Everything Has a Season

Things have been quiet here around my blog.

Everything has a season, and it's not blog season in my life.

It has been a season for celebrating Monkey turning 9...

And Hubster turning 40...

And for 80s parties...

And for Color Runs...

And lantern festivals...

And friends visiting...

And long autumn runs...

And hikes way up into the mountains...

And for building tree houses...

And for adopting a new kitten...

And for making Doctor Who Halloween costumes...

And for making big career choices and painting bedrooms and reading anesthesiology journals and rocking Duck to bed and getting not enough sleep and being behind on laundry and visits with family and game nights and menu planning and long parent teacher conferences and middle school science projects.

I'm still working on that elusive work-life-family-exercise balance that I'm more and more convinced doesn't exist. I've been pulled in more and more directions than every before. How did I ever have time to just sit and write before?

I may find small quiet moments (like I did today) to share a few moments. But mostly, I'm taking a break from one more thing on my to-do list. Because all the story times and evening workouts and over night shifts and crock pot meal preps and just being there for my children is what is important right now. It is the season for just being there. It's the season for being present.

Teenager

Dear Bug,

I can absolutely not believe you are a teenager. A real, actual teenager.

I'm pretty sure I say that I can't believe you are whatever age you are each birthday, but this year I mean it more than ever.

I'll be honest. I've been dreading this age. 13 and all its accompaniments. Junior high, puberty, angst. It all just dredges up horrible memories of my own newly teenage self.

However, do I even dare say 'so far, so good'?

Because you are 13 are absolutely delightful. When I was 13, delightful was never a word used to describe me. Some of it may have to do from that Y chromosome you have, the one that gave me grief during your toddler age. I do think that most of it is just from you being you.

You are an amazing kid, boy, child, person.

You are funny, and thoughtful, and helpful. You are an amazing older brother, helping out with Duck all the time (in fact, you can get him down for his nap better than anyone.) You are incredibly driven. You made your own account for online summer math classes and have spent time each day studying algebra and independent and dependent variables.

You have yet to show any interest in girls, which is fine. Feel free to keep it that way for another 10 plus years.

You are really settling into yourself, your personality become more fully developed each day.

I also recognize that just as you were getting comfortable with yourself and your world, we uprooted you and moved you across the country, away from everything familiar. I know the timing couldn't have been worse. I apologize for that. I hope that you don't hold this against me forever. (So far, you don't seem to, but I can't help projecting my own feelings of guilt onto you. Sorry about that too.)

I often read of my friends struggling with their preteen and teenage boys, and I wonder how I got so lucky. I know that our struggles will not stay confined to me prodding you to make your bed and get your hair cut. But for now, I'll take what we have and enjoy it each day I can.

Love,
Mom

Two Candles

Even before Duck officially turned two over the weekend, he was already showing he was completely ready to be two.

He's talking up a storm and perfecting the ultimate temper tantrum.

He's also cuddly and so sweet it can almost break your heart, especially when he suddenly starts singing, "Let it go!" in his baby voice and twirling around the living room. 

As we celebrated his birthday, chasing balloons around the house and singing happy birthday about his fox cake (he stubbornly refused to blow out the candles), I was overwhelmed by how grateful I am for this beautiful boy.

The decision to add that third child to our family wasn't trivial. We were getting to the point where things were finally getting "easy," because everyone dressed themselves, went to the bathroom by themselves, and slept through the night. Both Hubster and I were in the thick of our training. But we knew our family wasn't complete.

Duck has added that completeness.

Getting Duck here wasn't trivial. Unexpectedly confronted by the possibility of infertility, the effects of residency plainly taking their toll on my body, we underwent multiple tests and fortunately only one round of medication. The pregnancy and the labor were difficult and trying. But we willingly faced each hurdle because we knew we could love more.

Duck has added that extra love.

Raising babies is never simple. We've had sleepless nights and sick days. We've given up the ability to eat at restaurants and go to movies (and some days, even the grocery store.) But we'd do it all again, because Duck is now a critical component to our family.

Duck has added balance and joy.

So for all that Duck has added to our lives, we celebrated by singing and eating cake, and taking our meals while sitting on the table.

Duck may have just added another year to his age, but for us, he's added so much more.

In Celebration of My Husband

Hubster turned 39 this month.

He may, or most likely may not, appreciate me sharing that.

I scrolled back through my blog to see what I had written on his last birthdays, only to find that it has been years since I've written Hubster a birthday blog post (I'm sure he's completely upset about this.)

If there is a person who deserves more recognition, I feel it's my husband. After all, anyone who has put up with me for all these years deserves something, right (and all he gets is this lousy post.)

This last year has pushed him more than we could have anticipated. Between the increased work load at dental school, and the increasing demands of our children, and the changes at my work, to say that the last year as been difficult would be an understatement.

Happy Birthday to the man who makes breakfast for three very picky eaters every school morning, made all the more difficult by those breakfasts needing to be gluten free.

Happpy Birthday to the man who gets those three kids dressed, ready for school, and out the door each day, by himself, since I leave to work sometimes hours before they are up.

Happy Birthday to the man who takes care of all the bills without ever complaining about it or often even mentioning, so that I have one less thing to worry about.

Happy Birthday to the man who always makes sure I have gas in my car, because I often forget.

Happy Birthday to the man who lets me watch cooking shows and dramas with men in kilts, even where there are sports on the other channel. Sometimes.

Happy Birthday to the man who is willing to smell the questionable gallon of milk and the tub of leftover casserole.

Happy Birthday to the man who gets up with the crying baby during the night, even after long days of school.

Happy Birthday to the man who has picked up more slack and supported me in more ways than I'll probably ever know.

This was supposed to be a chance to celebrate my husband's birthday, but I guess really, it's a chance to say thank you.

Monkey is Eight

Dear Monkey,

You are suddenly so much taller, so much smarter, just so much older at age 8.  This last year, you have grown several inches, but you've grown so much more than just in height.

You want to be with your friends much more, jumping at every chance to be with them. You don't want to watch Disney movies with me anymore, preferring Pokemon and Merlin on Netflix. You don't really want to read with me at night anymore - at least that's what you say, until I find you snuggled next to me on the couch.

Despite all this new independence you're demonstrating, for your birthday this year, you asked for "just a nice party with my family."

So we had a dinner with just us. A Minecraft cake (that melted a little in our hot, end of summer kitchen.) A wagon full of gifts. Silly string fights in the back yard.

The next day, I let you play hokey from school and spend a whole day with just me. It felt like such a luxury for both of us. For you, a whole day where you didn't feel the need to compete for conversation with your older brother or protect all your things from your younger brother. For me, a whole day getting to enjoy this new, older you. 

We went ice skating, and had the entire rink to ourselves. We played tag and had races and were just silly.

We went out to lunch at the fancy restaurant you had requested and I let you order a caffeinated soda. We ate monster-sized burgers and stole french fries off each other's plates. 

It was a wonderful way to celebrate turning 8.

I had the time to realize that even though, with each blink of my eyes, you are older and new and different, you are actually still the same Monkey. Just now, 8 years. And I'm just as luck to be your mom now as I ever have been.

Love,
Mom

Twelve

Dear Bug,

I've spent a long time being scared of you reaching adolescence. I just finally got the whole baby/toddler/little boy thing down - well, not down, but at least to a point where I didn't feel each day handed me a total blindside. So I get that part down and start to feel comfortable, and then you seem insistent on leaving it behind and dragging us into brand new territory.

But can I say that so far, I adore 12. I've had so many favorite ages: you as a cooing 6 month old. You as a chatty, inquisitive 4 year old, you as a voraciously learning 6 year old.

I'm going to add 12 to my list of favorites.

 

At 12, you are thoughtful.

You are always asking me if you can do anything to help. You come up and give me hugs when you can tell I've had a stressful day. You unload the dishwasher and play with Duck without (almost) a complaint.

At 12, you are humble.

You never brag.  At the end of the school year, you competed in a running club race. I couldn't be there to watch. When I picked you up that afternoon and asked how the race went, you replied, "Fine. I ran it in 7 minutes 40 seconds." That was it. No amount of prompting could elicit more details. I found out from one of the other moms that you had won the race. When I congratuled you, you just shrugged and gave me a sheepish smile. I found out you had been awarded a student excellence award from the school newsletter. You never said a thing.

You never ask for anything. When I tried to push you for what kind of birthday cake you wanted or what gifts you wanted, you just said you liked to be surprised and that you've always loved the things I've made for you.

At 12, you are more interesting than ever.

We are starting to share the same interests. We talk about Hunger Game and Harry Potter books. We watch Doctor Who together. We listen to the same music. I'm always worried that you'll see me sharing the same interests that you do as some lame attempt to be the "cool mom." But you don't seem to mind and maybe, just maybe, actually enjoy the time we get to spend together.

At 12, you are sarcastic and funny.

I have no idea where your snark comes from (*cough*). But it's definitely well developed.

At 12, you are handsome, and smart, and responsible...

Well, you've always been those things. I'm just so glad that you continue to be those things.

Yep, 12 is definitely one of my favorite ages.

Love,
Mom

One Year, One Candle

How can this little man be a year already?

Not that he isn't acting like he's a year old, because he definitely is. Just because it feels like a few heart beats and sleepless nights ago that we expanded to a family of five.

At twelve months old, Duck is...

Walking everywhere
Not talking much, but starting to say a few "words:" that, bye, done
Points at everything
Stares very seriously at strangers
Waves good-bye
Starting to sign a little
Intermittently gives up on the whole sleeping thing
Loves reading books, being sung to, going for runs with mom, and snuggles
Dislikes potatoes, sitting in shopping carts, and wearing shoes


Turning one deserves a celebration. I know he won't remember. But we will all remember. Every moment I get to celebrate this beautiful little boy, I'm going to take it.

There was cake and a candle and not a single attempt to blow the candle out.

There were presents and, wow, did that baby ever love pulling tissue paper and presents out of gift bags!

There were balloons and silly music and family dancing and a lot of cleaning up.

Duck is just what this family needed. I watch Bug and Monkey and think how wonderful this little brother has been for them. It's given Bug the chance to be nurturing. It's given Monkey the chance to be the example. It's given Hubster and I a sense of completeness.

Duck is the perfect last baby. He is cuddly and snugly and happy and fun and every reason I so wanted a third baby. He is also full of enough mischief, eating his brothers' school books and throwing shoes in the trash can, that I look at him and think - that's why he's the last!

I'm so grateful for him. This last year has been everything I wanted it to be. I'm glad we got to celebrate it over cake and a candle.