Letters to Brady: 8 years old

Dear Brady,

Its 10:15 pm, and I just heard a thud coming from upstairs and went up to investigate.  I figured one of my children fell out of the bed.  Jackson was soundly sleeping in his bed, Avery was soundly sleeping in her bed, and you were soundly sleeping in our bed.  With the lights on and new Roald Dahl book lying next to you.  Eight years old, and you're between baby and adult.  Read chapter books, but wanna sleep in mom's bed.  Loves rap music, also can't stop sucking his thumb.

You have been a joy to watch grow these past eight years.  You've always been my easy-going kid, easily adaptable to any situation and ready to take on the next adventure.  Like your dad, always looking ahead at what we're doing next, who's coming over, what fun lies ahead.  You love your friends and they love you.  Like many eight-year-olds, you have your own language with your buddies, and your energy about, well really everything, attracts others to you.  You met a friend on your baseball team this year and its wasn't too long before you handed me his name and number on a piece of paper.  And you made sure that playdate happened.  When you're older, if you tackle dating with the same tenacity, I'm sure you'll have girls lining up.

I'm tired, its late, and I've done 4 other things since starting this letter.  That seems to be life these days.  When you were born, you got alllll the attention.  You were my world, and then you had a brother, and then a sister.  And then your mom got a "job." I've never felt to guilty though, as you're  a pretty content kid.  You're a sport loving nut, of course, but you have wide interests and I love seeing your interests develop.  You asked for two things for your birthday:  catcher's gear "so I can throw the ball as hard as I can at Jackson" and blank books.  Thanks to Amazon Prime, I made that dream come true with a pack of 10 books for about $10.  You were thrilled this morning, and after dolling one out to your sister and one out to your brother, you were making plans in your head for the other eight.  You told us you were going to write during snack time, and sure enough, being the author/illustrator you are, you came home with what appears to be Book 1 in a series. 

You love to draw, read, and do math.  You qualified for AIG just today, and I loved seeing the pride you had for yourself.  Since you were a toddler, you exuded a confidence in yourself and you've managed to strike a balance that doesn't venture into cockiness.  Because you've always felt secure in your own abilities, you don't have the impulse to bring others down.  You're a good hype man for your teammates and friends, and you're sweet to your brother, letting him know all the ways that he did good.  And occasionally, you'll indulge your sister, too, like yesterday when she was giving a makeup tutorial to the family.

Brady, by being the first born, you've helped shape this family.  I couldn't conjure up a better family, or better son.  I love you very much.

Love,
Amy

PS. Not sure what the thud was.

Letters to Jackson: 6 years old

Jackson,

To do this letter justice for you would have been to keep a daily journal of all the kind and wonderful things you do each day for myself, and for people around you.  My journal would have been full very quickly.  I've never seen a child of your age (or any, really) do so much without the expectation of praise or notice.  Its really quite remarkable.  You see what needs to be done, and then you do it. It sounds basic, and quite unremarkable, until you look around and see the multitude of adults who don't yet grasp that concept. 

"He is so sweet," I tell myself each day and many echo this sentiment, but "sweet" just doesn't encompass you.  I know lots of sweet kids.  I don't know any kid like you.  Stories are the only way I know how to do your awesomeness any justice. Lots of the chores I give are a group effort.  Brady and Jackson clean your room, Brady and Jackson empty the silverware, etc, etc.  How life usually works is big brothers teaching little brothers life lessons, but its often the reverse in our house.  Sometimes when I ask you guys to do something, your big brother makes a stink if you had to go to the bathroom or if he feels like you aren't pulling your weight.  One day, Brady had to take a big poop right at the time I asked you guys to empty the silverware.  You began working, without making a stink (no pun intended).  Brady finished his business and you were nearing the end of your task, but not yet done.  Brady came over and began criticizing you for your technique (ie slowness), and you weren't even mad about the fact that not only had you been working while he was pooping, but he had the gall to make mention of your speed.  Mama Bear was outraged on your behalf, though, and I made sure Brady learned a few lessons on that day.




One morning, Brady was slow to get out of bed, so I told him he could be a "car-rider."  You still wanted to be a "bus-rider," and after you got on the bus, I realized Brady had a fever and would need to stay home from school.  I texted your teacher so she could tell you that Brady wouldn't be riding the bus home from school that day, but it seems she left her cell phone at home.  At 2:30, you got off the bus bawling, concerned that Brady had been left at school.  Some brothers wouldn't have cared much, and some might have actually exited the bus with a grin, but not many brothers are like you.  You have a fragile heart of gold.  You are my worrier, and I tell you all the time to leave the worrying to the adults, we have things covered. That's usually true.

Yesterday, while you were watching your brother's baseball game, I told you and Avery you could split a small Italian ice cup.  You both were sharing nicely and when it got near the end, you told Avery, "We need to stop and save Brady some."  I'm gonna let that sink in.  It was already a pretty small cup that you had a split, and you were under no obligation to share with your third sibling, yet that is what popped into your head.  I told you no, you don't need to save a melting treat for your brother whose team is just entering the third inning, and you said, "Why not?"  99% of kids would ask why they had to share and you were asking why you wouldn't.

You are most definitely the 1%, Jackson, and I feel so lucky to be your mom.  One of our nightly rituals is for me to tell you how much I love you, and you tell me you love me more, with a knowing grin on your face, because you know I will follow it with, "That's impossible!  You can't possibly love me more!" Which is the truth.  But you laugh every time and exclaim, "It is possible!" and every time my heart feels like its going to burst outside my chest.




 I could fill up pages about what I love and admire about you Jackson.  From the bottom of your toes to the tip top of your head, you are a good and pure soul.  I learn from you daily what kindness looks like, and can't wait for my future lessons.

I love you, the most.

Love,
Mom

Madness of March (yes, its May)

Ok, I wrote this long ago, and have had blogging issues that I haven't gotten enough motivation to resolve.  Like, this wouldn't post, but my brain capacity and problem solving skills are just not what they used to be.  At the time of posting, I have no idea if you'll be able to see pictures, but at least you'll have the words that I wrote...over a month ago.

I am definitely overdue for a update about life.  I’m currently in a hotel in Columbus, Ohio.  Eric is with the team and it is so quiet in here I can even hear myself think!  I’m not sure that things are quite as quiet back at the ranch, but Grandma and Pop have things under control, I think.  March Madness is upon us once again, and while the kids will travel the rest of the way if we make it to that point, (hopefully Kansas City and Minneapolis), it is nice to have some quiet time, especially because Spring Break is Monday!  Lots of quality time with the kids.  I also got that last week, when we went to Charlotte for the ACC tournament.  Only Brady came with me to the second game, UNC vs. Duke, and I got a babysitter for Avery and Jackson (9:30 tip-off).  He was pretty miserable after the loss and I’m not sure that my pep talk on how amazing the game was, even though we lost, got through to him.  With the stakes even higher, I dread to see his face if our season doesn’t end with a win!  

His own season ended with a win though! The Bulldogs went undefeated in the Chapel Hill Parks and Rec league and it was fun for him being in a league where travels are actually called, and you can steal the ball from the other team.   And, on Eric’s birthday, we hosted the Bulldogs at the Smith Center to celebrate the season.

 

Jackson has started t-ball and is loving it.  He was drafted to the Orioles, which worked out nicely, since his brother was on that team last year.  Although he hasn’t yet been issued a uniform, he showed up for the first practice (and everyone since), in full gear.  

 

Avery is still very much Avery.  Despite efforts on our behalf against it, she has fully embraced her girly side.  She wants to wear dresses every day.  And not just any dress, the one she picked out (and annoyingly, the ones I like don’t often make the rotation).  The frillier the better.  She wants “down hair” every day, despite my thoughts that her hair looks better up.  She likes jewelry, makeup, and high heeled shoes.  She lets me know the days that she looks prettier than me (just about everyday, as I often live it workout clothes and have “up hair”). She is awesome though, and while having a shadow can take its toll, I just love her.

And she went to the dentist and did great! That was a hallmark moment!

Wear those teeth proud, girl!

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