SIX

Liam -

In just a couple of hours, you will officially turn six, though given the amount of celebrating that has occurred over the past 3 days, the exact time of your birth is probably of little consequence to you. But to me, that exact hour and minute is the most monumental moment in my life. I became a momma, your momma, at 10:46pm. On a Monday, just like today. And for some reason, this year, I have thought about that all day long.  

Maybe it's because when I look at you now, there is very little "baby" left in that beautiful face of yours. You still have the same dimples, the same gorgeous blue eyes and dreamy, long, dark eye lashes, but nevertheless,  you are growing up right before my eyes. Maybe I just needed to let myself drift back to that night that I first laid eyes on you . First held you close and kissed your head. To remember how impossibly in love I was with you and how impossibly small you seemed. Those days (and nights) seemed to last forever, good grief. Even so,  I am pretty sure I would go back in heartbeat...if only just for a few days...because now I know how quickly time will pass. 

But let me just set the record straight. No way, no how would I want to stay there back in the past with the littler, squirmy-er, screamy-er, needy-er, baby-er you. Nope. Because I am absolutely CRAZY about your 6 year old self. Truly. You are quite a character. Funny. Clever. Often more profound than any 6 year old has a right to be. You question everything and are a voracious seeker of knowledge. You are insatiable. And I love every last drop of it. 

Momma and Daddy decided that you should wait an extra year to start Kindergarten this year. It is a decision that I worry you will one day be self-conscious or embarrassed of. Maybe even angry about. Please just know that sometimes mommies and daddies have to make choices for their kids, hard choices, choices that don't always have clear consequences. But they always make them with their child's best interest in mind and heart. And so it went for us. It was a tough decision, but one that I have never, ever regretted. You have blossomed, flourished, bloomed....completely and utterly come into your own and your self-confidence just shines through in all you do. I believe with all my heart that it is one of the best gifts we have ever given you.


We have learned so much about you this year. How you see the world. More importantly, how you feel the world. When you were four we confirmed that your body and brain process the world differently than most kids. Some things don't feel safe to you. Some things don't feel good to you. Some things you want more of and can't get, some things you get too much of and can't stop. And some things are just plain harder for you. As a result, walking around in your body was sometimes just too unpredictable and you let us know by getting angry, or sad, or frustrated, or loud. Luckily we found some really awesome people who have helped you and your body learn how to feel better, safer, calmer. It has been wonderful and you have come a long, long way. 


As you have made so much progress, we began to notice that some things were still really tricky for you and we weren't sure why. Once again we were able to find another awesome person who talked with you, listened to you, worked with you, and learned from you just how your amazing brain works. And, sweet boy, it works HARD. Never have I seen a brain work as hard as yours. What we learned is that there are some things that are really easy for your brain to figure out and other things that, no matter how hard your brain works, it just can't seem to do it's job the way it should. And because of that, there are some things that are really hard for even a very, very smart boy like yourself. No momma ever wants to see her child struggle and hearing how hard you work for things that are often easy for other kids your age, well, it really just broke my heart. But only for a little bit. Because very soon I realized how determined you are. How resilient. How willing you are to keep chugging away even though smoke might be coming out your ears. And my heartbreak quickly turned to admiration. Admiration of your perseverance in the face of what surely must be frustration a great amount of the time. I am ridiculously proud of you and I promise, cross my heart, that we will pull you through this and you will continue to blaze a trail. 

This year has seen your already tender heart become even kinder. You are a wonderful friend, brother and son. You love to shower the special people in your life with compliments and good deeds. You love when something you do or say brings a smile to someones face. You are proud of being capable and industrious and are forever asking for jobs and chores around the house. Quite often you insist that they be on your terms, which can often lead to conflict, as "stubborn" is a trait that has stuck with you over the years too. But mostly you are just happy to help in anyway possible. 

That is not to say that everything is just sunshine and butterflies around here. Oh, heavens no.  We are forever dealing with a little something we like to call "sass". You are a pro at giving lip. A PRO. And we have many, many, many discussion about things like "disrespect", "inappropriate" and "rude". You get it, you just like to exercise your mouth muscle and end up in hot water a great deal of the time. I won't say anymore on this topic beyond this: no matter how many time you say, yell, scream "I hate you", it will never, ever be okay to backtalk, name call or dis your parents. So, you know, hate away. 

A letter about this last year of your life would be sorely lacking if we did not also discuss Annabel. Annie, Annie, Annie. The two of you have a love-hate relationship if there ever was one. I have to give you credit, Liam, you are incredibly patient with her most of the time. She is a handful. When you do get fed up with her and fight it out, I am the first to admit she is almost always asking for it.  You exhibit tremendous self-control, very rarely striking out at her even as she is coming at you, arms rounding like a windmill. I am proud of you for that. I know you love her because you tell me so. I know you are irritated by her because you tell me that too. A lot. And I get it. I really do. She is in your business all the time and then when she is not in your business and you try and play with her, she can be kind of, well....crabby. Let's just go with that. Trust me when I say that you were exactly the same way when you were her age, almost 3. Only you didn't have a brother or sister to take it out on or try to keep up with. She wants so much to be able to do everything just like you and it can be incredibly frustrating for her when she can't or isn't allowed to. So, it's just a little tough for her right now.  Let me tell you, though, when you guys are on, you're on. You laugh and chase and hug and sing. You "read" her books and you show her the ropes. I promise she won't be this way forever (well..we may have to revisit this when she about 11) and all of your kindness, patience and love toward her will pay off one day. You're in the thick of things right now, but when I see the two of play, talk, dance....even fight, I see how very close and connected you are to each other. It's a real gift. 

I would love to talk about the clever things you say and I think I could probably write a book just with your comments, questions, insights...your "Liam-isms" if you will. I try to keep a running inventory but won't bore you with the details here. Suffice it to say, they are real nuggets and are a testament to what a bright shiny star you are. You have a way with people, you charm them, you entertain them, you connect with them in a way that makes them want to do right by you. It is an amazing phenomena to behold. 


When you were much younger, if someone were to ask me to describe you in one word, I would, without hesitation, say: tenacious. You were dogged. Irrationally stubborn. In some ways you still are, but I am beginning to see a glimmer of hope and where once those traits were exhausting, infuriating, maddening....they now show strength and character. You are not one to back down when you sense injustice. That is an admirable quality.

And so, tonight, as you are just teetering on the cusp of 6, if someone were to ask me that same question, my answer, without hesitation, would be: remarkable.  You are remarkable in every sense of the word. Beautiful and bright and so full of promise. And I am so happy that you're mine. 


Happy birthday, sweet Li-Li.  I love you.


Momma


P.S. Six minutes til your six. How cool is that?

Gratitude: Part 2

I came awfully close to losing my baby girl today. I wasn't present at the scene, but I know by the quaking of my husband's voice when he called me after the fact and the look in his eyes when I returned home, that it was a close call.  If he had been a few feet further away from her, if our neighbor had been listening to his radio or been looking over his other shoulder as he backed out, he wouldn't have seen or heard Scott in time. Annabel would have been creamed. As it stands, she was only knocked off her bike. Only. Ha. Tell that to her daddy's heart. To her momma's peace of mind. 

Close calls are a part of growing up, I get that, and something I should probably resign myself to given what a daredevil, wild child my second born is. But it will never be easy. My heart will never *not* worry about my babies. Ever. That's the bitter with the sweet part of this parenting gig.

Nevertheless, the gravity of what went down this morning did not actually hit me until I was putting Annie down for her nap this afternoon. I was rocking her like usual and she kept saying "seep, momma, go bed" like usual (her subtle cue that she wants me to leave her the hell alone). But I couldn't. Not today. I kept holding her, snuggling her, smelling her and blatantly ignoring her continued insistence that she wanted to go to bed until she finally just gave up and fell asleep in my arms. And then I cried quiet tears of both fear and gratitude. 

What would I do without my happy, crazy birdie girl?

I pray I never know. 

P.S. It goes without saying, I know, but humor me:

MAKE SURE YOUR CHILD ALWAYS WEARS A HELMET.

Please.

Gratitude

Liam's last day of preschool is tomorrow. The LAST DAY. I have been so focused on his "graduation" on Monday (an emotional day to be sure) that I never even thought about the fact that tomorrow morning will be the last time I pack his snack for preschool. The last morning I will give him a hug goodbye at the 1/2 door and watch him make a B-line for the sensory table. Three years down. How did they go by so quickly? How could it be that the clever, talkative, confident boy that now strides through that classroom door was once a scared little toddler who cried every time we left the house and barely spoke at school. How could this era of our lives already be over when it seems like it's hardly began?

I will never forget the first day I left Liam at school. The first time I really left him alone, ever, in his whole life. I will never, ever forget how my heart about cracked in two or the feeling in the pit of my stomach as I walked back across the parking lot without him. Or how I cried and cried and cried while sitting in my car in that parking lot. I don't think Liam would be the proud and confident boy he is now without that school or those teachers. They understood the gift I was giving them when I left my baby in their caring and capable hands. The gift of trust. And in turn, they give me the gift of "letting go". It has been a beautiful thing. 

Thank you.

The Zen of Steve....Redux

Annie has reached the delightful & challenging age of 18 months (more on that at some point...her birthday letter is still in draft status. Way to go momma). She is finally at a point in which my memories of Liam at the same age are not as vague. So, when she does something like, say, pull the checkbook out of my purse, wave it around and announce that she has it ("MOMMAAA!!") then run and wedge herself under the farthest corner of the dining room table to alternately shred/eat the carbon copies of my checks, shrieking "NOOOOOOO" and deftly slipping out of my grasp as I grunt and writhe around on the floor trying to reach her, I now have a much clearer frame of reference.

Since I wrote A LOT when Liam was a tot, I decided to go back into the archives to see what I could dig up from back in the day when he was first starting to feel his oats a bit. It was funny and honest and made me realize that I could have written those same stories about this wee little girl who has me feeling like I am chasing my tail most days. These crazy kids of mine. Head strong and clever and sweet as honey. A lethal combination.

Here is one from when Liam was exactly Annie's age. It pretty much sums up........ yesterday.

The Zen of Steve
Aug. 6, 2006

This morning brought with it a foul mood and I have been a supreme grouch since the moment my eyes grudgingly struggled awake at dawn. Oscar has got nothing on me today. Working on 3 hours of fractured sleep, I am a force to be reckoned with. Working on slightly more, but still fractured sleep himself, Liam is a whirling dervish of naughtiness and no's. We are not a happy pair.

We slowly circled each other all morning...Liam pushing his luck and me barking at him to "cool it" while working on my 2nd pot of coffee, hoping to feel the euphoric rush of caffeine and clarity at *any* moment. While taking a brief respite in the bathroom, I heard several crashes and hastily ran into the kitchen, sans shorts, to find that Liam had pulled up a chair to the sink and was systematically emptying it of dirty pots and pans....and knives. Christ.

At the very moment that I was beginning to ask myself if leashing Liam to the dining room table would technically be considered abuse, I looked at the clock and realized that it was 11:00. Or rather, Blue's Clues o'clock. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I planted Liam in his little chair, turned on the boob tube and went to retrieve my britches and yet another cup of joe. Twenty minutes of kid friendly cleverness were headed our way and I was ecstatic.

Today's lesson: Frustration. How apropos. Steve helped his little friends Bucket and Pail work through some sort of frustrating task, after which he turned, looked deep into my eyes and asked, "Do you ever feel frustrated?". He patiently waited for my response. How nice. "Oh, Steve, Steve, Steve", I answered back, "If you only knew."

Always so calm and steady in his green on green rugby, Steve went on to tell me that when I am frustrated, all I need to do is: STOP. BREATHE. and THINK. That's it. Seems pretty simple and I need simple right now. I immediately began to imagine all the opportunities I would have to put this handy advice to use:

• Spend half an hour working on a meal that Liam *might* deem edible just to have him feed it to the dog? STOP. BREATHE. THINK.
• Liam is screaming at the top of his lungs while pointing to the ceiling and I have no earthly clue what he wants because, no, he is still not talking? STOP. BREATHE. THINK.
  
• Find an entire roll of TP unfurled and stuffed into the toilet...again? STOP. BREATHE. THINK.
• Successfully intervene when Liam is throwing toys at the dog only to have him turn around and brain the dog with a book instead? STOP. BREATHE. THINK.
• Liam wakes at 2AM *starving* because he refused to eat anything all day? STOP. BREATHE. THINK.
  
• Lying in bed awake while the rest of the world sleeps because husband's snoring could wake the dead? STOP. BREATHE. THINK.

The possibilities are endless. At my current rate, I'll probably be hyperventilating by 10AM what with all this extra breathing, but it's certainly worth a shot. As luck would have it, I was given the opportunity to put this new skill into practice as soon as Blue & Steve had bid us adieu. Upon being presented with his lunch, Liam dumped the entire plate onto the floor and I promptly removed him from the table with the admonishment that lunch was over....too bad. But before I could get to it myself, Liam was on the floor shoveling the food in his mouth, dog hair and all.

STOP. BREATHE. THINK.

Okay.....at least he ate. And a quick glance at the microwave told me that NAP was only 22 minutes away. I could do this, I thought. Feeling triumphant, I looked down to see Liam juicing the remaining watermelon through the rush seat of the dining room chair.

STOP. BREATHE. THINK.

Awwww...yes...this is working. Who would have thought that the path to inner peace led right through Blue's Clues?

Children's programming has come a long way.

A Lucid Moment

Sick boy.
Fever for nearly a week now.
103 this afternoon.
Lethargic, cranky, demanding.
Fell asleep watching Franklin (gasp).
Bribed to take Tylenol (please, please baby!).
Fever breaking.
Sweaty hair.
Covers kicked off.
More tears.
Crying ball of despair.
Do you want momma to run you a bath?
Yes please, but carry me up.
Please momma my whole skin hurts.
That's too cold.
That's too hot.
Can you wash my back?
Oh. That feels warm.
Sigh.
Momma?
Does your skin hurt when you are sick?
Yep, when I have a fever my whole body hurts.
Momma?
Is snot like throw up that comes out your nose?
Something like that.
Momma?
What baby?
You're doing a good job taking care of me.
Thanks buddy.
Momma?
Mmm-hmmm.
I always love you, but sometimes I get angry at you too.
I know.
Momma?
Yes?
Sometimes you don't give me lots of attention.
No?
Sometimes you don't always play with me.
You're right.
Does that make you angry?
Yes.
Momma?
Hmmm?
I don't like it when we fight.
Me neither, buddy.
It hurts my feelings.
I'm sorry.
Momma?
Momma, I don't like being sick.
I don't like you being sick either.
But I appreciate you playing nice with me tonight.
I'm glad.
Should we pinky promise to play nice all days?
Absolutely.
I love you best, Momma.
I love you best too, Liam.

You Got A Little Somethin' On Your Face

She Like To Move It, Move It : Annie, 10 months

Annie. Annie, Annie, Annie. Let me begin this letter to you by offering my sincerest apologies for being so negligent with these monthly letters. If you could count, you would see that 5 months have passed since my last update on you. Five months!! Good grief, Annabel, that is like 5 years in baby time. I am so sorry. Turns out, finding time to write in the midst of our crazy life is easier said than done and some days it came down to making a choice between feeding you and your brother or writing. I'm pretty sure I made the right choice....I'm a great mom like that.

You have changed so much in so many ways and yet you are still very much the same sweet girl I brought home from the hospital. The main differences being that you are about 14 pounds heavier (lordy!!) and you now have 2 teeth. Oh yeah....you are also fully mobile, much to your brother's horror. But other than that, you are still that girl. So sweet. And so, so happy.





Way back when you were 5 months old you were successfully rolling over front to back, but no way no how were going to be on your belly. Nope. Nuh-uh. Um yeah...that has totally changed. In fact, you celebrated your 10th month of life by crawling for the first time. We waited forever for that to happen. You see, once you finally realized that tummy time was not the baby equivalent of chinese water torture, you started scooting, rolling, inching, creeping, everything *but* crawling. You got to where you needed to go, that's for sure, but it took you forever and lucky for Liam, it was pretty obvious what was motivating your journey, so he always had enough time to snatch that treasure out of your stealthy little reach before you were able to do anything really awful, like play with one of his toys. That is not the case any longer and not only are you crawling, girl, you are quick, and Liam is about to lose his mind with your single-minded obsession with all things that belong to him. I think you two are in what the experts call a "transition period". I am likening it to WWIII, but then again, I am in the trenches with you two every day.





You still love him like a fool. Idolize him. Worship him. Honestly, some days I can't imagine why because he is going through quite a "phase" himself. But nevertheless, you cannot get enough of him. You are not fazed one single bit by his screaming fits, his spitting (actually, this you love which is not at all helpful), his snatching of toys or, most annoying to momma, his *constant* policing of all you do. On the contrary, you find him endlessly amusing. He is quite a character, I give you that. But in all seriousness, my birdie girl, I hope you never lose that patience for him and you are always able to see his sweet, kind, gentle, funny and loving spirit beneath all of the exterior annoyances. He needs that in you, that acceptance and love and I hope that when it's all said and done, sibling rivalry aside, you will always be each other's champions.

When we last checked in you were just beginning to venture into the world of solid foods (Wow..it has really been a long time) and you were still spitting up. Well, I am happy to report that your reflux is a thing of the past and has been for, oh I don't know, 4 months now (bad, bad momma). You, in fact, are now *so*over baby food. You want the real stuff. The "grown-up" stuff. And nothing I eat while holding you is safe from your clutches or your alligator jaw chomp-chomp-chomping at my hand. You look like those giant koi at the zoo, your little O of a mouth opening and closing indicating your need for sustenance. The other day you got your mouth wrapped around a pickle I was was trying to eat and received the shock of your life. I wish I could bottle that look to laugh at later. It was pretty damn funny. So, needless to say, we give you the good stuff now, but we also have to force the baby stuff on you too since you haven't quite mastered the whole feeding yourself thing and for every one piece of food you grab off your tray, another 50 end up in your lap and on the floor. Consequently, you have become Levi's best friend.

You are babbling up a storm now. And you are still loud. Really, I would expect nothing less in this house. You say "mamamamama" (bestill my heart) and "dadadadada" (bestill his too) and you have your own special sounds for Liam and doggie. You shake your head back and forth and say "nanananana" and laugh at your cleverness. You clap your hands whenever you do something you are proud of...namely climbing and perching onto things that are not meant to be climbed and perched on. And you shake your head and bounce up and down to music. Your are particularly fond of the banjo. Who knows? You smack at my face or pull at my hair when I am not paying you proper attention, which really does nothing to endear me to you, but you often accompany it with 'mmmaaammm", so I become clay in your pudgy little hands. You are still one of the smiliest, happiest babies around but I am now also learning that you are quite head strong too. Shocking. Sigh. Heaven help your momma.




It's been a fast and furious 5 months, Miss Annie. When I think about how last year at this very moment you were still kickin' it in my belly, it barely seems believable. And when I think about how in 7 short weeks we will celebrate your first birthday, well....well...Well, I just started crying in the middle of Starbucks as I wrote that, so there you go. It is miraculous and wonderful and bittersweet to think about. My life has grown infinitely better because of you.

You keep on truckin', girl.

I love you.

Momma