Happy Halloween!

Jack & John

These are The Big Boys. Rough and tumble. Snakes and snails and puppy dog tails and worse. Suffice it to say they enjoyed each other's company. We took them to Cheesecake Factory in helmets. You know. Just in case.

Sam & Lucy

These are our babies. Lucy's the only girl and Sam's the last baby. (Well, the last planned baby anyway.) They are less than a year apart.

I loved watching them together this past weekend and so wish they could do more growing up together.

Sweetness.

Italian Thanksgiving in Milwaukee In October

We're hoping to make it a family tradition.

Cousins

More in the way of bumper stickers ...

Last week was not really a good week for me.  In fact, this whole year (post maternity leave) has been something else.  But then tonight, driving home in my rented Nissan Versa (which I am paying for myself (thank you very much Miss Uninsured Pregnant Motorist Driving While Texting), I saw the following bumper sticker, which Jesus himself may have sent to me as a special, personal message on the back of a white Chevy:

PUT ON YOUR BIG-GIRL PANTIES AND DEAL WITH IT.

I think that, combined with IGBOK, might just be enough to save the world.

OUS.

Reddish

John's Radnor Photos

Except for the one of himself, these are all photos John took at Radnor last week. I think he takes after his Nanny.

Hi.

Chore Chart

If you look closely, you can see how well he is sounding out words!

Heirloom tomatoes anyone?

We're still getting them. And the greenish ones aren't really green, they're yellow and they're SPECK-TACK-YOU-LAR.

Great Grandpa B!

While I was home getting involved in a minor, not-my-fault car accident, the boys flew up north and saw relatives. I came late and saw fewer relatives, which, in our case, was disappointing. Here are the greats. We also saw the grands, aunts, uncles, and cousins of all kinds. Pics to follow ...

Yes, I did.

Thanks for the matching shirts, Nanny. Maybe this shot will make up for the purple boob smear problem I caused.

Kayak/Canoe Camping Trip

Fridays with Sam

To my 6-year old JEB

To my sweet six year-old John:


Happy late birthday!  As you well know, I have a tendency to be late for important things.

Like your school. 

But I always try to write something witty in the "reason for tardiness" column of the sign-in sheet.  Like "large orange juice mishap" or "dadblame traffic jam" or "mother really needs to set alarm." 

So, your birthday letter this year is yet another important thing for which I'm late.  It's certainly not because you're low on my priorities list.  Au contraire.  It's really just because of your brother. 

Yeah, let's just go on ahead and enter the phase where we blame him for things, shall we?

Ah, my John-John.  Another year, more love. You are funny, reasonable, and hard working. I do sometimes worry about your pre-teen angst, but we're working through it. I'm amazed that between 5 and 6 you have matured in off-the-charts ways. You color now, for instance. Sometimes I find you sitting for half an hour just drawing stars. Practicing. Getting the lines all even. You write phonetically and it's usually pretty darn comprehensible. You love school, and you are proud of yourself for never once having had your duck go below the water. I'm proud of you too. For that and many other things.


Recently we were at a birthday party and I saw you throwing a bouncy ball on top of the pavilion under which the party-goers were sitting. I asked you to stop. You wanted a reason. I said, eloquently, "because." Your response?

"But Mom. #1, the roof is angled so the ball will slide right down, and #2, there are no gutters for the ball to get caught in."

How can I argue with that kind of reasoning ability?

I still remember when you could say, "ugh" and I knew exactly what it meant. Clearly you don't need me to translate anymore.

It's the independence that is so bittersweet for us Mamas. Of course we want our children to burgeon; it's just that the swiftness of your growth always catches us by surprise. No matter how cliche it is: You have grown fast! Where does the time go?

Recently I read seven a few books about the development of boys. It was at a particularly rough time in your development. So rough that I was convinced we needed to have you evaluated. Your behavior just could NOT be normal, I surmised, based on my limited experience with school-age boys.

Nope. You're perfect.

Should've known that your vast energy, your inability to lose, and your fierce independence is a perfect description of exactly the way you should be at this age. On my good days, when I'm not tired or hungry or crabby or sick, I hope that you can see how much I appreciate you and all of the adventure that you have brought into our lives.  I wouldn't want you to be any other way than you are.

Here are several things I love about my six-year old you (I tried to keep it to six, but I just couldn't; there's too much to love): 

1. You are really adept at snapping.

  (And I don't just mean that your fine motor skills are developing and I'm proud.  I really think that you have a proclivity for knowing exactly WHEN to snap.)

 2.  Your hair looks good no matter what.  

3.  You LOVE to camp, fish, and get dirty, but you clean up nice.


4. Sometimes, you can be cherubic.

 

5.  You will eat anything.  Even brussels sprouts, couscous, and sushi (with chopsticks).

 

1. 

6.  You have a flair for the dramatic with unknown origins.





7.  When you fall, you always get back up and try again.

8. Most importantly, you put up with me.


John, my wish for you is that six -- and I -- will treat you right. 

All my love,
Mama

Do I really need to post comments too?