Anneliese, Almost Six

Last week in Anneliese's kindergarten class, she was the "owl of the week" (because just being student of the week is so last millenium?) and she got to ("got to") make a collage and bring a stuffed toy home and write in a journal about it, and also answer a questionnaire about herself.

One of the prompts was to name a dream she has for herself one day. Her answer? "See a rainbow." When I pointed out that she has indeed seen a rainbow before already, she said "Yes! And it was a dream come true!"

So, that's basically all you need to know about Anneliese and her delightful little heart these days.

But here is some more anyway:

She is reading, more and more. She is writing, more and more. Suddenly the world seems hers for the taking. (Hashtag: literacy, amiright?) She sings and dances and makes funny facial expressions and talks with her hands.

She plays with her American Girl doll and her baby doll and chats about Shopkins and Pokemon. She can build lego sets now, with only a little help from big brother. She can fix her own food and find her own tv show and she has her own email address, which she uses to send very important emails covering important topics such as I LOVE YOU and also I LOVE PARSNIPS and also HI BYE LOVE ANNELIESE, but with far fewer correctly spelled words than that there.

She remains obsessed with rainbows. And wearing as many colors as possible. In another of her school projects, she did a collage (why so many collages, teachers of America? whyyyy) or list type thing of her favorites -- naming her favorite color as a rainbow and her favorite animal as a unicorn.

She will not fit into someone else's fill in the blank, NO SHE WILL NOT. (In the most delightful way possible.)

And she is trying very hard to seem grown up, and to grow up, and to be taken seriously, while also clinging tight to a few vestiges of babyhood: her thumb, and Hattie, and dress-ups.

Anneliese seems to approach the world with the assumption that the world is out to delight her. And, therefore, it usually does. I think this is a good way to live. I think I would like to be more like her when I grow up.

I can't believe six years ago tonight she was still inside me, and now here she is, a bright-eyed funny smiling little kindergarten human, making the world better because she is in it. She is everything.

Happy due date, Beanie. We love you always.

Charlotte Booler, Almost Four

Charlotte, despite being born only a few weeks ago and clearly still being a baby, is about to turn four next weekend. Four years ago today I was sitting around very pregnant thinking "any minute now" -- haaaaaa no I wasn't, I knew she would be late, we hadn't even gotten the kids handed off to grandparents by her due date. Anyway. Four years later and this post is going up as we are somewhere on the road between North Carolina and the great midwest (funny, exactly like this day last year), on a long family road trip. One of the games (conversations, really) that Charlotte loves best these days in the car is having us "guess" all the facts about Boolers. What they like to eat and wear and do. She delights in this game. So, let's learn all about what a Booler does.

A Booler loves to giggle and shriek.
A Booler loves her brother and sister.
Boolers always use the potty.
Boolers are delicate flowers who are somewhat accident-prone.
(Boolers bruise easily.)
A Booler loves to dance, always, but especially with no clothes on.
A Booler loves to do dress-ups.
Boolers can buckle their own seat belts!
(But not unbuckle them.)
A Booler cannot walk past a mirror without admiring herself.
Boolers love pigtails, but also bows, but these days mostly pigtails.
A Booler does not like to wear her shoes on the correct feet, ever.
Boolers fall asleep in car seats, almost immediately.
A Booler's favorite foods are yogurt and french fries.
Boolers are social and love other people and might be budding extroverts.
A Booler loves to go to bed with her good-night song.
A Booler's biggest fear is being left behind: "don't leave meeeee!"
Boolers have imaginary friends, sometimes named Apple.
Boolers talk with their hands, emphatically.
A Booler loves to suck her thumb and snuggle Sheepie.
A Booler loves Daniel Tiger and toysies and her trolley hoodie.
Boolers have hair the color of the beach.
But Boolers do not have any curls.
Boolers can swim by themselves but only with a floatie.
Boolers are good at puzzles.
Boolers are good at scooters.
Boolers are really good at coloring.
A Booler promises her family she will always be a Booler.
A Booler makes her family complete.
A Booler is delightful.

Happy due date, Charlotte Booler. You are an amazing little girl.

Nathan at Almost 8

Happy July 22nd! It's Nathan's due date! Again! (No, I have not let go of due dates yet. Hush.)

I am full of feelings today, like every year, remembering eight years ago in the final days of being pregnant, before I was officially a mom. This year for the first time, it feels far away, a long time ago, a previous lifetime. Even just last year I would have said it felt like just yesterday, and now in some ways it does, but mostly it feels now like... a memory.

Pregnancy and babies seem far from my life now, suddenly. It's good and bad. Post for another day. Anyway! *brisk clap*

Sweet Nathan will be eight years old this weekend, y'all. EIGHT.

At almost eight he is still into ships, and dinosaurs, and reading anything non-fiction unless I pull teeth to talk him into a novel. Actually, speaking of teeth, he still hasn't lost any since waaaay last May, over a year ago, and one the Christmas before that. I suspect this time next year he will have a mouth full of holes, or maybe even a mouth full of grownup teeth, so this might be the last of his birthday pictures where he looks like a... little kid. *sob*

He is indeed still little; he actually hasn't gotten any taller since last year, and only one pound heavier, which hopefully doesn't mean anything other than 1- he has Mark's tiny tween genes for being the class shrimp, and 2- he is due for a growth spurt any moment now. He is strong though, and can run fast for a long time, and swim for hours, so his skinny little ribs must have some muscle around them.

He is still a tiny pedant, holding people to their time estimates down to the minute, and correcting anything he perceives as a mistake (I sent him a weather channel video of the biggest ship in the world, and was informed that the biggest ship in the world is actually in a different class and company, and *sigh*) (we are working on politeness). We have no idea where he got that know-it-all gene I MEAN REALLY NO IDEA.

He takes himself and others very seriously, but he also has a playful side when he wants to be silly (and then suddenly acts much younger than his age). He is starting to ask to be into The Things of Older Kids - movies he hears about from friends, and video games, and such. We had one painfully awkward but necessary conversation about birds and bees and the ways life is made, after he learned some wrong things on the playground. (Already!) (I KNOW.) (Recording here for posterity's sake: his notion of all of this came thirdhand via friends about Jack and Rose in the engine room on the Titanic YES REALLY.)

Some days it feels like we are on the brink of a new world, one I am in no rush to get to, yet one I know we can't and shouldn't keep him from.

He is a hard worker and gladly does chores and homework and helps his sisters. He remains one of the most generally compliant kids I have ever known. He loves one on one attention and outings, and is crabby when he feels unseen, and would get lost in internet videos about minecraft, and ship histories, and drawing classes, for hours if we'd let him.

He the moodiest person in our house and also probably the kindest. He is cautious and needs to observe things before he tries them, but once he tries something he keeps pushing until he can do it well; he is driven. He tells funny jokes and horrible ones, is ever better at the cello and ever more tone deaf when he sings, and he writes beautifully.

He is a tiny hoarder of all things sentimental: scraps of paper and drawings and postcards and things other people would consider trash are worth keeping, for him. They get pinned to his bulletin board or stuck in boxes and notebooks, or folded and taped and made into new creations, meshed together with legos and stuffed animals for some world he has dreamed up and decided to build. He is an introvert in the truest sense of the definition: only talks about things important to him, not good at surface level conversation, wants and needs lots of time alone to play and re-charge, and will play happily in his room for long windows of time before emerging to show us what he's been building or working on.

He is a night owl like me, and to wind down in the evenings we usually lie in my bed to read by ourselves together. He is also somehow an early riser, motivated more by the promise of having the house to himself, quiet for breakfast and his favorite youtube channels, than by extra sleep. (He is nothing like me in that way.)

He likes yogurt and candy and hot chocolate and coffee and cheese and crackers and oatmeal and mashed potatoes with gravy. He loves snuggling. He adores his sisters. He texts people the most precious and lovely parts of his heart, things he could or would never say out loud.

He is a wonderful little human, and it's an honor to be his mom, the one who made me a mom, almost eight years ago. Amazing.

Anneliese, 5 1/2, Forever Please

Anneliese is five and a half now; she is rainbows and awkward giggles and big feelings and learning to read and sweaty snuggles and tangled hair and love notes and art projects and sillies and earnestness and questions and green peppers and sparkles and sad tears and sleepovers and constant singing and baking and capital letters written backwards. She is... everything.

"When I drink Sprite and then burp with my mouth closed, it sort of makes my nose feel sparkly inside!"

"If I had a dog, I would name it Silent."

"Did you choose my birthday to be in October because of all the pretty colored leaves?"

"You can't even see the sun because of all the clouds! This is the worst day of my life!"

"I wish there were never such a thing called winter!" (On a day when it was 55 and sunny.)

She is upset on days when she doesn't think she is wearing enough colors. She insists that her favorite fruit is coconuts. In the plural, always. She still towers over the other kids in her class. She sings wrong lyrics to every song on the radio, but consistently, because she memorizes what she thinks she hears insanely fast. She is the free spirit counterpart to balance Nathan's seriousness; they still adore and cling to each other in ways that amaze us, because to be honest we don't understand it. She is a thoughtful and profound little thinker. She approaches the world by assuming that everything is out to delight her, and it usually does. She sits in her feelings well, whether they are high or low. She cries and withdraws when she is sad. She invites everyone in the world in when she is happy. She is wonderful.

My feelings about FIVE FOREVER continue, if you're curious. Five is so great. And halfway through five deserves half a pineapple-coconut pound cake, two flowers planted into a gift bag, and a huge grin.

Boolerisms, 3 1/2

Charlotte is three and a half, and I was all ready to say what she's up to these days but first - can I just say, three looks SO MUCH BETTER on her than it did on her siblings? Three was awful with Nathan, awfuler with Anneliese, and last summer when Charlotte started showing signs of the dreaded Threenager, I was both dreading it and ready for it.

Dreading because it sucks, and ready because I'm a seasoned mom now, and I know two very important things about Age Three:

1.) It is a phase. Threeness is not an indicator of future good citizenship. She is not being ruined forever by my inability to parent her well, and anyway -

2.) IT'S HER, NOT ME. Whatever three is, it's on her. And it will pass.

Aside: my dad once told me that the best parenting advice he could really give to anyone, with kids at any age, it is this: JUST WAIT. Be patient. Almost everything passes. Even if hard things drag on for very long seasons, just keep loving them, don't give up on them or yourself, just wait. I have decided that's really good advice.) (He knows what he's talking about, he had some rough teenager years (side eye: a Certain Brother Who Shall Remain Nameless).

Anyway, after the whole IT'S HER, NOT ME mantra of dealing with little Charlotte Booler, my third three-year-old, well, it turns out... she's fine. All of those months of Brace For Impact were notsomuch needed.

I mean, she has her moments. She's had a few epic tantrums, usually when someone comes or goes out of our driveway and doesn't wave to her (side-eye: Daddy at 6am on the way to work). She is sometimes shrieky, and often slower than Christmas, both of which make me batty. But! She isn't nearly as three as the others were, or maybe she just isn't there yet, or maybe I just getting better at not internalizing threeness as a parenting failure. (I'M DOING IT. I'M BREEZY.) But whatever is happening, it's easier.

So besides being sunshine with a sometimes side of storms, the most important thing about Charlotte these days is that she is talking so much better. Speech therapy is a dream. She thinks it's fun and games, it's not social-worker-stressful for me, and it's working. She rarely stutters now, unless she's really frustrated. We no longer need to rank her days on a speech scale of 1-5, and she is full of cute opinions she can actually voice, and those adorable things that all three-year-olds say in their own funny three-year-old ways:

Instead of singing her ABC's, she sings the EFG song.
PJs are pee-tays.
Nightgowns are night downs.
Her window: my nindow!
When she has an opinion to declare: I pronounce you... not sharing!
When she's finished something she's proud of: ta-done!
When she needs something: can you help with me?
Her blanket is and remains bank-o-link.
When you ask her a question she isn't sure of: singsong voice i-ah know...?
Her life motto with two older siblings: wait fo me!
Her life fear, being left behind: don' weeve me!

She told me recently that she saw a bear in the backyard. A bear! (There is a Bumgarner family legend about my brother seeing a bear in the hall; it was a mouse.) I have no idea what Charlotte really saw. But she told me in all earnestness that it was a bear, and answered detailed questions about it, and opted to play inside after that in case it came back, and all I could do was clap proudly and say EXCELLENT TALKING, BABY BOOLER.

Speaking of imagination, she and I told a story today, doing that thing you do with your kids where you take turns telling one part at a time, making it up as we go. And it turned out to be about a mom who can climb trees, and in the backyard she found a house of fairy ballerinas in a tiny treetop house. Their favorite food is strawberry spaghetti, and their favorite thing to do is to dance on top of the water in the pool when no one is looking.

She should write a book, is what I'm saying.

She told me last week she was "beautiful like mommy" and then my heart
burst into a million tiny hearts and flew all around in a happy cloud, forever.

Here is Charlotte telling us she's three and a half.

She is eating a cupcake that we picked out at the grocery store for her. We decided if a Booler was ever made into a cartoon character, it might look something like that cupcake.

Anneliese at Almost Five

It's October 7th again, and I don't need any stinking timehop notifications to remind me it's Anneliese's due date. Baby Beanie! Who was due on this day, five years ago. FIVE.

I can't believe she's almost five.

I know from experience that five is an awesome age, and while the passing of time is always a little sad, and I will miss her babyhood, mostly I am excited to see what five brings for her. She has grown up so much in the last year. She's gone from a kid just pulling out of toddlerhood, into a... little lady. It is so cool to see. She's a bright spot in any day - happy, joyful, friendly. Delightful, basically.

Amongst our three, she seems like an extrovert, but out in the wild compared to the general population, decidedly less so. She's not shy, but she's not the most outgoing in a crowd either. She's friendly and chatty and easy to talk to.

She loves to swing, and play dress-up, and have books read to her, and dance. She hates being cold. She loves bright colors, as many as possible at the same time. She's never seen a rainbow anything that didn't thrill her.

She attaches to people and craves their love and wants to be with them. She and Nathan remain almost inseparable when they're home, and I don't see that changing anytime soon. There was a hurtful exchange of words last week that shook them both up (me too!) but even that, they've come right back from. I can't believe that five years ago right now, Nathan didn't even know her yet. His life, like all of ours, is so much better because she is in it.

I think, actually, that Nathan and Charlotte and Ali might each name Anneliese as their favorite -- she's a real middle child in that way. She adores them all and is happy to be the in-demand playmate, bouncing between trains and princesses and snuggles and dinosaurs and coloring.

When she does want to be alone (unusual, but it happens) she wants to sit on the deck and look at the sky and the pool. Or swing as high as she can, while singing a song at the top of her lungs. Or lie on our shoulders and close her eyes and suck her thumb. Or paint a picture in neon colors, covering the whole page til there's not any white.

She remains ever loyal to Hattie, who is more flat and less green every year, yet as loved as ever. I made Anneliese a friendship bracelet in June and she requested a matching one for Hattie, and now they both have rainbow bracelets they wear all the time. Yes, still. My four-year-old has been wearing one single bracelet for almost five months. And hasn't lost it. Which, considering the rate she loses everything else under the sun (on my gravestone: ANNELIESE WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES), is pretty unbelievable.

She is incredibly helpful at home (especially with Ali, much more than she ever was with Charlotte... maybe just an age thing?) - fetching things and soothing tears and zipping jackets and putting socks on toddlers. She loves helping. Her teachers at preschool tell me she's the same way there.

You'd think this would mean she's great at cleaning up, but no. NO. NOPE. She leaves a trail of mess behind her wherever she goes, somehow shedding stickers and glitter and feathers and toys that she must pull out of thin air, just to drop on the ground. Some days she literally leaves rainbows in her wake.

She'd rather roll around in a mess giggling than clean up, when it comes time. Well, until the giggles turn to sobs. Cleaning up usually ends in sobs. The effort she will put into not cleaning up seems so much harder than just... cleaning up. I don't get it.

Like every other almost-five-year-old in America, she loves Frozen. She also likes to watch Daniel Tiger and My Little Pony, and she loves the Olivia books. She likes nature magazines and she pores over the American Girl Doll catalog any time it comes in the mail (how can this be starting already?? curses, CURSES to whoever got us on that list).

Her love affair with cottage cheese seems to be over, which makes me sad, even though it's gross and I can't fault her for finally realizing that. But it was her first favorite food! These days she loves hot dogs and bananas and yogurt and mac and cheese, and -- her very favorite food in the world -- Daddy's spaghetti.

She sometimes says really profound things without knowing it: I was sad when that didn't happen, but it's okay because it felt good to hope for it.

Whoa.

She feels her feelings, big, all of them. Sometimes that means she hurts, and it's hard to watch, but mostly I'm really glad she's like that. I'm wired the same way. I get it. It's a curse but mostly a blessing.

She asks every Friday to have a sleepover with Nathan, and we always say yes. She asks every night to be tucked in one extra time. She asks every night for us to leave the hall light on til we go to bed. She tells us every night, still, for years now -- love you night night, like it's all one phrase, like a good-night is always connected to love you. We all say it that way now. She's a good influence on us.

Happy due date, Anneliese. You delight us every day with your kindness and your sweet heart and the joyful way you love people. You are a ray of sunshine to those of us who get to be around you. It's tempting to believe I love you so much that I couldn't possibly love you more, but I know I will again tomorrow. You keep chasing those rainbows, little lady.

Charlotte at Almost Three

As this post goes up, I am somewhere in the great American midwest, en route to Minnesota, no idea exactly where yet, but on August 1st {Note 8/5: Lies. I didn't have pics so it didn't publish til I got home. Whatever.} it will be weird because 1- AUGUST (where did July go?) and 2- Charlotte's due date! And this is the second year I am far from her on her due date which is also weird, not because a due date needs family togetherness, but just because (as we have well established) I remain connected to due dates. Now and forevermore amen. You should all make peace with this fact. I have.

Anyway, let's talk about Charlotte. She's delightful.

Here are my favorite things, right now, here in this season of two but not yet three (I am bracing myself for three, because frankly it suuuuucked the first two times but this time I vow to not take it personally if it goes south again), my favorite things in this sweet and funny and curious year:

Booler - She is the only one of our kids with a nickname we actually use every day, and it is nothing we could have planned as a nickname, just a nonsense word Nathan used to use about everyone, that somehow only stuck to Charlotte. It doesn't mean anything, but it somehow seems very her. I guess that's the nature of a nickname?

Who wikes a moo? Charlotte's favorite game is maybe the one where all the kids sit around asking each other who likes and doesn't like random things, and then raising their hands accordingly. (It is a riveting game.) We get asked about different kinds of dinosaurs and people we know and songs and colors and Charlotte inevitably joins in with a singsongy voice saying who wiiiiikes... a moo? and a few weeks ago when she told us I don't wike a moo, I wike a wadybug, it made us sad. I guess she knows a moo is a cow now. (Another favorite is who wiiiiikes... a hockahonut? = chocolate donut. SO GREAT.)

I come too! Charlotte's motto in life. Never quite keeping up, always worried she will be left behind, never wanting to be left out. I struggle with this, actually, because Nathan and Anneliese are so close and there doesn't seem room yet for Charlotte in it. I totally thought that by now the girls would be closer -- they are closer in age, and with Nathan in school every day (and all day) they have more time together, and they're both girls. Am I assuming some kind of sister closeness, based on my own childhood experience, that doesn't always happen? I keep waiting for the shift from feeling like big kids + a baby, to Nathan + the girls, but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe it won't. And that would be okay I guess. But in the meantime it is adorable and also sometimes makes me ache to see how much Charlotte loves to come along, not just with Anneliese and Nathan, but anytime anyone goes anywhere. She's our baby who is determined to keep up.

Silly goose - Dang, two is such a good age for delighting in all things silly, isn't it? Charlotte loves to giggle at nonsense things, and is just learning to call other people out on not making sense. If I forget my keys or miss a PJ button or something, she loves to call me silly goose and it is just so old fashioned and funny and, well, delightful. Mommy you a silly goose!

Singing and dancing - Between her beloved Daniel Tiger (she knows the words to every episode's jingle) and her and Anneliese's collective fascination with Frozen, Charlotte sings constantly. She sings to her animals and in the car and in bed, and dances too. (She has always been kind of dancey so it is fun she gets to start in a dance class this fall. She is very very excited.) My favorite is when she sings the Daniel good-night song to her toys, in her sweet little gentle voice, and oh it just makes me melt.

Lefty - Our baby is for sure a lefty. She is very consistent. (For a while we thought Anneliese might be, but she goes back and forth between hands now, although almost always writes backwards when she uses her right hand, so who knows, maybe she is too -- but Charlotte is for sure.) I am already stumbling into little things that are harder for lefties, or they have to learn differently -- scissors and the way certain toys spin or open or whatever. Things I have never had to notice before, except growing up with  my lefty sister. Anyway it's a cute sweet thing about her.

She does look a lot older to me than a year ago, her face showing a year of life with her frankenbooler scar and her missing bottom tooth. She has a lot more hair too, but I can't bring myself to do her first haircut yet. It will happen maybe before school starts. Three is a good age, right? (I am totally doing that thing where I baby the last baby into not growing up too fast, and no I'm not sorry.)

So, my last baby is about to be three. We are on the cusp of a new era of child-rearing. WEIRD. We are almost done with diapers and I assume naps will go next. We are already done with strollers and high chairs and cribs. And suddenly we have a family full of kids. I both hate it and love it. Hi there, am a walking cliche.

Happy almost three, little baby Booler. You are our sunshine and you are just the best.

Due Date Update - Nathan at Almost Seven

Yes, yes, you read that blog title correctly. It has been seven years, and I still remember/love/hate/notice due dates as much as I did when my babies were still quietly kicking away inside me. And it remains a good time for updates, so here's what's up with Nathan these days:

He is very bright. His love and obsession surrounding dinosaurs has branched out to other kinds of science and animal kingdom factoids, with a special fondness for whales and other animals that are as old as his favorite dinos. (We are very very into sperm whales in particular, these days. Did you know that sperm whales live in every ocean of the world? Did you know that they are the most fascinating kind of whale? Because they have about ten fascinating things about them and other whales have only about four or five.) (That is basically a direct quote.)

He is also newly re-interested in the friend cars, especially the second movie, which is totally not as good but does have cars from around the world and he likes to ask questions about different countries and their flags and languages and such. I remember sometime when I was a kid, going through a phase where I wanted to look up flags of the world in the encyclopedia (adorable right? you know that flag page was the best! it was!) and it seems so unreal to me that my own tiny baby is old enough to show his own interest in that kind of thing. It seems like such... big kid territory. I don't know.

Relatedly, he has learned that he can type almost anything into the YouTube search box and watch a video on it. Which could be dangerous for some kids but little adorkable Nathan is just high on documentaries about dinosaurs and whales and how trains are made, and African animals, and really boring (he denies it, but it is true) people who collect and show Disney and Pixar toys, which basically numbs my brain but he would watch forever if we'd let him. These are also the kinds of things he wants to read about. I have to really talk him into reading stories. He would much rather read fun! fact! type things, which... I mean, okay? Not what I would read (Ramona! Buddy! Get on board! That is good stuff!) but he is his own little creature and I like that he likes what he likes, yknow?

He is still a little on the small side, just below average on the growth charts for his age, but tiny next to his peers, considering he is one of the youngest for his year, and there are many (many) kids who red-shirted kindergarten and are more than a year older than he is. All of which is fine, he doesn't seem to mind, and Mark was always the tiny one in his class growing up, so they can bond over it. And maybe next year his feet will actually touch the floor when he plays his cello! One can hope!

He still loves playing with legos and trains and he loves doing choir and orchestra, and he is a braver and braver swimmer. He is a fast runner and loves to be outside. He seems to be somewhat outgrowing his need to "look cute" (or his definition of that has changed) and most of the time he wanders around in gym shorts and no shirt and no shoes. We keep it rull classy around here.

He remains a pretty sensitive kid, easily offended and hurt (and then crabby about it), but also quick with a kind word or note for people he loves. He is so. much. moodier. than he was a year ago, and I hear that seven will bring even more 'tude, so I am trying to brace myself, and also feel ready to just roll with it. He loves his sisters fiercely, and stays very glued to Anneliese's hip. They have sleepovers in each other's rooms every Friday night (I guess Charlotte will join them when she is potty trained?) and although there are times it pains me to see Charlotte struggle to keep up with them and be included (which is a post for another day, maybe), I would never ever begrudge those two their closeness and attachment to each other. I think Anneliese has maybe been the most important person in Nathan's life since the day she came home from the hospital, and still is.  I could do with less bickering most days, but he is just such a good big brother that is hard for me to remember a day when his life didn't include that role. Weird.

As I am writing this, he is reading over my shoulder and wants me to also say that his YouTube videos are definitely not boring.

So there's that.

Happy due date, sweet Nathan! Almost seven!

The Booler, Two and a Half

Charlotte is two and a half!

I keep doing that thing where I compare her age to the other kids' ages when we were doing X or Y or Z in years past, and it keeps blowing my mind. Like, Charlotte is now a year OLDER (a year! older!) than Anneliese was when we were renovating this house and moving in. She is now older, by many months, than Nathan or Anneliese were when they became big siblings. (Yet, Charlotte is still somehow the baby whom I carry around, a lot. Hmmm.)

We had her preschool conference a few weeks ago, and I was all ready to write a fighty post about how she is FINE and even though she seems a stitch baby-like compared to some other kids her age, we are FINE and she is FINE -- and I have several theories about why that could be, but mostly it boils down to her being a relatively shy kid, with relatively babyish hair, and she doesn't have a ton to say in big groups, and she is FINE. I don't want to write that whole post.

I do need to say, post-conference, for myself and for the record, that she totally and most definitely does talk in short sentences, saying things like this below, all the time constantly over the course of every day (not that I am counting or making a mental note or anything because hoo boy that makes me look more defensive than I like to think I am, but here goes anyway):
1.) Mommy look! (wook)
2.) I come too!
3.) I'm hungry.
4.) Daddy's at work.
5.) It's Nathan's bus.
6.) I see a puppy!
7.) I want oatmeal.
8.) It's my blocks!
9.) It's my Daniel!
10.) It's myyyyyyyyy!!!! (x1000)
11.) Bowden's barking.
12.) That's too loud.
13.) I go to school.
14.) Mommy please help you?
15.) I did it! All by self!
16.) I fall down! I'm okay!
17.) That's mommy's phone.
18.) Anneliese is going potty.
19.) It's a house. And a car!
20.) I found it! (also x1000)

Ummm actually just by reading those sentences you can get an idea of what it is like to hang out with Charlotte every day, actually.

She is sweet and funny and tiny and gentle and very much our baby, which I'm sure Mark and I perpetuate, Nathan and Anneliese too for that matter. But she is increasingly brave, and increasingly more insistent on doing what the big kids do. She does not want to be left out. If they are outside, she wants to be there too. Or playing legos or painting or watching a movie or any of the other myriad things we have tended to let them do while Charlotte does her baby things (like take a nap), and she is over that pattern. Over it. So she toddles after them, trying to keep up, and then after a spell she gives up and crawls back into our laps, or lies on the floor talking to her toysies, or hugging her blanket (bank-o-link, she calls it), and we smile because that place between toddler and kid is just kind of delightful. (Until she is three. Three is looming. I will not be scared, I will not be scared. For now, absofreakinglutely DELIGHTFUL.)

Last week she brought me this cape, wanting me to put it on her, and she asked to "be super?" -- in case you were wondering what I mean by delightful.

Oh! And she finally knows her actual name (shah-laht!) and doesn't insist it is Night-night, so there is also that.

Happy half birthday,Charlotte Booler!

Six and a Half

Nathan is very suddenly six and a half, which is weird because I had barely wrapped my brain around him being six, and it is becoming clear that he is really and truly, for real life (as he likes to say) reneging on his agreement to stay five forever. WHAT THE WHAT, NATHAN.

However, at six and a half, he is still (mostly*) delightful. (*Six is moody. He has bad days. Of course.) He is quite shy until suddenly he feels comfortable and gets chattery (although he glares if I call him either shy or chattery, so).

He is helpful, sweet and playful/bickery/playful with his sisters, and incredibly generous with a kind thought or compliment. He loves showing people love, and he is good at it, in the best ways a child can be. (And I adore this about him, clearly.)

He likes dinosaurs and puzzlies and patterns, and facts/trivia about animals and nature-y things, and he will talk about them to anyone who will listen. Also sometimes when we aren't listening. He likes yogurt and pbj sandwiches and hot chocolate and gummy fruit snacks. He loves to draw and write. He has capital-o Opinions about many of his shirts. He gets excited when he can wear ties, like Daddy. He still likes building with legos, he has an up-past-bedtime reading habit, and he has become a pretty fast little runner for a kid who took a healthy season of forever to decide he could walk.

He likes to send emails and write people notes and cards. They are full (full!) of exclamation marks. He is learning a little more on the computer but is still contentedly clueless (read: Mark and I are content) about phones and other techy stuff. He does know how to turn the TV on and find pbs kids, which our saturday mornings thank him for. He can make his own breakfast and pack his own lunches, mostly. He does his homework happily and quickly, which I know is no small thing and believe me, we do not take it for granted.

He frequently brings us new taped and stapled papers he has turned into books -- about music and math and people he knows, and occasionally* (*HA HA HA HA) a dinosaur or two makes an appearance. He loves to quiz everyone around him (including his sisters) on what plus what equals what. (We all need to perfect Charlotte's raised-eyebrow blank stare in response to these questions.)

He tells terrible jokes which are really just nonsensical questions with no punchlines. Why does YouTube have a face? ...And that's it. No follow up. Just the question, followed by lots of giggles. Ummm that is not a joke, buddy.

Oh and speaking of YouTube, we taught him that he can enter almost anything into the search box there and find a video about it, so he has therefore logged hours and hours of fossil documentaries, slideshows of toy cars with japanese subtitles, dinosaur sketches shown over rock music soundtracks, and every Jurassic Park trailer, twice* (*gross under-exaggeration).

Y'all, it blows my mind how bright he is. He is blowing through chapter books and asking insightful questions about them, and working through math ideas with a creative approach he definitely didn't get from me. (He still has not solved the Rubik's cube. I know someone will ask. At some point he will realize he can ask YouTube how to do it, but he hasn't yet.)

He is ever more clearly an introvert, and ever more clearly a sensitive creature, a being of feeeeeelings. He hates hurting people, but he also hates apologizing. He shuts down in the face of emotional conflict. Like, completely shuts down. He loves snuggling and back scratching, and when words and conversation evade him, he needs to be physically close to feel emotionally close. He has a very clear sense of what is fair (and not fair), and while it doesn't always line up with what we think is fair (or not fair), I like that he cares enough and is observant enough about the world and other people to have his own ideas about it.

He still does his track/walking club before school on Fridays, and taekwondo once a week, and he sings in the children's choir at church (where Another Nathan is finally finally his director, a moment I thiiiiink they have both been waiting for since oh I don't know, 2009-ish). He has started in orchestra at school, where he now knows the proper names for the strings on his cello and is learning to legitimately read music. (He freaking loves that cello. Loves. It. WE HAVE TRIUMPHED AS BAND GEEK PARENTS.)

So yeah, that is Nathan, at six and a half. And we love him so.

A Year and a Half

Sweet little Charlotte,

You are eighteen months old! Happy half birthday, baby girl!

You have made strides in the last few months. Literally -- you're walking! You're eating everything under the sun (although not gaining much weight; will you always be our tiny delicate baby?) and finally starting to feed yourself a bit more.

Your wide bright eyes still get lots of comments, and your head is full of wispy wild hair. A lady in St Croix last week told you that the gap in your mouthful of teeth is called a sweet tooth -- the space is for your sweetness -- and I have decided it must be true. You are seriously so beautiful.

You have been a bit scared of strangers recently. More than a bit scared actually. Like, a room full of people  (even when you're safely in my arms and don't have to interact with anyone) sometimes makes you lose your sh!t. (People love you anyway. Don't worry. You're darling.)

You know a lot of words but don't have much to say, apparently. We have to content ourselves mostly with a lot of hi and what's that? and cheer in the moments you decide to say Dada or Eee-lee or Naynay, or ball, or blow us a kiss with your newest, night-night. Oh and when you do say my name, you call me Ommy which you should know makes me a little melty.

You continue to be the most flexible person in this house, rolling with everyone else's schedules and rarely making a fuss about it. You can never have enough attention, especially from Daddy. And the look on your face standing in your crib each morning to see whose turn it is to come "wake" you and play with you -- priceless.

You will occupy yourself for looooong stretches of time emptying and unloading your play groceries from your cart, or building with blocks, or your new favorite -- bringing us balls or small toys to throw so you can toddle after them and bring them back. It's fetch! And you're basically the cutest puppy we've ever had (don't tell Bowden and Simon).

You are frequently covered on your back in stickers, the product of having two older siblings. Likewise, showing up to the church nursery clinging to sippy cups labeled with a band that says "Anneliese" and sporting bibs with Nathan's name and monogram embroidered on them. You know, classic third kid stuff.

I can't believe how old you are already. My last baby, no longer a baby. A toddler, walking around the house in clothes that I remember Anneliese wearing when we were renovating this place, when you were but a series of kicks and stretch marks, gestating inside me. Traipsing around St Croix in a swimsuit your big sister learned to crawl on the beach in, like, oh I don't know, a few weeks ago. How is this possible already? Is this a last baby thing? Will you always seem younger and tinier in my mind than you really are?

You're spending this year's half-birthday a little sick. Or, a lot sick. We've been passing around some kind of cold virus (likely RSV, apparently) that moves straight to the chest. It eventually caused bronchitis in Anneliese, and I had pneumonia the week before we went to St Croix. And while we were there, it hit you too. So much coughing, so  much wheezing, so little sleep, so many tears. We're all praying it stays out of your lungs and you feel better soon, sweet sicky girl.

In the meantime, keep smiling in between the sneezes, keep hiding behind your hands when someone says "where's Charlotte?" and know that you can put your little head on my shoulder for a hug any any any any time you want.

Love you so much. Happy half-birthday, little one.

Charlotte at Almost One

{Mark and I have been spent most of the week in Williamsburg. Grownup time! But still totally thinking about Charlotte on August 1st, what will forever be her due date.}

It's been a big year of ups and downs for little Charlotte. But I think it's safe to say we're about to end on a high note, with a happy gappy grin.

She's still kind of tiny, but growing like crazy on this all-milk diet. Her sweet little cheeks have filled out, and she'll be eating real food again very soon, we're planning. And in the meantime, don't worry, there will be cake on her birthday. I have shed way too many tears over this for there not to be cake.

She's not quite ready to walk or crawl yet, but make no mistake: the girl gets where she wants to go. Her elbow-belly scoot is surprisingly fast, and she has blisters turning into callouses on her left foot, where she pushes herself around. She's trying oh so hard to pull herself up with her arms, and she's worked up a pretty hilarious backbend too.

She's turned into a constant babbler, finally. Lots of imitating sounds, and intonation. Her only clear words are really hi, dada, nay nay, once in a while mama, and new this week -- whoa! Um adorable. She also says something that sounds dangerously like again and more when she's in a giggle fit and can't get enough. Oh and she sighs and squeals and sings along with us. If that's not real music I don't want to know what is.

Basically Charlotte is a dream baby. She's easy and flexible and sleeps when I want her to (and for the most part, only when I want her to -- thank you, baby girl, for so happily adapting to the big kid nap schedule even before you were ready, and for keeping it together even when our schedule needs result in your sleep deprivation).

At almost one, she's really old enough to play games with us, and laugh with us, and do cutsey things for attention. She's charming and loving and I really can't say enough good things about her at this age. (No one remind me that in two years she'll be markering up my house, mmmkay? I need to bask in this.)

It's been a whirlwind year -- she and I have both had more ups and downs than we could ever write down even if we were dying to make them internet-public (and we're not), but I think I feel closer to her because of it all.

Hey Charlotte, look! I almost got all the way through this blog post without mentioning you were supposed to be born on August 1st, but instead came a week late. A week late. Later than all  my other late babies! Let the record show I'm cool with it. Not only for the scheduling reasons we needed last summer, but because it doesn't break my heart that my last pregnancy got to last a little longer. Now let's do the same thing with your babyhood, okay? My last baby. Let me hang onto this a bit. Don't rush me, baby Charlotte.

Stay my baby forever.

Almost Five

So I'm (almost) five years into this mommy gig now, and it turns out NOPE you never do forget those due dates! So, that answers that.

Another year, another July 22nd.

And this year, the days of the week have fallen exactly as they did in 2007 (well, since leap day) which means that each week as another Sunday rolls around (my weeks hit on Sundays), I remember exactly where I was in Nathan's pregnancy. Weird huh? How these Sundays have stuck with me? After five years! Especially over the last month.


July 1- finally it's here! I will have a baby this month! July 8 - recovering from Jenny's wedding. I didn't give birth in my bridesmaid dress! Win! July 15 - big event I'm in charge of at church tonight to welcome our new choir director. Don't have the baby yet, don't have the baby yet. July 22 - due date! Where is this baby? Seriously. I'm ready dude.

So while I was sitting around on that first July 22nd, wondering when Nathan would decide it was time to make me a mommy, I had no idea how fast the next five years would go. Like, stupid fast.

I'm sure someone told me then: don't feel too rushed about it, before you know it you'll turn around and he'll be ready for kindergarten and OH MAH LAWD IT'S TRUE. Because here I am now, with the baby who did finally appear, now... a beautiful bright little boy.

It stops me in my tracks sometimes. 

Nathan is a funny blend of silly and solemn. He is oh so smart (it might be tacky to say that, but it's true so I don't care) and learns so quickly and has a memory that continues to almost frighten us. Like, scary impressive.

He has a silly side that, when it comes out, is pretty contagious. He loves to dance (when he thinks no one is looking) and sing (when only parents and sisters can hear) and he's been known to squeal a nonsense word over and over and over again when the mood strikes (brrrrrreitsch! - with a rolled R and german accent, naturally). He shows affection to people by adding booler to the end of their names (hi pretty baby Charlotte booler!) and climbing all over them with hugs and giggles.

But he also takes himself very seriously. He wants things exactly how he wants them -- food, his clothes, his toys. Everything has a proper name, and no other name will do. (We don't call it The Cat in the Hat, we call it *Dr. Seuss* The Cat in the Hat. Yeah.) He wants to do things correctly, wants them to work, and is frustrated when it doesn't come to him easily. Fear of failure what.

In a crowd, he is the quiet one. Not one of the quiet ones, but the quiet one. The quietest one. He observes the people and activity around him, and later can recount what was going on, down to a scary level of detail, but he is hesitant to actually join in, in the moment. To the point where when strangers ask him questions, he mostly just freezes and stares, even when he perfectly well knows the answer. Which I guess is okay? So yeah, he's an introvert, through and through, which is surprising to us, considering how chatty and outgoing he was (within our family unit anyway) as a toddler. When it comes to social activity, he's just... cautious. 

He's actually kind of cautious in general. He doesn't love trying new things, but when he gets himself to do it, he's all grins and pride. Climbing to the high slide, doing tae kwon do, jumping in the pool. He tries only in his own time, and after much coaxing, but when he finally does, he's glad. (I'm trying to convince him the same is true for vegetables, which he continues to snub after the required few bites.)

His favorite things these days are dinosaurs, legos, books, trains, and he's still hanging onto the friend car love too. In the sweetness of his own room, he is also very attached to a handful of stuffed animals, mostly his tiger and giraffe, but he would never admit that to his friends. (Or that he still sucks his thumb to sleep or watch tv. (He doesn't do it in public, so no, it's not a battle we're choosing to fight at this point.)

He likes doing play-doh and drawing and writing. He's starting to learn to read, and I have to say that sounding out words with him, or letting him read the words he knows when we do bedtime books, is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done as a mommy (not on the list: potty training uggggggggggggh).

Nathan is super independent, not in a toddlerish I do it myself kind of way (see: Anneliese) but in that he's actually independent. I almost can't believe the day is here where he gets himself up in the morning, feeds himself (and sometimes his sister!) breakfast, dresses himself, plays DVDs by himself, (finally!) wipes his own bum, brushes his own teeth, bathes himself (we do his hair), and buckles his own seat belt. And since he can clearly handle the responsibility, we also have him unload the silverware from the dishwasher, feed Bowden and let her out, clean his own room, clean out his part in the back of the van, etc. (Oh what's that sweetie? You want independence? I'm hearing... chores.) I guess it's all very normal for a kindergartner, but it still startles me sometimes that he's such a big kid already.

The very best thing in Nathan's world is probably (you guessed it) Anneliese. His partner in joy and in crime. I have always believed that a sibling is a gift, but even with my own rockin awesome brother/sister experience, the connection between these two is more than I could have dreamed. If there's one mommy prayer I pray consistently from day to day, it's that this relationship will stay so beautiful and supportive and honest and real, for many many more years to come. If the 2yo/4yo manifestation is this wonderful, imagine how it will look when they're teenagers! Young adults! Grandparents! Of course I also hope someday for Charlotte to feel close to both of them as well, but right now I am so enjoying the way these two enjoy each other. No one brings bigger smiles or better laughs from Nathan and Anneliese than they do from each other.

I shed a happy tear over this whole thing at least several times a week. It's maybe the most lovely thing in my world, watching my children love each other.

And I know I have been saying this for years, but my favorite thing about Nathan continues to be his kindness. Although this year saw some firsts in terms of the naughties (including lying to mommy *gasp* yes I am still aching over that one), he mostly continues to impress us with his keen sense of empathy. I guess that's the whole observational thing he's got going on. He knows and notices what people like and don't like, hates when others are hurting, and is seriously joyful with them when they're happy. He's sensitive and sweet with his smiles and hugs and a genuine desire to understand why people feel the way they do.

He offers earnest compliments even in odd circumstances (after the gym: you don't need to change, those pants look so cute on you), is quick to notice when someone does something well (good job buckling your seat belt mommy!) and says excuse me and thank you even to creatures who don't really understand (like Charlotte and Bowden). Nice kid win.

So basically he's (mostly) a dream of a five-year-old. But the important thing is that we love him to bits, always more and more through the mind-boggling changes since five years ago, and we were already in love then. It's a bizzarre thing isn't it? Every child does it, and every parent must feel the profound sense of simultaneous loss and growth and adoration. All across the globe, for thousands of generations, people have known this love. It's far from unique, but really and truly: it's nothing short of a miracle.

We love you, Nathan. Our almost-five-year-old.

Charlotte at Eleven Months

Listen, this is weird: this is my last baby-month blog update. Probably ever. Charlotte is eleven months old, which means in a few short weeks she will be one and then she'll soon be a toddler not a baby and she's my last one and this is all going too fast and nooooooooooooo.

Deep breaths.

So like I was saying (in the most logical, least emotional way possible), Charlotte is eleven months old. And doing so great.

shiny eyes and crazy hair and gappy grin = love

Since the hospital, she has stayed with her all-milk diet and we haven't re-introduced solid food yet. She's doing well on milk, and gaining weight, so why run the risk of fussing with her tummy again until she's completely caught up? (Also you don't hear me complaining. In case I haven't mentioned it once or a hundred times, baby food sucks.) She's sucking down about six bottles a day, plus nursing once or twice, and seems perfectly content with that.

She's also become (dare I say it?) kind of... mobile. I mean, she can't really crawl, but she can definitely drag herself and roll herself to where she wants to go. Yesterday that meant right out the back door and down the stoop in an attempt to go play with Nathan and Anneliese who were squirting each other with the hose. (I intervened too late. They got Charlotte too.) She's also sitting well, very consistently, and will gladly bear weight on her legs which continues to be the most shocking thing a Goettsch child can do.

We're also seeing a sensitive side of Charlotte come out now that she's moving around a little.  For months, firm words, while she certainly heard them, were really only directed at other people. But now that she's kind of into everything, we've had to do some quick yelps and grabs to save her from things like, say, power cords and electrical sockets.  And it just breaks her heart every time. The lip trembles and she cries a sad sad cry. We're trying to be as gentle as we can in our reprimands so we don't make her panic, while still also teaching her that some things really are scary. That chair! It will tip over! Really!

She's increasingly dependent on other people to entertain her. She has a high tolerance for stimulation, and a low tolerance for boredom. She doesn't ever seem exhausted of Nathan and Anneliese all up in her face with noisy toys and voices and silliness, but when they're ready for a break she's pissed. Never too much attention for this one! Did you know there's nothing more hilarious than a big brother showing how high he can jump, or a big sister blowing on your face over and over again?  True story.

I'm trying not to panic that before the next month passes, my last baby will be past her official babyhood (*sobs*) and suddenly I won't be a mom of little babies anymore. For the first time in five years. (Oh heavens. Five years. Also before the month is out, Nathan will be five. Speaking of panic. Post for another day.) For now I am going to make the most of another few weeks of her first year.

Happy eleven months, sweet growing girl.

Charlotte at Ten Months

In all the chaos of the hospital this week and our discharge appointment today, we barely noticed that Charlotte is officially ten months old!

I'm sure that much of the past month has been delightful, full of smiles and giggles and proud moments of learning to sit (and now wave! adorable), but right now all that's at the front of my mind is vomiting and doctors and questions and medical stress. And it still feels hurtful and ugly and overwhelming. A better mommy would see through the cloud and write something lovely, and I will be that mommy again next week.  But for right now, I can just say this:

Charlotte is wonderful and perfect. Exactly how she is. We love her and we are glad to have her home.

And that is the official ten-month update.

Charlotte at Nine Months

Charlotte is nine months old today!

And, coincidentally, based on careful calendar-counting of 41 weeks gestation (minus the two "pregnant" weeks before she was actually in there), plus 41 weeks and a day since she was born... it's also her inside-out day!

That means she's officially been out here in the world longer than she was inside me.

WHAT.

(Cue predictable commentary about the impossibility of this, because her pregnancy was clearly forrrrrevvvvverrrr long, and also wasn't she born like ten minutes ago?)

signature gap-tooth grin

The best way I can describe Charlotte at nine months is on the verge.

On the verge of talking. We hear dada with some regularity, and once I swear I heard a mama but considering it hasn't happened since, I'm finally conceding it was an accident. We hear a ha! every time we see her or greet her, which we're pretty sure is hi. And in case anyone wasn't sure how to melt Mark's heart, a gap-toothed beautiful baby girl flailing her arms saying ha dada! will totally do it. True story.

On the verge of sitting. She's oh so close. If she's really in the mood she can hold herself up for a few seconds, but never long enough yet to get a picture. I give it a few weeks. Well, nine months and a few weeks. She's following in her siblings' delayed-gross-motor footsteps after all. But that's a post for another day. For now, she's less behind than they were (we think?) and the important thing is she is on the verge of sitting! As all mommies can attest, a whole world of photographable moments will come when this finally happens.

playing in big sister's room

On the verge of a growth spurt. We haven't had her nine month checkup yet, so we don't know if she's actually gained much since starting solids a few weeks ago, but to our eyes (the ones that matter), she is losing some of the lanky skinniness that has defined her for the last few months, and she's finally starting to fill out a little. Anyway she eats incredibly well (and incredibly much). I can feel the growth spurt coming.

On the verge of weaning. This one brings mixed feelings, so I don't want to write too much about it.  But now that Charlotte has food, she doesn't care as much about the boob. Sad but true. She still nurses 3-4 times a day, but it takes an effort to keep her focused on feeding instead of whatever her brother and sister are doing, or whoever else might be in the room talking. It's the opposite of Nathan and Anneliese who both resisted food somewhat (Nathan especially) (story of his life now that I think about it) in favor of nursing. With Charlotte, I'm going to keep going as long as I can, but I don't know if she'll even last the year I was hoping for, and almost certainly not longer.

On the verge of real personality (and by personality I mean opinions). In the past week or so, she has started to balk when we strap her in her car seat, put her in her crib before she's ready (oh baby girl, you will learn I don't care; it's naptime), or replace a toy she's holding with something safer (like an actual toy). She is starting to expect us to pick things up when she drops (read: throws) them. And she's just learning that if she giggles she will get all the attention. I sense a stirring of personality that is about to explode onto the scene. Brace yourself.  And stay tuned.

Yay for nine months, baby girl! I love you even more now than I did the day I found out you were in me (and believe me, that was already a lot). Happy inside out, little Charlotte.

Yet Another Half Birthday Love Letter

Dear Anneliese,
Here we are again. Your half-birthday. And I'm writing yet another love letter, yet another attempt to tell you how much I love you and why, all while knowing it's still mostly impossible to articulate. But knowing I can never fully explain it is a really bad reason for not trying anyway.

So, I try.

Because I want you to know that your smile still melts my heart. That there's no better sight than you bouncing and racing toward me for a hug, and no better feeling than your arms around me and the weight of your head on my shoulder. That your curls in the sunlight bring tears sometimes. That your smell -- grubby and slobbery and sweet -- makes me a little lovedrunk.

And because I am so proud of you, sweetie. What we call feistyness or stubbornness is a beautiful strong spirit who doesn't easily give up, isn't scared to try new things, and is so determined to do them well. You're bright and independent and already at this tender age have struck a lovely balance between going after what excites you, and managing to stay charming to others while you do it. My heart swells. I can't wait to see these things manifest in you as a young adult. You will make the world better, little lady. I know it.

And because later when you and Nathan won't stop bickering, I want you to know that in this season, you were the best of friends. You follow him everywhere, you love what he loves, he listens so patiently to you, and you admire him like no one else in your life. You two have a beautiful thing going on, and I adore it. (Speaking of lovedrunk Mommy.)

I want you to know how happy you make others. A friend recently told me when asked to think of the handful of people who seem the most happy, you came to mind first. You, Anneliese. You're only two (and a half!) but you are happy, and it's contagious, and as your mama who knows something about mental well-being (and not-so-well being), I know how valuable that is. Bringing out the happy in others, helping them see it and find it in themselves, is a gift. Please never underestimate it, and keep smiling. At your family. At your friends. At strangers. We all smile back. And thank you for that.

I want you to know that I love how you remind me to buckle up every time we get in the car. Your good eating. Your great sleeping. Your tenderness taking care of Hattie and Jingle and your dolls. The fact that some mornings you choose your outfit based on what I'm wearing. Our grocery shopping trips. Your narration of the already-obvious things you do: I runnin! I naked! I drawin! I poopin! I have on the jeans! I buildin legos! Your index finger curled over your nose when you suck your thumb. The way you call anything I'm drinking that you're not allowed to touch, mommy's juice. Your fondness for a new pair of sandals. Your tiny voice singing songs with me. The repeated night night love you night nights that come through your door after we put you in bed. The wake up me that comes again in the morning.

A choir friend said last summer that she believes there's always a special place between a mom and the child of a surprise pregnancy. That that child is God's child. Not that all moms and children don't have special bonds, and not that all children aren't God's children, but I think she might be right on some level. I love all of you differently, and am bonded to you each in your own ways. Nathan made me a mommy, and Charlotte is the baby I hoped for when I had context for such a hope. But you, my middle baby, the special way I love you is maybe because I wasn't expecting it. You continuously surprise me and upturn what I think my expectations are. You're so much better than I knew to dream for, baby girl.

I might not be able to explain to you exactly how this love feels, but I want you to know I feel it.

Night night love you night night. I love you so much, Anneliese.

Love,
Mommy

Charlotte at Eight Months

There's this thing in the midwest or maybe everywhere called a Golden Birthday. Whenever you're turning the age of the date of your birthday. For instance, Mark's was when he turned 28 on November 28th. Ashley's when she turned 11 on December 11th.

Do other people know about this? It's completely new to me. Maybe because mine was when I turned ONE. Lame. (Solidarity *fistbump* Merritt?)

Anyway. This post is not about that.  It's about Charlotte and how she's EIGHT months old on April 8th and I am therefore declaring it her Golden Monthday (um, actually now that I write it, it might be a title in progress; I'll work on it) and I don't want anyone to tell me it's not a Thing because it. is. a. Thing.

On Charlotte's Golden Monthday* she is as beautiful as ever. She is imitating sounds well, she is deliberately picking things up (and putting them in her mouth), she is still sleeping great at night and loving the one nap I let her take during the day (see: what works best for mommy's schedule). She is now a whopping 29 inches (!) which is well over the 99th percentile, and she weighs right at 16 pounds which is about the 20th percentile (starting solid foods should fix that slowing weight gain). She is still very happy as long as she's getting attention, and increasingly fussy when she's not. Which, aren't we all?

Also, today as Charlotte officially hits her eight-month mark, it's Easter Sunday! Hey baby girl, did you know that Jesus the Christ was crucified and resurrected... for you?  That's right, sweet Squeaks. For you. It's about the best Golden Monthday* present you could ask for, am I right? (I am.)

Love you, sweet Charlotte. Happy eight months.

*still a title in progress, remember?

Charlotte at Seven Months

Baby Charlotte is seven months old today! Lucky seven. Which means she's well on the way to being not an infant anymore, but I'm pretending that's not the case because (again!) with the baby, with the growing up, with the way too fast can I keep bringing this up every month?  Because it keeps being true!

And it's also true that she's more beautiful, and has a more beautiful spirit, every time I turn around.

Anyway.

Here is Charlotte's report card at seven months old:

Sleeping -- I totally shouldn't tell the internet this, but Charlotte is officially, once and for all, for sure definitely sleeping through the night (*holds breath waiting for lightning to strike*). No seriously. She goes down at 7 and usually isn't up til 6 or later the next morning. It's earlier than I want to get up, but I'll take it.  (And let's be honest, the 6am waking has always been, and forever will be, Daddy's.) B

Socializing -- We have a very smiley and curious baby on our hands, folks. She's interested in the world around her (and by "world" I mostly mean "whatever Nathan and Anneliese are doing"), she giggles when poked, she's incredibly flexible being out and about to run errands and stuff, usually happy even when it's her naptime. However, she is starting to get a little screamy at the gym and in the church nursery when I try to leave her when she's tired. (I only let her take one nap a day, which yes I know is horrible, but it works best for our family schedule so just... deal, internet, deal.) Apparently in those moments, only mommy hugs will do? Healthy attachments to loved ones are great, but other people can be super too. Even when you're tired.  Let's work on that, Squeaks. C+

Eating -- She nurses like a champ, and we still haven't had to enter that annoying baby food stage where I have to remember to pack food and bibs and spoons and whatnot, and then watch her make a slow mess of it while I inevitably lose control of what the big kids are doing in the meantime. (Yeah. Not a fan. Dreading that stage. Can you tell?) But she still nurses well enough and often enough, she's growing great (finally! we have a thriver!) so in my book, the continuation of this simple feeding option is a solid A+.

Bathing -- Charlotte, you still have only had like three baths. In your life. Well, four if you count the day I came home and in a fit of ocd took a foot scrub and a comb to your scalp in the hopes of removing your cradle cap.  (Which I mostly didn't. And every second of which, you hated.)  Let's totally count it though, okay?  And seriously girl, you've gotta jump in the shower more often! Hello! Personal hygeine! F

Strengthening -- So apparently the third time's the charm, because Charlotte will actually (wait for it)... bear weight on her legs. I KNOW. She also rolls (and rolls and rolls) and is trying to use her torso to sit up a bit, but I don't care so much about any of that other stuff because the fact that she will bear weight on her legs is the tiniest bit earth-shattering* in these parts.  I don't... I just... I can't wrap my brain around it. (*For those of you who aren't properly impressed with a Goettsch baby being only four months behind on gross motor skillz, just... shut it.) B+

So once again I did my fancy mommy math and this whole thing averages out to an A+ baby.

(Basically the fancy math amounts to this: you sleep + you smile = you pass.)

Love you, sweet Charlotte.

Happy Half-Birthday, Dear Charlotte

Oh my sweet baby Charlotte, I don't know where to start. 

I want to write you this letter, want to mark the exact center of your first year of life, want to capture this moment in your (fleeting! super duper fleeting!) infancy. 

Yet. Also. I have been delaying writing this letter. I know the calendar says you're six months old, half a year, closer to toddlerhood than newborn freshness.  I think I know that it's true, but I don't think I'm ready to believe it.

Because here's the thing, baby girl.  This infancy thing, it only happens once.  It goes by way too fast, and we mommies and daddies never seem to appreciate it enough.  And that's in the best of situations (which this... well, yeah, hasn't been). For everything good and wonderful your presence in this family has brought, the last six months have also been really hard for me. One crazy chaotic spell after another. It's not how I would have planned or chosen to spend your infancy. And that makes me feel something like sad, when I want to feel something like excited. I'm sorry for that, Charlotte. So sorry.

While I rejoice in you, as the brightest spot in my world many days -- most days, actually -- I am also a bit brokenhearted that so much of your babyhood has flown by in this weird and difficult daze. I'm so sorry, baby. I'm sorry that I'll always have to remember your first months alongside memories of my own mental health being... what it's been.

But know this: as fast and furious and chaotic as things are, the part about you being in our family has been wonderful. Beautifully uncomplicated.  Which means there are some amazing bright spots I am clinging to.

Things like your smile. Your fuzzy head. Those looong lashes framing your wide bright eyes.

Your squeaks and squeals. Your giggles. (It's music.)

Your always-open, drool-drippy mouth, showing off so many buds of teeth.  You have three. Three! Who has three teeth at only six months?  No one, that's who. Not that I'm calling you a freak or anything.  Ahem.

Your fingers curled around mind while you nurse.

Your slow chin-tucked smile when you register that someone you love has entered the room.

Your whispered gibberish, as if you have some beautiful nonsensical secret you're trying to tell me.

Your feet -- kicky when you're happy, pushed into my tummy when you're cold, and forever and always in your mouth.

Oh yeah, and your love of gnawing on anything and everything. You haven't eaten any real foods yet, but let the record show that your first solids were grocery lists and church bulletins. Yum.

Your right thumb, always in your mouth while you sleep.

Your amazing flexible disposition. God knew our family needed a nonchalant go-with-the-flow soul to counterbalance the rest of us. Shockingly (considering your colicky start, being angry at the world) you are suddenly that easy spirit. Who knew. God is weird and wonderful. (True story.)

Charlotte, no matter how crazy I get or how crazy life gets, there is not a day or an hour or a minute that goes by when I don't feel thankful -- staggeringly blessed -- that you're my daughter. 

You are the baby I longed for, when I knew what it meant to long for a baby. 

You're the glimpse of light in my hardest days, and the best joy in my good ones.

I love you, fiercely and protectively and zealously and forever.

Happy half-birthday, Squeaky C. The first of many, and it only gets better.

Love,
Mommy