And, We're BACK! With Four Year Olds and Some Thoughts on Summer

I suppose the great thing about not blogging forever is that when you DO finally blog, you have a lot to say, right?

Let's just jump right in, shall we?

Last week the twins turned four. FOUR.

Celebrating, a day early. This is the first year I made two cakes.

Ask me how on earth this happened and where the last four years of my life went and I will say I HAVE NO IDEA.


At four, Harry is a highly observant little conversationalist. He is thoughtful, loves to asks questions about how things work and it's safe to say his language has EXPLODED. He is still highly emotional (I've lost track of how many times we've had to threaten to take his Lego blocks away after he crumbles when something doesn't "fit" quite right or a Lego vehicle falls apart). We are working on ways for him to manage his many, MANY feelings (the majority of them involving his beloved Lego blocks). He is still a bit of a stunt man, falling off chairs and practically diving head first into rooms. He can be a real snuggler when he wants to be. He eats apples almost as if they are an obsession and can play quietly and independently for very long stretch (one word: Lego).


At four, Lucy continues to be one of the happiest, smiliest people I've ever known. Ebullient is really the word I would use to describe her. She is strong-willed (highly unusual amongst four year olds, I know-HA HA HA) and independent, which is fabulous when she is doing what she's asked to do (put her pajamas on by herself) but not so terrific when she's decided that she DOESN'T want to do what you've asked her to do (put her pajamas on). Have I mentioned that both she and her twin brother are teaching me a thing or two about tantrums? Ahem. Lucy loves to color, draw and play with anything related to horses. She is definitely able to entertain herself more, lining up La La Loopsy girls and creating complicated scenarios and conversations with them. But her favorite playmate of all these days is her big sister Ellie. When Ellie gets home from school it's as though Lucy's day really starts. Last night I overheard her out in the backyard calling, "Eleanor! ELEANOR! You come here! Because I love you and I want to be with you all the time!"

It's hard to believe a little over a year from now these two will be heading off to kindergarten. They still seem SO LITTLE to me and it seems like they have so much maturing to do. I know that a lot happens between turning four and almost turning five. It really is a sweet age (when it's not maddening), and I'm trying hard to enjoy things when I can and not be driven completely insane when things get, shall we say, frustrating.

The school year ends in a little less than two weeks. Like most parents, I'm looking forward to a slower change of pace and perhaps am a little nervous about making everything work. Trust me when I sway I needed a bottle of wine, a spreadsheet and a bank robbery to figure out camps and schedules for all these small people.

Leo and Harry have summer school in July, then Leo goes to camp for all of August, Ellie is attending a variety of camps (art, science, gymnastics) for one week stints but is definitely going to home more this summer than she's ever been before (we shall see about that--she's promised me that she wants this, that she's ready for "down" time--but the jury is out on how this will play). Lucy's schedule is the only one that won't change, she's still doing preschool five mornings a week (though her school becomes a bit more "layed-back" and "camp-like" during the summer months, with water play and theme weeks (camping week, space week, fairy tale week).

Hopefully it will all be JUST FINE and everyone will be reasonably happy, but if not, I am trying to keep this in mind.

It's my mantra for the summer and really should be, even beyond. Erin and I have a running joke that someone is always not quite happy. Eating lunch outside? Three of them cheer and one pipes up, But it's cold! I need a sweater! I want to eat inside! Watching a movie? Three of them agree but one complains, I don't wanna watch that one! We watched it last week! And ask me how hard it is to make dinner (heck, ANY MEAL) for four children and have them all content. It's just not possible. And for a people pleaser like me, it can be exhausting--that endless, constant feeling that something is always not quite right. So, Summer of 2015. Wish us luck!

3

NOTE: Once upon a time I did birthday posts for each kid. I know it's pretty much only grandparents, some family members and the other three or four readers kicking around the cobwebs and tumbleweed here lately, but for posterity's sake, I like the "keepsake" quality of these little birthday posts. So I'll try to keep them up as best I can. I know that the "multiples" police would be on me about making this a single post. They should each have their own. Well, I'm the Mommy and I'm going to make the rules and for now, at age three they get a package post. Also, we won't talk about the fact that this one is sixty four days late. So in order of appearance, the first birthday of this year was Harry and Lucy's, in June.

I don't think I can find the words to convey how quickly the last three years of my life have gone by. Oh sure, the every-two-hours-tandem-breastfeeding-in-the-middle-of-the-night sure didn't fly, and neither did those dual scream fests when both Harry and Lucy had ear infections. In a hotel room. In the middle of a freak October snowstorm.

This Too Shall Pass.


June, 2011. One day old.

And did it ever.


June, 2014

It will get easier.

It will get fun.

They'll stop being two babies and they'll start being two little people!




That's what everyone told me, from the pediatrician, to the seasoned veteran moms of multiples that chatted up me and my giant double newborn stroller, everywhere we went.

 And you know something? They were right.

Anyone who's read this blog with any frequency will know that I haven't exactly kept it a secret: Newsflash: Having two babies isn't easy! But I've tried really hard to not wish Harry and Lucy's baby days away, to not pine too much for the times when they will be older and it will be "easier."



Because as cliche as it is, it's true. One day you turn around and your newborns are three year olds. (Yes, yes, I know, before I realize it they'll be slamming doors in my face before heading off to college--let's not get ahead of ourselves).





At age three, Harry is rough and tumble and cuddly at the same time. He'll run straight at you with his hard little light brown head and throw his arms around your legs. Then he'll look up and say, "You like that Mommy?" 

It seems like he can play for an hour by himself with the Holy Grail--the "Big Boy" Legos in Leo's room (shhh, don't tell Leo).



His language continues to explode. It's been such a joy to get to know him better and find out what he's thinking about and what's going on in that little brown head of his, these past few months. Preschool, which he started in June, has been wonderful, cracking his little world and mind, wide open. This summer he's marched off the school bus singing nursery rhymes that I didn't even know he knew. He's showing an interest in Broadway show tunes (Ellie got him hooked on "Annie"), could a mother be more proud?



He loves to make silly faces and takes great pleasure in making you laugh.



Harry is both strong and sensitive. The other night before bedtime, during what's become a nightly jumping fest (don't ask, let's just say I'm amazed the cribs are still standing), Harry bumped his elbow pretty hard on the side of his crib. A look of pain washed over his face and I asked him if he was ok.
"The crib hurt my feelings," he said.


First day of preschool, June, 2014.

At age three Harry loves:
-Trader Joe's dried (dehydrated) strawberries and strawberry bars (but not ACTUAL strawberries).
-Anything Batman.
-Legos.
-Legos.
-Legos.



At age three, Lucy continues to be a force. Her loquaciousness both impresses me and exhausts me. With the others in summer school and camp, I have spent quite a bit of time with just Lucy these last few months, which has been both a gift and a challenge.




The Queen oversees the opening of birthday gifts from Grandma Jerry.



I seem to recall having similar feelings about Ellie at age three. I was confounded by her witticisms and adorableness, yet often flattened by her ability to be so frequently downright unreasonable. Here's a perfect example of Lucy at age three:

"MOMMY!! Look at me! I'm going potty!"

[I look at her and even add in some positive reinforcement: "Great job, Lucy! Great pottying!"]

"MOMMY!! Stop looking at me! Leave me alone!"


This is what happens almost any time we try to take Lucy anywhere, outside of the house, for more than thirty minutes (photo taken at the Intrepid Museum in New York City).

To be fair, Lucy is also one of the funniest, silliest, most cheerful people I've ever met (cheerful as long as she is getting exactly what she wants, that is). She just has this, how shall I put it? Very demanding tone. And she likes to do things her way. Erin says she has NO idea where she gets this from (OK, I might be a tad bit of a control freak). Or maybe it's more like a shriek? I think school is going to help Lucy, a lot. I think she's bored. I mean, I try to do things to keep her stimulated and entertained. But I can only do so much. She's just, a force, who needs constant...something.


I had to document these pigtails AND this bow since she lets me "do" her hair about every six months. Also, why don't my curls look this good in the New Jersey humidity?

Lucy likes to know the name of every person and object she meets and sees. When we are out and about or reading a book she'll see a person (the checker at the grocery, a character in an illustration) and ask, "What's he name? What he name is?" The questions come rapid fire--sometimes I don't even have time to answer before she's moved on to the next one. I've even started making up names for inanimate objects since she doesn't like what I call things. (For instance, if I say it's a "piano" she'll say, "No it's not!" So I'll say, "It's Penelope Piano!" And that makes her happy. It's like she's so social and loves people so much that she thinks everyone should have a name.


Speaking of books, this is the work of Lucy. Destroying property to this extent? I have to say this was a parenting first, for me. Oh and of course she blamed Harry. (To be fair I'm sure Harry contributed to this project (based on the placement of the pages) but I am pretty sure Lucy was the instigator).


See? HAPPY. This was Ellie's last day of school. When I was snapping a shot of Ellie's last day of first grade, Lucy was right there and refused to be outdone by her big sister, demanding: "Take MY picture Mommy!" 

At age three Lucy likes:
-Anything My Little Pony
-Fairies
-Dressing up
-Chocolate (she got Ellie's sweet tooth, that is for sure).

To quote that old post of mine from when Ellie was three, 'I love three. I hate three.'





She is his "Loo-swee," he is her "How-rie."

They are hilarious, mischievous, clever, maddening, fascinating, frustrating, boisterous, impossible little balls of fun and love. They exhaust me and bring me and the whole family endless amounts of joy.

Happy birthday, dear Harry and Lucy!

Birthdaypalooza and Summer Status

Summer is birthday season around here.

And just like that:


Three.


Seven.


Ten.

Clearly there has been some mix-up because, I have twin toddlers, not preschoolers. And there's just no way I'm old enough to have a TEN YEAR OLD. I mean, really.


They play nicely like this ALL the time, I assure you.

It's amazing that summer is more than half over. In fact, I think school starts a week from tomorrow. Crazy.

Leo and Harry finished up their stints at summer school. Ellie has been enjoying various camps (town camp, gymnastics and to come are science and art). Leo started at his amazing camp last week and comes home every night flushed, smiling and exhausted, so clearly that camp is doing something right. This week Lucy finally gets her turn as she embarks on a mini ballet camp (a whole two hours a day). Speaking of Lucy's camp, you know you've had a couple of kids when, upon emailing your three year old's camp to find out if the TWO HOUR program is drop off and they reply: "If you'd be more comfortable staying that's fine but it is drop-off," your reaction is all YIPPEE!! See you in two hours, Cutie! 

Last Days Before Pre-K: Harry Edition

In a little over a month, I will do something I have never done before. I will spend my mornings with ONE three year old. (Hi, Lucy!).

Harry is starting preschool. That's right, cue the strings to "Sunrise, Sunset."


Taking pictures of my sleeping "babies." It just never gets old. But they do. SOB!

I won't bore you with the long drawn out story of why Harry is starting school this summer and Lucy is starting this fall. The short version is Harry will be going to a program through our town's school district geared toward encouraging language and speech articulation and it starts in June (as part of the academic year's "extended year program.") Ironically, his language has been exploding lately--I timed that well as it seemed to take off right after his evaluation--but the added stimulation of an early preschool program (bonus: separate from Lucy) will be amazing for him, I think.

The plan had always been to put Harry and Lucy into preschool in June but then I went and got laid off and, well, life happened. The urgency to get Lucy into school wasn't there anymore since I would be home to do things with her (Costco and Target=Super Education-ha ha-oops I mean, library toddler story time! And nature walks! And finger painting!). Plus, the big kids will be around some this summer and nobody but nobody knows how to play with and entertain Lucy better than Ellie, the World's Best Preschooler Wrangler. And, I'll admit it. I don't feel rushed about preschool. I'm suddenly getting nostalgic (shocking, I realize). About my almost-three-year olds. I KNOW.

I've spent the last almost four months plotting ways to get three, seven, nine minutes to myself and suddenly, the moment is upon me. The enormity of the fact that in a little over three months, for a few hours a day, ALL THE CHILDREN WILL BE IN SCHOOL.

It's the whole, be careful what you wish for phenomenon. Don't get me wrong. I have plenty to do. Namely, work! I am for now (knock on wood) working nicely and steadily from home these days.




It's barely three hours a day. But I'm going to miss my little Batman (he zooms around the house now and proclaims himself so). And I'm reminded of that strange transition and adjustment that occurs when your little one suddenly develops a life away from you. It happened early on with Leo and Ellie because I spent so much time away from home, working. But this time, it's different. And with two at the same time? It's really different.



Speaking of time: Harry and Lucy turn three on Sunday. THREE! Wasn't I just hugely pregnant? And then wasn't I just strapped to the loveseat breastfeeding two! babies! six hours a day?





And away, they go.

Another Year Without Her

Mom and me in Paris, 1998. She was 48, I was 25.

Today is my mom's birthday. She would have turned 63. Another year gone, another birthday she never got to have.

I know. You've heard this all before. Believe me, sometimes I even bore myself. But there it is.

I'm not grieving anymore. Grief sounds raw and active. What I feel? Is just a giant, ugly, gaping hole. Yes, it's a hole I've learned to live with. But it's there. Because she's not here. Because she's missing all of this.




Mom and me in Amsterdam, 1999. This might be one of my most favorite pictures of all time. I think it looks like a movie still.

There are just an innumerable amount of should haves and could haves. And as much as I can shrug and mumble It is what it is (because, well, it is!)...well...

She should have been able to meet her grandchildren. She could have had so much fun. I miss her friendship. I miss her advice and counsel and perspective. I miss her sense of humor and her ability to provide levity to almost any situation. And selfishly? I could really use her help. I often see adult women and their children out with their moms at Target or the park or just walking down the damn street, Grandma holding the hand of a toddler, Mom balancing another child on her hip and probably a shopping bag or two...they might even be snapping at each other.

I can't even. I just can't imagine.

And I'm still really mad that she's gone, on another birthday. And I'm still really sad.

She's missing Leo's solar systems and bear hugs and Lego masterpieces.

She's missing Ellie's baking and tea parties and fairy drawings and her blooming sense of humor (that she undoubtedly inherited at least somewhat from Grandma Eleanor).

She's missing Harry's sloppy, open mouthed kisses and his unbridled love for seltzer (seriously, that guy hears me making a bottle with my Sodastream from across the house and he's by my side in seconds, with arms outstretched).

She's missing Lucy's paragraph long diatribes about how she's "NOT going night-night" and "Where is [her] princess book" and "[her] shirt! Is! Wet! Please! Take! It! Off!"

Thirteen years later and it still seems unimaginable to me that my mom could be gone.

And yet. It's just as unimaginable to me to consider her being here. To think of what it would be like for her to be in the same room with all of these people that she never got to meet.



Make no mistake. I am grateful every single day for the wonderful family I do have. For the loving, supportive partner and the four crazy, but delicious children. In quiet moments, I've been known to wonder, is this the Universe's way of making it up to me? For attempting to fill the Giant, Gaping Hole? (I know, as if the Universe has nothing better to do).

I think of her more when I need her more. For a few years, I seemed to deal with her absence more gracefully. Distracted by the overwhelming responsibility of adjusting to having two small children, I was almost perpetually distracted.


This was the face my mom used to make when she was about to explode into laughter. She was known to fall victim to a serious case of the giggles. She could be so silly sometimes and it was one of the many things I loved about her. 

But the kids are getting older and new questions are arising. Tougher questions than just How long do I wait before giving Tylenol if I've already given Advil? (Besides, we have Dr. Google for that now). And so I've been thinking about her more recently, as I seem to do when things feel particularly overwhelming. I long to pick up the phone and ask for her counsel. She was the logic to my tendency toward over-emotion. She was the "Lighten up!" to my doomsday.

In short, she was my first "Everything Is Going to Be Fine."




And who doesn't need one of those?

Since losing her, I've had to internalize that reassurance (and of course, draw on the support of Erin and friends). And most of the time, I do a pretty good job of it, I think. The older I get, the calmer I am. I have more perspective and a better ability to prioritize. What's really important? What's worth getting upset about and what's better to shrug off? Things have a way of working out, my father once wisely reminded me, when I was dealing with some crisis that I can't recall now. When I   really wished I could have picked up the phone and also talked to my mom.  It's a phrase I remind myself of often, because it's true.

Except for, you know, cancer.

***

A few days ago I was rushing to the bank before work and as I stood in line I read an email from someone very close to my mom. I had been musing about my mother's upcoming birthday and noted that she'd been on my mind more than usual lately.

Eleanor is missed more than I can really say, he wrote.  Not a day goes by that I don't think about her.

Yes. That.

For some reason, those two simple sentences resonated (and of course, cued the waterworks). They resonated, and also, I think I was overcome because it's so rare that I come in contact with someone who knew my mom. Oh sure, she's in my heart and all of that. But in my day to day life? It's almost as if she never existed at all.

As I reached the front of the line at the bank, I looked away from the email and stuffed my phone in my purse. My eyes glassy and brimming with tears, my face hot and flushed. Of course, I had no tissues.

"Is it allergies?" the teller asked, sympathetically. Yes, I lied and so began her treatise on the best allergy medications. And at that moment, I was very grateful for allergies and little white lies.


Mom and me, sleep away camp drop-off, 1983 

Happy birthday, Mom. Wishing for an afternoon shopping with you at Nordstrom, and plenty of prosecco and chocolate raspberry cake.

Here's to you, with so much love.

About That Rainbow Saturn Cake

About a week before Leo's birthday, I asked him what kind of a cake he wanted.

And then I immediately regretted it. What was I thinking? When was I going to have time to bake some fancy birthday cake? Who could predict what complicated masterpiece Leo was going to request? Better to do what I did last year, which was to rely on our local grocery store bakery to provide a perfectly respectable (albeit slightly disgusting and a little terrifying) cake.

"Rainbow Saturn cake!" Leo announced, as if he'd been waiting his whole life to answer that question.

Because, of course!

Sigh.

Two years ago I somehow managed to pull off these little "beauties."


(Yes, I'm still basking in the glory of the Dora cupcakes I made for Leo's seventh birthday.) Stop laughing. It was all Leo asked for that birthday. Rocked with guilt at having just burdened him with not one but two newborn (often screaming!) infant siblings, I made it my mission to fulfill his birthday request.

And I'm not going to lie. I like a challenge (which, by the looks of my life these days, probably won't surprise you). So I figured, oh why not. What was the worst that could happen?

"You can do this. Game on!" my friend Amy said, when I told her about Leo's request.

I immediately began looking online, purposely avoiding Pinterest because, well, it totally freaks me out. Some friends sent me some recipes and ideas. Good old Martha had a recipe for the rainbow part which was of course gorgeous but also...kind of complicated looking (there was a video to accompany the recipe, so...you do the math). My idea of complicated might not be the same as others'--keep in mind you are dealing with someone whose baking and assembling window is approximately as long as the nap time of twin two year olds. I sometimes look at recipes or projects longingly and think Yes, but how could I possibly complete that? Surely I would be interrupted. That's just the way life is right now. Someday I will cook or bake grand, intricate recipes, someday I will organize drawers and shelves and bins. But that day is not today. (Believe me, I am not always this gracefully philosophical about my "limitations.")

Moving on. After Googling "Easy Rainbow Cake," this is the recipe I chose. I mean, Betty Crocker! How can you go wrong?



This is what a six layer cake looks like before it becomes a six layered cake (note the extra large ice coffee that fueled the making of this cake).

I have to say, this new gel food coloring (well, new to me, but remember, I don't get out much)? AWESOME. No more of those wimpy, pastely colors when you really want to make Red! and Orange! and Yellow! I think we've all been there--put a bright blue cake in the oven only to open the oven and find...pale, too light blue.



And I'm sure it's completely all natural, right?


Assembling. Frosting.

I made a few critical mistakes that are now embarrassing to admit, but I was rushed! By this point the twins were awake and tugging at my shorts and Lucy was probably rifling in the refrigerator for string cheese. I completely forgot to trim the layers down to make them sit flat. This caused the cakes to sliiiiiide. I also used to much frosting so the cake became too high (too much frosting? How is that even possible?!). At one point things were going, um, south (literally!) very quickly.



I basically went into full scale Are You Kidding Me Mode, but thankfully, Erin has the cool head in the family and she had the quick thinking to reshuffle the layers to make them sit more steadily. She was also the brains behind the "rings" of Saturn (trimmed from pieces of paper plate and colored with marker: genius!).



But this is also why the cake is not in "rainbow" order, which is very hard for me to be at peace with, being all Type A/OCD. But you know what?



Nobody seemed to notice or complain. In fact, I think the birthday boy was pretty pleased.

Now, for my next challenge?

Six.

"But now I am six."



"And I'm clever as clever."
A.A. Milne, Now We Are Six



Three weeks ago, Ellie turned six.

Happy birthday to the girl who, when asked how she felt about being six replied, "Not good! I want to be  young."

I've heard ages five and six (and a few years beyond?) referred to as "the Golden Ages."

Well, we sailed through five mostly unscathed; a few weeks into six and so far (furiously knocking wood!)  I can't help but agree. Ellie is a full-fledged little person. In the last year I've seen her morph into a little companion too. Oh sure, she still demands snacks at a break neck pace, and has a talent for asking me to open her jar of vitamins at just the moment that I'm balancing two backpacks, a cup of coffee and usually, a toddler or two. But now she can laugh about it, whereas last year she would just look at me blankly, as if to say: What? Are you busy or something?

But she's also growing more independent.  She squealed with pride when she realized a few months ago that she no longer needed to stand on a chair to wash her hands at the kitchen sink.



She continues to be incredible with her younger brother and sister. She's still quick to suggest a solution to spat between babies or a remedy for tears: "I think Harry wants his water, Mommy." Or "Lucy's saying her car seat is too tight!" A few weeks ago I found myself home with just the babies. First of all, Harry and Lucy were downright bored with me. Where was their little playmate? Their ringleader? They both shuffled around the backyard looking forlorn. Lucy kept asking me, "Where's Ellie? Ellie?" And I found myself missing her too.



Ellie continues to love art, especially drawing ("What should I draw?" is her nightly, post-dinner question). I make suggestions: Mermaids? Gymnastic girls? (hey, it's what I used to draw). And every night she comes up with a better idea. "I know Mommy! A circus! With girls on a wire and clowns!" While I clean the kitchen and prep lunches for the next day, Ellie draws.


"A panda, a panda in a tree, a queen and a fairy."


Aaaaand of course, this. I melt.

This year, Ellie learned to read. It seemed to just click one day as I suppose it often does. For months and months she was sounding out words, fumbling and struggling. Then one day she was calling out signs from the back of the mini van and reading cereal boxes to me at the grocery store. The sight of a child's world opening up as words come alive in front of them, well that will just never, ever get old.

She's becoming increasingly sensitive (in a good way) showing a growing capacity for empathy. She holds doors. She apologizes for stepping on your toe or rushing in front of you to get down the stairs. The awareness of others' emotions is startling and I've found myself having to become more aware of my tone and even facial expressions: "Mommy? Are you getting frustrated? Mommy, are you having a hard time?" Ay yi yi. Out of the mouths of babes...

One night during bedtime a few months ago, I sighed, probably a little too loudly. "What's wrong?" Ellie asked. 'I'm just tired,' I replied (I think we did something nervy, like leave the house with all four kids). 'Today was a lot of work. A lot of fun,' I quickly added, 'but a lot of work.' 

Ellie was quite for a minute. And then she said, "I don't have that feeling, that feeling of work," Ellie said. "I just have fun. In the sun!"


Look at that foot. That little foot.

Bed times are no longer a battle (not that they were ever too bad, they were just loooong and involved a lot of water and blanket adjusting and stuffed animal placement). Full disclosure: Most nights, she's still in our bed by 2 a.m. Aside from the fact that it sometimes feels like I'm sleeping with a pony (those elbows! those knees!), I'm not in a huge hurry to put an end to it. I know from experience. She won't want to climb into our bed forever.



Oh to have her self-confidence. May she never lose it.


This is SO Ellie. As she says, "A girl's gotta dance!"


This drawing is almost a year old and her handwriting has vastly improved (it's from the first month of kindergarten) but I just loved the sentiment.



I almost pinch myself sometimes--I feel so blessed to be able to witness Ellie growing into her role as big sister, and to watch her relationship with her younger siblings grow and bloom. Especially these two. They are quite the pair.

She still wants to play with Leo all the time and can't understand why he doesn't feel the same way. It's clear that he needs more alone time these days. But when they do play together? And it clicks? And she's the fairy and he's some sort of fantastic mash-up of Iron Man and Spiderman and probably also wearing a dress? Well, it's a sight to see.





They also like to dance.

Ellie's daily observations continue to slay me. Sometimes she says them faster than I can write them down (thank goodness for the little yellow memo pad on my phone).



During a particularly explosive Lucy meltdown: "That Lucy! She's just a big piece of work!" 

She wasn't really mad at Lucy though, because minutes later, she was trying to cheer her little sister up: "Lucy? Do you want to go be ladies in the pool?"


After a visit to and (purchase at) a candy store: "Nothing can stop me from eating fudge!" (She has quite the sweet tooth and thinks breakfast really should come with desert (naturally, it should be fudge).





Ellie, watching Lucy be sassy to me (I believe she screamed no and stomped her little feet about seventeen times): "Look Mommy! Lucy's being like a queen!"



Ellie: "Oh Mommy, you know everything."
Me: 'Well no one knows everything.'
Ellie: "I know. I'm just trying to make you feel good."



"Can I sit in your lap even when I'm thirteen?"





And perhaps, my all-time favorite, about two months ago, after a simple lunch at home of cheese ravioli and sliced strawberries, Ellie looked up at me and said:

"You know what? You can't beat love. You know what that means Mommy? Love always wins."

Amen, Ellie. Amen.

Happy birthday, Sweetheart. We love you so very much and can't wait to see what six brings you.

Nine.

Nine years later and Leo's birthday still chokes me up a little, in a way that the others do not.



What strikes me is how much can happen in nine years. How much can change. How much a boy can change, yes, of course.




But also, how much I have changed.

Nine years ago today I became a mom for the first time.



I went to school for eighteen years but this birthday boy is the best teacher I ever had.











Nine years later, it's wonderful to celebrate this day with rainbow saturn cakes (Leo's request) and super hero masks.



And the only tears are happy ones.