown up to have this emotion?  This need to not show your fear and emotion in public.  And you did cry a bit.  You cried before hand out of sheer excitement/fear/anxiety.  But just a tiny bit behind your fists.  Then it happened and you laughed and said "Ow, ow, ow..."  Because it did hurt, but not nearly as bad as you  had imagined.

I have to say, you have impressed me beyond my imagination with the ear hole care.  You can be a bit...dramatic...especially when it comes to injury.  A scrape on the foot needs a homemade cast and crutches in your opinion.  So I was worried that there would be a lot of whining and complaining about turning and cleaning ears.  But not once have you belly ached.  You listened intently to all the instructions and you come and ask me, "Does this one look a little bit red?  Could it be infected?"  You always wash your hands before touching them.  You worry about going swimming.  You clean them every morning and every night without being asked.  So I think we made the right decision.

In the end, they are your ears, part of your body.  And I always want to make it clear that all of those things fall under your power and your decision making.  Not mine.  I hope this is one small step in that direction, and I hope that you let me help you make these decisions the older you get.

I'm so proud of you, Ainsley.  I'm so proud of who you are and all that you do.  I consider myself really lucky to know you, to be a part of your world.  You're going to be great things and I'm glad I get to watch.

Love,
Mommy

Little Tiny CEO

Dear Cohen,

Two years.  This is where I'm supposed to say, "I can't believe you are 2" and I can't because you're my baby.  But then...when were you not a part of our family?  A part of me?  It doesn't seem like I just met you two years ago.  It seems like you've always been around.  So much so that I recently looked at old pictures from before I was even pregnant with you and thought "Wow, life must have been so weird then."

Strange how a person can come into your life and just make it the new normal without a word.  There's no great shift.  Just all of the sudden you exist and it's like you always have.

But two...

Two is so much bigger than you were a year ago.  And just completely on the other side of the world from where you were 2 years ago.  You amaze me.  You are light years ahead of any other two year old I've ever known.

I guess that's the curse/blessing of the 3rd child.  You're going to grow up so fast.

Already you are so independent.  You want to be just like the big kids.  We aren't even allowed to consider a highchair these days.  Strapping you in takes an act of God.  You'd much rather sit in a seat and come and go as you please.  Sippy cups?  No way.  Pass the big kid cups.

You follow Ainsley and Freddie everywhere and pitch an absolute fit when I don't allow you down to the playroom or outside without me.

You started climbing out of your crib a month ago.  I'm not really sure what to do with you there.  Ainsley and Freddie were over 2, more like 2.5, when they did it.  You no longer want anyone to take you out of the crib.  You can do it yourself.

You want to brush your own teeth and read your own books and get your own milk.

You have lots to say, and even more to do.  You're always busy.  Always talking.  I can remember you as a tiny thing, thinking how could you possibly ever talk or walk.  But you can and you do, because that's how it goes.  We spend so much of our grown up lives not changing, that watching a baby become a toddler, then a kid is incredible.

The older kids like to play "punch buggy" in the car.  You are not one to be left out.  So randomly I'll hear you yell "Buddy!  White!"  You have a favorite Knock-Knock joke...

You: "Not - Not."
Us: "Who's there?"
You: "Tow."
Us: "Cow who?"
You: "MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

You ask questions and then more questions and when we answer you reply "Ohhhhhhh" like it's so logical.

When the others ride their bikes, you ride yours.  Down every hill, around every turn, you are right behind them.  You can ride a scooter like a pro.  You can climb up any playground structure.  Just the other day, I turned for a handful of seconds, and when I looked back you were teetering on the top rung of a ladder about 7 feet in the air.  Reaching your tiny foot over to the landing.  Babe, that ladder was not made for a munchkin like you.  It was not made for little toddler legs.  I sprinted over, screaming for you to wait, but you had already made the leap and just giggled down at me as you ran to the slide.

You are fearless.  You have no caution flag, no yellow light...just full-throttle.  You run.  You go.  You jump.  And you don't want any hand holding or help along the way.  Railings were not made for you.  You walk down stairs with your hands behind your back, defying us to stop you.

You have epic light saber fights with Freddie.  You already have the fighting stance.  You color with Ainsley.  You pick your colors carefully even though right now they are all "bue" or "yeyow."

When we try to get you dressed, you have very strong opinions about your style.  Yesterday we went through every single pair of socks you own.  All of them discarded to the floor with an "Ah na yike dat sock."  You ended up sockless.

Today it's choosing socks but one day I think you'll be tackling stock options or magazine covers with the same decisive authority.  You'll go far, little man.  And no one's going to help you.  You're going to do it all on your own, because that's the way you like it.

Happy Birthday Cohen!  We love you as big as your personality, as loud as your screams, and as funny as your knock knock jokes.

Love,
Mommy

Sweet Girl

Dear Ainsley,

Long before I ever had children, or even considered being a mom, I figured I'd have girls.  Three or four sweet little girls.  Sisters...all close in age so they could grow up the best of friends.

Well, the universe has a way of throwing your grand plans in your face and saying "NO WAY!"  Somehow, the universe always seems to know what is best.

So instead of three little girls in matching bows and dresses, I got you and two little boys.

If you would have told me this 10 years ago, before I had a chance to experience any of you, I probably would have cried.

I couldn't have known that the first baby the universe sent me would be the perfect little girl for me and there would just never be a way to top her.  Now when I think about having another little girl, it seems so strange.  You really are so perfect, how could any other girl compare?

All the things I like about myself are in you tenfold.  I try to be sweet and kind and caring.  I try to be brave and creative.  I try to be strong and confident.

You are all of those things on steroids.


This year you went to first grade.  You lost your first tooth.  You learned to read, to write.  You've learned some Spanish.  You can add and subtract.  You know about tree parts and bird species.  You've made best friends.  You joined Daisy scouts and became a Brownie.  You cut your hair off because you wanted it that way, and now you've decided to grow it out.  You learned to tie your shoes.  You learned to whistle.  You played soccer and loved it.  You gave up dance.  You know every word to every Frozen song, but really...this year it wasn't Frozen that you fell in love with, but Star Wars and Princess Leia and Queen Amidala.  You started calling us Mom and Dad...but most of the time it's still Mommy and Daddy. 

My favorite thing about you is the excitement in your eyes over everything.  You just love life and all that comes with it.  I hope you never loose that.

Six was an awesome year, but I think seven will be even better.

Happy Birthday Ainsley Bug, we love you!

Love,
Mommy

The Late Birthday Letter

Dear Ainsley,

Okay, so I'm late...I mean your birthday was two days ago, so I have dropped the ball a bit.  I haven't written a blog post in over a month.  Let's see if I remember how.

So I always get to your birthday and think "I can't believe she's 2 (or 3, or 4, or 5...and now 6)."  I can't believe it.  I can't believe that 6 years and 3 days ago I wasn't a mom and then you made me one and now it's 6 years later.  How is that even possible?

In the hospital - 2 days old

When I look at you, I have to pinch myself.  I can't believe you're mine. I can't believe that I've done something so perfect.  When I see you with a group of kids I wonder if any of the other parents are bothered by your perfection.  I know it sounds really, really snooty and uppity, but I look at you and think you are just the smartest, funniest, most talented, most gorgeous little girl I've ever met.  How can everyone else not notice?  How can they not be so jealous of me for getting to spend every day with you?  I mean, I get to be your mom!  That's the most awesome thing I've ever gotten to do.

First Birthday party

You have grown up so much this past year.  You have morphed into a full on "kid."  Baby days are so far behind us.  Our life is dictated by your dance/school/cheerleading/playdate schedule.  You are a small person with opinions and ideas and dreams.

Second Birthday party

You amazed me in school this year.  I was so worried last summer.  You could only recognize a handful of letters.  You could only write and read your name.  I thought maybe we shouldn't send you to Kindergarten. Maybe we should give you a year in a formal preschool.  But once again, you shocked me.  Now you are reading and writing and adding and subtracting.  You tell me about insects and seasons and magnets and water and presidents and other languages and on and on and on.  You've sucked up every little bit of information those teachers have given you.  I'm beyond proud of you.

Third Birthday

You learned to ride your bike this year.  No training wheels...ever.  It just happened a week or so ago.  I almost started crying when I saw you do it.  Because I am a HORRIBLE teacher.  I have no idea how to teach a child to do anything.  My brain just won't go back that far and I have trouble connecting.  So I may have held the bike steady and I may have pushed you and I may have run beside you for a time, but really you figured it out all on your own.  You were so determined and you just wouldn't give up.  You just kept picking the bike up and trying again and again until you were cruising right on by me.  You get all the credit for it, you did it all on your own.

Fourth Birthday

You got a new baby brother this year.  You are such a little mommy...so caring and gently with him.  You'll hold him for hours if I let you and he loves you.  He'll cuddle right up against your chest and suck his hand.  He feels safe with you.  And speaking of little brothers, you are amazing with Freddie.  I probably don't tell you enough what an awesome big sister you are.  You are patient and kind when he is cranky and demanding.  You play whatever he wants and always give him his way...probably not the best idea, but it's just who you are.

Fifth Birthday

I am awestruck by you every day.  I'm so impressed with the little lady you are growing into and I couldn't be more proud.

Just shy of six years old

I love you Ainsley Bug.  Happy birthday.

Love,
Mommy

Two

Dear Freddie,

So I'm behind.  Get used to it kid, I'm usually behind. 

Your birthday was Sunday.  You're two now.  Two is a whole different world from one.  You can talk now...and I mean you talk!  You tell stories, you repeat everything, you even tattle...already.  You can run and jump...you can almost keep up with Ainsley.  You love to play basketball and ride bikes.  I can't believe you're two and your baby years are fading fast.

But I'm not going to dwell on that.  You'll always be my baby boy in some way or another.  My love for you runs deeper than I ever could have imagined.  You have one child and you never believe that you could ever love another the same way, but you absolutely can.  I don't know how it's possible, but your heart just duplicates with every kid.  I can't believe, when you were just a little tiny bean inside of me, that I ever questioned my ability to love you like I love your sister.  How could it be any other way?

I always tell people you're passionate.  I'm partly joking at the way you can express such sincere, opposite emotions in a short period of time.  But you truly are passionate about the things you love.  Whatever you choose to do in life, you'll do it with you're whole self and never look back.

You surprise me almost daily.  Just when I'm sure I know what kind of kid your are, you turn it all around.  We trimmed your hair on Sunday.  I was nervous and worried.  I was sure you'd scream and cry and squirm through the whole process.  I was sure she'd cut too much and that baby face would morph into that of a small boy.  I was wrong...about all of it.  You were the perfect little gentleman.  You sat so nicely and sweetly that I almost didn't believe this was my kid.  I was so proud of you.

And your hair?  It turned out perfect.  I love it.

Then later at dinner, when the wait staff sang to you and brought you ice cream, you hid your eyes.  My boisterous, loud, crazy little boy shyed away from all the attention.  I was shocked.  I thought you'd eat it up.

I'm learning every day what kind of man you'll grow up to be.  Every moment is giving me a little glimpse into your future and an important lesson into raising you.

Thank you for roaring into my life two years ago sweet Freddie.  I'll never be the same.

Happy Birthday Monster.

Love,

Mommy