A Pumpkin to Myself

Your Mom Likes Your Post

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Fri, 08 Nov 2024 23:55:00 +0000

Today is Mom’s birthday and marks seven months since she passed. Almost seven months since I stayed behind until everyone left the grave site and sang “God Be With You Til We Meet Again” because I had never sung a song just for her, even though I know she loved to hear me sing. (Ainsley took this picture of me from the car, and I didn’t realize how much it would mean to me.) Seven months of all kinds of things—big and little, happy, crazy, sad—that have happened that I haven’t gotten to tell her.

Dad recently learned how to use Facebook to look at pictures of all the grandkids, read posts, etc. He’s probably reading this at some point. (Hi, Dad! ) The thing is, he signs on to Mom’s old tablet on her Facebook account. The first time he liked a post was a couple months ago, when I posted about Lola’s baptism. I got a notification that said “Patricia Hansom likes your post,” and I just froze. I don’t know how to describe it, but it was big. It only took a few seconds for me to realize it was Dad, not Mom, but it was more than that, and it’s stuck with me.

Now, occasionally I still get those notifications. There’s less shock, but I admit I kind of love it. There’s a lot I haven’t been able to say to her these seven months, and a lifetime of stories to tell when we do meet again, but I like to think when she isn’t busy doing the loads of work I know she is doing to reunite the generations before her up there, she’s checking in from her big recliner in the sky.

If you’re lucky enough to live near and see Dad, give him a squeeze for me. I’m sure he can definitely use them today (and always)!

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Tue, 09 Apr 2024 01:45:00 +0000

She taught me everything: to love animals, to love creating, to love learning, to love beauty in every form, to love people, to love myself, and to love God. Her last lesson, how to love until the very end, finished today. Mom passed away peacefully this afternoon. I’m so grateful to have had her as my guide through this life.

To My Mom

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Mon, 01 May 2023 05:50:00 +0000

To My Mom

I’m sewing tonight

I’m nervously cutting and hemming

Three layers of polyester satin and georgette

Cut on the bias

Polyester thread

Rolled hem without pins

Pulled tight through the feed dogs

I’m removing beads

One at a time

From a layer of tulle

Reattaching with a blind stitch between

Quilter’s knot at the end of each row

After I’ve adjusted seams to fit

Your daughter’s daughter’s shape

I know how

To sew

To hem

To cut

To bead

Alone

But I always call

Ask for your advice anyway

I’m not calling tonight

Though my mind and hands have

Reached to dial your number

That no one answers anymore

Your body is there

Your face

The hands that taught mine these skills

But this part of you

The one place

That always opened

When other avenues between us

Were hard to pass

Has gone dark too

I miss you

And think

Would it be easier

If I could talk into the void

And wonder if you heard?

Baby Number Four! {A Birth Story}

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Mon, 19 Sep 2016 23:35:00 +0000

Well, at least this poor little neglected blog is still good for one thing: recording my birth story!

Before I start, a word about my birth photographer:
I'd been looking for someone to shoot my birth story for a while, but wasn't having much luck. There were one or two dedicated birth photographers in the area who did some lovely work, but were well out of our price range. There were also a few who were offering to do births for several hundred dollars who either a) just didn't jive with my own style of photography; or b) had not ever actually shot a birth (or had maybe done one, or done a shoot in the hospital after baby arrived). I really didn't want to make a huge investment in someone who I didn't feel was going to produce the kind of images I wanted or who had no experience but still felt okay about charging an arm and a leg.

So I started asking around about photographers who were hoping to "break in" to the birth photography scene. I was still willing to pay, but I also was offering to give the right photographer the chance to get that first birth story. As someone who does birth stories, I know how hard getting your foot in the door can be, especially in this area with lots of young, apprehensive, and very modest mommies.

Enter: McKenzie.

McKenzie is a student at our local university, and she was very upfront about not having shot a birth, not being a mom herself, not having witnessed a birth, and not quite knowing why she was drawn to birth photography, but really wanting to get an opportunity to photograph a birth. I don't know what it was, but I really felt she would be a wonderful fit for capturing our baby girl's arrival. And boy was she! I warned her ahead of time that she would either fall in love with shooting births, or never want to do one again. After our little lady was born, I think she may never want to have a natural childbirth!

You'll see McKenzie's work below. She did a spectacular job, and it was just exactly the kind of photography that I think suits my style. Here's a link to her Facebook business page, so show her some love: https://www.facebook.com/mckenzieryanphotography/?fref=ts

Alright, on to the birth story.

A little over a week before baby's arrival, we had tentatively scheduled an induction for 39 weeks, 4 days. I had been diagnosed with gestational diabetes, family was arriving, and Rob had some plans that couldn't be rescheduled, so we figured it was best to just go ahead and induce. But at the same time, I felt sooooo close to going into labor. All the signs were there. So, at the last minute, I called the midwife and begged for more time. Because my GD was well controlled, she said another week was fine, as long as I'd come in for NSTs (non-stress tests) every other day. That day, even the chiropractor said he thought I'd have that baby any minute because I was so loose and "moved" so well. I just knew by the end of the weekend, I'd have a baby.

And then...nothing.

All signs of labor totally stopped. Heck, they reversed. No more contractions, no more pressure, no more show, no more any of those horrible TMI signs of labor. My ankles even swelled back up. Rob had given me a blessing that I would have the natural childbirth I wanted, but I was sad, doubtful. I spent basically the entire following week crying every day and trying to get my mind off of it. The midwife assured me that the hospital had been so full, they'd have turned me away on the previous induction day anyway, and that was a sign that more time was a good thing.

I had spent most of my pregnancy bracing myself for the cholestasis from baby #3 to return. I was prepared for the month-early induction, the itching, the sleepless nights, the neurosis. Happily (oh! SO HAPPILY!) it didn't come back. And while that re-kindled my hope of another baby born without induction--another natural childbirth--it also meant that I was already feeling like the baby was a month late, even though she was still right on time.

By 40 weeks, 4 days, with still no signs of labor, and all Rob's family that had come to help now headed home, I was feeling resigned to the fact that it was time to be induced. I wasn't upset really, just a little disappointed. I'd already had my perfect drug free delivery with my second pregnancy, so this was okay. I knew the peace I felt was the Spirit telling me it was time, and I was in the Lord's hands.

I had an appointment with my midwife that day (a Friday) and asked if there was any chance she and the hospital would be open to a Saturday induction, rather than soldiering into next week. After a few phone calls, she said we were good to go. We were to call the hospital at 5:30 AM the next morning to find out what time to report. For good measure, she stripped my membranes, and home I went.

Usually, after having my membranes stripped (a horribly uncomfortable experience for anyone who's never had the joy of that), I spend the rest of the day with very uncomfortable contractions and cramping. I basically just curl up in the fetal position and breathe through them until bed time. This time...nothing. No cramping, no contractions. So to take my mind off of it, I sewed my midwife the unicorn shirt I had been intending to make her, and Rob and I made plans to take the kids out for a nice evening as a last "hurrah" before baby. The minute I finished the shirt, I started cramping.

Determined to enjoy our last night together as a family of five, we went out with the kids and then had a picnic in the park. By about 8:00 I was really starting to have significant contractions, about 4-5 minutes apart. So we headed home, and changed a few plans to have the kids sleep over at their designated friends' houses just in case I needed to go to hospital in the middle of the night. Plus, it was one less thing to worry about the next morning. They aren't allowed sleepovers typically, so they were practically more excited by this than the prospect of their new baby sister.

Once the kids were all deposited, Rob and I got walking. We walked a couple of hours, until about midnight, enjoying the perfect weather and each others' company. The contraction timer told us that they were spaced about every four minutes apart, and they were definitely intensifying. We headed home when I was tired and uncomfortable enough that I felt like they would keep up, around 12:30 AM. By about 2:30, with Rob passed out in bed, I was uncomfortable enough that I decided to take a bath. In the bath, the contractions let up a bit--they spread to about 7 minutes with a little less intensity, and at about 3:15, I laid down and was able to sleep.

At about 4:30, the contractions woke me up. They were back to about 4 minutes apart and more intense. I woke Rob up just before 5:30 to call the hospital. They were a little busier than anticipated and had to call us back. The verdict: come in about 10:00 AM. I informed Rob that I didn't think this was going to happen, so he let them know it was entirely possible that we'd show up before that. By 6:30, I said we should go get some breakfast and then I'd probably need to head in. We grabbed some McDonald's but when we returned home, I wasn't very hungry and was feeling that restless labor feeling. Rob insisted that we had to ride to the hospital in his newly acquired '59 Biscayne...so he went outside to "start it up." 15 minutes (and 8000 contractions) later, he informed me that it was ready.

Here I am, stopping to have a contraction...notice that Rob (who took the picture) has more car in the photograph than wife.

{I am obviously incredibly thrilled, pregnant, and tired...}

{Rob is obviously incredibly thrilled, well-rested, and not-pregnant.}

Rob called the midwife on our way to the hospital and we were off. At this point, the contractions were pretty intense, I was exhausted from laboring all night, and I was having a lot of bleeding. All signs that I thought meant everything was about to pick up fast. I was truly envisioning a birth like #2, where things happen so quickly that it makes the birth--and avoiding an epidural--almost seem easy...I was kind of wrong.

When we arrived around 7:30AM, our midwife, Marie (who I should just interject here is the sweetest, most super awesome lady ever!), was waiting for us. We got into a room quickly, and Marie checked my cervix. Where I'd been only about 1.5 cm dilated the day before, I was now dilated to 3cm. While not as far along as I'd hoped, it was progress that my own body had made, so I would take it!

We sent Rob off to park the car while we checked baby on the monitors, thinking everything was hunky-dory. Unfortunately, when they hooked me up, there was obviously some concern.

Immediately, there were three other nurses in the room, I was getting an IV, and Marie said, "Baby's heart rate is a little low. I don't think she likes labor too much, so we're just trying to get it back up with some fluids." Apparently, her heart rate was in the 70s when they hooked me up. When Rob came back up, he found a flurry of unexpected activity, and me, suddenly envisioning being whisked away for a c-section, if things stayed in their current position.

Luckily, the fluids seemed to do the trick. In the excitement of laboring (and walking, etc) through the night, I had probably failed to take adequate care of myself and become a little dehydrated. Baby girl's heart rate bounced back after a little while, and we were okay to get off the monitors and keep laboring. Marie said she'd be back around lunch to check on us, and I was totally expecting to be ~thisclose~ to having a baby when she returned.

The good news was that the fluids weren't just helping baby; I felt much better, too. I had more energy, got an appetite, decided to watch Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and even put some makeup on. (Vanity...I gots it.)

{I requested a plate of pepperoni and cheese, since you're wondering...}

The bad news was, my contractions also slowed down....

I was still having contractions, but they were less intense and they were now about 6 minutes apart.

When Marie returned at noon, after several hours of laboring, I hadn't dilated at all. I was still at 3 cm, so we decided to break my water to get things going. Only...more trouble... As she put it, I apparently have a "bag of steel." She tried several times in various ways to break my water, but no luck. My water has been tough to break in all my deliveries, but it had never been unbreakable.

{Attempting to break my "unbreakable" water...}

After some discussion, we decided it was time for my arch-nemesis, Pitocin, to enter the picture.

The plan was to get me in the tub, crank up the Pit, and get me to dilate. From this point on, Marie never left. (Which was wonderful, and such a difference in the midwife vs. doctor model!)

I labored in the tub until about 2:30 or 3:00. Because I was on the Pitocin, I needed continuous fetal monitoring. There were a few times that Marie came in to tell me that "Baby isn't liking this so much," meaning were having some decels in her heart rate, and she adjusted the Pitocin to a level that seemed to work.

After a couple of hours (and much to Rob's chagrin, about 15 minutes before the end of Harry Potter), I decided I needed to get out of the tub.

By this point, I was very uncomfortable. The contractions were doing what pitocin contractions do: they just. weren't. letting. up. I wasn't getting back down to "zero" between them, and I was really starting to think hard about that epidural. I went into the bathroom and told Rob that if I hadn't dilated that maybe it was time for one, because maybe I wasn't relaxing enough to let my body dilate.

This is where Rob totally earned his stripes.

Previously, if you'd asked me how helpful Rob is in labor, I'd have said that my husband is a GREAT guy to have in a crisis...unless that crisis is me having a baby. In that case, he's kind of a hot mess, wringing his hands, looking worried, and generally making me crazy by asking if I need anything.

This time around, we had spent some time talking about what he could do to help. He informed me that his uselessness stemmed from 1) seeing me "bleed like a stuck pig" after baby number one when my placenta wouldn't deliver and I started hemorrhaging; and 2) just not knowing what to do to BE helpful. So I had given him a specific job: distract me. If I started asking for an epidural, don't tell me no, but offer other solutions. Encourage me to get through "one more contraction."

I don't think I realized how much self-control he would need for this until after I had delivered the baby, but he was so great. By the time I walked out of the bathroom, I was pretty done. I was ready for an epidural, even though I know how much I hate them, and how much better I recover without them. But I was hurting, and the pitocin is relentless.

It was time for another cervical check. And although Rob and Marie both said, "almost a five!" I had heard their whispers and seen their communicative glances to each other and instinctively knew what would later be confirmed to me: I hadn't dilated AT ALL in those hours in the tub. They were lying to me to keep me from despair. But I knew better.

Then came the horror of trying to break my water again. This time, Marie used one of the baby monitors that screws into baby's head. She had been able to attach it, so she knew it had gone through the bag. Unfortunately, there was no water. Marie posited that it was possibly just that the baby's head was so engaged that all the water was behind her. There was a little trickle, but only for a moment.

I went back into the bathroom (thanks, bags of IV fluid!) and told Rob that I just wanted an epidural. I was done, I wasn't dilating, everything hurt, and I was dying. He encouraged me to just get on the birth ball for a few minutes. When I walked out of the bathroom, I told Rob and Marie, "Let's just cut her out. I'm done now." Marie scolded me for the bad juju and said I was doing great. I disagreed, but, whining, got on the birth ball.

{"Everything hurts and I'm dying."}

At this point, I buried my face into the bed and hardly lifted it, and my memory gets a bit hazy as I entered transition. At some point, I lost my headband, and that is one of the few things I remember...making everyone search frantically for it between contractions, and then realizing I had packed an extra in the bag. Thank goodness, because apparently my wispy hairs were causing more consternation than my torturous uterus.

{Crying for joy over locating a headband.}

I also know that I tried some good old manipulation on my sweet husband. I turned to him between contractions, and begged, "Pleeeeease, Robbie. Pleeeeease!" knowing that my pain and pleas could break him...but he simply patted me sweetly and muttered something non-committal. (Later, he admitted that this had been the hardest moment for him. He wanted to give in, but kept doing what he knew I wanted him to do.) Apparently, at that point, he had looked to Marie, who had shown him a number 8 and said I was in transition and baby would be here any minute.

When I was turned down for the epidural after that incredible display of emotional manipulation, I knew all was lost. There would be no epidural, and all the people I thought loved me were liars. I had trained him too well.

{His name is Rob, and he obviously delights in my torture...}

From here out, most of this time is a blur of pain and despair that no one would give me an epidural. Some things I remember: shaking my head and yelling "No, no, no, no, no, no!" every time I could feel a contraction coming on, and when Marie or Rob told me what a good job I was doing, I would tell them that they were lying and I didn't want to do this.

"I changed my mind! I want to go HOME!" I kept crying. Now, I laugh about this, and know everyone there was probably laughing too, as though my going home was going to remedy my current predicament in ANY way.

In there somewhere, just before pushing began, Marie ordered me some demerol. It had no effect, so she called for NuBain. This, though I'm not sure helped the pain much during contractions, at least caused me to pass out deeply between them. I think it may also be responsible for my blurry memory.

Soon (according to Rob, about 20-30 minutes after I was tricked into trying the birth ball for a few minutes), it was time to push. At this point, Marie suggested I try to get on the bed, but I couldn't. So I leaned over the bed, the birth ball was rolled away, the floor was covered, and I squatted down to push with each contraction. Thank goodness for my strong husband whose hand I nearly took off by squeezing, and who managed to keep me lifted off the ground for the 20 minutes it took to push out baby. I delivered her standing, and she came very quickly.

{"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!!!"}

I hope there were no other mommies in the early stages of labor, especially none hoping for a natural child birth. If there were, I am certain that the amount of screaming I was doing convinced them to call quickly for the anesthesiologist. There were many sounds I did not know I could make.

It's funny. I really thought that all natural childbirths would be like my other one. I thought it would be quick, I thought the pain would be manageable. I thought I'd be laughing and making jokes between contractions.

There were no jokes. This birth was very primal. But like all my others, when it was over, there was perfect, pure, relief and joy. Suddenly, there was a new life in the room. She was whole, healthy, mine. I laughed again. Laughed and smiled. Shouted for happiness. Felt a wet, squirming weight in my arms that until the moment she came from inside of me to outside of me, I didn't know I loved so much.

After delivery, we had more thanks to give. When my placenta delivered, it had clearly started calcifying rapidly. Marie also informed me that my water had been hard to break because there WAS no water. I had virtually no amniotic fluid left. If I had ignored the prompting the previous day to induce, there was a good chance that we would have had an emergency c-section, or worse, when I arrived at the office Monday for my 41-week NST and ultrasound.

Blessed. God is good.

{Extra wrinkly feet from the lack of fluid. Just like I lost weight in the last week or two of pregnancy, she probably had too.}

{Baby escaped with only a black eye. Womb brawler.}

Soon the kids arrived to meet their new baby sister. And just like that, as quickly as she was born, she was part of our family. Kids love so easily, and as soon as they saw her, she was theirs, as much as she was mine and Rob's.

We are so grateful to have our sweet baby girl, the much prayed for baby sister, in our home and hearts!

Squirrely Girl is 8!

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Sat, 13 Jun 2015 22:31:00 +0000

Dearest Little Girl,

Wow! Eight years old! I am not even sure how we got here. Did I blink? The moments pass so quickly...

So often, I try to take you into my arms and find that you are all legs and arms, and it seems like almost nothing is left of the tiny baby that once fit in my palms. Other times, she is still there, wide blue eyes, joy and innocence.

This has been a wonderfully transformative year for you. Last year in school, you struggled to find your place. A few of the friendships you had were full of drama and "mean girls" that left you feeling confused and hurt on a regular basis. I struggled to help you understand that you are enough and that your gentle little heart was not a weakness, even though at times it felt like a burden. This year, with the change of classmates and a teacher who found your strengths and really helped you grow, you've had a tremendous year. You're still in search of that "best friend" that is always kind and who you can always be "you" with, but I can see how much happier you are, how you are back to yourself and the free, happy little spirit you have always been. You are such a reader this year! You finished the year with the highest AR score in the grade, and loved spending your time reaching those goals. You're still having some math anxiety--exacerbated, I think, by last years struggles. Many days have you laid on the floor to throw a temper tantrum at the thought of having to do a single sheet of homework. But truly, those moments are overshadowed by the overall change I have seen in you this year as you have hit your stride.

Aside from math homework, and the occasional torments of your brothers, your life is full of happiness. You are still the great event coordinator--making big plans to organize the neighborhood kids, calling "family meetings," directing your brothers in whatever type of pretend play suits you. Sometimes you make me more than a little crazy with your elaborate ideas--which often lead to even more elaborate messes. But I do love your creativity and ability to round up others into your ideas.

One change this year that has been hard on me is that tween transition--the one where Mom and Dad fall from the pedestal. Where once our word was Gospel, we now find ourselves occasionally subjected to eyes rolling, disbelief, arguments, or--worst of all--those withering, hateful looks that break my heart. I know these moments are all about you learning to be your own person (with a touch of changing hormones), and an important part of your growing up, but at the same time, it's another reminder of the slow march you take towards severing the strings that bind our hearts together. Thankfully, these moments are less frequent than the moments of laughter, snuggling, talking together, and general trust you still have in us, and often followed by sweet notes of apology that almost make it worth the glares and sass.

You love singing, and acting, and art. You write your own silly songs and dream of being a "pop star." Last summer, we acted in Seussical together, you as the cutest Who from Whoville there ever was, and this year, you are preparing for your parts as fish and seagull in The Little Mermaid. You even took the lead of "Mother Goose" in your 2nd grade play, with a singing solo to boot. You are still a performer, with the ability to light up on stage for an audience in a way that fills me with a type of pride I could have never imagined before you came into my life.

I see your growth in the Gospel as well--your thoughtful questions, your desire to be baptized. (You'll be baptized in the Snake River, and there is a high level of apprehension about this, and excitement about making your first covenants with your Heavenly Father.) You like to teach Family Home Evening, you'll read scriptures as long as we let you. And though your brothers protest, you are always happy and excited to go to church.

You are such a good example to me, and so often I feel I fail you. But you are full of forgiveness and unending love. You are the best kind of big sister--patient, loving, gentle. Sure, there are moments where you can't take any more of the harassment they give you and lose your cool, but for the better part, your actions speak of the love you have for those boys of ours. So many nights, I may come to your room to find them curled up with you, listening to you read a book, or playing a game of your design.

I know I probably say this, every year, but my sweet, darling, busy, squirrely girl, you are joy. I could spend my day watching you play. There is such a light in you; it exudes happiness and wonder. My deepest prayer for you is that no one ever succeeds in extinguishing that light. It's most manifest in your laughter--oh that laugh that comes from your toes and causes you to grab your belly and buckle in two--but it's there in the way you chase butterflies, talk about your friends, tell us what you learned in Primary, eat a watermelon, and create art. You know kindness, joy, and love, and you work to acquaint everyone you meet with these companions of yours.

I am grateful every day for you, for who you are becoming, and for who you are helping me become. I am slow to progress, imperfect, and in need of grace, but you are the reminder that God loves me, else why would he have ever given me such a gift as you?

I love you, my princess. For always.

Love,
Mom

Happy 3rd Birthday, to the Grasshopper

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Thu, 04 Jun 2015 22:44:00 +0000

Oh, little bug. You are three! I don't know where the time went, or where the tiny little baby that was forever attached to me has gone. Instead, here is a child, with long arms and legs spilling out of my embraces.

You are hilarious. And weird. And ornery. And mischievious. And sweet. And stubborn. And goofy. And cantankerous. And snuggly. And thoughtful. And smart.

There are perhaps no words that do not, at some point in any given day, describe you. Where I sometimes have a hard time pinning down just the right word for your siblings, for you, I have a hard time limiting the list.

Every since you were a tiny baby, you have had this face that is just a hoot to watch. The emotions and thoughts that run through your head tick across your face like so many frames in a moment of film. It is so easy to read your feelings, see the workings of your mind, as they scroll across your face. The furrow of your brow, the sideways glance, the flick of the corner of your mouth, the flare of your nostrils--all these things happen here and there, every moment across that lovely, remarkably expressive face of yours. Micro-expressions testifying of a storm of thought beneath it all. As you gently move from toddler-hood to childhood, I can see this characteristic begin to fade, and yet I hope that always a glimmer of it will remain.

You are very much the same way in personality as your face is in expression. You are many things, constantly changing things, a wide spectrum of things from this moment to the next. You love your brother and sister with deep affections; moments later you delight in their torment. (If there is a bully in this family, it is most certainly you, my darling.) You lash out as you test your independence to do things on your own; just as suddenly, you are sweetly asking for help. You sometimes hit; you quickly apologize. You claim to be the boss; you are equally likely to tell everyone that you are the baby. In one moment, you smile and laugh; in the next, you weep and gnash teeth. Part of this, of course, is that you've spent the last year being two, but part of it is also, I think, just who you are--I often say that when you do something, you do it all the way. There is no half-heartedness about you. Only fire and ice.

Like your siblings, you are verbally precocious. You talk a great deal and turn phrases in a way we rarely expect. You are an excellent mimic. Though he detests it--and the two of you often find yourselves in a row over the matter--you love to copy your brother. You repeat his words, mirror his play, and follow him around with absolute commitment, even when it leads to him erupting in anger. And oh, how you love your big sister. There have even been times, after sustaining a minor injury or a particularly upsetting loss (in your world, perhaps a denied cookie, or an end to your screen time), where you will choose Ainsley over me for your comfort. And yet, you love them both, calling out their names in excitement every time they come home from school.

Your relationship with Daddy is more complicated. He is a great deal of fun. He's most excellent for playing pretend or getting into tickle fights. But, let's be honest, he's second fiddle to me. Your older siblings never had quite the same kind of favoritism toward me as you do...and it would be dishonest to act as though I don't relish it just a little. You are my "maybe baby," and I admit to letting you get away with more than your siblings, taking longer to say good nights, indulging you in your babyisms. You still take a bottle, because I just can't stand the heartache that comes when I tell you no. You still wear a diaper--because you are a stubborn little beast with zero interest in or currency to convince you to try learning the potty.

Watching you play is one of my favorite things. Unlike your brother and sister, who feel the need to "direct" one another through every line or action of their play time, you play much more spontaneously and amuse yourself with considerable more ease. At times, you have even been toy-less in the car and resorted to making different voices for each of your hands, and then acted out a scene between them. You love to play fighting and ninja games. But you also love to whip things up in your play kitchen, drive toy cars around the house, put Mr. Potatohead together and pull him apart all day, and act out scenes for him.

I think, thus far, you are my most musically attuned child. You insist on a song every night, and nearly without fail, you request "Dinos Marching" (which is a poor, four verse adaptation of "The Ants Go Marching"). You sing along and snuggle as I sing. Another thing I love is that when I make up silly songs about what we are doing (which is regularly), you love to try to sing along. You easily pick up the note progression and where the song is going, and then watch and listen to pick out the words as they come.

You've been accident prone this year. This year you sustained a couple of good knocks to the head, a nasty burn (as a result of you knowing better and refusing to trust Daddy when he tried to keep you away from something hot), and an eye patch. All of this, I think, is a manifestation of your growing independence, and probably that all-or-nothing tendency you have.

This past year, I left my job managing full time, and though my job was flexible before and allowed us a lot of time together, I am relishing the ample time we have now, the fact that when I am with you, I am WHOLLY with you, without distractions from tenants or phone calls. You've noticed this too, and commented on how you like to be with me a number of times. Those moments are my greatest paycheck. You're my little buddy, and we do it all together: play on the floor, watch shows, grocery shop, sing songs in the car. Your being a "mommy's boy" has, in many ways, made me a "Simon's mommy," but I love the opportunity to be with you, experience your joys and heartaches, and watch you become a whole person.

In some ways, you are a challenge, in others, I feel I parent you with great ease. I love this period of our lives, when you sneak into my bed every night, throw your tiny arms around my neck with frequency, look up at me with constant and unmatched love and admiration, just you and me a while each day while the big kids are away at school. I know it will pass all too quickly, and hope I can tuck away all the sweet moments that make this period of our lives special. I am grateful every. single. day for you.

Thank you for being you, and for choosing me as your mom. I love you!

Love,
Mom

Little Bird Turns Six!

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Tue, 17 Feb 2015 09:01:00 +0000

To my darling Little Bird,

You are my absolute favorite kindergartener in the entire world. To be honest, this year has also been one of my absolute favorites with you. You are positively delightful in every sense of the word. You ooze the magic of childhood from every little molecule. The sixth year of your life marked some sort of change in you that has been nothing short of remarkable. From my perspective, it seems that all the frustration of your previous years has finally begun to melt away. You are articulate, as you have always been, and in addition to that, I think you've reached a point where you don't become so overwhelmed by all those big thoughts and feelings of yours as you used to. You are suddenly able to express yourself--your worries, your wonders, your wandering thoughts. They all come tumbling out of you in that same wordy way they did before, but with an added sense of self and confidence that wasn't there before as you struggled with the great big world happening inside your head.

You experience the strange world of childhood in a fully committed way. You're never worried about growing up or being viewed as a kid. Everything is a wonder to you, and your world of childhood imagination IS the world. You're hysterical and say things that shouldn't possibly come out of a five year old's mouth--a vocabulary that rivals most adults' and the ability to turn a phrase or idiom in precisely the perfect way make me sometimes forget that you are only five. And then, there you are, playing with your action figures, or weeping over a skinned knee and suddenly I am reminded of your age and tenderness. When I think back on my perception of childhood, I think it must have been ever so much like yours. As I watch you play--your joys, your frustrations, your games, your trust, your carefree spirit and the way you simply find happiness and let the bad roll off you--I think so much that this is how I remember my very young years. You remind me a lot of me...or at least how I remember me...and it's a feeling that brings me a joyful familiarity.

There have been some hurdles this year. We've worked in a big way on your anxiety, which now seems so distant. You've made some major jumps in your learning. You read remarkably well. (A few days ago, you asked for help with a word in a book. The book was The Lord of the Rings. I said perhaps we should choose an easier book, to which you informed me you'd already read the first six pages...) You love math. (Sometimes, when your sister is working on her math, I have to chase you off because you like to shout the answers to her.) At the same time, as Kindergarten has proven much too easy for you, and we've not had much luck in getting any appropriate acceleration or differentiation, you're becoming lazy. This worries me, as I want you to continue to love learning in the way you always have, without becoming hyper, distracted, or bored. You've mastered your temper in the last year, mostly, which is a concern I've had. But you have really figured out how to calm yourself and your worries. I am so proud of you for this, because I know it can be hard!

Your relationships with your siblings are ever changing. You still adore your big sister, but are struggling with the phase you are entering with her--the one where she wants to leave you out of the play at times, especially when friends of her own are near, and where suddenly the little brother is "annoying." You love weekends best, because it means you can sleep in her room, but are hurt the worst when she doesn't want to play with you. When it comes to your little brother, there has been a great transformation. You still fight in the way I suppose most brothers do, especially where he just wants so much to do all you do (which often entails taking your toys), but at the same time, I see you try to encourage him, teaching him to do things, playing with him. There is nothing I love more as a mom than seeing my children care for one another, and I have gotten to see that so much more this past year.

With the change from five to six, there is an independent streak that is hard for me as a mom. Your sister went through it about the same time, and it's so bittersweet. It's really the first major shift socially, as you turn from the family (ME!) as the center of your universe, to your peers. I love that you have friends you are crazy about. I love to hear stories about them, tales of cops and robbers (is it silly that I adore the fact that it's still called "Cops and Robbers" as though the game itself is a throwback to a simpler time?), bridge building, jungle gyms, and races. And at the same time, I hear in those stories a widening circle of relationships that will only grow over the years I have left with you, where I hold but a single space of many in your heart. Already, you are less "mine."

You are so joyful. Surely, there are the temper tantrums, and the disagreements over TV time and whether you will eat your dinner and clean your room, but ultimately, those are only moments and exceptions. You are affectionate. You love to hold my hand or gaze into my eyes with those big round brown cow-eyes of your own. You like to snuggle on the couch, and more nights than not, you still find your way into my and daddy's bed and wedge yourself in to take up as much space as can be made available. You are a pleaser. You get a great deal of joy from making others happy or receiving compliments. You nearly always share your treats and goodies with your siblings, even if the favor is rarely returned. A while back, you wore your suit to church and were told you looked "like a handsome missionary." Each week since, you've taken extra care of your appearance and asked if you look like a missionary. You remember compliments like that for a long time, but are never to happy to rest on them. I see the way you like to continue to earn the privilege of praise. You take pride in being the kind of person who deserves it.

You are very funny. Quick witted and good-natured, your jokes are full of kindergarten-level silliness and higher-level word play. You love to read joke books and share the punchlines with anyone who will listen. In addition to joke, this year, you are into Pokemon, Skylanders, Legos (and how!), Minecraft (even though you've never played), Superheroes, Scooby Doo, and Star Wars (even though you've never seen it). You love playing chess, which Daddy taught you to do this year. A day rarely goes by that you aren't begging someone to play, and you even play against the iPad at times. You love having your back scratched and your forehead rubbed. You love wrestling and riding the bike Daddy taught you to ride this year. You love to climb up trees, but are afraid to climb down. You sing songs, but only when you think no one can hear you. You are sometimes naughty, but never with malice. You are often sweet, and always with intent. You forgive so quickly, and I need forgiveness so often.

You are a thread attached to my heart. You bring me so much joy. So much. And I love to stop and watch you. Just watch. Because you are so small and so big and so...everything. It's hard to explain this fleeting, eternal, loud, silent love I have for you. Glorious you.

Long ago, when you were just born and I saw those big eyes taking in the world, taking me in and filling me up, I chose the nickname "Little Bird" for you. I chose it because of a Carl Sandburg poem that filled my head when I first met you and fills me again every time I write these yearly letters for you.

[...]
love is a little white bird
and the flight of it so fast
you can’t see it
and you know it’s there
only by the faint whirr of its wings
and the hush song coming so low to your ears
you fear it might be silence
and you listen keen and you listen long
and you know it’s more than silence
for you get the hush song so lovely
it hurts and cuts into your heart
and what you want is to give more than you can get
and you’d like to write it but it can’t be written
and you’d like to sing it but you don’t dare try
because the little white bird sings it better than you can
so you listen and while you listen you pray
and after you pray you meditate, then pray more
and one day it’s as though a great slow wind
had washed you clean and strong inside and out
and another day it’s as though you had gone to sleep
in an early afternoon sunfall and your sleeping heart
dumb and cold as a round polished stone,
and the little white bird’s hush song
telling you nothing can harm you,
the days to come can weave in and weave out
and spin their fabrics and designs for you
and nothing can harm you–
unless you change yourself into a thing of harm
nothing can harm you.
[...]

You are my "Little Word, Little White Bird."

I love you.

Now, and always.

All my love,
Mom

January 2015 Stitch Fix Review #1

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Tue, 27 Jan 2015 06:48:00 +0000

This is a review of my first Stitch Fix order. I don't get any compensation from Stitch Fix for writing this review, but the post does contain referral links. If you sing up and order through my referral, I receive a credit (thank you!) and you'll get a link for you to earn credit if your friends sign up, too!

I've been dying to try Stitch Fix for months and months since I first heard about it a little over a year ago. I did some extra work and saved my pennies up to finally order one.

If you're unfamiliar with Stitch Fix, the premise is this: You fill out a style profile, and a personal stylist picks five items just for you. They are shipped to you, to try on in the comfort of your own home. Decide what you like, and send back the rest. Shipping is included both ways. There is a $20 charge for the service, but if you make a purchase, that $20 is applied toward anything you choose to keep. As a mom in a pretty rural area, this is such a great idea for me!

To even shop at a place like Kohl's or JCPenney, I have to drive 45 minutes, and even then, we only get the "mini" version of these stores, with a very limited selection. Even the Target in town is a mini! The idea of affordable, hand-picked, designer clothes shipped straight to me is really appealing.

This was my first time trying Stitch Fix, and so I tried to be as detailed as possible with my style and needs. After 3 kids (and a considerable Dr. Pepper habit), I have a serious mommy-tummy (read: muffin top), and have some limitations because of my religious affiliation (no sleeveless shirts, no mini skirts, etc.). I laid those needs out, emphasized my love for bright, outfit-making pieces, and then left my measurements. It's a pretty small space for the note, so I edited several times to be as concise as possible.

I also created a Pinterest board with style ideas specifically tailored for my Stitch Fix stylist. And then I waited. Anxiously.

On the day my Fix arrived, my youngest, unfortunately, was sick with the stomach flu, so I had to wait until Rob came home to tag me out. The anticipation was killing me! Even then, it took most of the day to try things out because the little guy needed me more than my Stitch Fix did.

I apologize the cell phone photos aren't great. I didn't anticipate writing a review, but wanted to do it after the fact. And yeah, I have crazy "my two year old is sick today" hair. But, it's cool. He's worth it.

When you order a Stitch Fix, you not only get items of clothing, but a note from your stylist and a set of styling cards to help you see how to style the pieces they sent. I could tell from the card that my stylist, Melanie, had put some thought into the items, and I was excited about that. I was a little disappointed in the colors, as everything was darker than I had hoped. But I was still looking forward to it, as I know a number of women who have said that it's worth trying things on, even if you think you will hate them.

The first thing I saw in my box was leopard print. If you know me, you know that's all I need to be happy. It was a super soft, funky infinity scarf. I loved it. I knew that if only one thing was staying, this would be the one. (Alena Fuzzy Leopard Scarf, $34.)

Next up was this Harley Mixed Material Cardigan ($58). I actually loved almost everything about it, except one detail. I wasn't totally sold on the color. Even though it isn't even February yet, I am ready for some COLOR! This is the kind of thing that I'd go gaga for in September, but after all the gray Idaho months, I'm just not up for more black, brown, and grey.

Even then, it was really tempting. It was amazing quality, incredibly soft, and the fit was perfect. I especially loved the detail at the shoulders. I asked Rob what he thought, and he asked, "Don't you have one just like that?" To which I said, "Noooo...I'll show you my other textured draped cardigans." As I brought out the huge pile, I thought to myself, "This alone should probably answer my question," and that thought was confirmed when I walked in the room to show Rob the enormous pile and saw the look on his face. So, back it goes. Even though it's lovely... And I might regret it...

Next up was a pair of Just Black Dean Ankle Skinny Jeans ($78). I've seen other bloggers rave about these jeans, and it's totally justified. They are awesome. They fit great, just the right amount of stretch. The rise is just high enough to cover the mommy tummy. Again, this one came down to the fact that I already own a pair of jeans that is almost identical, and I couldn't justify them for the price. So they went back.

Item #4 was a Kut from the Kloth Neville Floral Print Blouse ($68). It was a "no" the second it was on. I WANTED to love it. I absolutely adore florals, but this was pretty dark. On top of that, it is sheer, and has long sleeves, two details that aren't usually my favorite. The price tag was high for such a lightweight shirt. If I'm going to spend that much on a shirt, I better REALLY love it, and this blouse didn't make the cut. Plus, it was a bit big in the sides, with sleeves that were about 4 inches too long. However, I did really appreciate that this was a piece that showed that my stylist was being thoughtful, and for a first Fix, I thought she was doing a good job trying to hone into what I like.

The last piece was something else entirely. This was the Moon Collection Kira Abstract Dot Print Blouse ($48). I liked the print, but I knew I wouldn't be crazy about the fabric. 100% polyester that just felt like cheap costume fabric. To top it off, when I pulled it from the box, nearly every hem had threads from frayed edges hanging out. Already, I knew there was no way I was paying $50 for a garment with so many quality issues.

And then...when I put it on...well, as I said to some friends: The only problem with this blouse was that they forgot to send the red foam nose and the unicycle....

Straight up clown attire. Worse, I looked like Violet Beauregarde as they rolled her out of Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. This was definitely headed back to the Stitch Fix racks.
It was so bad, I actually challenged myself to find a way to make it wearable, because there had to be SOME way to wear it...or else why would it even exist? (Also, can you see how terribly crooked that hem at the bottom is? Just...no...)

I thought about it a while, trying to come up with an outfit with pieces already in my wardrobe that resembled one of the styling suggestions. I came up with this, and it really was a whole new blouse!

I no longer hated it. In fact, if not for the quality/cost issues, I may have been tempted to keep it. But, I recently left my job and am currently only working one or two days a week, with a complete reduction in the near future. So a professional piece of clothing is definitely not on my list of "needs," especially when we'll be losing some income. But I was pretty shocked at how easily the blouse was transformed into something great, just by trying out the styling suggestions. So impressed, I decided to try those suggestions with the other blouse.

And wouldn't you know, the same thing happened! Suddenly a piece that had been very "blah" turned into something more!

However, even with the new look (which I loved!) I couldn't overcome the fit and cost issues with this one, and so it remained in the bag to be returned.

Moral of the story?

Try your Stitch Fix items with the styling suggestions!!!

It made a huge difference, and the pieces really came to life.

Overall, I kept just one item. I have a referral credit from way back when I first found Stitch Fix and started asking around about it, so my total cost for this Fix was just $9.

I'd like to give it another go sometime, as I hear Stitch Fix just got all their spring items in (bright colors!), and I think that with a little feedback on these pieces, my stylist can totally nail it next time!

Have you heard of Stitch Fix? Want to try it?
What do you think about the pieces they sent in this Fix?

To the Women Who Mourn

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Tue, 24 Jun 2014 05:34:00 +0000

I want to say a word (or more...brevity has never been my strongest suit) to those sisters who are grieving over the excommunication of Kate Kelly.

Eons ago, my very first (and quite wonderful) visiting teaching companion said something in a lesson that has stuck with me for a great many years. She said, "The best way to prepare for future ordinances and covenants is to keep the covenants you have already made."

We need you. There is room and love enough for you in God's Church. You have gifts and talents and beauties to share with us, and we need YOU and the threads you bring to the great tapestry of our faith.
The answer now may be "No," but that doesn't necessarily mean "Never." Saints across the globe prayed for many years for the expansion of the Priesthood before, and they continued to live the gospel and prepare for future ordinances and covenants by keeping the ones they had already made. In the end, their lives were blessed, joy expanded.

Others left, deciding that they were not willing to wait on the timing of the Lord, and in addition to giving up on their existing covenants, they lost the opportunity for future covenants (and their accompanying blessings).

I do not know whether the Priesthood will ever be expanded to women. And frankly, I can be happy either way. But I know that God lives, and that He loves each and every one of us, and that He has a plan of infinite beauty and joy for each of us. I know that there is a prophet who guides us. I know that accepting the Lord's will (and His timing) is sometimes painfully hard, but part of our purpose on this earth. I know that because of the covenants I have made with Him that I can live with Him again. And, if ever the time comes that I can enter into other ordinances with Him, that will depend entirely on my work to keep sacred those covenants I have already made.

I deeply feel for those women who struggle with the question of their place before God when it comes to His Priesthood. I don't feel in any way that the consequences that came down were about the question, as questions are one of the most important tools we have to draw nearer to the Savior. In spite of all that's happened, the church today is the same church it was yesterday, and your covenants still tie you back to the Lord. So please, stay. Share your testimony (because when it feels weakest--another friend taught me--is often when you need to share it most); pray for peace; exercise the priesthood already within you; and keep preparing by keeping those covenants which you have entered into with the Lord.

Come what may, it's the best way to be ready for it.

To my son, on his fifth birthday:

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Tue, 11 Feb 2014 06:10:00 +0000

Little Bird:
Happy Birthday! FIVE!
You sir, are like a new kid this year. It's been exciting and fun, and heart-wrenching and bitter-sweet.

The biggest development of the year is that you started school in earnest. I never thought I'd send you to full day school before Kindergarten, but it has been a truly wonderful thing for you. At four, you were already reading and writing and doing addition and subtraction, and a mistake with your previous preschool meant we needed an alternative. I knew you'd be unhappy doing nothing, and with my work schedule the way it is, I knew I couldn't devote enough time to your learning. So, we entered you into a full-day Montessori school. It has been such a great experience. You are reading so well independently, your math skills are fantastic, you have made great strides with your anger, and have just blossomed in your learning and your thirst for knowledge.

This year, from four to five, you have learned a lot about keeping your temper, reasoning things out, and understanding consequences. Sometimes those lessons are hard, but you are growing up into a sweet and responsible kid. All the baby is out of you now, and I'm learning to see glimpses of who you will turn into. I absolutely adore all that you are.

Some ways to describe you:
Imaginative--you are in one of my very favorite stages, where you like to take me along on long, detailed imaginings and "what ifs." Made up animals, inventions, adventures--they are all happening in that big, beautiful brain of yours and often come spilling out in a flood of excitement. You have become increasingly talkative this year. If I ever have the chance to be alone with you, I can rarely get a word in edge wise as you excitedly tell me about your ideas.

Sweet--You are sweet as sugar! Your love language is definitely words of affirmation and acts of service. If I tell you what a sweet kid you are, if I do something helpful for you, or offer to make you something special, you light up in a way that is uniquely yours and pretty much makes all the dull/hard/exhausting moments of being a mom completely melt away. You can smile up at me and tell me I am the best mom ever in a way that just gets deep down inside and tells me how much you really believe it. You offer to brush my hair or hold my hand and tell me things you like about me. Admittedly, we butt heads from time to time, but so often it's because I forget that you need first and foremost to know that you are loved and to understand that I have your best interests at heart.

Perceptive--You have a way of reading and reciprocating emotions. This is sometimes the biggest blessing, and sometimes the heaviest of curses. When we get it right, when I am engaged and attentive and loving, you return so much more back to me. When I am tired, short tempered, or overwhelmed, you have the ability to amplify those emotions until both of us are crying in time-out. I've often said that your sister made me a mom and you have made me a better mom, and in a lot of ways this is still true. You are the one that has me reading parenting books, asking friends for advice, and overanalyzing my actions and plans. And that's okay, because as you have always done, you have helped to change me into something better than I could have hoped to be without you, and the moments when we get it right make all the rough patches a blessing.

Smart--oh, child. You are smart. When I started you in preschool this year, I told your teacher that you were already reading and doing basic math, that I had wanted to start you in Kindergarten early, but was unable. She "Uh-huh"ed me, as I assume many teachers are used to being told by parents how their children are exceptional. A week into school though, she asked me to stick around after school because we needed to talk about you. She showed me all you had done, that you'd blown through the books and spelling she had offered you, and that she was shocked at how far ahead you were. "Kierra," she emphasized, "he is SO. SMART. I don't know if I've ever had a 4 year old like him!" I didn't say "I told you so," but I sure did think it. :) You latch onto knowledge. You're still little, but your learning is big, and I truly hope that will always be the case.

Strong-willed--There is nothing that is true in this world, unless you say it is so. I recall an argument you and I had this year about whether the sun was shining. I, of course, could clearly see that it was. But you, on the other hand, had some reason to disagree. I finally relented, and to be honest, the words, "Okay, boss, if you say so..." are kind of common in our discussions this past year. It's been known to cause a few screaming matches between you and your sister, or you and your school buddy, this inability to change course of yours. However, I hope it turns into a tenacious desire to achieve your goals and to find the answers to the questions you'll ask.

Compassionate--You are really learning to have empathy for those around you. Though you never like the lesson, and you have a tendency (don't we all) to lay blame with others, you are learning the value and healing of a true apology. You love animals and babies and are gentle with them and you think about how others would feel in various situations. I love your thoughtful, gentle heart and your intense sense of justice.

Cantankerous--Oh, my darling. You are still my little "Grumpy Gus." A lack of sleep brings out a monster in you, and you are, at times, the poster child for "the Hangries," but this year you have also learned a lot how to balance yourself and work through those big emotions. Yet another sign, I reckon, that you are becoming a "big boy."

HILARIOUS--This is probably a by-product of your intellect, but you know how to work with words, play to your audience, and have a great sense of timing. And you love it. You LOVE making people crack up. Admittedly, much of your humor revolves around bathroom humor still, but you also have a sharp little wit that is as surprising at times as it is hysterical.

It's been an amazing year. And YOU are an amazing kid! I'm so grateful for everything you are and the chance to be your mom. I love you, my sweet Little Bird!

Love Always,
Mom

"Surely the apple is the noblest of fruits."

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Fri, 27 Sep 2013 06:05:00 +0000

One fun fact about the school up here is that they have the an apple orchard up here that is one of the most diverse in the US, with varieties as old as the 1600s, from all over the world. We take a trip (or two or three) every year to enjoy the crop.

I love the way the kids whoop and holler about the apples they find, the vinegar smell that permeates the air later in the season, the mystery waiting in every tree when so many varieties are waiting to be tasted.

Enjoy a few photos from our recent excursion!

{Yum!}

{Ladybugs taking cover at the stem.}

{Little Bird says, "This is my little friend!}

{Unfortunately, the pears were off limits for data collection.}

{Brother and sister, so excited!}

{Enjoying the spoils.}

{Daddy does the climbing and the hard work!}

{But big sis does the lifting!}

{Sharing together!}

{What?!? No more eating apples!}

{Oh! Just kidding? Phew!}

{Apples!}

{Too much fun and delicious apples...}

A Letter to My Daughter, on her Sixth Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Sun, 09 Jun 2013 06:26:00 +0000

Dear Sweet Squirrely Girl,

Happy Birthday, my darling! This year, you are six. SIX! This year has been like a whole new world, and I think it's because you have really entered the WORLD. No longer does everything in your life revolve around home and the little existence we carve out together; you go to school, you make friends, you experience things I will never witness or be a part of. Thankfully, our little family is still the center of your world and everything else you experience is still in the peripherals, but this is the year that I have begun to see this delicate world of ours is already beginning to tilt.

Your father and I have spent the few weeks before your birthday teasing you, telling you that you mustn't, no CANNOT, grow up. We informed you and your brother that no more birthdays are allowed, and you would therefore be five forever. This, of course, led to a great deal of despair, and wailing over the complete unfairness of the parental unit you were dealt, until we finally relented and explained that, regardless of our wishes, time marches on. And how it does, my sweet.

This has been a banner year for you. Perhaps, the biggest event of the year is that you started Kindergarten. This was both terribly exciting and a bit heart-wrenching for me. I love the excitement you had, the way you were so brave, with just a touch of nerves showing through. I love watching you learn. I've been amazed at how much you have come to know this year. You went off to school knowing your letters and most of their sounds, and you have ended Kindergarten as a reader. I feel so much joy and pride when we sit and YOU read ME a book. This change from non-reader to reader is as mysterious and miraculous to me as the metamorphosis of a butterfly. You do math too. And draw so beautifully now--your people have arms, legs, smiles, hair; your flowers have petals and your houses have windows. You LOVE your teacher. I have to admit, there have been times when I've been a bit jealous of the amazing Mrs. D--her ability to coax that learning from you and your trust in her teaching. But because of all she's done for you, I love her too. And in spite of my constant reassurances to you that you will love first grade and your new teacher just as much, I feel a little bit of that anxiety you feel as well, wondering if another teacher could possibly ignite that fire and show such care for you as well.

You have a best friend. A "best best best best best friend." And it's not me or one of the dorm girls, but another little girl, like you, who loves the land of make-believe and dress-up and princesses and dragons and rock stars as much as you do. You play inexhaustibly. I love that you are learning the ropes of friendship and the discussions it brings up, the additional layer of preparation for the real world it gives you. I'm not crazy about the sassy way you have learned to speak back, or the concepts you pick up which I wish we could keep away a bit longer. I feel dread too, in this transitional stage of our lives, knowing you will lose her at some point and knowing that the first heartbreak so many little girls experience is the loss of a best friend to distance.

You are growing in the Gospel in a sweet, and beautiful way. Your prayers have become more thoughtful and sincere. You ask deeper questions. You encourage your brother towards reverence and have started teaching family home evening on occasion. You have a sweet little testimony and enjoy the lessons you learn at home and in church.

You are in many ways much the same as you have always been, and with the way time continues on relentlessly, I am so grateful for the consistency of your personality:
You are charming. Your big blue eyes and dimples and sweet thoughtfulness catch the affection of everyone you meet.

You are contemplative--you ask big questions and listen to the answers.
You are sensitive--you are still so scared of so many movies and shows, and you are affected deeply by bad news you might hear about. (For instance, our pug Titan died this year, and though he hadn't lived with us for 3 years, you wept as though you had known the daily comfort of his presence.)
You are thoughtful--you like to do things for others that know will make them happy: draw pictures, sing songs, make presents.

You are flighty--you travel from activity to activity, never caring to put too much effort into any one thing. We bought you a ukulele for your birthday, and though I think you'd have a great deal of joy from learning to play, I won't hang my hopes on you applying enough dedication to be a maestro.
You lose things--I don't know if this is a "you" thing or a six-year old thing, but you cannot keep track of your shoes, your backpack, your "favorite" toy of the moment.
You are silly--you love getting people to laugh, and lately this silliness takes form of making funny voices and funny faces, or trying out hysterically terrible impersonations of songs or movie scenes you know are funny (though you may not always know why).

You are a performer--I love watching you dance because there is such a transformation that comes over you when you know you have an audience, but you also love to sing and run and leap when no one is watching.

You are sassy--you've always had a sassy, defiant streak since the day you were born, and it certainly remains. It's turning into a pre-teen sort of sassiness, something I'm not sure if you've come about naturally or if it is something you've learned from your peers. Thankfully, your finer graces usually win out, even though we do have to endure your defiant shouts of "no!" and crossed arms.

You are a great sister--you love your brothers and you mother them. At times, this causes problems, like when you boss your brother to the point of arousing his anger (in fairness, his anger is often easy to kindle), or when your baby brother lets out banshee screams because he doesn't like someone interfering with his plans for mischief. But for the most part, you are amazingly helpful and loving with them.

Some things you love this year:

Music: Adele--anything, Mumford and Sons' "The Cave" (you and your brother will play this on repeat FOR-EVER); Ellie Goulding's "Lights;" Five for Fighting's "100 Years;" Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds;""Somewhere Over The Rainbow" (we read The Wizard of Oz this year) and "The Rainbow Connection," and from primary, "I'm Trying to Be Like Jesus" and "I Love to See The Temple."

To Eat: Candy. Always you have loved candy. You also have a thing for cauliflower and sweet peppers this year.

Your baby brother: Oh, how you have delighted to have a baby brother! You have been such a proud sister from the beginning. You love coaching him, teaching him how to crawl, walk, laugh, clap. You read to him and sing to him. In the days I have been writing this letter, he has started to call your name, always after you walk away from playing with him, he'll call to you up the stairs or through the door. He adores you and his favorite part of the day is when you come into my room where he sleeps, talk to him in sweet tones and carry him off to play with you. I love the love between you.

Your bigger little brother: While this relationship is somewhat more volatile, there is still such a great love between the two of you. The gap between you two is widening as you shift this year from family-centric to peer-centric, but there is still much fun to be had. Unfortunately, not a day goes by where the two of you don't have some sort of explosive disagreement (which almost always goes something like this: he does something he shouldn't or that you don't want him to; you put on your bossiest voice and attempt to correct his behavior; he resists; you insist; he either screams at you or hits you; you erupt into emotional tears). Thankfully, not a day goes by that you two don't roll in hysterical laughter together as well. You two are into body humor these days, jinx, and elaborate pretend games like superheroes, animal rescuers, princesses and knights, and detective. I know the impending years and gender difference will continue to spread wider over the next few years, but I hope that these years of friendship and joy will lay a strong foundation for the other side of that valley when the gap narrows again.

To work: Emptying the dishwasher, sweeping, and cooking dinner. You always want to be helping in the kitchen, and admittedly, this is the place I LEAST like getting help. I'm working on that. You've also learned how to do your laundry and are getting better at this. You have the same problem as me though--you'll wash it and sort it, but folding and putting away are never any fun.

To watch: He-Man and She-Ra--Your father introduced you and your brother to the hero of his youth, and you both became instantly enthralled.

To play: Barbies, dress-up, princesses, and make-believe. Happily, you also enjoy a game of cars or superheroes, but your world is first and foremost, a "pink" one.

To read: Amelia Bedelia--you think her antics are hilarious, and I love watching you deduce the misunderstandings that she is known for. Elephant and Piggie--these Mo Willems books leave you in stitches. I am absolutely gaga for the hysterical laughter that these books bring out in you.

Things you definitely do not love this year:

Bedtime, but this has always been the case. You are somewhat better now, if I will indulge you in a story and any number of lullabies.

Cleaning up your messes--oh, how you weep and wail at the mention of cleaning your room or the piles of toys you have a tendency to leave out. I try to make this a more enjoyable experience, but it's hard when you collapse to the floor at the suggestion that you need to pick up.

The bus ride home from school: In theory you like the idea, but you are the last off the bus and it makes for one tired kid by the time the long ride is over. But I sure do love meeting you at the stop after school and enjoying those few minutes the two of us have to talk and enjoy one another.

As always, the simple descriptions and generalizations of the past year hardly do you any justice at all. And as always, it comes down to the simple fact that every single day, I am more in love with you than the last. Even though it is hard to see you grow up, to feel the long expanse of your body that once fit into my palms, it is also a delight. Every day I put the "old you" to bed and know that I will never have that same little girl in my arms again. But every day when you rise up and come to me, I get the "new you," and no matter how relentlessly time marches on, the loss is worth getting to know the person you are becoming. You are truly a glorious being. You are so vibrant that you reflect around on others. I am full of so many shortcomings and misgivings and so blessed to be your mother. Somehow, you are quick to forgive me of those shortcomings and make me feel better than I could ever hope to be. I'm so grateful every day for the blessing of being your mother and the deep spring of joy that comes from such a title. I love you my darling, darling love, from the depths of my soul. Thank you for being you, and for sharing another year with me!

All my love,
Mom

To My Son, On His First Birthday

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Fri, 31 May 2013 03:08:00 +0000

Dear Sweet Baby Grasshopper,

You are ONE! You are amazing! You are suddenly so BIG and it breaks my heart and is simultaneously so. much. FUN!

Where do I start? You have been a whirlwind and trouble since you were still in my belly. The events of my pregnancy with you turned me from someone who suffers from a slightly elevated level of neurosis on a daily basis to a woman in constant risk of totally losing it. And to be honest, there are still days where things are like that between us. For me, that pregnancy journey was about really learning to trust God, and not just to fix a trial, but to trust that He would carry me through one that couldn't be fixed. I had a lot of fear in the weeks leading up to your birth, but I learned that the ONLY thing that conquers fear is faith, and that sometimes faith is hard work. But always, it is worth it. Your father of course, was a perfect example of exercising faith. He always has been, and was my steady rock (along with the healthy sounds of your NSTs and the oft-counted kicks) through the uncertainty.

When you were born, oh, how I rejoiced at your safe arrival. You were strong and feisty and sheer perfection. You were my easiest recovery from a birth, but also my neediest baby. We had a tough go of it at times in this first year, as you rarely slept. Ever. You've never taken a pacifier and are attached to no lovey. Instead, your comfort items are me--nursing at the breast, pulling on my skin, chewing on my hair. At times it seemed that you were never satisfied with the level of closeness between you and me, but that you would literally chew my hair to get closer to me. And I admit, as a mom, there are times where I would hand you off to Dad and run to the store just to get at little distance.

You are my "Koala Baby" or "Velcro Baby"--the vast majority of your life has been spent in my arms. While I am exhausted by the busyness that your recent ability to walk has brought on, I am also glad for the respite it brings at times--for the personal space I regain while you destroy something besides me. You are now a year old and you still wake every 2-3 hours in the night, and a 45 minute nap in the day is practically a miracle. There were probably too many lazy days, too many dishes left undone, and too few sweet moments captured in all my sleep deprivation, but what I do know is that I wouldn't trade you for anything, even if it meant a year of uninterrupted nights! First of all, you are the only of my three babies who will actually snuggle me. Your brother and sister never had much interest in snuggling, and I am so grateful for the way you will sit quietly in my lap sometimes or fall asleep on my chest.

And, even though it is at times hard, I love that I am your favorite. By about six months old for both your brother and sister, Daddy was the favorite. They knew when he was coming home, and they looked forward to it. They were always happy to play with Daddy and sometimes fussed about being handed back to Mom. There is no doubt that I am your favorite. In fact, I can be sitting in my office working and hear you happily playing with Dad or the babysitters, and if I sneak in to use the restroom or get a drink, and you spy me, it's all over--you'll weep and wail and cry "muhMAH" until I come over and sooth your pitiful abandoned self. And yes, that's sometimes exhausting, like when the house is a wreck (always, since you came along, sweet thing) or dinner needs making. But it's also kind of sweet to know that no matter what everyone else in the world may think of me, I am your favorite person on the planet.

What you lack in sleep skills, you make up for in personality. You are at times the most pensive child I have ever seen. I love watching you watch things. You have this funny way of pulling in your bottom lip and gently furrowing your brow as you observe the world around you in a most meditative way. When strangers talk to you, you use this wistful expression on them until you decide whether they are friend or foe. Generally, you decide they are friend, and how you light up! I get so many questions from perfect strangers about whether you are always this happy, or what I do to have such a happy child. (The answers are: no, you are not always that happy because sometimes I try to make you sleep; and apparently if you want a happy baby, all you need do is never let it sleep, but take it out in public to perform for strangers!) You have one of those smiles that just makes people laugh out loud at you, and not in a "oh, what a sweet baby" kind of way, but a deep, surprising sort of way. Perhaps it comes from the contrast in your expressions, but I think it really is just that kind of smile that tells people that we're all children of God and He's closer than we think.

You don't dance. I think this is funny because your brother and sister both danced as soon as (or before) they were walking. You do not ever dance. Instead, you come over and sit in my lap or sit on the floor when your brother and sister are dancing about and give them that thoughtful look as though your are attempting to figure out just what this silly ritual is that they are performing. You clap for them now when they are done, and you'll laugh and giggle if I spin you around, but dancing is not yet your thing.

You spend a long time studying the pictures in books. When we read a book, you are very intent on a page, and if I turn it before you have fully completed your perusal of it, you will inform me with your angry squawks of your displeasure. You aren't big on TV (which to be honest, I have at times just wished you would sit and watch a Baby Einstein or something to get five minutes to myself!), but you do get very enthralled momentarily when the big kids want to watch Kipper. Something about that opening theme song just pulls you in.

You are so funny! And I really do think you know it. You have this funny little "Huh-huh" laugh that you use when you've done something that you know if funny. I love the little glint in your eye when you catch my attention--that infectious smile and one little raised eyebrow get me laughing every time. That same pensive quality you have lets you know when people will be surprised by your actions, I think, and you anticipate that you'll get a reaction. Sometimes, you like to poke me or stick a finger in my nose or smack me while you nurse, and you get a mischievous little smile, and laugh your little giggle. You'll peek around the corner at someone and giggle, you'll throw away a piece of food to get your brother and sister to laugh at you. I'm so amazed that such a little guy already has his timing down so well!

In just the last few weeks, your growth in every area has simply exploded. In the last month to six weeks, you have started to fully walk on your own, to reliably say a few words, to clap, to eat a variety of solid foods of all textures, to color, and to point. You got your first two teeth around six months, but haven't had any more come in for a while. Now, in just the last few weeks, your teething has been nuts--right now you are working on six teeth. At least three of them have finally broken through, and I think the next few will be just days behind. You'll have a mouth full of teeth in no time.

You say "mama" and "dad-dad" with knowledge of what they mean. My favorite expression you say right now is "HUMM" which roughly translates to "That looks yummy! Can I have some?" Any time someone is about to eat something, you will wander over and expectantly repeat "HUMM! HUMM!" until we share (or in the case of your brother, until he says, "No! No HUMM!").

In the last couple months, you have also become a much bigger fan of your Daddy. Where before, there may have been times when you didn't even want to let him hold you, you have now learned the great secret about Daddies: they are super FUN! You've learned to wrestle and roll about, to be tickled, to giggle and laugh with Dad and that it is a blast. I love this special relationship that your dad gets to have with you.

You absolutely adore your siblings. Squirrel comes in to the bedroom where you sleep with me most mornings, and you are always so happy to see her! I think your favorite part of the day is when she comes in and talks baby-ease to you and then drags you off to play with her. She's always my first up and always happy to rise, and so she's always good to carry you away for play time in the mornings. And you laugh and giggle as she carries you happily into the hallway or her bedroom.

When it comes to Little Bird, his feelings are not always as warm--I don't think he quite understands that you're just a baby, and so now that you're busy enough to do things like climb on him and pull hair, he'll push or yell at you, and we're working on that. But he does love you so! In fact, his love for you and his desire to help with you has been an unexpected, but delightful, surprise. He loves to wrestle with you, to play with you and your toys, even to help me out by taking out diapers or attempting to make you bottles. He's always looking out for you! He will be an awesome big brother, and I can picture the two of you on many adventures as you grow!

You are becoming more independent--with your recent mobility, you seem to experience less frustration and boredom than in the previous months. There is more trouble for you to get into and that really delights you. Even with your new independence, I am still home-base, and I love the way you'll wander off to check something out, and then return to sit in my lap and observe from afar. I love this relationship we have, this push and pull. I can see it being the type of mother-son relationship that helps you explore your world safely and learn new things in a deeper way because I hope you'll always bring back what you've learned and allow me to help you process it. I know that the bigger you get, the less time you'll spend with me as your "base," but I hope there will always be time spent there, no matter how little. To me, it will always be meaningful. And as difficult as it sometimes has been to give up so much of myself to being your mom, I wouldn't change it for the world. Because in the end, I'm getting all those pieces back, and they are so much richer and better than I could have hoped.

I love you, my sweet little Grasshopper. Thank you for coming to me and for being you. I'm so grateful to have you (constantly!) by my side and a part of our family.

Yellowstone!

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Thu, 30 May 2013 05:10:00 +0000

Since our little picnic adventure, I've been telling Rob that we need to get out of town and go camping. It's a cheap and fun escape, and with a long weekend coming up, I keps saying that I wanted to go camping as a family for the Memorial Day weekend. The kids just don't get to see enough of him all buried away in organic chemistry and physics and kinesiology and whatever else he's always neck deep in, and since he didn't have a test that weekend, I told him we were going, darn it!

I think, at first, he just "yes, dear"ed me because he didn't think I would actually follow through--I'm not exactly an "outdoorsy" person. I aspire to be...I admire that quality in others...but frankly, I really am more of a spa-getaway in a cushy resort type of person. Last time I told him we were going camping, we went, pitched the tent, started a fire, and came home because it was DARN COLD! However, I was determined that would not be the case this time.

He started selling burgers at the farmer's market this year, so our Fridays are kind of eaten up by that, which is why we really needed a long weekend for a camping trip. So Saturday morning, I got everyone packed up, made Rob dig out the camping equipment, and we headed to West Yellowstone, MT. Now, let me say this. I attempted to find a campsite in Yellowstone Nat'l Park, but being that I made reservations the day before the long weekend started, that just wasn't happening. And so West Yellowstone it was. But let me also say I AM SO GLAD! We stayed in a KOA. Which has toilets that flush and showers. After this experience, I am happy to camp as often as my family wants, but I know enough about myself to know that really, I'm a girl who needs the comfort of a flushing toilet. (Side note: I have this weird, grotesque fear that one of my children will FALL IN to a vault toilet or a port-a-john. Worst case scenario--child drowns in pit of filth. HORROR. Best case scenario? Child is retrieved. I spend the rest of my life thinking about that instance every time I have to kiss them for the rest of my life. HORROR. So anyway, flush toilets=GOOD.)

It was a great little campground and we had a lot of fun. I had the foresight to plan our meals before we went and to get everything prepared. Unfortunately, I forgot to have Rob collect the meat for our first night's dinner (foil dinners). Lucky for us, we were only a few minutes out of town and ground beef is only about four times the regular cost when you are in a tourist town on Memorial Day weekend.

At any rate, we managed to make our foil dinners--they need some time to cook and we were already running WAY late on dinner since we had to go to town to buy meat, but luckily the KOA also had a pool which is THE MOST EXCITING THING EVER if you are 4 or 5, and so the kids happily swam for an hour while Dad manned their very late dinners. (And I planned this recipe for the next night, which is a PERFECT camping recipe because it is SO easy to chop and mince before you go, and then just throw in a pan and cook and dinner is ready faster than you can roast a hot dog.)

And this guy was in absolute heaven, making muddy boogers and eating rocks and using his newfound walking skills to meander all over the campsite. Seriously, the little Grasshopper was SO HAPPY to throw rocks and eat grass and dirt and generally be left mostly to his own devices outside, which never happens when you are a baby.

Little Bird was, as usual, oscillating between pure joy and misery. I can't really blame it all on personality this time. He caught a TERRIBLE cough at preschool that week, and by the end of the weekend, we all had it. So whenever his meds wore off (am I a bad mom for still dragging us out when I knew he wasn't 100%...?), things went south. But for the most part, he was sweet and helpful and only occasionally telling me to take him home or that I RUINED HIS LIFE by bringing him into nature.

Squirrel, too, was mostly delightful. I think her favorite part of the whole thing was getting to help make dinners and breakfasts. And s'mores. Good heavens. It is entirely possible that if we had waited four more seconds before we busted out the s'mores, she may have actually died. But she was a great help, especially with her baby brother, who she kept coralled in our site and mostly out of danger.

She was also the one who was up at 5:30 in the morning after our first night there. A night in which I received zero sleep....and yet had to get up with her at FIVE THIRTY. I shouldn't be surprised. That's pretty much been her MO--up with the sun like a spring--since birth. And it IS pretty exciting to be on a camping trip when you are almost six.

The first night was mostly awful. Somehow, I got dealt the child-sized sleeping bag for the Grasshopper and I to share, and it comes up to about mid-torso. And temps were below freezing that night. So I spent the entire night curled in a ball with my tushie in the freezing air, worrying only about the Grasshopper staying warm and dealing with him wanting to nurse about every 16 seconds. The nursing part wasn't unusual. But the numb butt part was. And then there was the part where Squirrel woke up at O'Dark Thirty.

The next night, in an adult bag, was MUCH better, even with the sporadic rain.

Except that we need some kind of padding. Sleeping on ground=no good.

How could I do that as a kid? No idea.

After our first night, we spent our full day in Yellowstone.

Unfortunately, we spent the first three hours of our day attempting to get IN to Yellowstone, as there was apparently a "Bear Jam" somewhere along the road that leads to the lower loop.

If you don't know what a bear jam is, it basically consists of all vehicles, in both directions of traffic, slamming to complete stops in the middle of the road without looking around them, and jumping out of their cars into oncoming traffic, leaving doors open and running around like lunatics because:

A) They have seen a bear,

B) The see a bunch of people doing the same thing and think there must be a bear to see.

So after driving 15 miles in two and half HOURS, we finally made it to the loop, and started our day.

The bright side of this was that even though we saw no bears (or other animals) in this time, we did pass some trees where some bison had shed some of their winter coat. I hopped out and pulled some off for the kids to hold. Squirrel declared that it would be perfect for her collection of animal furs, of which I am assuming this is her first piece, but man she carried that dirty hunk of fur everywhere all day. She even asked me if I could crochet a hat for her out of it. If only I had collected more...

First stop: Old Faithful! It was a pretty overcast day, so the sky was the same color as the geyser, but I swear, this is the big kids in front of the geyser shooting into the sky.

And some nice park ranger let Squirrel wear her hat as we were waiting. This was a benefit because when she wanted me to make her a buffalo fur hat, I could remind her that she had already worn one that day.

As we drove through the park, we did see a good amount of wildlife.

Some mule deer:

Some Bison eating grass.

Baby Bison and Mommy Bison:

Baby Bison frolicking in the grass:

Some up close Bison crossing the road:

And some REALLY up-close Bison (insert Little Bird screaming hysterically and telling Rob to

"GO NOW DADDY GO RIGHT NOW!!!!"

We also saw a baby moose, a grizzly, lots of geese, and plenty of various birds.

(That black shape in the middle, WAAAAY off in the distance is actually a grizzly bear. I need a better zoom lens, I guess!)

We stopped at the Mud Volcano area and saw the "Dragon's Cave" which we will henceforth use to terrorize our children if they don't go to bed at night:

Stopped in at the interpretive center at Canyon Village, which EVERYONE thoroughly enjoyed.

(No really, he actually loved it, but this is what Little Bird does any time he has to do something which his loving mother asks him kindly to do.)

And here are some trees that were made into benches, which Squirrel was really excited about, because, well, because that's just how she is. :)

All in all, we had a great time! We were truly pooped by the time we got back to camp that night, and we all crashed early. We packed up camp the next day, and spent the remainder in the town of West Yellowstone. We visited the Grizzly and Wolf Discovery Center there and I have to say, I was really impressed. It's a great little facility for bears and wolves who can no longer live in the wild and does a nice job working to educate the public and provide a good "retirement" for the bears that would otherwise have to be put down. If you're in the area, it's worth an afternoon. (Plus, they have a couple of Alaskan grizzlies there and HOLY CRAP those things are ENORMOUS. I had no idea that Alaskan grizzlies are 2-3 TIMES the size of Montana grizzlies. Those salmon must be good eatin'.)

In the end, the preparation and cold nights and hard ground were worth it because it was just us together as a family, leaving everything else behind, and we really needed time all together. And there were flush toilets. I don't really need any time with my family without flush toilets.

Seriously.

Hitting the Horizon

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Tue, 14 May 2013 06:25:00 +0000

So, on Saturday, we were having one of "those days." If you're a mother, you are probably familiar with those days--you know, the ones where every. single. thing you say or do elicits stomping and tantruming from your children.

"Let's go to the park!" Children lay on floor and cry.

"Let's go with our friends to a car show!" Weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

"Let's go to the candy store and you can have anything you want!" Children go limp with much sobbing and agony.

I should go back a bit. On Thursday, Rob and I woke to the Squirrel saying, "Dad! The kitchen is all wet! It's like a swimming pool!" He sprung up and ran downstairs to find the kitchen, bathroom, and a good portion of our living room covered in water, which had, delightfully, emerged from the toilet sewer line. We still don't know what caused the back up, as it must have happened in the middle of the night, but we spent a great deal of time with clean-up, ripping things out, and enduring the terrible smell of the disinfectant/sporicide that the restoration company used (Rob kept commenting how it smelled like the cadaver lab at school). So, in fairness to the kids, they hadn't even been allowed into the downstairs portion of our house in 3 days, and though I was trying to find ways to get them out of the house or have fun upstairs, they had pretty much met their limit. Add to that the fact that they went to bed too late and woke up to early, and by noon on Saturday, they were pretty much possessed by evil demons of despair. I could have offered to buy them ponies and let them live on a cloud of cotton candy, and they would have collapsed in agony.

So I made some PB&J while they wailed, dragged them, kicking and screaming, to the car, and started driving.

I should also mention that spring in Idaho gives me wanderlust. We've had a pretty cold winter, and the weather lately has finally turned and just been wonderful. And for some reason, it just makes me want to head for the horizon and never stop until I reach it. So we hopped on some back roads, and I headed east. I told the kids we were taking a picnic in the mountains. They wept and gnashed teeth about this too, but they eventually fell asleep, strapped in their seats. I enjoyed a bit of quiet, and they had some much needed rest.

About an hour later, the kids woke, and we found ourselves near the base of the Grand Tetons. We stumbled upon a, thus far, mostly undeveloped master-planned community. We drove around and found a sweet little pond with ducks and reeds, and set out our picnic. And this is when the magic happened.

My children, who had been so ornery and belligerent, were suddenly not just happy, but PEACEFUL. And by that, I mean that their sweet little souls were full of peace.

As we got out of the car, Squirrel closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, raising her hands above her head. She whispered as she let her air out, "Wow...It's soooo beautiful here!" And indeed it was. Little Bird looked around and said, "I love it here!" We stayed until the sun began to set, and the two of them, who often play well, but whose play is often punctuated by battles and arguments, didn't fight once. They shared their food, they told stories, they danced and called to the birds, they wrestled happily. The little Grasshopper was also in his element, grabbing any food he could get his paws on, picking up and chewing blades of grass and sticks, laughing hysterically at his brother and sister.

Little Bird, who is my touchy fellow--who tends to run only at each end of the spectrum and who can have colossal mood swings at the tiniest inconvenience, was calling everything his friend. The birds were his friends, the grass was his friend, even the mosquito who bit him (which would normally make him very angry) was his friend. "That mosquito is still my friend, Mom. He just wanted to taste me. That's why he bit me."

It was one of those moments where I really do wish I could have frozen time and stayed forever.

I think that's one of the remarkable things about nature, and its value to our kids. It's one thing for my kids to get outside and play in the park--they have fun, they get dirty and wear themselves out, all things I love. BUT, seeing them out in NATURE, in the vast openness, in the kind of quiet that can only be had when you are surrounded by the peaceful sighs of lapping water, wind through the tall grass, and the chatter of birds, to hear your own voice echo and yawp through it all, THIS is a powerful thing for kids. It teaches them about the vastness of God's creation, about the fact that they are just a small, tiny piece of this great big world--that the world doesn't center around them. And that, I think, is what finally busted them out of their funk. Once they experienced that connection to nature, and something much grander than themselves, they were able to feel the peace they craved. And I craved. :)

Anyway, I think we may drive to the horizon every weekend this summer. Maybe something new every week, some vast expanse to help them find themselves and connect with their Maker.

Of course, I forgot my camera. But the iPhone is pretty handy. Enjoy the views.

"Hoppy" Valentine's Day!

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 04:08:00 +0000

Lately, I feel like I can't get my kids AWAY from candy. First Halloween, then Christmas, and with Valentine's Day coming, I knew they'd just get more. But even more than that, it's like candy just pours from the sky around here.

Go to the bank? Here kids, here's some candy. Grocery shopping? The checker is giving out candy. Visit to the doctor, run in to the post office, living in college housing...my kids are ALWAYS getting candy.

I'm surprised the dentist doesn't give candy out in this town.

And that my kids don't have more cavities.

Anyway, the point of all that is to say that I wanted Squirrel to take Valentine's to her school party that did not have candy. I know that probably every other parent in the class will supply candy for her, but maybe there's another mom like me that will be thankful for the candy reprieve in at least ONE card.

So this year, I made Squirrel's valentine cards, and if you'd like them, I will share with you too!

I found some of those cute little hopping frogs, created a tag template, and tied them on with some simple white yarn. I'm sure any number of mommies could really make these pop, but with only a black and white printer and my limited ability to make "cute" happen from my own imagination (I'm really good at copying other people's cute ideas...less good about making my own!), I'm pretty impressed with how they turned out.

If you like, feel free to print the template off yourself and make your own, and feel free to link others up here as well! Enjoy!

CLICK HERE TO DOWNLOAD PDF

{Happy Fourth Birthday, Little Bird!}

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Sat, 09 Feb 2013 05:13:00 +0000

Dearest Little Bird,

Wow! Four years old! I swear this year has flown by, both in time and in the changes that have come across you. In this past year, perhaps the biggest change is that all the "baby" has dissolved out of you. You are entirely a "kid." The way you walk, talk, sit, hold a pencil, run, jump, play and more--all of this attests to the fact that you have truly left behind your baby and toddler years and are forging ahead toward "kid"dom and adolescence. You are a little miracle, every day. I won't lie; there were some tough moments in the past year between the two of us (for you and me), but I think we've both come through it for the better, and I love you all the more for it. I'm far from a perfect mommy, but if your sister taught me how to be a mother, you have always taught me how to be a better mother. Sometimes that's hard (on both of us), but in the end, I'm grateful for the challenges.

I'm so excited about who you are becoming. One thing that still holds true for you is that you are SMART. This past year, you've started sounding out words and can even read simple books on your own and love to sound out the words on signs as we drive and point out familiar words like "pizza" and "stop" and "off." You ask questions that surprise me, questions I assumed a three-to-four-year old would be too young to think of. But you are a thinker. You are interested in the things around you, the way they work and the "why" of them. You ask "why," but not in the endless, annoying way so many children do. You ask it thoughtfully, and I can see the wheels turn in your head while you listen to the answer. I try to respect this part of you and never say "because." I'm honest when I don't know, and I work hard not to dumb down answers too much for you or simplify them because it would easier for me (like when you ask questions about where babies come from and what happens when we die).

You love learning facts and memorizing information. Dinosaurs are currently at the top of this list. You know an extensive list of dinosaur species, more than I knew existed before your interest was sparked. When I call one a triceratops, you may correct me with, "No, no. No. No, mom. It's a styracosaurus." (I love the way you make corrections by saying no so many times, as though each is a separate sentence.) You love to go to museums, and even watch documentaries on TV about pre-historica and monster trucks. You lean towards non-fiction books on our library trips, unless of course they have to do with Halloween, as you also seem to have a penchant for the macabre, which you've surely inherited from your mother. I love the way you can pour over a book. You don't talk out loud about a book you spend time with, or make up your own stories. Instead, you stare intently and look deeply into the pictures. Every book must hold so much for you, and whether you are spending time alone with one, or having a book read aloud to you, it is an enveloping experience; your expressions and involvement (with movies or TV shows too, at times) is so much fun to watch. You experience deep empathy with the characters and it shows.

You absolutely love preschool. At the start of your third year, you were still attending "Toddler Lab" and I could tell you were bored witless--you'd simply wander from activity to activity and sometimes watch the other kids. Now that you've moved up to preschool, there is a whole new excitement. You are jealous of your sister's five-day-a-week schedule, and really lament those Tuesdays and Thursdays when she gets to go to school and you have to stay home. I think because of preschool, you've also recently started to be more interested in art and coloring. You still don't have a lot of patience for coloring pictures, and often tell me to finish them, but your attention span for them has definitely gotten better. You're now at the age that you are making friends. In preschool, you've made a few each semester, and I like to ask you about them. You tell me they are your friends because "we always sit together, always next to each other" or because a certain kid "says funny things and laughs with me." I think, based on what I see and hear from your teachers, that you may be gifted with leadership. Of course, you are so little, but you are coming into your own and seem to like to get others involved in your world and passions. Your imagination and ability to direct play is large--you've been well trained by your sister--and you are good at bringing other kids into that world of play with you.

You wonder. I love when you wonder and imagine out loud.

You are a thinker, but also a "feeler." You experience emotion more profoundly than many kids do, I think. I can also see the beginnings of empathy taking root. For now, your default emotion is anger--it comes out when you are scared, hurt, frustrated, ashamed, tired, hungry, or mad. But you are also (finally!) learning to curb that anger, to control it and express the real emotions behind it. I believe part of this is my finally understanding how to better parent you. Some of the rough spots between us this past year have been growing pains from my not knowing your emotional needs. Love and its expressions are your strongest motivator, and shame is what cuts you most. I work hard now to discuss your behavior with you in private, to work on your and Squirrel's arguments separately, and to try to empower you when you are visible to others. We both have work to do. I am still too short tempered and sometimes push against your anger instead of modeling meekness, and you know the buttons to push. (Recently, when you're mad about completely unrelated issues, you've cried out, "I'm never going to church with you again," which seems a rather insightful punishment for a three-year-old to inflict on his God-fearing parents.) And you are still quick to place blame on others when things don't go your way. Through this past year, we have both really worked, and it shows. Your anger melts away much more quickly, you have learned to give heart-felt apologies, and have learned that more than one emotion is possible. What were once explosions with screaming or hitting a few months ago, are now expressions of mitigated anger, such as, "Mom, I still love you, but I am feeling really angry right now!"

For however quick to anger you are though, you are also quick to forgive, quick to express love, quick to calm my troubled mommy heart. When, for your fourth birthday, I presented you with this cake, you gasped, and exclaimed, "It's sooooo BEAUTIFUL! Wow! How did you make it SO beautiful??" You are by far my "snuggliest" child. You like to cuddle up. You tell me I'm the "best mommy ever" or the "nicest mommy in the world" and that I make the most delicious food (oh, how you will learn...), and that I'm your "special girl." These words, and the dreamy, sweet looks that accompany them are the very best part about being your mom. You come and stroke my face, hold my hand, or curl into my lap and release all the troubles of your complicated little life, and it feels like forgiveness for my misgivings washing over me. We make mistakes together, and in the sweet, quiet moments we share, we atone together.

One of the best surprises of the past year has been not just your deepening expressions of love for all of us, but especially for your new baby brother. I expected your sister to be the one who jumped up to help and who doted incessantly on him, but you have filled that role remarkably as well. You are my best helper and you also adore your baby brother. You coo and talk in babyease with him; you roll on the floor with him; you share your toys; you sing him songs and work so hard to make him laugh. He is such a blessed child to have you for a big brother. It is a role I was worried about you filling, but which you have taken on completely in stride. And he adores you right back. I love the way the two of you interact. Perhaps my favorite part of the day (even though it sometimes comes too early) is when you and your sister come into my room each morning, full of excitement to see the baby and coo and play with him.

You are funny. You're a little goofy, a little crazy, sometimes downright nuts and wild. I love this about you. You can make me guffaw with your wit and silliness. You say things that make me burst out laughing, partly because you have a great sense of humor, and partly because the words you use seem just a little too big for you. I love watching you dance. You are not particularly a show-man, which makes it more fun to see because you dance just for you. When you rock out, you do it with soul and meaning, eyes closed. Your favorite dance is probably the robot; you have some wicked robot moves. The one song you will always dance to or play air guitar with is The Black Eyed Peas' "I've Gotta Feeling" (which you call "The Green Guy," thanks to the album art that appears on the iPod).

You cannot be compelled to do anything you do not want to do. Perhaps the most frequent example of this is the fact that you categorically refuse to sing in group settings with your peers. At nursery singing time, you sit with your arms crossed scowling. The same goes for preschool circle time, when you are perhaps supposed to be marching in a circle or pretending to be an animal. Get back to the lesson, and you are happy to comply. Sing in a group? Not likely. So unlikely, that in the rare instances it has occurred, your teachers sought me out to tell me excitedly that you sang! This stubborn streak is sometimes the cause of some head butting around the house, but I can see it will help you be who you are meant to be, so I try not to quash it altogether.

You are just your own person. I love every little angle of you. I love the way you are such a kid, and yet you are still my little boy. I love those big brown eyes. I love your mood swings, I love your warm little body climbing in my bed still most nights (though I'm not crazy about the kicking and bed hogging). I love your huge expressions. I love the way you think. I love the way you love your siblings. I love your stubbornness and your deep desire to be a helper. I love the things you learn every day.

This year, you love dinosaurs, monster trucks, Cars and cars, reading (Little Critter and Elephant and Piggie and anything to do with spooky monsters and ghosts), trucks and tractors, superheroes, church, your brother and sister, and mom and dad, Dr. Pepper (you're always sneaking mine, and it's part of my motivation to keep trying to quit), candy, macaroni and cheese, apples (you will literally eat 3 pounds of apples in 2 days...you are very regular), wrestling, yelling, riding your bike, the library, Halloween, Jesus, and yourself (you say so sometimes, and it makes me happy for you)!

I'm so grateful you are mine and for the sweet little soul that is you! Thank you for being an amazing kid and helping me learn more every day! I love you, my sweet, handsome Little Bird!

All my love,
Mom

Ramblings from sad things

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Sat, 15 Dec 2012 06:20:00 +0000

I'm so angry tonight. I don't usually post things like this, but this blog has evolved {fallen to the wayside} and I need to process some things. And writing is how I process, so here it is. I'm angry and rambling, and so I reserve the right to change my mind on all of it, but this is how I feel now.

Today, a horrible, tragic thing happened. Today a man, no--still a BOY, went into a school and did the unthinkable. The unthinkable--and I really mean that. My own mind tries to get there, to understand. Considers the terror those parents felt, considers the gripping, life-altering fear those sweet, sweet babies endured, pictures them holding hands to make it out of those corridors with their eyes closed {thank God for the first-responders who came to their aide and in the midst of that carnage still sought to protect their tattered innocence}. My brain tries to go there and it can't, it send the message to start the tears and then it shuts the door and turns away.

Unthinkable.

And now will roll out the debates: ban guns; arm teachers; eliminate HIPPA for mental health providers; provide universal mental health care; etc. etc. etc. Everyone has an opinion about policy or politics about how to "fix" this.

I don't know the answer, but I don't think we'll ever find it until we know the cause. And for that I think we are to blame. I think it's all of us right here in our homes. To be honest, I think we in the U.S. are mighty good at CREATING mental health problems in our children by this repeated exposure to violence and pornography. We aren't just desensitizing them. You can be desensitized to violence and not wander into a school or a mall or a movie theater and massacre people. We are allowing our children to create pathways to PLEASURE through violent and explicit content. We are allowing them to depart from reality, from the nuance of relationships, physical and emotional connection and delve into a world of constant input and gratification. We are desensitizing them to LIFE through the types of media we expose them to, and because they have used violent and provocative media to tread down the pathway again and again, that's what we know and that's what we begin to seek on more intense levels.

Pornography perverts sex--it makes it an object, it requires no love, no communication, no romance. It's about self, it's about pleasure for nothing, and soon it requires more of you to create those feelings--more of your time, more of your thoughts, more objectification, more misogyny, more violence.

Video games are made to give or require input from a player on average every few SECONDS. They are designed to require a deepening level of commitment at each stage. They function around the idea that we must commit ourselves to the world they have created. What then, when the game no longer elicits that physical reaction? What when the player must seek out something MORE to FEEL?
We are letting, teaching, our children to ENJOY violence. This is our punishment for allowing children to vicariously seek pleasure through the imagined act of killing. They become addicted to that feeling and as with all addictions, they can get away from us until the old high no longer satisfies.

It happens on so many levels--kids who sass and check out b/c school is more "boring" than television. The person who checks facebook too often. The parents that let their five-year-old watch the war movie with them because they think he's too young to "get it." The college student who only responds to in-person questions through text; the apartments I walk by every night with four girls sitting in the living room only talking to each other through facebook; the kid who can't make it to the freaking grocery store without asking for a movie on the minivan DVD player, the mom who ignores her kid to read Shades of Grey, ...etc, etc. etc. {I myself am guilty--the great debate lately here has been that I want my three- and five-year-olds to watch Star Wars. In his wisdom, Rob has disallowed it. I've taught my daughter to tell me not to answer my phone when it rings while I drive because I found myself using the car as phone time, putting my own precious children's lives at risk. I avoid housework to talk with friends online. There are levels and SO MANY of us are guilty of the attachment to things that are not real, the enticing aspect of media and technology.}

Am I saying that mental health doesn't play a part in these things? No. That armed teachers or stricter gun laws or better healthcare or metal detectors or self-defense classes or anything else won't help? No.
What I mean is that we sure are damn good at building a society that creates the perfect storm to make sick people sicker. Parents have a responsibility to PROTECT their children. In this world, that unfortunately means from guns and bad guys. But it also means to protect them from the things that steal away their innocence, virtually or otherwise.

That's all. I'm tired and my heart is sad, and maybe the world will be brighter tomorrow--at least for those of us who were lucky this time and will see our precious babies, smelling of sleep and dreams, wake up at least once more. :(

The Grasshopper is SIX MONTHS OLD!

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Fri, 30 Nov 2012 12:05:00 +0000

How can this be?

How can my tiny, precious, heart of my heart be half a year already? Soon half a decade and then half a century...

It's only a half birthday, but it's his first one, so I think I will write him a letter anyway. I hope you enjoy it.

Dear sweet little Grasshopper,

Oh, I love you so! I can hardly believe you are six months old, and yet it seems at times to me that I've had you for all of eternity! I can barely remember a time that you weren't here. You have brought us so much happiness and joy in your short sweet little life. You have this smile that just makes me laugh from deep, deep, deep down. You have this funny little dimple in your chin, off to the side, under your mouth. I love it, and yet you categorically refuse to let it be photographed. I hope it sticks around for always. When you smile, your eyes crinkle, just like your daddy's do. Really, there is so MUCH of your daddy in you. Sometimes I laugh for joy and fun just because I see so much of him when I look at you. He's not as baby-faced as he once was, but sometimes I look at you and see your baby-faced daddy from his college days, and it just tickles me to know that you may look so much like another great man I love so deeply and who loves you so deeply too.

You are so very happy. I know people think all babies are happy, but you, you really are! You don't hardly ever sleep (oh, how many a woman has said something along the lines of, "Oh, I can put him to sleep. Give him here!" and then had to admit her defeat...) but even without it, you are not cranky or ornery. You love to giggle and movemovemove. As your nickname suggests, you are a jumper. I think you jumped in the womb...and still do it all the time! In spite of your distaste for sleep, I can occasionally get a few things done because you have been known to bounce in the jumper for close to an hour at a time. I thank you for this. (But seriously...start taking naps. They are rad and some day you will wish back all the naps you ever wrestled your way out of...)

You possess a near-constant need to be talked to. Although, I will admit this need is decreased significantly since you were very tiny and have developed the ability and desire to explore the world around you. However much you wish to explore though, you will stop everything if someone will talk to you. You study faces SO intently, and are getting to the stage where you don't have the ability, but I can see the desire, to mimic expressions and facial movements. Your brother and sister adore this quality in you and have probably spent what amounts to days in front of your face, talking, giggling, and making silly faces to get reactions out of you. They are truly happiest when they can make you laugh.

I love our nursing relationship. It's just recently reached that stage where I can call it that--a "relationship." Before, it was pretty much just you eating, but now you look for my hand to hold, or stop eating to study my face and smile at me. You pause to share a giggle or watch until I turn my diverted attention back to you. Nursing is so full of sweet moments that were so easily forgotten with the older two, and I am so grateful to have this connection to you. Even though there are times I'd give just about anything for a little more space between feedings, I always enjoy being close to you and am grateful for the special bond we have at this age.

You are, as I said, beginning to explore. This is your first little stage of independence. and you enjoy it fairly confidently. You are rolling everywhere now. You get all over the living room, though you cannot always choose your direction completely reliably, sometimes reaching for an item and find yourself rolling away instead of getting it in your grasp. You are |thisclose| to sitting up on your own--you have an excellent model pose/lounge position going on. You've been trying to get up on your knees, but still can't get them under you. I think (thankfully) that crawling is at least several weeks out.

Right now, your favorite things are peek-a-boo, being tickled, "This is the way the ladies ride," Open, Shut Them," and crumpling/shredding paper. (I think when you giggle sometimes in your sleep, you are probably dreaming of having free reign to tear up everything in a paper factory.)

You remind me in many ways of each of your siblings at this age--you look so very much like your big sister, you fight sleep like she did, and the endless motion and jumping are so like her.

Like your brother was, you are happy, happy, happy, and have a smile that just lights the whole world.

You are totally yourself too though--you are a bit more pensive than the other two. I love watching you observe people and objects with this perfect, curious expression with a little sucked in bottom lip. (I try so often to capture it in a photo, but have thus far failed.) You are also always attentive--even between tickle attacks in a tickle session, you will stop smiling and look very intently to assess what's happening around you. I am so looking forward to see what that thoughtfulness turns into as you grow older.

I love getting to know you better every day. I feel so privileged to have you here in our home. I love every tiny thing about you. Thank you for coming into our family and for the exquisite joy you brought along! Thank you for expanding the love we had in our home bigger than I could have thought possible.

I love you my sweet little Grasshopper!

All my love,
Mama

Purpose

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Thu, 29 Nov 2012 07:04:00 +0000

Poor little neglected blog. I admit I do a terrible job of updating it these past months. The reasons I could give are many. But I think I've narrowed it down to one: I've lost my purpose in writing this. It's true. This whole blog was started on my hope of taking things more slowly, of kicking the consumer habit, of living more present in each moment. And in the past year, I've kind of sucked at that. I mostly want to blame my job. About a year and a half ago, we got a lot of changes at work that drastically reduced the flexibility that I had to enjoy my family and focus. Ultimately, I know that I am more than my circumstances, and the responsibility has to lie with me.

We had to move again this summer. Did I mention that? We moved the summer of 2011 because we were moving to an apartment twice the size. It was ultimately what led us to have our little Grasshopper and for that I am grateful! But, just a year later--this past August, we were forced into another parking lot move that put us back into about 500 square feet--half of what we'd spent the last year in. We thought we'd had it good moving into the bigger space, and that was evidenced by the amount of STUFF we'd let ourselves accumulate. Granted, there was now a whole other person added to the mix, with all the accompanying stuff that comes with a baby, but truly, we had allowed our belongings to balloon well past our need. There's a lot of frustration that comes with this move, and in large part, it's because I had been feeling entitled--one of the dirtiest feelings for people to have, I think. I felt entitled to my space--I do, after all, have the most children, the most seniority, etc when compared with my coworkers--and entitled to the STUFF I had accumulated. All this meaningless stuff, which has largely spent the last three months sitting up in a storage room, in the boxes it was originally packed into. One of the very few things I DO believe I am entitled to is happiness, and I can see that it will not be found in all that stuff. I KNOW it's true, but I somehow let us slip back to that place.

So, more recently, I have realized that once again, I have to fight back those old demons---the ones who tell me I NEED it, that my kids NEED it, or that it will bring us happiness. None of those things are true. I've got to try to shake the entitlement trap, the consumer habit, and get my hands dirty to get back to that place where living simply and free from the bondage of belongings brought me so much peace. So...once more into the fray. I'll try not to neglect this piece of that along the way.

Dinosaur Park

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Mon, 22 Oct 2012 06:09:00 +0000

Little Bird LOVES dinosaurs. He and Squirrel know a rather outlandish number of their names and characteristics. And I'm not just talking T-Rex and Triceratops (which Little Bird says Tri-terra-sops, which I LOVE!). I'm talking dinosaurs like Parasarolophus, Arceopteryx, Ichthyosaur, and Pachacephalasaurus. (I cannot guarantee the spelling of any of those.) Because of this, one of the things we did on a recent visit to see Rob's family in Utah was to go to Eccles Dinosaur Park in Odgen.

It was such a fun little park and museum. The kids loved walking through the park and seeing all the statues of dinosaurs. They even had an indoor animatronic display of a T-Rex and a mama Tri-terra-sops with babies. In addition, there was a large geology exhibit and fossils of various dinosaurs on display. (I'm secretly a rock nerd. I had this pretty impressive rock collection as a kid. I don't know what happened to it...but sometimes, like, 20 years later, I still think about it and wish I had it. I think if I were to start college all over, I'd get a degree in Geology. That's how cool I am.)

Anyway, if you're out that way and have a kid who loves dinos, I highly recommend it!

Big scary dino means run to Daddy!

Little Brother, just chillin'

Everybody say "RRAAAAWWWRRR!!!"

{Four Months Old!}

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 05:31:00 +0000

My little grasshopper is four months old! It amazes me how quickly he grows. Everything is fleeting, and it is so hard for me to focus on what he's doing and enjoy it. He is such a sweet baby though. He loves to talk and coo, jump in his jumper and play and bat at the toys above him on his play mat. He's also started doing his crunches quite regularly.

It's amazing that such a short time ago, he was just a wiggly little lump. Now, he seems easily twice his length (though I know it's mostly from uncurling), definitely is twice his weight, and is becoming a little person.

Here are just a couple of quick shots I took of him to commemorate four months. He melts my heart with that big goofy grin!

How fast it flies....

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Fri, 31 Aug 2012 09:05:00 +0000

...time that is. And how fast my little Grasshopper is growing!
He is three months old! Three months old!
Look here, how completly different he looks in such a short amount of time:

{About one week old}

{And three months old}

He doesn't even look like the same little guy! But I love that he still sleeps like that with his hand by his face. Is there anything more angelic??

Let's see, three months old...he is in the 85th percentile for weight and 75th percentile for height. I don't know why, but my babies get big fast when they are youngins. {A recent height predictor told me that Squirrel would probably be 5'11"...not likely given her parentage. I think we just peak really early...}While my parents were here, Dad kept saying, "I swear he's grown an inch since we've been here." Which turned out to be true. I think he actually grew two inches in the month they were here, and gained close to four pounds. This kid ain't messing around.

He is cutting his first tooth, I'm pretty sure. I am not crazy about this at three months, and it's a lot earlier than the other two did, but what'ya gonna do? He's been snotty and snuffly for days, is drooling like Squirrel did when she had her cavities filled, and is generally a bit more cranky than he usually is. We'd gotten to the point where he finally started sleeping a little more reliably, but now that's all gone to pot again. I used to say about Squirrel, "She fights naps like a ninja," and I must say, this guy is the same! He even gets the little purple bags under his eyes that she would get from fighting sleep until the point of utter exhaustion. I am very grateful that like his siblings, he sleeps through the night pretty well--waking to eat a couple times, but then going right back down.

My little Grasshopper is not much a fan of baby-wearing like my other two were, but in the last week or so has softened up to it. That's a relief, because it really makes life SO much easier.

He still loves his hands best, and has started the habit of chomping desperately on any blanket that might be near him--another thing that makes me think he is teething. He loves having his feet rubbed in the evening. I really do think that a little lavender oil foot rub helps him settle down for bed in the evenings. He wakes up each morning as happy as can be--he'll just coo and purr and smile at me for as long as I can stand it, or until his belly decides it needs filling! He's also started to giggle. Rob loves to tickle him to get belly laughs out of him, and they are becoming bigger and more delightful each day. As for me, my favorite thing to do is talk to him and nibble on his little squishy ears and the scruff on the back of his neck and his little bald head. (Is that weird? Do other moms do that?)

I'm continually amazed at how much Little Bird adores him. To be honest, I thought Little Bird would have a tough time, but he is just as sweet and gentle with his baby brother as any child could be. He loves to be a helper and takes a lot of personal pride in pitching in, especially when it comes to baby. Surprisingly, Squirrel is a little less helpful. She's much more interested in the playing side of things--trying to make him giggle, wanting to dress him up like a doll or read him a story. She'll turn her nose up and run out of the room if I suggest she toss out a diaper or go fetch me an item. But that's okay, it means he'll have a well-rounded, though separate, relationship with each of them. :)

I'm already looking forward to seeing who this little guy will turn into. I compare him to his siblings, and think he looks more like Squirrel did at this age, but not exactly. And sometimes I laugh because I think he looks SO much like Rob...but doesn't look like Rob's baby pictures. This guessing game is really half the fun of having a child--one part is enjoying who they are now, at any given moment; the other part is guessing who they will turn out to be and watching as that person emerges. Either way, I'm enjoying the journey with this little hunk of love!

Thanks, as always, for stopping by!

Recharge

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Wed, 29 Aug 2012 07:51:00 +0000

Poor Little Bird.

The last couple of months have been a bit of a whirlwind for him--since May, he's gotten a new baby brother, had to move (again), had non-stop house guests, and had his sister start Kindergarten. Everything has been topsy-turvy for my already sensitive little guy. I know that Squirrel going to Kindergarten has been hard for him. He likes to tell me all about his "Kindergarten"--this usually consists of him repeating the stories that he's heard Squirrel tell. Or he will sometimes interrupt Squirrel's play-by-play of her day on the ride home to tell me something really important. ("Mom. Mom. I havva tell you sumping!") When it's time to load up to take her to Kinder, he often drags his feet and takes his sweet time. On the way to pick her up, he'll usually hop right up from any activity and beat me out the door. He loves his big sister fiercely, and has ALWAYS had her by his side. This school thing is messing with his groove.

However, in the past week or so since Squirrel started Kindergarten, I have realized a couple of things:

1) He really enjoys the time to himself.

2) He's never had any!

It's fun to see how he spends the couple of hours he gets alone now--he goes in his room and plays and plays. He talks to himself; I like to listen to him acting out big scenarios between his cars and his dinosaurs, his two very favorite types of toys. He makes different voices for each one and finds new ways for them to interact, weaving long tales into his play. To be honest, I don't even think I realized that he liked to do that enough to spend hours a week doing it. His play has always been much shorter; but then, he's always had a big sister who could interrupt. Now, he finally has the freedom to do exactly what he wants to in that time. And I have to admit, I feel a level of guilt realizing that it is something he has wanted but not gotten in the three years of his life. Something *I* know that I need to have in my life, but which I never even gave a thought to when it came to him: alone time. Quiet, individual activity is something I really value. It's why I'm a night owl (hmm...maybe why he's one too...), because staying up late after everyone goes to bed gives me the time I need to have my own thoughts and time to relax without having to play by anyone else's rules.

I've been reading a book suggested to me by a friend called Raising Your Spirited Child, and must say it has been eye opening for me as it relates to Little Bird. I'll probably go into it more in later posts, but one thing it discusses is how being an extravert or introvert affects us because it is how we "recharge our batteries." Extraverts (like Rob and Squirrel) are energized by being in company and playing and talking with others. Introverts (like me and Little Bird) are energized through alone time and reflection. So, even though I know that Little Bird misses his sister and feels pretty left out whenever she gets to go to Kindergarten, I also know that he is getting something that his little soul needs: a little more time to be at peace, look inside himself and recharge his mind and spirit.

Squirrel is a Kindergartener!

noreply@blogger.com (Kierra) — Thu, 23 Aug 2012 08:38:00 +0000

So, mommy heartbreak:
My little girl, my sweet little Squirrel, is in Kindergarten!

{First Day of Kindergarten! 8/22/2012}

I'm grateful she has done preschool the last couple of years, or I would have been a tremendous mess. She, however, was out of her mind excited.
The night before, she told me, "I am SO excited to go to Kindergarten, I might cry. In fact, my eyes are watering right now thinking about it!" She seriously is a-DOR-able. And she really was that happy, just giddy with anticipation and bubbling over.

{Here she is, demonstrating her excitement right before line up.}

While I am endlessly grateful to have a child that is just joyful about pretty much everything, a teeny tiny part of my heart was a bit broken that she didn't have any trepidation marching off to school, hopping in line, and happily entering public education with barely a kiss goodbye. I'm so happy she's happy...but there's something about wanting a bit of reliance on me too.

I will say, she pays me back every day at the end of school when she comes running at me with enough force to cause injury, calls "MOMMY!!!!" and jumps into my arms, usually full of things to tell me, with great detail, about her day. She is making friends, learning songs, and enjoying every minute of it, and for that I am truly grateful.

She's also working hard. The second day of school, she came home EXHAUSTED. She barely made it home without falling asleep and just crashed on the couch. She told me, "School is hard. It made me tired. All we did was walk around looking for the Gingerbread Man." (Apparently, this was some kind of get-to-know-the-school activity.) We talked about how school is sometimes hard because it helps our brains grow. I'm hoping to instill a love of that brain exercise. I'm not sure how I got it, but I sure hope I can pass it on to her.

This week, she also turned in her first homework assignment--a poster board sheet that could be filled however she wanted for an "About Me" display. She worked really hard on it--she wrote a list of things she likes or that are important and then she drew pictures or colored ones she looked on the internet for of the things on her list. She did a great job and was SO proud of it. But, when I picked her up, she frantically and emphatically informed me that we HAD to make another as SOON as we got home...this one for keeps. I guess I failed to explain that homework--especially the kind that you put a lot of effort into--usually gets kept by the teacher. It's funny, the lessons they learn that we take for granted. I wonder when I learned that lesson, and if it affected me, but there isn't a lot I remember from then.

My only real memories of Kindergarten are these:
1) Learning how to round corners with scissors when making a bear's face out of brown construction paper. And I must say, rounding corners with scissors is a valuable skill I still use and am thankful for.

2) Frantically working to finish a 26-letter project that required cutting pictures out of magazines that start with each letter. I guess I was supposed to have been doing one each week all year and pretty much didn't. If my memory serves me (doubtful), I think it was a requirement to pass on to 1st grade. Thankfully, I got it done and quite well. I am still skilled in the art of procrastination and tell myself that "I work best under pressure."

3) Sitting in a circle for show-and-tell when this one kid brought in a stapler. Though probably not in my vocabulary at the time, I'm pretty sure my thoughts amounted to the equivalent of "lame" while he explained its use and began to pass it around. I feigned interest and passed it along. Then another kid put the stapler on the ground, inserted his finger, and STAPLED HIS FINGER--the staple went right through the nail. I remember watching him as he was about to do it, knowing exactly what the outcome would be, and thinking what an idiot he was. And then, when he began screaming bloody murder and Mrs. Wamsley, my teacher, took him into the bathroom to remove the staple and clean him up, again thinking what an idiot he was. Apparently, I understood cause and effect better than some of my peers, and maintained a high degree of skepticism even then, something I still value about my personality.

I wonder what memories Squirrel will carry with her from this experience? Hopefully, she'll take away a few valuable lessons--perhaps some more meaningful than mine. Either way, she's having a blast, and I'm grateful we live in such a wonderful area with a great school so I have less apprehension about sending her off. And besides, how can you worry too much when they are THIS excited to be learning?