Letters to Avery: Five years old

Avery,

Five! One one hand! My baby is not a baby. Watching you grow and change has been such a gift, a beautiful and exhausting gift. People are often surprised when you tell them your age (four and a half!). I’m not sure if it’s your height (taller than your brothers were at that age), your speech (you have much to say and you say it with conviction), or your general air. You’re a smart little cookie and a sassy little sister.  You don’t need to speak to get your point across, you’ve perfected the eye roll and the facial expressions which let us know just how you’re feeling. But you also have your words. Your vocab has increased a lot in the last year and includes phrases like, “whatevs” and “that’s sick.” 

Despite all this, I’m reminded each day that you’re still just a little girl. My first daily reminder comes when you snuggle up in my bed each morning and rub my hair. It’s your happy place, and mine too. I even sometimes pretend to not know that you’re sucking your thumb while you do it, because it feels so good (to me and to you).  You’ve always been my little sidekick, my all-time shadow, and that couldn’t be truer now. You haven’t been to preschool since March due to COVID-19. Some (many) days I wish for a little break and a little separation, but I remind myself that you’re only going to be little once and one day you won’t want to shadow me each day. And you’re a helpful shadow! You’re quick to help me fold clothes, make a meal, and generally assist.  You’re also just great to talk to. You have great insights, ask smart questions, and you make me laugh, sometimes intentionally and other times not.

I asked you today what you thought the best thing about being 5 would be. You pondered and said, “Being closer to 6.”  Then you paused and in dramatic fashion, said, “I mean I’m waaaay closer to 6.”

Slow down my dear Avery. Six can wait. One hand at a time. 

Love,

Mom

Letters to Brady: 9 years old

Dear Brady,

Happy Birthday!  You're halfway to being an adult!  In many ways, it does seem like you're at a middle ground.  Adulthood certainly seems far away, but so does you as a baby.  You show moments of great maturity and many other moments of....not maturity (yes, lets call it immaturity).

You've taken life during a pandemic in stride and highlighted that you don't need much to be happy. You told me bedtime was the worst because you just want to get sleeping out of the way.  You go to bed each night devouring Big Nate books and you wake up each morning ready to down three scrambled eggs, five sausage links, a waffle, and a two bowls of cereal.  Of course, you need that fuel to sustain yourself for the long day ahead, because you probably won't have time to schedule in a snack. While many are home bored, wondering how they will pass the hours in the day, you are wishing there were more.  After all, there is so much to do!!  One hour I may find you playing capture the flag with neighbors, the next one, you'll be by yourself organizing baseball cards, the next you'll be making a fort in the woods, and the next you'll be scavenging the house for cardboard boxes for some art project you've dreamt up.  You've stolen most of my yellow paint so that you could paint sticks to double as goal posts. Lately, you've decided to transform the upstairs playroom into the "Carolina Room."  Jerseys are hanging, balls are displayed, furniture is rearranged.  You will be a great manager one day as you have an impressive ability to motivate those around you into action.  You have no problem delegating tasks and since its your birthday, that's about the nicest way I can put it.

I love how you immerse yourself into a project.  I don't suspect "lack of passion" will be on any report cards or job evaluations in your future.  You love creating new things and you are by far the best sketch artist in our house.  You love playing with your brother and with friends, and you always want to know what is next.  You are fidgety and a bit fidgety, something I've learned as your "teacher" during this Homeschooling period, but give you a project you're excited about and you will be hyper-focused.

I continue to be amazed by how much you and your brother get along, particularly during these pandemic times.  You both are better off because of the other, and it warms my heart to watch Jackson watch you.  And those moments when you want to include your sister in your grand plans?  Well, those times are just the best.

I  love you very much, even when I'm homeschool you.  And that's saying something!

Love,
Mom

Letters to Jackson: 7 years old

Dear Jackson,

You've been counting down the days until your birthday for a while now, and seeing you wake up with a grin on your face is how I'd love to start every day.  Your grin has changed over the course of a few months as you've lost your front two teeth.  More specifically, you pulled out your front two teeth, one which was questionably ready, but YOU decided it was ready, which is a good reflection on your personality.  Forcing you into anything never works very well for us, as you have a pretty good mind about what you’d like to do and when you’d like to do them!

You are a gentle soul and have such a kind spirit.  You are sensitive and tender, and you have taught me that compassion and calmness always trumps anger and frustration.  I could fill page after page describing your small daily acts of kindness.  They come naturally to you and my great hope is that your older brother will learn the joys of giving, not just the benefits of receiving.  Yes, younger brothers can teach, too. If you see I'm busy in the kitchen, you'll get whatever it is you need, even if it requires finding a stool to climb up on the counter, and even if asking me would be much easier.  You'll humor your sister when she wants to put makeup on you.  You'll bask in your brother's glory when he's won a big game and share in his excitement as he gives you the play-by-play. You’re generous with your hugs and your smiles.

I've been thankful for you since the day you were born, but maybe no more thankful for you than I have these past few months.  You’ve taken the changes of life during a pandemic in stride and seem perfectly happy with the calmer pace of life. You’re quick to see the upsides in any situation and the good in people.

As I tucked you in tonight, you told me, “I just wish you knew how much I want to say thanks and how much I love you. This was just the best day.” It rained all day, you had to do “homeschool,” and you had no party. But that’s not what you’ll remember. You remember your “gear bike” and what a great surprise that was. You’ll remember dad bringing you to the baseball cages and meeting Coach Fox and some players. You’ll remember having the attention on you for one whole day. You’ll remember the birthday messages people sent you. And I’ll remember a grateful boy who makes me proud to be his mom each day. I love you, Jackson.

Love,
Mom

Bye for now

If you’re reading this, first of all, thanks for sticking around! I started this blog when I was pregnant with Brady, about to give birth, in fact. He didn’t come on time and I remember writing blog posts in the days that led up to his birth. He was 11 days late, and time really slows downs before your first child’s birth. All of my kids were late but for my first baby, nothing or nobody else was there to compete for my time. So time extended and each day before the baby came seemed like an eternity.

Then he came, and life changed. Before Brady, After Brady.

 Nine years doesn’t sound that long (only “old” people can say that), but goodness, its hard to fathom how much has changed in my life.  I want to tell my 28 year old self (bless her), how happy she will be at 37, how content and fulfilled she will feel. How amazing her kids will turn out (yeah yeah I know it’s early for that). Maybe it would get her through some long, sleepless nights. Because there will be lots. 

I only meant to pop on here to say that I won’t be posting, at least in the short term. But more popped out, as it always does, when I actually sit down to write. This blog has always been such a blessing to me, and I am so so thankful to have had the platform.  Even if no one ever read it, the act of writing is therapy itself. And I always said, that when it became a chore, I would stop. That I don’t need it like I once did is a gift in itself. Motherhood was once a pretty lonely pursuit, and this place was a way to connect and recollect. But my phase of motherhood had changed.

I’ll be back for the birthday letters. See you in May.