The Preschool Graduate

On my morning run, there is a hill on the way home that overlooks a hill of trees.  For quite a few weeks, there were only branches that I had to squint to see since the sun wasn’t quite all the way awake.  But today, there were so many bright, green leaves.  When did this happen?  Why did I not notice it before?

It is difficult to pin the exact moment when the dead winter grass turned a vibrant shade of green that I forgot existed given our long, brutal winter.  The change from winter to spring happened so slowly that I barely noticed it was happening.

This gradual change that yields a big ta-da moment is similar to raising kids.

When the kids were babies and their first smiles emerged, I would wonder if it was gas.  After a few weeks, I would become certain that these were real, happy smiles, yet I never had a solid date to put down in the baby book since it happened so gradually.

I remember peeking in on Thomas when he was in his crib.  I could hear a lot of rattling around and could see that he was plotting his escape.  He started with pulling himself up on the side.  A few days later he would try and put a leg up over the side.  Eventually, he swung the other leg over and let go of the side – he had finally accomplished his goal of springing out of his comfy, little prison.  It didn’t happen all at once, but once he accomplished his goal, it was definitive and exact – and there was no going back.

For me, nothing, in terms of raising kids, happens in a flash.  Watching him grow from a little baby to a fully articulate little boy happened so gradually that I am having a hard believing that I have a baby that has graduated from preschool.

Raising kids is like a crazy experiment – I never really know if I am doing it right.

So I will take a moment to dwell success in the fact that he is ready for kindergarten.  But these big moments of triumph are studded with sadness that time moves on and there is no going back.

But for now, I am just going to focus on how proud I am of him.

How do you feel about the graduation milestone?  Happy?  Sad?  Both?

This House

We did it.  We closed on our house and after this weekend, we will no longer live here.  

At the closing, I was ready to be angry at the couple who bought our house because their agent was such a jack ass.  But when we got there, I saw a couple who looked too young to buy house and were probably clueless to the antics their agent was pulling on us.  

Truth be told, we were probably their age when we bought this house.

Our first house.

At the ripe age of 25.

Ten years ago.

I glanced at the couple as I signed my name a hundred times, and I was overcome with nostalgia.

We were babies when we bought this house.

We brought our babies home from the hospital in this house.  They learned to crawl, walk, and talk in this house.

We became grownups in this house.

I learned who I was in this house.

We don’t want to stay here - we have outgrown this house and want to move to a community with a downtown area with lots of parks.  I’ve been plotting and scheming a way into our new city for years.  And now it’s finally going to happen.

But I’m a little sad to be leaving this house where we became a family.

As I pack up up every single thing, I have had a lot of time to think about things.  (Like every damn day).

I wonder if Marie and Thomas’s rooms will still have their own sweet, distinctive scents: Marie’s  is a mix of lavender bath soap mixed with her own powdery scent.  Thomas’s has this clean, fresh yet sleepy scent.  If I could bottle it up and pack it with us, I would.  Because my heart may break a bit if the scents get lost in the move.

I wonder if we will be happy in our new house.  Yes, I’ve always wanted to live in this city, but sometimes things don’t live up to the image I have in my head.    I am hoping that the lessons I’ve learned in this house have prepared me to accept that nothing is perfect and to find the joy and happiness in any situation.

I wonder if the new couple will become a family here like us and the family before us.

My heart kind of breaks that we will be moving this house, the house where we have had celebrated birthdays and holidays and babyhood milestones.  I am sad to leave the neighbors who have taught me how wonderful it is to live by close friends who you not only trust, but enjoy.  This is an experience that was lost on me in my childhood since we didn’t have a lot of neighbors.  I will be sad not to see them every morning at the bus stop, but eternally grateful for their lesson in friendship.

I know that wherever we are together as a family is home; memories are not constrained by the walls of a home because they can always be found in the heart.  But right now my feelings are a mashup of everything bitter and sweet.

Have you ever moved from a place that you are emotionally connected to?  How did you deal with it?

Three Years Ago

Happy birthday, Thomas!  Today you turn three.

Three.  I can’t believe it.

I remember the day you were born like it was yesterday.  I remember holding you for the first time in my arms, falling deeply and instantly in love with you.  I remember it with such crystal-clear clarity that it sometimes seems impossible that three whole years have passed since that moment.

My heart grew much bigger that day.  And it just keeps on getting bigger.

My heart grows bigger with warm and fuzzy love when you are so free with your hugs and kisses and the snuggly way you rest your head on my shoulder.

My heart grows bigger with patience when you consistently and aggressively push the boundaries.

My hear grows bigger with the light and joy when you make jokes and laugh your adorable laugh.

These three years have gone by in a blink, and I’ve totally enjoyed watching you become your own little person.  You laugh loudly, and you love freely.  You have an amazing imagination as you transform into a pirate or a robot or a monster.  You have an incredible vocabulary, and you are able to articulate your feelings quite effectively.  You are rough and tumble-y yet so gentle and thoughtful. 

I am so proud of who you are becoming.  And I am grateful for all that you have taught me.

I wish nothing but happiness for you.  I hope that you always live your life with as much enthusiasm, curiosity, and gentleness as you do now.

May you always have that special twinkle in your eye.

Happy Birthday, Thomas. 

I love you forever.  

Here’s to the Next Chapter – May the Light Always Shine Bright

Before I get going on this post, I wanted to share with you a link for the post I did at Band Back Together. I am very proud of this post, and this is a fantastic website. Please take some time to check it out.

Also, I will be writing a post on recharging batteries. This post includes a survey I created over at The Skinny Scoop. Please check it out. I would love your feedback.

Ok, now down to business.

In the past three weeks, The Babes have hit quite a few milestones over here. Thomas got his first official summer haircut. Last summer, I didn’t have to cut it so short because it wasn’t as thick. But I could see the sweat mixed with sunblock dripping from his forehead and knew I had to do it. I am very partial to the longer, messier look, but it’s hotter than hell out here, so what is one to do? Thankfully, my brother was able to cut it short without looking, well, how I can say this, boring bowl cut.

Pretty damn cute, if you ask me! 

It kind of broke my heart a bit because he looked so much older. And even though I usually am not the mournful type because leaving a phase (especially a baby phase) means something much more fun and exciting. But this time was different.

I think this might have something to do with it.

As you know, Marie turned five last month. Which was pretty big in and of itself. And then two weeks later, she *takes a deep breath* lost her first tooth. It went from kind of loose to totally ready to fall it so quickly. Next thing I know, Harrington gave it one little twisty-turn and out it came. She looked like a character from Twilight as the blood came spilling out all over her other teeth. Ick.

"Holy shit!  What just happened!
Why does Mommy look like she's going to pass out?
And that rumor about the Tooth Fairy bringin $5 for
the first tooth better be true."

I was totally not ready for that. Not just the blood, but how it changed her face. It also changed how she talked. It forced me to look at her differently. She’s not the little two year old we took to Myrtle Beach with her chubby legs and wispy hair, barely able to put into pigtails. She’s not even the three year old who was not so sure of the play structure at the park.

No, she’s a five year old, who is losing her baby teeth to make room for the *adult* teeth.

As if that wasn’t enough, she graduated from preschool this week. And in the fall she will be going to Kindergarten.

"Big crowds?  Lots of attention?
This is so not my scene.  So much so
I could care less about the chocolate fountain.
Get. Me. Out. Of. Here. Now."

I am not usually that mom that’s all sad about moving on to the next phase. I was relieved when I was done with nursing her after ten lllooooonnnngggg months (and was happy not to have wash bottles anymore for Thomas). I joyfully said good bye to diapers (which, please, Thomas, please let’s start giving this potty thing a *real* try). I was excited when she started preschool.

I was even OK with her giving up her naps because we had more flexibility to do more fun stuff, go on more adventures.

But there is something about starting Kindergarten that just yanks at my heart strings. Maybe I look at through this lens of my youth. I always felt that I didn’t quite fit in and had a hard time making friends. I fear for the bullying that is out of control.

I’m afraid that Marie will loose that light in her eyes. The one that shines from the inside out because she’s totally excited about life and not afraid to be herself. Before Hannah Montana and all the other bullshit shows out there that tell her what “cool” is.

This process of letting go is so very bittersweet. (And if you saw my status on Facebook or Twitter, it’s like 60% Ghirardelli Bittersweet Chocolate Chips . . . which has been my chosen method of self-soothing. Well, that and chocolate ice cream). (No judging . . . whatever works, right?) (Right?!)

As I said earlier, there will be new adventures to be had. I couldn’t have done Chicago and enjoyed all the sights we saw if Marie was still a baby. Some of my greatest childhood memories are going on similar trips and adventures. And I am looking forward to going on adventures with The Babes.

"I have found Heaven.  It's here in Chicago.
In the Ghirardelli Chocolate Shop. Mommy and Nana
are right.  Everything is better with ice cream."

One chapter is definitely closed.

A new one is definitely opened.

And no matter what, I will try to keep that light bright and shiny.