A Heartfelt Letter to My Children

My precious children,

I love you all dearly. The thought of each one of you brings a smile to my face and a leap to my heart. This morning I have a request to make of you as individuals and as a group. At this point I would like to remind you that I carried each of your giant selves around in my body for nine really long months and labored rather painfully for hours with sketchy epidurals to bring you into this world. And I would gladly do it all again for each one of you.

Here is my request: For the love of all that is merciful, would you please start sleeping in past 6:00 am? I'm talking to all of you here. I know there are children who sleep until 7:00 every morning. I have met them and their well-rested mothers. There are even rumors of some kids who don't wake up until 8:00, but I have dismissed them as urban legends because surely that isn't possible. I'm not asking for any such heroics from you. I would be thrilled if everyone could just stay asleep even until 6:30 am.

I will do anything to help you in this undertaking. I will give you candy. Your rooms are as dark and womblike as your father and I can make them. No sunlight is waking you at 5:30 am every morning. Your noisemakers are blaring white in the background, masking all potential traffic sounds from the street. Faithful old Zoe is downstairs quietly sleeping (LIKE YOU SHOULD BE AT THAT HOUR), not barking. I have diligently read and employed every last one of Dr. Weissbluth's Healthy Sleep Habits recommendations. My copy of the book is almost in tatters. I have tinkered with naps and bedtimes. Yet still, you rise, you rise. And you...and I...and your father...we are all so tired.

My sweet little ones, it has come to this. Your mother is begging you...on the internet. You come from a long line of sleeper-inners. Don't turn your back on your heritage. Make us proud. SLEEP IN A LITTLE, FOR PETE'S SAKE.

Your loving and exhausted mother

Aim Low, Adam

Adam: MoooOOOOOoooooommmmm, what are we doomin' (doing) today?

Me: Well, we may be going to the mall with Emily and Karis!

Adam: MooooOOOOOOOOoooooommmmm?

Me: Yes?

Adam: Can I get some new underpants at the mall?

Chutzpah

Adam: Dad, come up here!

Steve goes upstairs.

Adam: Build this big house (pointing to the picture of the house on the Lincoln Logs barrel).

Steve builds the house.

Adam: Make sure it has windows...make sure it looks like this...no, that's wrong...like this...

Steve complies.

Adam: Not on the floor. Build it on the nightstand.

Steve takes apart the first house and rebuilds on the nightstand.

Steve: I need to go back downstairs now.

Adam: Dad?

Steve: What?

Adam: (pointing to unused Lincoln Logs on floor) Someone needs to clean up this mess.

Big One-Year-Old

Miss Libby went in for her one-year checkup yesterday. She is doing great, meeting all her milestones and then some. Still not walking, but she can cruise the furniture and walk behind her little pushcart/toy stroller. So far she has beat her brothers in height at every check-in. Yesterday was no exception. Our tall girl is 31 1/4" (97th %ile). She weighed in at 23 lbs., 15 3/4 oz. (90th %ile). Adam was lighter by an ounce at that age, but Andrew was a full pound heavier when he was a year old! (Wow. I guess I'd forgotten what a short little chunk he was! How did I carry that around?)

It's good to know that Miss Piggy Tails should be able to hold her own around here as she grows up at Boy Central.

Busted

Uh oh. Andrew is playing at Josh's house, and I just received the following e mail from Tonya, Josh's mom:

subject line: i'm calling cps

Josh: "Hey Andrew, do you know what my Mom made?"
Andrew: "What?"
Josh: "Jello"
Andrew: "What's jello?"
J: "You don't know what jello is?"
Andrew: "Well I've seen it on TV"

...for shame

Told you I don't like to cook.

Happy Birthday, Libby!

One year ago this morning I was about to lose my mind wondering if we would be greeting a baby boy or baby girl later in the day. One year ago this afternoon I was eating lunch and making happy phone calls while holding my brand-new beautiful girl.


I've spent the last year savoring every moment of Libby's "baby-ness"; but still, it's hard to believe that she is a year old today!


We celebrated with the whole family at the beach!

Libby was upset that her cake wasn't chocolate. What is this garbage?

And, in the grand tradition of children everywhere, Libby's favorite toy was the bag that held the oh-so-carefully chosen birthday gifts.

Happy birthday, tiny girl! We love you.

I Just Can't Win

My only goal for this vacation was to get one great picture of all three of my kids together on the beach. It's pretty much my only goal wherever we go. I don't know why I keep beating myself up this way. Notice that the picture at the top of my blog of all 3 kids looking right at the camera features a 4-month-old Libby. I haven't updated it for a reason. So yesterday morning we put the kids in cute summer clothes and raced down to the beach before Libby's good mood started heading south (naptime!)

Right away I knew we were in trouble when Andrew started crying about wearing "church clothes." Really? Seersucker shorts, no belt, and an untucked polo shirt are "church clothes"? Gee, buddy, you are going to be one unhappy little fella when you see what you're wearing to Aunt Lindsay's wedding... So we had one in tears before we even left the condo. Adam has been in a foul little mood most of the time we've been here. Waking up at 5:30 am really does not suit him, but he can't seem to help himself. And, as I mentioned before, it was Libby's naptime. Yet I, in my photo mania, determinedly marched them all to the beach with Steve and my parents-in-law dutifully helping me herd my ants, I mean, flock.

Here are just a few of the results:

Is Andrew laughing or crying? It's anyone's guess!

Libby doing her best drunken smile.

They really outdid themselves here. Not a one is looking at the camera, and someone is even crying! This is a new record, even for us. Although I have to say, I think the way Adam is looking at Libby is precious.

One of my favorite tricks...hey, you two smile and get Mom's hopes up, and I'll cry and ruin what she thought could have been a good picture!

Further evidence that I just can't win...even this potentially awesome picture of Adam collecting his bribe (ice cream) after the photo shoot turned out blurry.