too fast for me

Violet is always on the go. Always, always. Leaves a path of destruction in her wake.

 

 

Quite frankly, it's exhausting. Exhausting and more than a little heart-wrenching, as we watch this love of all our lives grow up bit by bit, every single day.

 

Same with the older kids. Carson proclaimed something as "freaking awesome" the other day. Layla uses maturity in responding enthusiastically to Addie's coloring. Addie cracks us all up with her quick and genuine sense of humor.

 

Stop, Time. Please. Just for a second. Let me savor these precious, hilarious, and frustrating moments, each and every one.

The Lorax on Life

We got The Lorax dvd at Christmas. I don't know if you all have seen it or not, but it's one of our new favorite shows...evidenced by the fact that we actually own the dvd. Because we never buy dvds. But that's neither here nor there.

 

ANYway. There's a song on there that goes, "Every-body needs a thneed..." It's quite catchy.

 

The girls were singing it and rocking out a few days ago. Then they started changing the words and laughing hysterically at their new lyric-writing aptitudes. 

For example:

"Every-body needs some pjs."

"Every-body needs an apple."

"Every-body needs some candy."

etc.etc. You get the idea.

 

Then Layla busted out with: "Every-body needs a fam'ly."

 

Addie paused her dancing, caught off-guard in a moment of thought, and then exclaimed,

"Oh, yes yes yes! That is a 'PORtant one!!"

 

Love.

 

Speaking of 'portant: Who stole the last 9 months from me? HOW is my baby this big?!

 

 

 

(And also: How is my baby still this bald?! :) )

 

Past month...in all its uncensored glory

Surely I can't be the only one who consistently (chronically?) finds such gems as these (unaltered in any way)when I go to download the camera: 

Atta girl, Addie. Super artistic and...ah...feminine.

Girls getting ready for church. Why haven't I learned that they shouldn't get into their church dresses until about 5 minutes prior to go-time? We change about 58 times each Sunday morning, and our laundry hamper becomes a virtual schmorgasboard of clothes housing peanut butter, jam, milk, juice, soup, toothpaste, honey, markers, and ketchup. Eat your heart out, Chuck-O-Rama.

Layla's last day of ballet this semester. She gets her awesome white-blonde hair and baby face from her dad and her grace (bottom left) and flexibility (bottom right) from her mom. I'm such a good gene contributor. Yep.

We've been loving a lot on little Violet. Who, by the way, happens to be an Exhibit A case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Perfectly sweet and adorable when the stars (and her digestive rhythms) align, and a squirmy fuss-pot during the other times. But, honestly? We can't help but love her. And laugh at her funny faces.

The little lady already has a special place in her heart for her papa. And also...I have to check her finger frequently to make sure the string she's got around Paul's heart doesn't cut off her circulation...

See what I mean? She's full of smiles for the guy. One thing I love about Paul is that, when she is being fussy and we just can't quite figure out what would make things better, he takes it in stride and says stuff to her like, "Don't hold back, Violet. I always want to hear your opinions, so you just make sure you tell us everything about it," and so on and so forth. They have "conversations" this way, and it makes me relax and be able to laugh at her complaints.

(And laugh at this hat, let's be honest.)

Had to document her first trip "out." To the doctor's office for her 2-week checkup. My favorite part: her bird legs and the baggy socks. I laugh every time I see these photos.

 Gotta love the awkward (and endearing) newborn body proportions.

The girls like to play "Halloween" sometimes (sans candy aquisition. I'm a meanie, I know). Notice the bunny slippers on this bat-girl. It's in the details, people.

Carson is surprisingly gentle and calm(ish) around Violet. We're working on helping him not take it personally if she cries when he's holding her. But it's pretty sweet to watch him with her. Know what else is sweet? Her Addie-selected outfit in the below pic.

I couldn't resist putting these post-ballet performance photos in a photo-booth format (enlarge these if you can...priceless). Carson was dreading going, but he was super supportive of Layla during and after the performance. Addie was so excited to go that she dressed in her own ballet get-up and brought herself a fake flower.

I've said it before but it's worth repeating: every kid needs at least one friend during childhood. It's ridiculous how similar these two sillies are.

 

And now, a photo I like to call, "The Floating Head." Either that, or "Ichabod Crane: The REST of the Story."

Would you believe she was smiling 2 milliseconds before I snapped this shot? No? Fair enough. Because she looks crazy here. And bald. Which enhances the craziness.

What a tiny little bug. And yet, how much she's already grown. 5-1/2 weeks old! Already?! Good grief. Expect a graduation announcement, like, tomorrow.

Addie Anne

Addie is killing me lately. In a good way. I've made a concerted effort to spend quality time with her every morning while the older kids are at school and while Violet's asleep, which is so super fun. There are also times, however, when I can't be playing with her (e.g., doing dishes, laundry, random tasks of motherhood, etc.), and she finds ways to entertain herself.

Like this morning, she brought an enormous stack of books downstairs, had me "tuck her in" to the couch with her blankie, and she spent a good portion of time reading to herself and laughing at the funny parts. I'd glance over at her occasionally, and she had her ankles crossed in front of her, hair falling in her eyes, and total concentration.

And like yesterday, after I played chess with her (don't worry...apparently, House Rules are that her guys can move anywhere on the board AND jump my guy in the same move. Even the pawns. She won in about 12 moves.), she kept them out and played against herself, while making the pieces have meaningful conversations amongst themselves. They talked about going dancing after the game... my money's on the knight's horse having 3 left feet. 

Plus she oooohs and aaaahs over my simple dinners like pasta and veggies. And whenever she falls or trips, she'll get up and brush herself off and assure me, "I'm otay, mom. I'm otay." And she tells me that, since Violet's the baby, she herself doesn't need naps anymore... and then she'll curl up with me with her blanket and fall asleep. And she rubs my back and "does" my hair sometimes. And she coos adorably at Violet and plays so cute (usually) with her older brother and sister.

Paul and I tell her that she can't get older. She's practically perfect as she is.

On a parent's words being misinterpreted...

Sweet little Addie. She did a lot of this yesterday...

...and she's feeling better today. In fact, I overheard her playing and giggling with Layla & her friend this afternoon. Which was adorable until my ears stumbled upon this little nugget of a conversation:

(playing barbies) Layla: Addie, your girl is going to marry Ken.

Addie: No! I don't WANT to marry Ken. I hate him.

Layla: Why?

Addie: Because of his bum.

[Editor's note: Our particular Ken doll does have a hard time keeping his shorts on for some reason.]

Layla: Oh, Addie. You HAVE to marry Ken. You get what you get, and you don't get upset.

Addie: (pause, then, resignedly) Okay.

Layla: You love him now, don't you?

Addie: Yes! And I love his bum!

Hoo boy.

Note to self: Throw strip-happy Ken doll away. Also, discuss with family the privilege and importance of choosing for yourself who you marry.

i know it's cliche. but still.

Sometimes I really wish I were a kid again.

what to do when the kids are sick

We've been sick around here. Sick enough to stay home from school with fevers and coughs and breathe in gallons of humidified air, but not too sick to enjoy a little family youtube time on Paul's phone before bed.

I envision us looking through old photos 20 years from now and finding this one and laughing hysterically at (a) the home decor, (b) the hairstyles, and (c) the size of Paul's phone. Or the fact that we had phones "back then," rather than some sort of telepathic system.

This is the stuff of memories.



puppy zen by osmosis

Nothing profound to say, 'cept that this is quite possibly one of my favorite photos of all time.

the big Kindergirl

Layla started kindergarten last week. Mine was the kid who, bawling heart-breakingly, had to be physically pulled away from her mother by her teacher on the first day of school. She was happy when I picked her up at the end of the day.

Day 2 dropoff: Layla's eyes watered up and she gave me a few extra hugs (kind of desperate ones) in the hall, but she only asked me to come in as she found her name tag. Atta girl.

Day 3 dropoff: Two hugs, a brave smile, she ran in the classroom then ran out for one last hug, then ran in again. I think we just might make it, folks.

Day 4 dropoff: A quick hug and she ran in.

Day 5 &; 6 dropoff: I stayed outside and waved at her through the window as she hung up her backpack. She waved happily and blew some kisses.

Day 7 dropoff: I stood in the driveway and watched her ride her bike away with her brother. She stopped at the corner and waved back at me, then pedaled on. I'll never tell whose eyes may or may not have watered up, standing there for way longer than necessary after Lays had biked out of sight. How is it that I try to have it both ways? I want her to need me but I want her to spread her wings at the same time. Being a mom is weird sometimes.