Believe

I always knew Riley was talented. Now even more people know it!

Recently, Riley entered a photo contest at the Greenville County Library. Yesterday, Riley was contacted by the library with the good news that she won the contest in her age division!! Hooray Riley!

The picture was of Piper - in fact, it is featured under A Separate Peace on this blog. If you check the Greenville County library page in a few days, it will be on display there as well.

For Riley the best part (and the motivation to enter) was the prize - - - a $15 iTunes gift card!! (Oh boy, more Carrie Underwood and Jonas Brothers songs to download.)

Congratulations Riley - I am so proud of you!

KidBits

We were all eating breakfast. London was finishing her bagel with cream cheese. Bergen was shoveling bananas into his mouth. Riley was crunching Apple Jacks. Mosely was eating kiwi. I waved at Piper Finn and said "hi" as I do every day, most of the day. It was then that a tiny miracle happened. (Its being tiny in no way makes it less a miracle.)

Piper Finnian smiled at me. She blinked. And then she waved!

The entire breakfast table erupted in cheers and claps. "She waved at you," London shouted. Riley grabbed the phone and called Kevin. The kids jumped around her and waved and waved, yelling, "Hi! Hi! Hi!"

What a lucky kid. What a blessed house. All these small souls celebrating little milestones.

"Everything is a miracle - it's a miracle we don't dissolve in our bath water like a lump of sugar." -Picasso

When I Was Young in the Mountains

By the way, only one person has ever even tried to guess the book titles on this blog. Come on guys - play along! (And thanks Beckey!)

So London walks up to me and says, "I'm sorry Mom," which is never a good thing for your child to approach you saying. And I say, "For what?" and she holds out her arms, which are covered in ink, black letters and flames covering her tiny outstretched arms. "Oh, well, okay. We just don't draw on ourselves, alright?" I say with incredible motherly authority. She looks at me. "But Mom," she says, "I just want to be like other people." I gaze at her. She continues. "I just want to be like the boy in the orange shirt." Oh. That boy. Clint, our friend, (and not exactly a "boy" for the record) has multiple tattoos covering his arms. And London wants to be like him. Hmmmm.

Ish

It is a pretty difficult feat to gather everyone in our family in a still photograph. Imagine how hard this would have been in the days when you really had to stand still for photographs!

For Bergen's third birthday we celebrated Bergen and explored our new downtown. We visited a Greenville Drive baseball game. They are a farm team for the Boston Red Sox. Their stadium is so cute (would that word bother those players?) because it looks like a miniature Fenway park. We ate cotton candy, hot dogs and watched our heads for fly balls. I even made it to the big screen - drinking my water and completely oblivious. Nice!

After the baseball game we went to the Greenville Zoo - Bergen's choice. We laughed at the baby lemur and the elephants eating their hay. It was a great zoo for the kids because you could really see everything so closely and the zoo was not too big to explore in one afternoon.

Did My Mama Like to Dance?

I think about my mother every day. But I don’t talk to her. Not so she can hear me anyway. I can’t. But, oh, how I wish I could. My mother passed away and every day I keep experiencing things that I need to tell her. Things I cannot believe I never shared with her - but I was too young to know them yet. I hadn’t lived long enough. And she didn’t live long enough.

I have five children, one that she never met. And I can’t tell her the words I so long to tell her. So I stuff them in my throat or I tell parts of them to my husband, my girlfriends, my surrogate mothers and although each individual outlet is completely worthy and I am so grateful for them, they are what they are - substitutes. These are the things I wish I could tell my mother . . . what I want to pick up the phone and share or hop in the car and say over snacks on her blue sofa.

Mom, I can’t believe you never told me about catching a kid’s throw up at two in the morning. It’s gross. Really gross. And I am pretty sure I was a Class A Whiner . . . so thank you. I wish you could have seen Mosely’s little concerned four year old face. It wasn’t funny, but she was so shocked by what was coming out of her mouth at such an alarming rate of speed that she completely stopped crying and looked more in awe than disgust. She talked about it for days. "I just threw up right on the floor!" (Three times.) You were the first person I wanted to talk to about it. But I couldn’t. So I sat on the floor, taco salad throw up surrounding me, paper towels in hand, and wept. And I wasn’t crying because the job was foul. I just miss you.

And Mom, Piper has teeth - two of them! She shoves everything in her mouth and just gnaws on whatever it is. I’m using cloth diapers on her - can you believe that? And now cloth diapers have velcro! I remember you said your favorite baby shower gift for your first born, my oldest brother, was a diaper service for an entire year. You said they just came right to your house and took away your soiled diapers and left you freshly laundered ones. How lovely! I still have one ducky diaper pin from our baby days, but I don’t even know whose it was. Did I sleep through the night at an early age? Piper Finn just keeps waking up randomly. None of my other babies did this. Is it normal? Oh, thank you for rocking me to sleep and kissing my downy head and singing me songs because I know you did. I tell Piper about you but she will only know you through me and that robs her of so much wisdom and beauty that it makes my heart ache.

Spring is here and the mountains are covered in color - so many shades of green. London comments on the trees every time we cross the mountain. You would laugh to hear her imitations. She looks just like me and sounds just like Kevin. What kind of future is that for a girl? She climbs trees methodically and draws pictures all day. I want to dress her in my old Red Riding Hood cape and take her picture in the tree outside our window. Remember the photo of me just like that? I think we would look identical then. I’m so glad you let me climb trees and play with dolls and sleep in tents and wear moon boots when they didn’t match my clothes. I know what a tremendous influence I will be on my daughters because I know what a tremendous influence you have been on me. What a beautifully heavy burden it is. I so wanted to be able to walk this path with you instead of without you.

Riley talks about you the most of any of the children. Of course, her memory is more full of you and I wish that were so for each of my children. I am so sorry that I have to shape your memory in their minds. You opened your heart so quickly and so wide to Riley that no one else could help but follow suit. She had sleepovers and shopping trips and time together with you that I covet for my other children. I need to hear you remind me of how I liked boys when I was her age and how I wore long johns under my dresses and listened to the New Kids on the Block. You never teased me about my poodle-like haircut, my terrible complexion or my hyper-color t-shirts and neon yellow shorts. I want to be more gracious and open armed to my girls, more like you and less like me.

And I don’t even know how to mother the little boy that is Bergen. You couldn’t believe we were really going to give him "Hawkeye" as a middle name, but it fits. It really fits. He is charming and wild and fearless and heart-breakingly handsome. He hugs with abandon and cries the same way. You barely had the chance to know him - I don’t even think he had hair for you to see. Kevin cuts his hair now - in a big boy style. His body is covered in cuts and bruises and I frankly don’t know what caused half of them. He makes us laugh and I know he would crack you up too. He loves Legos - like your boys. Oh, what I would give to tap into your experience raising boys - three unruly but outstanding men they have become. You would be proud, you were proud, of them. And we all knew it.

The irony never leaves me - what I most want, I can’t have. I want your presence, your support, your encouragement, your unfailing good humor and positive attitude. In short, you. And what I have instead is all of you wrapped up in me. And it’s tangled up in here and hard to pull out most days, but you are here. And since it is all I have, it’s what I’ll take.

What To Expect When You're Expecting

Piper and I drove up to Virginia for a short visit last weekend. We hit the Pottery Barn outlet on our way out -what a lovely place to lay down lots of cash if one had lots of cash. Then we met Emma and Beckett and we drove (very slowly) to Virginia. Although it was odd to drive past our house and sleep at Sally's house, we had a great time.

We were there to pick up the dogs and to attend a "surprise" baby shower for Jessica and baby Izzie! We had so much fun. Piper and Beck hung out and shared some stories - man, those kids are funny when they get to talking about the old days.

The shower was great - hilarious name tags ("epidural" was my favorite, so true!), challenging games (who knew baby food was so cheap?) and excellent prizes (Piper keeps trying to eat my bracelet!).

I was only sad to not stay in Virginia longer.

Becoming Baby Wise

Little Willow has just discovered something very new and exciting . . . her fingers have the ability to pick up tiny round or star-shaped pieces of food in front of her AND then she can put those same tiny pieces of food into her mouth ... and most amazing of all . . . no one stops her. In fact, people seem to cheer her on when she does this!!! Yes, that's right, Piper Finn can eat puffy rice things and Cheerios!!! What a fun way to pass the time in the booster seat while everyone else, especially Mommy, has a chance to eat their own food.

When she pinches her Cheerio she can make it to her mouth with no problem, but often the Cheerio sticks to her fist and then she clenches her fist and is surprised to discover that the Cheerio has disappeared and she just stares and stares at her hand, wondering where it is.

Heart of Gold

We celebrated Riley's Adoption Day recently! While she was working on math or something equally satisfying and distracting, London, Mosely, Bergen and I made a special chocolate cake for her. We decorated it together too - tasting each color of icing to be sure it was satisfactory. (It was!) We served a special dinner of homemade chicken and alphabet soup. Riley said she had always wanted to know if you could make chicken soup from scratch instead of a can. I needed her to know that all good things can be made without cans! We had a great dinner and we sang a song Mosely made up called, "Happy Adoption Day", which sounded remarkably similar to "Happy Birthday". We love you Riley!!

Falling Up

Most of my little gang was sleeping during their daily nap time. At age four, however, London’s naps were sporadic and we often used the afternoon quiet time to learn letters, read books or draw. Yesterday, London requested a game. I thought that sounded like a fine idea - learning through fun is always a positive experience, right?

My thirteen-year-old daughter volunteered to get the game from the shelf downstairs. She placed Chutes & Ladders in front of us and bounced off to entertain herself.
It all seemed ideal - number recognition, counting, taking turns - what better leaning opportunities than that? This game even threw in dealing with disappointment when your character landed on a chute and was forced to go backwards. London enjoyed spinning the arrow and counting her spaces. I enjoyed watching her decide the best way to spin - ineffectively flicking the blue arrow to imitate Mommy or pushing it faster in her own manner.

We were having fun. London had her game piece positioned almost at the end of the game - in the 90's - while my character struggled along in the 40's, catching every chute there was to catch. It looked like London was on a sure path to quick victory. I really wanted her to win. I wanted to see how excited she would be when her red plastic piece made the jump to the winner’s square first.

Which made me think. Should I let my four-year-old daughter win? I could, of course. It wouldn’t be hard to miscount my own squares, tumble down a chute unnecessarily. She wouldn’t notice - not yet. Hmmm. I couldn’t believe I had never faced this dilemma before. Had we never played games? Actually, this was the first game with a clear victor. Sure, we played Memory - but she never really got it before - we just matched faces and symbols and got excited when anyone got a pair. We never kept score. And we had played I Spy and other non-competitive style games.

So here I was. I never thought I wanted to be the kind of parent who purposely let her child win games. What life lesson is that? And when does the game end? But I really wanted to see London’s plastic guy beat my plastic guy. I didn’t care if I made it to the winning square first. What should I do? And I didn’t really think this was one of those defining parental moments - it was just a silly game of Chutes & Ladders. But somehow it seemed that whatever conclusion I came to would set a sort of standard for me. Not just how I played games, but how I taught my children. Did I clear obstacles out of the path ahead of them or did I teach them to deal with life’s difficulties? Yeah, this was pretty heady stuff for a preschool game.

Well, maybe it wouldn’t matter this time - London was just squares away from plopping her character on the 100. I wouldn’t even have to make a decision now. That’s great - avoidance to buy myself some time. Besides, wasn’t I making this a bit bigger deal than I needed to? Wow, the things that go on in my head.

And then, London hit a snag - the biggest chute, right beside the victory number 100 - and down her little game piece slid, back to the low numbers. Just as suddenly, my little character caught a break and hit the biggest ladder, immediately sending me to the victory 100 spot. Well, there it was. My plastic man had landed. London recognized the winner’s square immediately. I looked up and held my breath.

"Yeah, Mommy. Hooray! You won!" And she reached over and gave me a big high five. I smiled at her beaming little face. "That was fun. Can we just play with the guys now?"

And so we did, making every character slide up and down and climb the ladders in every direction. We just played. And that was what London had been doing all along.

Actually, the game did turn out to be one of those defining moments for me. I decided how I would play games with my children from then on. If I am winning, I will continue to do so. I don’t want to lie or alter reality to make my children’s lives, even momentarily, better. It is what it is.

I want our home to be a safe place to fail - whether in an inconsequential board game or in the bigger moments that surely await each of my children.