fantastic five

my dearest liam,

as of august 14th, you're five. FIVE! it seems that a just a second ago, i was clutching your warm, soft body to me in the delivery room, and now, you're running the bases at t-ball games and reading the newspaper. everyone warned me that the years would fly by, but it's not until i allow myself to really think about what a big boy you've become that i realize how true that is. and what an incredible person you're turning out to be! let me see if i can incapsulate you with just a few words ...

you LOVE life. every bit of it! every new place you visit, every new person you meet, every new discovery you make -- you find it all fascinating. what a joy it is to be your parent and see the world fresh through your eyes. you're inquisitive -- you want to know "why?" dozens of times a day. why is canada north of the united states? why does the traffic light turn green when it does? i strive to answer each question as thoroughly and patiently as i can, because i can see in your eyes an insatiable thirst for knowledge and curiosity that i hope never fades. (and when i don't know the answer, i tell you to go ask daddy.)

you're growing up, becoming less of a little boy and more of a big one. the tasks we give you --feeding super, getting the newspaper, putting the mail in the mailbox, setting the table -- you accept with pride. you're pleased with a job well done, and look forward to receiving your daily allowance and counting the nickels as they go into your piggy bank. but you also enjoy putting a portion into your church box, and giving back to God as you place that hard-earned money in the chapel offering plate each sunday.

you're thoughtful and caring and kind. almost to a fault -- you wear your heart on your sleeve, and it can be painful to witness your feelings hurt so easily. you're loving and affectionate, asking us to snuggle with you in the mornings, and often coming up to us with a hug and a kiss for no reason at all. you're funny and witty and have such a great sense of humor. nothing makes me smile wider than hearing that belly laugh of yours ... i doubt there is a happier sound in the universe.

you are an amazing brother. you and susanna will play together for hours on end, creating imaginary places with your toys; somehow your hundreds of matchbox cars and her hundreds of dolls peacefully co-exist in your made-up world. your patience and love for your little sister knows no bounds, which is evident every time you try to teach her a new word, or praise her when she's accomplished something she's never done before. when you were asked recently who your best friend was, you responded "susanna" without hesitation.

above all, you are a child of God. nothing is sweeter to me than hearing you say the Lord's prayer every night, the blessing at the dinner table, and all the random moments throughout the day when you talk about Jesus and God. just today, as we looked at old pictures of the day you were born, susanna wondered where she was at the time. you told her with certainty that she was still in heaven, waiting with the angels before it was her turn to come down to live with us. your daddy and i pray that you will never, ever forget the immense blessings God has bestowed upon you.

and you, my son, are one of the most important blessings of MY life. you made me a mother. and every day, you make my heart grow even more than i thought it could the day before. you recently told me that you love me "infinity to the tenth power." well, i love you even more than that.

you're five. FIVE! happy birthday, my sweet, handsome, smart, loving, wonderful boy.

all my love, mommy

wordless wednesday

witness how liam engages Mr. Cow (at the museum of life and science in durham) in a conversation. i must have the sense of humor of a five year old, because every time i watch this video, i giggle.

wheee ... not so much

the first night of our family beach reunion in july, the four of us squeezed together for prayers on one of the beds in the room the kids were sharing with their second cousin. as we started our list of God Blesses, i was especially interested to see if liam could name all twenty-five people who were at the beach with us, after spending a whole day with them at meals and at play. he closed his eyes, clasped his hands, and began. "God bless the wii. in Jesus' name we pray. amen." yes, that's right. surrounded by two dozen fun people, an ocean, great food, and non-stop activity ... the one and only thing liam deemed worthy of mentioning in his prayers was the gaming system my aunt mary had brought up from atlanta.

it only got worse from there. by tuesday, chris and i had decided to pull the plug (literally) on his playing time. witnessing his attraction to this thing -- he was physically drawn to it like he was in its magnetic field -- actually began to freak us out. although i'm sure these things have benefits (hand-eye coordination and fine motor skills development, perhaps), the battles that would inevitably ensue cemented in my mind the fact that we will never own one. playing one on vacation is one thing. having to enter your child in a twelve step program for video game addicts is quite another thing entirely.

since returning home, things had gotten back to normal. he received a sleeping bag, doctor's kit, and a scooter for his birthday from us and his grandparents, all of which he was quite excited about. no mention whatsoever about wanting a certain $300 nintendo device. but then ...

he came home from a playdate last week, bursting at the seams with excitement. "we played the wii! it's the same one that aunt mary has! i did the bowling game! i got a turkey!" and on and on. when he had finally run out of steam, he pondered for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. "do you think i'll get a wii at my party?"

while i have not formally polled all of his guests ahead of tomorrow's party, i think it's a safe bet to say that none of the seven little boys coming to our pool for pizza and cake are going to be presenting him with a wii. i envisioned him unwrapping the last of his gifts tomorrow, a look of disappointment clouding his expectant face, and i realized i had to prepare him. "liam, you are not getting a wii for your birthday. i doubt you'll even get one for christmas." not wanting to go into the multitude of reasons behind our decision, i chose the one that he couldn't argue with. "they are just so expensive."

he literally stopped in his tracks. it was as if i had just revealed to him a gross misunderstanding, and he had to rectify the problem immediately. i could almost hear him mulling over how to best approach the situation, before ultimately deciding that slow articulation would work best.

"well, you see, mommy, i already know that the wii is expensive." (i guess he's heard that somewhere before.) he then put his hands on my shoulders and looked deep into my eyes. "but that is okay," he explained, "because i like expensive things."

wii have a problem.

wordless wednesday

"i'm done with pictures!" susanna says. three-year olds have the hardest life.

the storm after the calm

we're immensely blessed to have my parents' beach house only a couple of hours away, and we've spent a lot of time here this summer. i hadn't realized how much time until liam took the kitchen calendar off the wall, counted the days that have "BEACH" written on them, and then announced that the grand total is 35. so it turns out that we've been at the beach off and on for a total of five weeks since may, and the kids have really fallen into a sense of it being their second home. they've brought their favorite toys and books, they have their own kitchen drawer containing their cups and plastic plates, and they know that every evening we say our prayers out on the deck as we watch the sun set majestically over the water. it's beautiful and calming and really my most favorite place on earth. but, unfortunately, my thoughts were as far from those as possible on wednesday morning, as i wrangled my two children to the beach by myself. my parents' house is on the sound, which explains the gorgeous views and the sunset show. but while it's serene and soothing and quiet, it does make things a bit difficult when you have young ones. kids, while at the beach, want to do BEACH things. they want to build sand castles and collect shells and ride the waves. and all of these activities require stuff: shovels and buckets and chairs and towels and boogie boards. which isn't a huge deal, until you realize that one of the downsides of being at a house on the sound is that it's always a distance from the beach itself. so, my parents invested in this huge, sturdy, aluminum wagon that has become our lifeline while we're down there. we load it up with the aforementioned supplies (and then some), stuff the kids in it between the chairs and the cooler, and wrap them in towels to hopefully avoid the onslaught of mosquitoes. up until last week, i've always been able to work in tandem with my parents or chris, making the process a tad easier. but last week i flew solo for a few days, leaving me to maneuver the whole conglomeration down the driveway, across the street, and into the dune where we park and disembark. and then up over the crosswalk and down again, where i dropped everything in a huge heap and gave a sigh of relief which lasted for about ten seconds until i was chasing after my children with their life jackets as they got ever closer to the water. none of this is easy. but i don't mean to complain -- we were at the beach, for goodness sakes! i'll gladly endure this five minutes of frustration for a few hours of bliss. on wednesday morning, however, it quickly became apparent that those few hours of bliss i was counting on were not to be. right about the time that i fastened the last life jacket strap and had finally sunk into my chair, i heard rumblings in the distance. the skies, which had been crystal blue when we left the house, had quickly become dark gray. a storm was coming. and let me just tell you something: hell hath no fury like two children yanked from the beach too soon. they sat there, almost defiantly, as i raced to gather up our belongings to head back home. they balked at carrying their rafts and hats while i staggered through the thick sand lugging 100 pounds in my arms. they whined, they complained, and even as we began to be pelted by sheets of rain, they pleaded to stay. so this post is sort of ironic, given my recent entry about us being in a period of ease with the kids. not one moment of the hour that it took me to pack their snacks, get them dressed in their swimsuits, slather them with sunscreen, walk down to the beach, unload our wagon, re-load our wagon, return as drowned rats, shower them, dry them off, and find some clean clothes to throw on them -- not one moment of that hour was easy. maybe i should have titled that previous entry as "the calm before the storm". because Lord knows, the storm hit.

wordless wednesday

the sun was so bright on the beach yesterday that i kind of blindly held the camera in the air to snap a few pictures of susanna feeding the pelicans. it wasn't until i uploaded the photos that i realized what liam was up to . . . who knew we had a sassy middle school girl living among us?

a brief period of time

we've had a slew of friends recently announce they're pregnant, and most with their third. i can hardly wrap my brain around having three children -- and, ironically enough, i am one of three children. when chris and i first started discussing our off-in-the-distant-future family plans more than a decade ago, we both agreed that two was the number for us, probably more based on a law of averages (he's an only child) than for any specific reason. but we've never questioned our choice, which is a good thing since we kind of sealed the deal in that regard a few years ago and there's no going back now. but the topic of conversation came up the other night as i shared the news with him of our latest friends to bite the #3 bullet. "can you imagine having another?" i asked. of course, my female brain was mulling over the logistics: our SUV cannot accommodate three car seats, and after paying it off last year, we have no interest in buying another anytime soon. we'd have to convert the guest room to a nursery, and then i'd have no idea where any visitors would sleep. we can't fit more than four chairs around our kitchen table, and while i suppose we could stick a high chair in the corner for a while, what happens after that? and so on. but chris's male brain had a different perspective. "having a baby would be crazy," he said. "i mean, the kids are now just so easy." my first instinct was to laugh. did you not just witness liam's colossal meltdown when he lost at chutes & ladders? i thought. or susanna spilling her juice all over the newly-mopped floor after we forgot to put the lid on her sippy cup? but once i thought about it, he was right. and the more i thought about it, the more i realized that we're smack in the middle of a fairly easy period of our lives as parents. a period that might not be repeated again until liam and susanna are off to college. we started rattling off the ways that our children are, in fact, relatively easy. they're potty-trained. they sleep through the night. they're past the annoying stage of naps that you have to schedule your life around if you desire any peace, but they're quite amenable to an hour of Quiet Time in their rooms each afternoon so i can get a break. i can still pick out their outfits without any opposition, and then they can dress themselves. they're not growing so rapidly to necessitate a new wardrobe every few months. susanna still loves her sweet hairbows, and is not yet waging battles over the hoochie-mama tank tops or airbrushed hannah montana jackets that i see in every store window at the mall. they play well together, and aren't yet bickering and fighting and pulling each other's hair out. they're old enough to engage in real conversations with us, but young enough to take what we say at face value and not question whether or not we have any idea what we're talking about. the threat of "time out" is still an effective deterrent to most misbehavior that might be coming our way. they're small enough to fit into a grocery cart if i need them to, but can also walk next to me as we pick up a few things at the store. they love to go to preschool in the mornings, but we're not yet dealing with serious academics and homework. they get excited about even the most mundane of activities (let's go get our hair cut! let's go to the ATM!) if i make it sound interesting enough. they're loving, they're affectionate ... and they don't sigh loudly, talk back, or roll their eyes. yes, we both agreed, we're in this funny window of time when we're past the frustrations of toddler-dom, and not yet embroiled in the angst of adolescence. to all of my readers who have recently taken the pregnancy plunge, i promise that i do not write this as a thinly-veiled "are you crazy?" commentary. and i don't even write this as self-affirmation that chris and i have made the right decision. no, this post is purely for my own future reference. for we acknowledge that we are in a temporary state of parental bliss, and that more difficult days are ahead. we're readying ourselves for the inevitable acts of defiance and "i hate you!"s and days when nothing we say or do will be right by our children. so this post is for our future selves. tangible proof that life with our children, for a brief period of time, was relatively simple. it's as simple as that.

forward thinking

i had a crisis of conscience a few weeks ago. there was a group of us assembled down on the beach at our family reunion, and somehow the topic of ages came up. i must have been talking to my pregnant cousin, because i mentioned how i was 29 when liam was born. i had actually forgotten liam was even there, as he had been silently sucking on a lollipop for the duration of this boring adult conversation. but, as with most people, his ears perked up as soon as he heard his name. i could almost see his wheels turning, processing this information, which made no sense to him. (i had been stuck permanently on 25 -- according to what i told him -- until my most recent birthday, when he deduced that i must be 25 no longer. so since last december, he has believed me to be 26.) he immediately withdrew his lollipop from his mouth, quite perplexed. "mommy," he asked me, furrowing his brow, "how do you have a backwards birthday?" so . . . i 'fessed up, and admitted to our son that i am really, truly, 34. of course, chris was quick to jump in, elated to point out to liam that mommy is the OLDEST person in our family of four. (i explained that i am only 60 days his senior, which hardly counts, although our birth years are different, which is a hard pill to swallow every time i'm filling out any kind of formal paperwork. sigh.) but i have to say that it does feel good to have finally come clean. what started as a benign joke had, as liam's math skills developed, become quite the conundrum. he seemed okay with it, and immediately resumed sucking on that lollipop. and then i laughed, loving the terminology he had invented. a backwards birthday.

wordless wednesday

since we're such fans of children's museums, while we were in charlotte last week we had to check out discovery place. standing in the hurricane tube that simulated gusts up to 75 mph proved to be quite the hair-raising experience for susanna.

taking the A-train

hey, amtrak! anyone from your PR department listening? if you need any smiling people to rave about their most recent trip riding the rails for a commercial anytime soon, look no further. i'm the girl for the job. for a thirty second spot, i might be able to squeeze in everything we loved about our train trip last week from raleigh to charlotte and back again. you could start by filming the kids and me spread out in a roomy booth-type sitting area, stretching out our legs on the pristinely clean, comfortable seats and taking in the scenic views from the wide windows. if it's raining at the time, i could make the point that lounging back while playing a game of uno with my kids sure beats the alternative of navigating the highway in a torrential downpour (as it was all along our route). i could point out the electrical outlets beneath each window, which are perfect for laptops and cell phone chargers. i could talk about how, unlike airplanes, you can easily stay connected to the internet, and how you can constantly send tons of cute pictures of your children entertaining themselves to your spouse via cell phone. i could even fire up "the muppet movie" on the portable DVD player for you, and talk about how headphones aren't even necessary since your nearest neighbor is practically out of earshot. interested in showcasing more of the amenities? we could take a short walk over to the snack car. be sure to pan over all the food and beverages, highlighting the fact that they are offered free of charge (two per passenger, of course.) the kids would love to guide you through the surprisingly big restroom, complete with blue toilet water and a very loud flusher. and of course, getting to go pee-pee while traveling at 70 miles per hour is a thrill for any four-year old. how about the personal service? my children would be eager to tell you how nice the attendants are, who engaged them in conversation about their trip and answered their innumerable questions. they're still quite smitten with the stickers, coloring books, and even a train whistle they were so generously given at the beginning of our ride. all of the above, for a ticket that only costs $12.50 per child? that has to be the best deal around. our children had been counting down the days until their first-ever train ride, and our experience certainly did not disappoint. thank you for giving them such a thrill. yes, amtrak, if you're looking for your new #1 fan, i'm your girl. call me.