6,205 days

                                                                                        My love, this is 17. 

It has been a year of such growth for you. 

You started driving, and you’re quite good at it. The day you got your license, you had me drive home from the DMV because you wanted to text everyone you knew. As soon as we got home, you immediately took Dallas to dinner. It made my mama heart happy to see that he was the first person you shared your joy with. You have been driving my old car, which you named “Stephen” and bedazzled as soon as you could. 

You recently finished your first semester of Health Science vocational at Portage High School. You drive there every morning and then back to VHS for the afternoon. You get up on time and get yourself there with time to spare, and I admire that you took that on. The vocational material isn’t easy, but you’re working hard and doing the best you can. Dad and I can’t wait to see what you decide to end up doing in the healthcare field, if, indeed, you chose to go that route. I think you were made to help people because you give your care and kindness fully to anyone who needs it. 

Of course, you’re still participating in Speech, Debate, and Mock Trial. You're captain of the debate team and president of SDMT. I love that you have something you enjoy that you can also share with Dad. I know it isn’t easy to give up most of your Saturdays to various tournaments, but you do it with a smile…most of the time. You tried a new event by doing prose in speech this year, and you seem to be enjoying it a lot. I love that you’re willing to try new things in the SDMT world because one everyone your age is that brave. 

Along with vocational classes, regular school, and SDMT, you started your first job this year. As you know, Dad and I were reluctant to let you do it. I was afraid it would be too much, and you would get overwhelmed. When I really thought about it, I realized that we would never know if you could handle it unless we let you try. So far, you’re handling it like a champ. Between work, school, and SDMT, you’re sometimes gone for fourteen hours at a time. I miss your face on those days, but I know you’re out there doing good things. You have made fast friends at the pharmacy, and you help all of the customers who come in. You have also made it clear to some of the customers when they push it too far. 

Being a teenager in high school is hard, especially being a girl, I think. Friendships are tenuous at best, sometimes, and it can be hard to know who is really in your corner. I love that you work hard to maintain friendships as long as they’re feasible, but that you’re not afraid to say goodbye if you’re not being treated well. Yes, being the bigger person is SO hard, but it’s worth it in the long run, I promise. It’s better to be alone and enjoy your own company than to be with other people and feel like you’re alone. 

You make Dad and I so proud every single day, and I hope you’re proud of yourself, too. The first time I held you, I could have never dreamed that you would become this beautiful, smart, kind, funny, conscientious young lady. Thank you for continuing to trust me with your thoughts and concerns, and I guarantee that I will always be here for you. Stay true to yourself; I can feel in my bones that good things are coming your way. I love you the mostest. 

 

5,110 days

 My love,

I can hardly believe that you arrived in my life fourteen years ago. It feels like not too long ago that you were holding my hand in parking lots, sitting on my lap to hear a book, and falling asleep in the car with your thumb firmly tucked in your mouth. So many things have happened in the blink of an eye. 

This last year has been something for you and for everyone.  From the very beginning of the pandemic, you missed out on a lot. The day you all were sent home from school, you were supposed to do a performance of the variety show that you never got to do. You missed dances, sports, time with friends, and extra-curricular activities. There were no summer camps, no sleepovers, no vacations, no watching fireworks with pals. I know that you missed all of the socializing, and maybe school a teeny bit, but you were mature throughout all of the uncertainty. You very rarely complained, and when you did, it was only to blow off steam. You have always understood that Dad and I have been trying to keep our family as safe as possible, and you haven't held it against us. You have accepted what needs to be done better than many adults I know. 

Speaking of Dad and me, I know we drive you absolutely bananas sometimes most of the time. (I also know that it's mostly Dad, but I'll throw myself under the bus, too, so he doesn't feel so bad.) Despite how annoying we must be, you're pretty good about listening and letting us do our thing. Yes, there are eye rolls and stomping and door slamming from time to time, but even your teenaged behavior isn't terrible. You still make us laugh so much that it's difficult to stay mad at you. I don't know how Dad and I were so lucky to get such funny kids, but we're grateful for it every day. 

I have watched you grow an incredible amount in the last year. Physically, you're taller than I am now, and you get a disturbing sense of joy in reminding me how "low" I am. You'll be getting your braces off very soon, and what could have been a painful process has been smooth with you. On the rare occasions that you were in pain, you bore it with strength and the knowledge that it wouldn't last too long. You're working hard at school, and it shows. You're also always trying to get better organized. I know it isn't really your thing, but I appreciate the effort. The growth that has astonished me, though, is your emotional growth. I love how many new things you have tried: cross country, basketball, and even running for and winning president of Builders Club! Once you decide you're gong to do something, it's done. You have learned to stand up for what you feel is right even when it's a difficult or unpopular thing to do. I have seen you do this for your friends and for people you don't even particularly like: you always root for the underdog and for what is morally right. You have realized that having toxic people in your life isn't worth the pain they cause, and good friends are worth their weight in gold. I love that you still tell me every detail of your day; well, maybe not every detail but most of them. Every time you tell us a story about something that happened at school or on a Zoom with your friends, I feel like I know you a little better. For someone your age, you're not judgmental at all. You accept everyone for who and what they are, no matter what. You're kind, compassionate, forgiving, caring, and fierce: I can't think of a better combination. 

Everyone says how hard it is to watch your kids grow up. It's certainly bittersweet, but I'm having the best time watching who you are becoming. Keep fighting the good fight, even when you're tired or scared, and know we will always be right behind you. Continue to laugh as much as you can and stay close to your broham. I know you all like each other more than you're willing to admit. He'll forever be in your corner, too, just as I know you'll be in his. 

You are everything I never knew I longed for and exactly what I always wanted.  I am so damn proud of you, and I hope you never forget it. 

Love you the mostest,

Mom

4,745 days

My dearest girl,

I don't know how I got so lucky to get you as my daughter. Every single day, you surprise and delight me in new ways.

When you were little, you were constantly on the go. I assumed that would change a bit as you grew up, but I was terribly wrong. You're still a constant blur of motion, words, movement, and thoughts. You have more energy than anyone else I know, and you are always on the move. We joke within the family that no party is big enough or long enough for you. I think you would do something different or go to a new place every day if you had the chance. Where many people are content for a quiet and relaxing weekend, you want the chance to do more, see more, be more.

You have taught me to take the worrying down a notch. I'm your mom, so I'll always worry about you, but I'm learning how to trust that you are going to do your best to make the right choices. I don't doubt that you will make your fair share of mistakes in life, but you learn from them, you truly do. I still worry that your compassion and kind soul will make you susceptible to heartache; those who feel  intensely get hurt intensely, too. It will be that goodness within you, though, that will make it easier for you to dust yourself off and move forward.

I know I underestimated how funny you would be. You make me laugh every single day, just like your dad does. While you're a lot like me, you're a lot like him, too. You're great at seeing the light instead of the darkness and laughing when it would be easier to cry. You have Dad's sense of humor, sarcastic and often highly inappropriate. There are times when I guarantee that you have no idea how funny you really are. One thing I really love is how you understand that we're laughing with you and not at you when you say something you mean to be serious but comes out as hilarious. You laugh right along with us.

The ability to laugh at yourself and be in on the joke has served you well this first year and a half of middle school. Even though there have been a few bumps in the road, you have taken it all in stride and made us so proud. Middle school is truly a time of anxiety, turmoil, and self-doubt: it's basically the tenth circle of hell that Dante didn't write about because he, too, wanted to forget that time in his life. You seem to have kept yourself out of the worst of the fire, though, by finding good friends and marching to your own beat. I hope you always stay true to who you are.

I love your ability to see the good in all people. You're not stingy with second chances, or third, fourth, and fifth, for that matter. There is no artifice to you: what you see is what you get. I think that's a rare quality in people your age. Thirteen is about fitting in and following the crowd, but you're determined to stand out. For that, you have my admiration and my awe.

I hope you know how proud Dad and I are. Watching you grow into the gorgeous human being you have become is far beyond the dreams we had when you were a baby. You are now and always will be more than we could have ever hoped for. You are deeply and unconditionally loved.

Happy 13th birthday, baby,
Mom

4,380 days

My girl,
Just like that, you are twelve years old. Things are changing quickly these days: new school, new friends, new feelings. This journey is yours, but we're all along for the ride with you as well. As you experience new situations, so do we, albeit in an entirely different way. When we brought you home, I remember thinking that I had absolutely no clue what to do with you. I figured it out, but diapers and baby food all seems easy compared to what's coming now. (Lack of sleep was not easy. Truly. No sleep almost killed me.)

 The next few years are going to be full of ups and downs, and you have such a tender heart that I tend to worry about you. We have already dealt with mean girls at school, the new academic load, all of the extracurricular choices, and lying friends. You have faced each challenge with a true desire to do the right thing - the good thing - but you're also finding out how difficult that can be when peer pressure rules its ugly head. With each week that passes, though, I become less and less worried. I watch you go through all of the options and decide which one feels best to you. You usually pick the choice that won't hurt other people, and we have talked about how that's not always the way to go. Lately, you're looking at the bigger picture: how the choice may affect the future, how the choice may affect others, how the choice may affect you. I'm proud of you for looking at a situation from all angles before tackling it, and I'm even prouder that you are standing up for yourself.

One of the things I love the most about you is how loving and inclusive you are to everyone and everything. You came with me to say goodbye to Judy even though it broke your heart because you knew both Judy and I needed you. You make both Minny and Honey know how much they are loved, and whether you realize it or not, you make Dallas feel important and adored, too.  From the time you were a little girl, you have never met a stranger. You're the first to welcome someone new to your class or talk to the kid at the park who is playing alone. Often before I knew it, you were dragging your "new best friend" over to meet me and then running off just as quickly to play. I want you to always be a kind person - always. I don't want you to forget, though, that you matter, too.

My advice for you in this new year of your life is to keep love, kindness, and acceptance in your heart, but take no guff. Hang on to the friends who build you up instead of tear you down, and be sure you build them up, too. Ignore the meanness and jealousy that inevitably pops up in the coming years because when it's all said and done, none of it really matters. If something feels wrong, it probably is. Be strong enough to walk away from it with your head held high in the knowledge that you're on the side of good. If people make fun of you for that, so be it. That makes it easy for you to recognize them as people you neither want nor need in your life. Remember what Dumbledore said, "It takes a great deal of courage to stand up to your enemies, but a great deal more to stand up to your friends."

I know that you know all of this; we talk about it a lot. When you're in the middle of it, though, it's hard to remember exactly what to do or how to feel. This is where it gets hard for me and for most parents. My instinct is to swoop in and fix it all so you never have to feel any pain or disappointment. Of course, realistically, that's not possible nor is it healthy. I have to loosen my grip a little and let you make your own mistakes and learn from them. Man, that's hard. I know that I have to let it happen now so you feel confident making your own decisions in the future. You can always come to me for help or with questions or just to talk: I promise that I'll be your soft place to fall. But it's time for you to start spreading your wings. Don't spread them too far, too fast, though. I may seem pretty zen about all of this now, but I'm not ready for nose piercing or dates or college applications. Not yet.

Thank you for making me a mom, for making me laugh every day, and for being such a unique and amazing human being. There is no one else like you.

As you would say, you're so SPICY!!

All my love,
Mom

"Big" problems

When you're cradling a sweaty baby in one arm while running after a toddler and people tell you to enjoy that time because bigger kids bring bigger problems, you might be tempted to immediately clap back, because at that moment, your problems are big enough.  Those people happen to be right, but don't tell them I told you so.

Lottie came home not too long ago and told me she thought she needed to go on a diet.  After my head exploded and I was able to pick up the pieces, I asked her why. She told me that she was afraid of getting fat, that girls in her grade had been talking about how awful it would be to get fat.

Sweet Jesus. Third grade.

We sat down to talk about this; I couldn't see having this conversation while I was mopping the kitchen floor.  I told her all of the right things: she's young, she's active, and she's amazing.  She was nodding her head throughout the conversation, but I could tell it wasn't getting through to her.  So, I took a deep breath, and I told her some painful truths about her mama and life in general.

I told her that there will always be people who are way too focused on looks.  Everyone has his/her own style and appearance, but there will be times when it's not enough for some of the critics.  As long as people are happy and comfortable in their own skin, it shouldn't matter what other people think.  Only sometimes it does.  And when it does, I want her to have the proper tools to deal with it.

I asked her to tell me what she sees when she looks at me, and she said, "My mom who is beautiful." Oh, my heart.  The hard part came when I told her that I am overweight, I accept my pudginess, and I don't really care what anyone else thinks of my body.  She immediately protested and told me I wasn't fat, but I shushed her so I could continue, so I could explain that I'm not embarrassed or ashamed or sad about it.

Yep, I weigh too much.  I'm fat, chubby, fluffy, curvy, substantial, chunky...you get the drift.   If I were to compare, I'm probably the heaviest of all of my friends, but I don't compare.  I'm most likely the biggest mom of all of my kids' friends' moms, but I don't compare.  By now, I have learned that comparing does no good, and it's really just a time-waster.  I had two separate people tell me this week that I was fat TO MY FACE, and after a few fretful moments, I forgot about it and felt glad that I don't feel the need to body shame other people just because I can.  The crux of it is this: I may be heavy, but that doesn't change who I am as a person.  (Now would be the perfect time to let you know this is NOT a fishing expedition for compliments.  None needed.  REALLY.  That's not the point of this post.  Now, carry on.)

I could see Lottie getting a little lost, so I continued.  I told her that I'm proud of this body.  My body carried two kids, and when those babies decided my womb was some sort of magical Studio 54 that they couldn't bear to leave, my body dealt with two emergency C-sections so I could give birth safely.  This body walked me through thyroid cancer and the radioactive iodine that followed.  This body took care of everyone and everything when T was so sick that he could barely move.  This body has rocked kids to sleep, hugged friends in time of mourning, played in the rain, and swum in the pool of a waterfall in Hawaii.  This body works at home and works to make students into great teachers.  This body hosts dance parties on school mornings when no one wants to get out of bed.  This body goes to boot camp and spin class every week day to stay healthy, and this body keeps up pretty well, thankyouverymuch.  This body houses the brain that listens intently when there are problems, laughs like crazy at silliness, devours books with every spare moment, and multi-tasks almost every minute of every day.  This is the same body I had when I was 17 and met the love of my life; there is just more of it now, and he's still happy to be around, I might add.

I told her that if she ever starts to think negatively about her body, I want her to think of the all the amazing things it does for her, and most importantly, how it holds one of the biggest hearts in the entire world.  I told her that she has been given the gift of athleticism, definitely not from me, and she should continue to revel in that her whole life as she has in her childhood.  I told her that her kind heart and happy disposition would always make her beautiful, and to me, she is absolute perfection.

I'm not going to spend my summer hiding in sweats or refusing to go to the pool.  I'm going to put on a bathing suit, dive in, and enjoy life with my family and friends.  My suit may be bigger, but I bet my laugh will be, too.  What a beautiful gift to give my children: my presence, my absolute, complete, not-worrying-about-what-my-legs-look-like-in-shorts presence in their lives.

I don't honestly know how much of what I said to Lottie sunk in, and I may not know that for a long time.  This is a conversation that needs to happen over and over, though, until she understands that there should be more than just what she sees in the mirror that defines her as a person, and whatever that more is, I want her to own it and be proud of it. I never want her to be ashamed of who she is because she has a long life ahead of her figuring it all out. Plus, it isn't just body shaming out there in the world: it's all kinds of shaming.  We shame moms who stay home and moms who work; we shame people on welfare and the filthy rich; we shame those who share their emotions and those who are utterly stoic.  There is slut-shaming, food-shaming, politics-shaming, and even shame-shaming.  We basically shame anyone who doesn't do things exactly like we think they should be done, and I'm over it.  Seriously.  What I want Lottie (and Dallas and everyone, really) to get is that shaming others is easy and shaming ourselves can be even easier, but feeling true pride and loving oneself is the hard part.  It takes work to push aside the feelings of not being enough and to live life the best way possible.  I know she can do it, though.  I think we all can.

2,920 days

The sweetest pea,

Today you are eight years old.  It feels like this is the age when you're not a big kid yet but you're not little anymore, either.  You're trying so hard to become independent, and I'm wishing you were still the little toddler with the cheeser smile. 

We have had quite a year, and you have handled everything so well.  I know that it's really hard on you to see Dad sick because all you want to do is take care of everyone.  I'm proud that you have talked to me and asked questions instead of holding everything inside.  What a difference a year has made with your level of understanding and maturity.  You still continue to mother everyone around you, especially Dallas.  It makes my heart so happy when you two protect each other.  Please watch out for him forever; he'll always need his big sister.

Dad and I couldn't be any prouder of how hard you have worked in school.  We both know that you would much rather be playing outside or doing something physical with your time.  Sitting down to do anything, let alone schoolwork, has never been your bag, baby.  This year, something clicked, though, and you are doing your best with your homework and with your work at school.  I still don't envision you ever having an office job, but I feel reassured to know that you will try your best at whatever you choose to do in the future.

One thing that hasn't changed over the past year is your beautiful heart.  You are truly the kindest person I know.  You hate to see anyone in any kind of pain, physical or emotional, and you always step in to make people feel better.  You would give away anything you had to comfort someone in need.  Never ever lose that sweet soul: we need more people like you in the world.

One thing I know for sure is that I never know what you're going to do next.  There is no pigeonholing my girl.   I love that you're a "girly" girl with pierced ears and tulle dresses who also loves to go crazy on the zipline in our backyard and literally roll around in the mud. You love summer and winter, playing with dolls and playing Star Wars, jumping into leaves and getting dressed up, listening to Katy Perry and listening for Santa, going to your first sleepover and cuddling at home with Daddy.  Our lives would be awfully quiet and boring without you.  

My wish for you is that you always have the spirit and spark that make you who you are.  There are going to be times you'll need to tame yourself a bit, but I hope that you never fully lose your zest and passion for life.  I want you to experience as much as you can because I know you're happiest when you are out doing and living.  

I see a hopeful future every time I look into your stunning blue eyes, and I thank you every day for reminding me about the wonderful and simple moments I might otherwise be missing.  I don't know what you'll be doing or where you'll end up as you grow; however, I have seen who you are in your soul.  You're going to shine, babe.  You will always shine.  

Oh, how I love you,

Mom 

Of sleepovers and sprouting

We have all been marching along with the new school schedule this year where both kids get on the bus at the same time and come home at the same time.  I like that I don't have to get in the car to drive Dal to school, but sometimes trying to get both kids ready at the same time in the morning is maddening.  There is always the rush of getting dressed, brushing teeth, double-checking backpacks, and trying to stay clean.  We seem to be getting into a pretty decent groove, so hopefully that will continue.

Along with the new school year comes new teachers and new friends.  Both kids are absolutely nutso about their teachers, and they're both usually enthusiastic about going to school every morning.  This last week was exceptionally long for Lottie, though.  Monday night, I was at a meeting at the school when I ran into the mother of one of Lottie's pals.  Lottie and the girl are in different classes this year, but they still play together during recess.  The mom asked for my phone number so she could text me information about the girl's birthday party that was going to be on Saturday.  A sleepover birthday party.  The sleepover part was optional, but anyone who knows Lottie knows that she is all about keeping a party going for as long as possible.  I made the mistake of telling Lottie about the invitation before I had received a text from the mom.  Rookie error, right?  The rest of the week, I was peppered with questions about the party, whether or not I had heard from the mom, and if I thought Lottie could just show up at the party.  Saturday morning dawned with no word about the party and a 7-year old crying over breakfast.  I cried, too, because I felt like I had somehow let her down, and I wished I had never mentioned the party in the first place.  We planned a fun day of playing outside, a special dessert, and a family movie night; I could tell, however, that her mind was on the party most of the day. 

The sky began to darken around 2:30 that afternoon, and I called the kids inside.  I was in the middle of making the chocolate dessert that I knew my little sweet-toothed girl would love when I heard the chime of a text message on my phone.  I picked up the phone in between separating eggs to see a text from the mom inviting Lottie to the party...the party that started in twenty minutes.   All at once, I was angry, excited, irritated, incredulous, and frazzled.  I hadn't bothered to get a gift because I thought Lottie had been forgotten.  Lottie was sweaty and filthy from playing outside all day.  A serious thunderstorm was headed our way.  I could think of a million reasons why she shouldn't go and only one reason why she should.  Even though I wanted to erase the message, I knew I should let her go to the party.  After a quick whispered conference with T, I told Lottie what was up.  I know it sounds completely hokey, but the sun shone out of her eyes.  She hadn't been left out, and she was going to her first slumber party.  She ran upstairs to take a quick shower while T packed an overnight bag for her.  I tore downstairs to find and wrap a suitable birthday present from the box of surplus gifts I keep in the basement.  Before she left, I held her face in my hands and told her that if anything felt off or she just didn't want to stay, she could call us any time of the night to pick her up.  She hugged me tightly, kissed her brother, and skipped out to the car with her dad.  About two minutes after they left, the tornado sirens blared, and I wanted to run out in the street and call them both back home. 

I spent that evening with T and Dallas, and although it was cool --and totally weird, too--to be able to focus on just one kid, my head was with Lottie.  I wondered if she was getting along with the other kids at the party.  I wondered if the threatening skies and the heavy rains were scaring her.  I worried that she wanted to come home but was too afraid to say so.  Would she sleep well?  Would she sleep at all?  (And before all you other parents chime in with the "you-have-no-idea-wait-until-she's-a-teenager" stuff,  just don't.  It's never helpful and it diminishes what I am feeling now.  Not cool.)

Of course, in the end, Lottie had a fantastic time at the party.  She ended up staying with the birthday girl for most of the next morning while T and I paced around the house wondering when she would finally come home.  She seemed exactly the same but also a little older, a little more grown up.  It was her first night staying with anyone who wasn't family, and she loved it.  I was thrilled that her first sleepover had been a success, but if I am being totally honest, I was a little sad, too.  I realized that the first slumber party was just the beginning of many firsts that T and I wouldn't be a part of. Spending the night at someone's house doesn't mean that she's ready for her own apartment, of course, but it's the start of a whole new world for her.  She is starting to realize that there is so much more to life than just our home and our family.  My job as a parent is to give her those experiences and encourage her growth in every way; I just didn't know that it would all start so soon.  Teaching her new things will continue to be my job, but now a new part of my job is making sure that home is where she will always have a soft place to fall. 

Not too long after reading time Sunday evening, I noticed that I hadn't heard a peep out of Lottie's room in a while.  I went to check on her, and I found her fast asleep with her Lamby in her arms.  I took a minute to drink in her quiet, sleeping face before I called T in to see how quickly she had passed out.  I'm willing to embrace her newfound slice of autonomy as long as I can still tuck her in most nights for as long as she lets me.  

Halloween Humbug

I am not a big fan of Halloween.  There.  I have said it.  My name is K. C., and I don't like Halloween. I'm the only one chez Wells who isn't a fan, though, so I have learned to go with the flow.  Dallas's favorite pastime is to pore over Halloween catalogs full of costumes and gory decorations.  Not surprisingly, he has had more nightmares as of late.  Fun for all of us.

Last week, I took Lottie shopping for her Halloween costume, and I was frightened by what I saw.  I wasn't scared of the ghouls or goblins or the bloody skulls: the costumes are what terrified me.  I expected to be slightly horrified by the teen girl costumes because they seem to have become sluttier and sluttier.  But I was shocked to see that little girl costumes are starting to trend the same way.   Everything seems dark and trashy and WAY too grown up.

Credit: http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/18595.jpg

Yes, I understand that Halloween has its origins in some dubious stuff: festivals of the dead, Samhain, etc.  (Most of my knowledge comes from the movie Halloween, so I realize that what I know might not be on the up and up.) But I do know that Halloween is supposed to be scary and creepy.  However, my kids are 4 and 5.  I don't think they need to be dark and creepy for Halloween.  I mean, what ever happened to dressing up like a puppy or a piglet or a box of Tide?

Not only were many of the costumes too old for Lottie, but they just seemed...wrong.  Why does a kid have to be"Scary Miss Muffet" or "Scary Little Bo Peep"?  Why can't the choice just be a normal Muffet or Peep?  And does Miss Muffet have to have an off-the-shoulder dress with chunky heels?

Credit:http://images.celebrateexpress.com/mgen/merchandiser/60954.jpg?zm=1600,1600,1,0,0
(This is the Bratz version of Miss Muffet, by the way.  Lottie keeps insisting that she's going to get a Bratz doll from Santa for Christmas.  Dream on, kid.)

I saw Lottie starting to light up at the sight of some of the costumes that were not age-appropriate, and I steeled myself to talk to her about it.  Luckily, she ended up choosing a "royal princess" costume with a LONG skirt and LONG sleeves, so that conversation didn't have to happen.  I'm sure some people are reading now and thinking, "A princess costume?  She's going to grow up to think that men are going to ride up on a white horse and rescue her!  That's so anti-feminist."  Um, first of all, no.  And second, no. Third, that's nuts.  I grew up knowing about princesses myself, and I'm no shrinking violet.  When it comes right down to it, I would rather my five year old daughter dress up like a princess than most of the other costumes I saw.  

Maybe I'm old-fashioned; maybe I'm a prude.  I just want my daughter to enjoy being a little girl as long as she can, and I want to enjoy it along with her.  If that's wrong, so be it.

That's amore

Due to the wacky winter weather, we have been spending a lot of time outdoors lately.  It's good for the kids, and it's good for the grown-ups to get some fresh air and move.

Trevor and I took Lottie and Dallas to the park yesterday to play.  At first, we were the only ones there, but soon a boy and his dad showed up at the skate park adjacent to the playground.  The boy skated for a while, then yelled to me, "Excuse me, can I play with you guys?"  He happily played with Lottie for a while, chasing and laughing like only little kids can do.  Soon, Lottie walked over to me with her head down.  When I asked what was wrong, she said her new friend, Georgie, had decided to go play with his friend.  She said, "I guess he would rather play with his friend than me."  I explained to her that Georgie had probably planned to meet his friend, who also had a board, to skate at the park, and it would be rude to ignore him.  She seemed to understand and played with Dallas for a few minutes.

Her gaze kept straying to the skate park that had filled up with quite a few tween boys.  Eventually, she shyly asked if we could go watch them.  We sat on the bench in front of the skaters and watched them do ollies and drop-ins and whatever else skater boys do.  Georgie skated past us, smiled and waved to Lottie, then did some sort of trick.  Lottie gazed up at me with stars in her eyes and said, "Oh, Mommy.  He's the best one!"

I felt my stomach drop.  No, no, no.  She isn't supposed to be having crushes yet!  She's only five years old, for Pete's sake!  This isn't supposed to happen for ten years or so!  But there she sat, smiling and blushing, watching Georgie and his friends.  We stayed for twenty minutes or so, and I told her it was time to leave.  She heaved a big sigh and stared at Georgie with her big, blue eyes shining like the sun.  I said she could go up to the fence to say goodbye to him, and she bashfully waved.  As we walked away, she turned and yelled, "You can come over to my house tomorrow!"  I'm sure he didn't hear her, but she skipped away happily.

It's hard to describe the emotions I felt as I watched her.  She's growing up, but she's still just a little girl - MY little girl.  Georgie was sweet to her, even with his friends around, but some day, some boy won't be sweet and he'll break her heart.  And in that moment when she's crying to me and I'm trying to soothe her, I'll remember when she was five and it was all pretty simple.

1,825 days

My sweet Lottie,
You are five years old.  I'm not quite sure where the time has gone as it feels like only a few weeks ago that you were born.  Like I said in a blog for Dallas, the days move slowly but the years have passed quickly.  I have learned so much from you in five years, and I look forward to a lifetime of getting to know you.

The day before you came into the world, I spent the whole day shopping with Mimi and walking around.  The doctor had told me earlier in the week that you wouldn't be arriving anytime soon; you fooled everyone, though!  You arrived on your due date, January 10, 2007.  Even that day, you were stubborn and refused to meet us at first.  After quite a bit of labor and not enough action, you finally arrived via C-section.  We noticed right away that you had an amazing set of lungs on you, and you haven't stopped using them since.

You were always meant to be our baby.  I lost a pregnancy before you were born, and I was so scared to try again.  But you surprised us by making your presence known quickly; you still make sure everyone in a room knows you're there.  I was nervous throughout my pregnancy with you, and sometimes I wonder if that has made you the little worrier you are sometimes.  I think you worry because you want everyone to be happy and everything to be wonderful.

You have an extremely kind and tender heart.  You don't like to see others in pain, and you always do whatever you can to help.  Before my shoulder surgery last summer, you always brought me wet paper towels because you just knew they would help my shoulder feel better.  Whenever your brother hurts himself, you're there to kiss him, hug him, or get him a toy to distract him.  You're gentle and kind to animals, especially Judy, our cat, and Arnie, Mimi and Pop Pop's dog. I know you would love to have a dog of your own someday; we'll see.  :)  The other day, I walked into the living room where you were looking at a book.  I found you in tears, and when I asked what was wrong, you told me that you were so heartbroken that Jackie Paper had forgotten about Puff the Magic Dragon.  You can't stand the thought of someone being excluded or alone.

You were born to be a big sister. I was anxious about bringing a baby home to you because you were only twenty months old when Dallas was born; you were still just a baby yourself.  I needn't have worried, because from the moment we brought him home, you were completely in love with him.  You watch out for Dallas like he was your son instead of mine, especially when it comes to his food allergies.  I know that no taste of dairy or egg will pass his lips if you're around.  Sure, sometimes you get a little bossy with Dallas, but that's the nature of protecting the ones we love. The older you get, the better you both play together, and that makes my heart sing. A couple of weeks ago, you were playing together pretty roughly, and Dallas bit your finger.  When I put him in a time out, you defended him and told me that it was totally an accident, and you were sure he had no idea your finger was in his mouth when he bit down.  Right now, you're best friends, and I hope that will continue as you get older.  You'll make a lot of friends in your lifetime, but a sibling is a special person forever.

Speaking of friends, you have plenty!  I don't think you have ever met a stranger in your life.  Your sweet nature and friendly attitude shine through wherever we are.  You have made friends all over: the park, the mall, Disney World, Monkey Joe's, and even the museum in Cincinnati.  You don't like to be alone very often, and you have a knack for winning people over so you usually have someone around you.  When we walk into school together, everyone stops to speak to you.  I think that every teacher, every parent, and every student in that school, regardless of age, knows who you are. Other mothers have said, "Oh, you're Lottie's mom?  My son/daughter just loves Lottie!" It makes me so proud that you're a friend to everyone.  Every day is a party for you.  You want to see someone or do something exciting and new.  I truly think you would go to college tomorrow if I would let you.  :)  But I'm not ready for that quite yet.  You also love being around our family.  Grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins...the more, the merrier!  I think it's great that you love with your whole heart and never hold back.

We definitely have our moments, though.  You're stubborn and dramatic, but that goes hand-in-hand with your strong emotions.  It's hard to have the intense feelings that you have, and sometimes those feelings boil over into frustration or exhaustion; I know all this because you inherited your extreme emotions from me. In the future, you'll be able to control your feelings a little better, but until then, I'll be there to help you figure things out.  You are sort of our experiment; we're learning what to do along with you.  I know we have made some mistakes as parents, but you seem to have weathered the storm with us.

I'm so proud of you, sweetheart.  You are everything I could ever hope for in a daughter.  You are absolutely beautiful, inside and out, and best of all, you are kind.  With your intelligence, sense of humor, and your sense of empathy, the whole world is open in front of you.  Daddy and I know that no matter what you choose to do, you'll be a success.

Pixie dust, baby.  Oh, how I love you.