Dear Connor - 4 Years, 11 Months

Dear Connor,

Tonight I got the old baby clothes out of the attic for the consignment sale I will be participating in this year. I decided to go ahead and get rid of all of the winter and fall stuff that your brother has already outgrown. I was so certain that it was going to be a quick and easy process that while Daddy was doing the pre-bed-prep I threw the first bag of clothes onto the bed and began sorting. My eyes were watering within 4 minutes. I wasn't prepared for how hard it was going to be.




I thought I would just toss them in neat little piles, smiling at this one or that one, but when I picked up your green fuzzy sweatsuit that was the standard, cold weather outfit, when you were just a year old, I held it to my chest. When I picked up a pair of footy pjs and held them up so I could see the size, my muscle memory kicked in and I remember how exactly it felt to hold you up in the air when you only weighed a few pounds. I can tell you where each article of clothing came from, who purchased it and why I loved it so. I can tell you which shirts your belly poked out of, or which onesie you threw up on immediately each time we put you into it. I can tell you which pants were the warmest and what you wore the first day of preschool. And while it doesn't matter to anyone else... those memories matter to me. Because when I see the pants that you wore on the first day of preschool, I remember you on the first day of preschool. How small you were sitting on my hip, next to my buldging belly where your brother, (due any day) was curled up and sleeping, waiting to be born. How scared I was for you. How I went to iHop to celebrate my child free time and ordered pancakes that I was too nervous to eat.




Tonight, I could not stop staring at you when you came over to rummage though the bag to see if there was anything that would fit one of the babydolls we bought for you when Tristan was born. How did you get so big SO FAST?! It's incredible. I'm so lucky to have been able to stay home with you and your brother. While I do a lot of complaining about how I don't have time to myself or how I don't stop moving until 9pm, it really is a gift to have been able to nurture you full time. You should thank your Father some time for making it happen... and maybe so should I.



But some days now you look at me, like you've just had enough of me and when I come over to put my arms around you and hug you, you whine and push me away. I understand. Some days I feel like that too. But if I could get you back into that onesie with the bunnies and bears on it, I swear I'd hold you forever.
I love you,
Mommy

You Have the Right to Remain Silent

Its afternoon and we are at Grammie’s house when my Step Dad comes in wearing his police uniform after work. He sits down at the table and Connor appraises him, looks and me and then says seriously to him, “Papa Chuck, I don’t want to tell you this but Mommy has a library book and its WAAAYYY overdue.” My Step dad responds, “She does?” at which point Connor reiterates just to be sure that he’s being clear. “It’s WAY overdue.”
I asked my Step Dad to arrest me, because the thought of 3 meals a day that I didn’t have to cook, a facility with outside time and a gym seems like a spa retreat to me, but he wasn’t buying it.
I guess it’s time to talk to Connor about family loyalty. Or maybe just about library fines.

Dear Tristan - 2 Years, 11 Months

Dear Tristan,

Right now as I'm writing this, you are upstairs in your room, talking very loudly to yourself about how you shouldn't be up there taking a nap. You are almost ready to give up the nap, but because I'm unwilling to part with it, you'll be put in your room for a mid afternoon siesta until you stop falling asleep while you are in there.

Last week we went to the beach. I went up to mow the grass for PaPaw, so we could have one last vacation before school started up. The first evening we were there, I got out the lawn mower and before I even had it started you were screaming. You weren't afraid of the mower at all, you were for some strange reason, suddenly afraid of bees. Specifically that bees were going to fly up your nose. You protected your nose by sticking both fingers into your nostrils as far as they would go and kept them there the entire time you were outside.

PaPaw's theory was that you were just trying to get attention, but I think it was more than that. I think you were actually afraid that bees would fly up your nose. I have no idea where you got this idea, or if maybe a gnat actually DID fly up your nose, but this phase definately put a damper on the "play in the backyard" portion of our trip. You weren't just crying about it... you were screaming hysterically and with both fingers shoved into your nose. It was just as incredibly funny as it wasn't.

Luckily there are no bees on the beach so you were fine there, frolicking in the surf with your brother. This trip was the first time that you didn't have to wear floaties, (at the sound) which allowed you to move around more freely. My efforts to teach you to swim were pointless as you had absolutely no interest in even being held by me in the water. You've never been dunked, but due to your healthy respect for the water, you rebel any depth higher than your tummy. Even if I'm holding you when that depth is reached.

In a few weeks you'll start at a brand new preschool. I have butterflies in my tummy for you and I can only hope that you love it. I know for sure that they will love you. Especially since there is no cat for you to chase around the classroom.

I love you,
Mommy

Dear Connor - 4 Years, 10 Months

Dear Connor.

Yesterday we were going to Trader Joe's and you and Tristan snuck your crayon and paper into the car. I've been trying to pick my battles with a little more care so I let it slide. On the way to the store, you were in your car seat with your paper pushed up against your knee, working your red crayon with intense concentration. At one point you were so focused I felt the need to see what exactly was going on and asked if I could see you art, (we were at a stop light). You flashed your paper at me and I was so stunned the only thing that kept me from jumping out of the car and hugging you was a seat belt and the 15 cars behind me.

It was colored completely solid. INSIDE OF THE LINES.

This was the first time ever that you had TRIED to stay in the lines, held the crayon in the proper position and then actually stayed in the lines. For most kids that's something that they've been doing since they were 3. For you, it was a major accomplishment. An accomplishment that you repeated four more times, later that day!

And there, sitting on the exit ramp of the interstate... I knew that I could not have been more proud of you if you had just been elected President.

I love that you make the ordinary, extraordinary.

Mommy