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.
Nathan is seven and a half. SEVEN AND A HALF. (I keep waiting for the age that won't give me all-caps wide eyes, but we haven't hit it yet.)
My sister pointed out this week that being seven and a half means he's halfway to driver's ed. (I told her to shut her damn* mouth, because obviously.) (*I used a different word.) (Not a better one.) (Not the one you're thinking though.) (I digress.) (Parentheses!)
Anyway, he is growing up and I'm trying not to do any mom math in my head or I will realize it's all going to fast, and I will panic. So instead I will just think about the here and now. So, some things about Now:
Nathan is growing, yet ever-smaller for his age, still wearing mostly size 6 clothes (the same as Anneliese!) but he is suddenly eating everything in sight, and asking for more, and he ordered a Korean steak taco at the smoothie place the other day, and I don't even know who he is anymore, is what I'm saying.
No, no. What I am saying is I think we are expecting a growth spurt any minute now, and maybe he won't be the smallest in his class forever. (Or maybe he will. He is also one of the very youngest. Mark was also the youngest and the smallest, so... it could happen.)
He is very into planes and ships and designing and building lego vehicles of any kind - flying and sailing and driving alike. He will read fiction with some coaxing, but mostly he reads biography after biography, even of people he has never heard of. (What?) He watches video footage about aviation and what causes plane crashes, and seems undisturbed, yet won't watch the Little Mermaid because Ursula terrifies him (see also: the first five minutes of Tangled).
He loves whales and space and geography - asking questions about countries and languages and poring over the giant world map on his ceiling (yes really) and the world atlas book my dad gave him for Christmas. (If you know my dad, that's the least shocking sentence in the history of ever.)
He and Anneliese remain best buddies, and he is jealous for her attention when she and Charlotte are feeling particularly chummy on a given day. He does his running club at school on Friday mornings, and is fast, but besides that he isn't super into sports. He sings in children's choir at church (a solid fifth-ish below everyone else, not that it matters) and still plays his cello, better and better all the time. He is a baby hoarder, squirreling away bits of paper, and pieces of toys and random... stuff that he thinks he might want to build something with.
(The other day he told me he was bored -- well, he started to, and then I reminded him if he says he is bored I will find some extra chores for him to do -- and so he went in the recycling bin and got this starbucks cup and built... a boat? I think? THIS IS SO NATHAN, Y'ALL.)
He is a kid who wavers between extreme chattiness, and not knowing how to say what he wants to say. He writes and draws a lot.
Here is some information about the Queen Mary 2. (Why, what does your seven-year-old obsess over?) You can choose whether you like or don't like the information. Complete with a hand-drawn thumbs-up, because he is a Child Of The Era. (I always circle "like." Duh.)
His obsession with this ship oddly makes me miss my Grandpa Schnack. They would have had so much fun being boring together. Truly. Grandpa would have delighted in him.
Here is a Japanese battleship, complete with WWII-era Japanese naval flag (?) (we are fully living in the age of when our kid knows more than we do about the stuff he's interested in).
And yes that's me on top, sitting on a lounge chair, reading a book. I mean... at least I get to go to war? (What does this say about what he thinks of me?)
He is known to bring random notes downstairs to us, that sometimes do or don't make any sense.
He also has an old phone of Mark's, which he can use when he asks permission. He has had a gmail account for several years, and he uses the chat app to "text" people which is usually pretty cute.
Well, usually pretty cute. Not always.
And sometimes just super exciting, as Mark is learning.
And sometimes really legitimately adorable.
And yes, like every other kid his age, he is into Minecraft (thanks Uncle John) (no really, it's fine -- cute, even) and he not only plays the game, but watches other people playing the game on YouTube. AND watches all manner of toy review and project/craft videos, and then got the harebrained idea that he should... do one himself?
So many questions. Is where/how to get that template not an important part of the instructions? Why not color the eyes before folding it? And WHY SO MUCH TAPE FOR THE LOVE. (He could use some time-lapse here also.)
(Please know, he is so proud of this. Really super duper pleased.)
(This all happened with Mark's help one night while I was at choir. I came home and it tickled me so much I cried.)
My child! Who spent years staring at adults, mute, when they asked him something. Who even now hates when people watch him or call attention to him or even laugh at his jokes... wants his own YouTube channel? Talks to the camera as if it's the most normal serious thing in the world? I don't even know, y'all.
Growing up. It's weird.
Happy half birthday, you quirky bright sweet wonderful child.
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.
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.
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.
Yesterday was my half-birthday. It was also the first day of the last trimester of my last pregnancy.
I celebrated with a really early church service... and morning sickness.
{sigh}
Someone remind me to drink in every bit of the next three months. I don't think I'll ever be pregnant again, so I want to appreciate it now and remember it later.
And one more photo, because Nathan wanted me to take a picture of his belly after he took a picture of mine. (His baby is a red gummy bear. And while Sprout is coming after Nathan's birthday, Nathan's red gummy isn't coming until after Anneliese's birthday. In case you were curious.)
Happy third trimester, Sprout! We can't wait to meet you in three short months!!! :)
It's April 13th again, and although the rest of the world might tell you it's not a real celebration day, it totally is. It's your half-birthday! You're eighteen months old today, and here I am writing another love letter.
How did we get here so fast? How are you closer to two than one? How are you closer to being a big girl than a newborn? Weren't you just born a few minutes ago? Or maybe last week or something?
You're doing so awesome these days. You are absolutely a delight to be around. You squeal and giggle when you see any of your favorite people, and you smile so hard you have to brace your arms and legs and it looks like you're about to explode with love. Your little grin, already full of oh-so-crooked teeth, melts my heart (and I can think of a few others too).
You're social and you're a shameless flirt, waving and blowing kisses anywhere we go, and I can't remember the last time I took you out in public when your beauty and personality didn't garner some kind of comment from a friend or stranger.
You're the kind of person that makes people just... happy when you're around. You light up, and I can see others lighting up in response. I hope you always always stay that way. It's a gift. You are a gift.
You're doing so awesome these days. Yet, and it breaks my heart to say this, The System has labeled you as not thriving. Still. Again. You just don't want to walk, and despite the fact that you stuff your face at every chance, and with any food we make available, you're not gaining weight very fast. Daddy and I (and your doctor for the most part) think you're going to be just fine, that you'll grow at your own pace and you'll walk when you're ready. You're better at it every day, holding our hands (sometimes down to just one hand!) and toddling along... or pushing a toy around in circles... but in the meantime, every time I have to defend you, it hurts my heart a little. But know this: the people around you who know you and see you improving every day unanimously agree that you're the very definition of thriving. You amaze and enamor your friends and family every day.
I love your car dancing, especially the part where you suck your thumb and bob your head to the music. I love the thundering noise of your hands and knees on the floor when you run-crawl after your brother. I love the sweet curls at the nape of your neck. I still love the way your eyes shine when you're particularly happy. I love your little hands and face pressed up against the window or door, looking out at the world around you (but mostly for Daddy's car to pull in). I love it when you "cruise" your way along the couch and take a break from playing to rest your head on my leg in a sweet half-hug. I love the slobbery smell of your face when you kiss me.
I love how you show love in the most genuine and unguarded way. With no caution, with no agenda, with no hesitation. I want you to hang onto that for as long as you can.
I can't even tell you how simultaneously glorious yet heart-wrenching it is to watch you slowly (no! too quickly! way too quickly!) grow up from my youngest, my little one, my baby girl, into a spirit-filled child with an abundance of personality, about to become a big sister. I'm probably not supposed to say this, but I'm so proud you're my daughter.
Hey Anneliese? I love you. That's really all it boils down to.
I'm not gonna lie, I've had kind of a crazy/stressful week. I'll not bore you with all the details because I'm in a very good mood today and I'm ready to put the week behind me, for the most part. It's the first of a new month, and I'm generally feeling positive and optimistic about life in this here moment. So here are a few updates on the four of us.
Nathan. Besides potty-training, which has taken lots of his our energy recently, Nathan has also learned even more about cars and trucks and driving.
First: fire trucks are even cooler in person than in a matchbox version, especially when you get to climb on them and wear a themed hat for the occasion (as discovered when there happened to be a fire truck there for the climbing when Mark took Nathan to the bank).
And second: you're never too young to appreciate traffic laws, and even be a backseat driver in your efforts to enforce them (as discovered when he saw me turn right at a red stoplight and said, gotta wait for green, mommy! from the car seat in the back. Never in my life did I imagine that mommyhood would mean arguing about traffic rules with my two and a half year old. {sigh}
Me. So I'm sure you all had this marked on your calendars and just haven't had a chance to get those well-wishes emailed yet, but today is my half-birthday. So... better get on that.
{crickets chirping}
Well, even if none of you got the memo, Nathan did. He grew me this plant in preschool. Specifically to say, "Hey mom, congrats on being closer to 30 than 29. Glad you're still not stressed about that whole getting old thing." (Don't question me on this. He told me. I promise.) In all seriousness, though, I don't think I could have felt more like a mom than when he walked up to me holding a disposable cup full of dirt and some grass and a construction paper flower. I'm like... a real mom, y'all.
Anneliese. Our sweet baby girl has had quite the exciting week. A couple of you noticed the cuts and bruises on her face when I posted this picture and emailed to ask about it. Yes, you're right -- it's an injury. She was sitting in her bumbo seat on our driveway (something she has done countless times before) while Mark was doing some yard work, and apparently the incline was greater than he estimated... and she face-planted. Onto the cement. Mark said the sound of her cry coupled with the sight of her, face-down and bloody in the driveway, was one of the most awful moments he's had as a dad. I can believe it. I got home shortly after it happened and the huge goose-egg on her forehead, her awful awful crying (seriously it was a new sound of misery), and the blood/tears/snot she kept smearing all over her face were bad enough for me. But she was back to her sunny(ish) self later on that day. And we calmed down once she was calm enough to clean her up, and after talking to Dr. Marmie and ruling out serious head trauma. Took a big chunk out of the side of her nose, though, and I think she might look a little banged up for a while. Good thing she's every bit as beautiful this way, don't you think?
And because those cuts and scrapes are kind of hard to look at, here's a happier picture. Nathan was singing her the itsy-bitsy spider song, and doing the spider part on her legs... which she loves. (If they had a smarter mommy, the video button would have been pressed, and you'd have more than just a still shot.) Watching these two play together makes my heart smile every. single. time.
Mark. Can we blame the whole Anneliese injury on the fact that Daddy couldn't see well because he was wearing Nathan's sunglasses to do his yard work? Because... he totally was. Probably unfair to blame it on Mark in any capacity, though. Still. Toddler sunglasses? On your ginormous head? Really, hon? Not hott.
Mark also dropped some hints about how he'd like to own a deep fryer. I kept resisting it because I cringe at the idea that we would want to eat enough deep-fried foods to justify it. The sad truth is, though... I think we might. Well I got a hankering for sweet potato fries when we got a big batch in our farm-share produce box this week, so I got on board and bought one. I'm pretty sure that's why people join CSA's, don't you think? To deep-fry their fresh local produce? Yeah.
Anyway we had a friend over for dinner last night (and by "had over" I mean, he did half the work, Mark did half the work, and I did next to nothing... it was something close to awesome)... we grilled burgers and deep-fried sweet potatoes and ate cheesecake (I did make that, so I guess I didn't do nothing... and no it was not fried in any way shape or form). And we sat out on the deck and talked and laughed and it was actually a really pleasant way to spend a Friday evening. The verdict is in: cooking your own deep-fried junk food is way more fun than just getting takeout, and maybe even a teensy bit healthier (or not). So anyway... Mark was right. Which means he's pretty much been up to... the usual. :)
Nathan is 2 1/2 today! And yes, as I've said before, half-birthdays are a real thing. Don't argue with me on this one. I will win.
When I was growing up, half-birthdays meant getting to eat off the I'm The Best plate, and maybe a Little Debbie Cake or some other small treat. I liked having those little traditions, simple though they were. So last year we decided that our family needed a half-birthday tradition too. (Well, I decided. Mark rolled his eyes.)
So instead of other people bringing us presents, like on our actual birthday, in our family the half-birthday kid will give presents. This afternoon Nathan and I will go over to Interact (a non-profit in Raleigh that our church helps support) and bring some things that our family needs less than they do -- diapers and toys and formula for the women who are sheltered there with children.
And we might have a cupcake later too. :)
When I think back to where he was a year ago today-- barely beginning to walk, just tentatively back on the weight-gain track, right on the verge between baby and toddler... well it seems like a lifetime ago. Now, even when I try really really hard, it's difficult for me to see the baby in him. I just see a kid. A big boy. How did that happen already?
But Nathan is doing really well these days. He loves being a big brother. He and Anneliese will sometimes sit and babble and grin at each other for an hour at a time. He loves to go into her room in the morning and climb up on the crib rail and peer at her with a hi, cutie! So sweet. He loves to read to her and hug her and kiss her. I remember when I was so worried about seeing Nathan as a big brother (would I love them both enough? would he handle the shared attention ok? would he like her or resent her? etc) and those thoughts seem like the distant past now. Now I can't see him as anything but a big brother. It's kind of cool.
He is still very (very very very) into trucks and cars and planes and anything that goes. His favorite toys right now are his matchbox cars and his big ambulance. He calls it his ambu-lamps. And every time we drive anywhere, I have a constant narration from the backseat about all the vehicles we're passing. More than once we have gotten into almost-arguments about what he sees. (He doesn't agree with me that a hummer is a kind of suv; he just wants me to call it a hummer. He also can tell the difference in a crane, a utility truck, and a cherry-picker -- and it tends to annoy him that I sometimes get them wrong.)
Another of his favorite activities these days is coloring. He will sit in his high chair and color for close to an hour before he gets tired of it. It's so funny how he puts his face down so close to his work!
His favorite foods are bagels, bread, bananas, pineapples, applesauce, gummy fruit snacks, mandarin oranges, spaghetti, and fig newtons. We call it the all-carbs-all-the-time diet. But that isn't really true because he also loves yogurt (egg-oat, he calls it) and peanut butter and baked beans and milk. Still not very much into meat, but it's getting better as he tries more and more things. And he does love sloppy joes and tater tots -- it's one of his favorite dinners, just like his Uncle Brad. (Fun fact: if you tell a toddler that his okra is a tater tot, he'll eat it even though it's a vegetable. True story.) Also, he eats pretty much anything better if he can dip it into sauce, especially barbecue sauce. Many meals seem to just be a long chorus of dip it! Dip it please Daddy!
Nathan is still again a very good sleeper, back to his infant pattern of about 12 hours a night, from 7 to 7. That's been interrupted this week since he has a little cold and some kind of infection in his eye, which means he's been a little uncomfortable at night and in need of some extra hugs.
I have to be honest and say that I am loving life with Nathan right now. Yes, he's a complete chatterbox, but I find that sort of endearing. Yes, he throws the occasional tantrum, but on most days I can deal with that too. And it remains true that his arms around my shoulders are one of the best feelings in the world. And that love you, mommy is one of the sweetest sounds in the world. I love you too, Nathan. Happy half-birthday.
