New Year. 2013.

2013. This year has started out interesting. Emma got the flu on the day we were supposed to go back to school. I had inservice on Wednesday, and on Thursday morning at 2:30, she got up with a high temperature and vomiting. She spent Thursday with David and then when I got off work, we went off to the doctors. Flu. So she was feeling better by Saturday and today she was good. Me, not so much. Dave, nada. By Friday night, we both started the flu medicine. We slept most of the afternoon today, following church and lunch. So far, no one else has got it. Tripp will probably be next. He catches the flu easily. So we are back off to school tomorrow. Here's hoping for a healthy week.

Emma's 1st Grade Play.

A couple of months ago, 1st Grade auditioned for parts for their annual Christmas play.

Emma came home super excited - she wanted to be Dorothy. She spent a couple of days watching Youtube videos of Dorothy and the Wizard of Oz. So excited, she went to school on the day of auditions - she knew that she could nail it!

Well, she was good (I always think so). But she did not get the part of Dorothy.

She was cast as the Bad Witch - named

"The Grouchy Grumble" .

She spent about 10 minutes being sad, then about five weeks practicing her outrageous cackle.

There could not have been a more perfect part for our child.

While this play was supposed to be the week before Christmas, it turned into a January special because of the snow.

Here is Emma, with her sweet friend, getting ready to do performance #1.

Later that night, all families were invited to watch performance #2.
Here is Emma with her telescope (The Grouchy Grumble only has one eye!)

Emma had no trouble speaking in front of a gym full of people.

Here she is, confronting Dorothy.


Dorothy doused her with a bucket of "water" that was actual blue paper shreds.
At that point, she yelled, "I am Melting! I am melting!"

See her wicked grin? That means her part was a success!

After this, the kids drug her off the stage. It was hilarious.

How fortunate we are to have such a close family. Granddad came in during the day for performance #1 because he had to work in the evening. And Grandma was there for the evening.

How I love this picture of Emma and Pa. I will treasure this always.

Year Six.

Emma,
It is hard to believe that seven years ago tomorrow, you were born. It just seems like yesterday that I found out that I was pregnant - that I was having a girl - that you would have your daddy's lips and your grandma's attitude. From the first day I saw you, I couldn't believe how sassy you were, how much you could cry in protest until I figured out what you wanted.

This year has been a year of change. I watched in awe as you shined during your "real" year of Kindergarten. I loved the way that you took care of Mallie at school. I thought it was so neat how you loved to do all of your homework, and you worked so hard to excel at everything that Mrs. Parsons threw at you. I was so proud to discover that you had a fourth grade reading level halfway into the year.

During year six, you have grown. You went from size 11 to size 1 in shoes. And boy, do you have alot of shoes. You also went from size 5 to 7 in clothes. Your hair has grown out. You no longer look so small or so young. I see you turning from my little girl to a young lady.

This year, I have watched the most miraculous transformation for our family ever. I watched you accept and love two sweet girls and call them "sister" without any hesitation. I love how you look up to them and how they care for you. I love how much you and your brothers have no bias toward anyone. I also love to watch how careful you are with Tripp as he started school and you moved up to first grade. Many times this year, I have sat at this computer doing my homework, and I listen as you read him a bedtime story. It makes me so happy to see how nurturing you are not only to Tripp, but to everyone else as well. I see that one day, you are going to be a loving, caring, detail oriented mother and wife.

I am amazed at how you love to learn. This past Sunday, during church services, I noticed that as you were writing the scriptures, you wanted to know what they meant. When I turned to Proverbs 31 and told you that we should all want to be like this, you nodded your head and took it in. While I am sad that another year has passed so quickly, I am so proud of how you are growing.

I love you,
Momma

The Tooth Fairy.

As I mentioned earlier, Emma pulled her first tooth.

Let me clarify.

Emma pulled it. Herself.

At church.

During services.

It was great - she was so excited. I always knew she was a take charge, bossy kinda girl. She is the closest-acting kid to my mother in law EVER. She knows what she wants and goes after it. So, when she decided the semi-loose tooth was ready, well.... it came out.

So, that day, we started preparing for the tooth fairy. She carried the newly extracted tooth with her in a ziplock baggie all day, showing it - along with the gaping hole - to anyone who cared to look. Finally, it was bedtime. She hurriedly got the jammies on. And then it was time for the glass of water.

Let me back up.
Last time the kids went for cleanings - December, I believe - our awesome dental hygienist told a special story to the little kids. It goes something like this:

*(spoken in a sweet whispery voice)*

"Did you know, sweet children, that when

the Tooth Fairy comes to your house to collect your tooth,

IF you leave a glass of water out,

she will dip her wing in when she flitters by?

And, that water will turn the color of her wing.

Sometimes, she will leave the tiniest hint of shimmery glitter -

it will serve as a reminder that she has been to visit -

and you can remember her forever and always."

To which my fru-fru daughter replied, "WOW!"

This is why the tooth fairy's appearance has been greatly anticipated. Emma concentrated all afternoon about the color of the water... would it turn pink? how about purple? Finally, she decided on a light blue. As I was tucking her into bed that night, she found a shirt out of her closet with just the right shade of blue that would match her Tooth Fairy's wing water.

With the glass of water in place, kisses were given. The tooth in the ziplock baggie was tucked neatly inbetween two pillows - it surely couldn't slip out. Out went the lights.

I went to bed.

At 1:30 a.m., there was a squeal right by my head that pulled me from my sleep.

"MAMAMAAAAA! She was here! The THE TOOTH FAIRY WAS HERE!

I GOT FIVE DOLLARS! AND THE WATER IS BLUE!!!!!!!!!!!! ItwasjustthecolorIthoughtandsheleftmemoneyandtookmytooth! AUUUHHHHH!!!!!

So, Emma and I walked back upstairs. She was so happy. I couldn't believe it - the water was blue! And it was the right shade of blue!

Content, Emma went back to sleep. But she told me, "Next time, I hope the water is pink."

It was a good day.

Conversations.

Setting: Emma and I are lying in the floor talking.
Tripp is sleeping.
We need to wake him up.
We both don't want to.

Emma: Momma, What time is Tripp gonna get up?

Me: Well, Emma, we probably need to go get him up now.

Emma: Why, Momma? It is just gonna start all over again.

Me: What, the crying?

Emma: (nods, looks sad)

Me: Emma, to tell you the truth, you kinda pick at him and make him cry. And he doesn't feel good. You are being mean to him.

Emma: I was mean to him BEFORE he had the flu.

At least she is honest.

When is it O.K. to voice your opinion?

Many times, I find myself having improper thoughts about things.

For example, if I see someone with an abnormally large head, I think, "Man, she has a big head." Or, if I see someone with whacked out fingers, I think, "Man, she has whacked out fingers."

The majority of the time, I never say this out loud. I think it, but I don't say it. And I sure never write it down for others to read.

Imagine my surprise, when recently, someone wrote something to me DIRECTED AT ONE OF MY KIDS.

Talk about kicking ass. Or dreaming of it, at least.

For the past week, I have been rehashing this over and over. Most of the time, this is in my head. A few times, oh several times, I have went over and over this with Dave. Finally, my mother in law told me to get over it.

I guess this story is not so much as to rehash it again. I think I am sick of thinking about it - today, anyways.

What it is about is how hard parents love their children.

I remember feeling this way when Eli was smaller. I remember the anger I would feel when he was wronged. I remember the stuff we went thru, how I wanted to kill people because they were affecting quality of life. I have disliked people immensely just because they hurt his feelings, excluded him or made snide comments.

I think that as time has went on, he has grown up, I have learned to let go a little bit. His problems are different now. I know that when that girl breaks his heart, I will feel like kicking some butt then.

My protective cycle has started with Emma. I can't stand people who direct their insecurities toward small children.

Seasons.

I am not a fan of change.

************

I have a good friend that reminds me that when things change, it is just another "season."

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Today, as I was baking Emma's birthday cupcakes, I thought of all the different seasons that I have been thru in the past several years. With all the seasons, there are particular things in life that remind me of those times.

• When I think about being pregnant with Tripp, I think about picking Dave up at the airport. I always remember one maternity shirt in particular. It was a white button down top. 3/4 sleeves. Big collar. I wish I could wear it now.

• When I think about being pregnant with Emma, I get a lonely feeling and I think about laying on the couch - alot.

• When I think about Eli's birth, I think of the beach. I also get a pseudo-cramp in my left shoulder cause he wouldn't sleep unless he was laying on that arm.

• When I think of Dave, I think of men's cologne. Inappropriateness. Laughter. His fake voices. Holding hands. We still hold hands when we go to sleep.

• When I think about all my friends from the Y, I think about eating a hamburger from Sonic.

Anyways, you get the picture.

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So, the season I am faced with this week is that my daughter is going to be six years old. Sometimes it makes me sad she is growing up. When she was littler, she would always come downstairs in the middle of the night to potty. When she was age two, three or four, she would get me up to go to the bathroom with her. When she was done, she always sat on the stool and looked at me.

***************

I remember thinking at that time, when it made me so mad to have to wake up, "One day, she will not come get me. She will just go on her own." And then, I would not be mad anymore, because I know that the season would change. She would eventually go by herself.

***************

She does not come get me anymore.

***************

I wish I could go back to the days of seeing her little face, so tired, looking at me in the middle of the night. I wish I could go back to potty training, the days of doing nothing, watching Dora. I miss all my kids little bodies, their sweet breath, their kisses. I miss my double stroller. I miss walking around in the middle of the day, going from store to store, going to the park, playing, playing, playing.

*********

New things are going to happen this next year. A girl changes from age six to age seven. More indepth conversations will be had, tears will be shed, drama will unfold. She will get her feelings hurt. She will hurt others feelings. We will laugh, cry and go shopping. This will be a great season.

The Kissing Hand.

The Kissing Hand is a wonderful book... I bought this book, as well as the follow-up, a few years ago when I put my little kids in a Mother's Day Out program. The story is about a baby racoon that is afraid to go to school, so the momma racoon kisses the baby's palm. Thru the day, when the baby is scared, the mother's love is felt thru the kiss on the palm.
Emma's new K teacher has made this story the theme of the beginning of the school year. On the first day, Emma brought home a paper with a hand and a heart in the middle. She was so excited that she knew the story, so she went and dug out The Kissing Hand to take it to school and show her copy to her teacher.

This morning, she went and found the second book, called "A Pocket Full of Kisses," on the bookshelf. (This book touches on sibling rivalry and how mommies have enough love for all the babies in the family - Great Book!)

This morning, I walked Emma into class. She took out her books and stood over in the corner, putting her backpack away. There were lots of kids already in the class.

I leaned down to kiss her, but she pulled away from me, so I just gave her a hug. Then, she looked up at me and stuck her palm up. So, I leaned down and gave her a kissing hand, told her I loved her, and to have a great day.

As I went to the door to leave, I turned back to look at her. She was looking around the room - not at me- checking to see if anyone was looking. She took her hand and rubbed her kissing hand to her face.

Facebook for Kids.

I think I have mentioned before, Emma has a Facebook/Farkle addiction.

She constantly asks for a Facebook Account. Um, no? How 'bout NO!

This is a constant conversation that we have.

So, yesterday, I was cleaning out the fridge, which is a miracle in itself, and Emma was in the next room playing Farkle. Now, keep in mind that she is 5 and is in Kindergarten. She has learned how to play Farkle Pro. The Pro game is where you play against someone random on Facebook.
It could be anyone.
Out to the side of the actual game is a comment bar, where you can chat to your competitor.

If you are playing Farkle, who has time to comment, right? WRONG.

So, as I was saying, I was cleaning, she was playing, Tripp was sleeping. I heard her say " MOM, the person I am playing said a bad word to me." So, I go to the next room to see what is going on, and she says, "I told them I was five, and they said a bad word." The first thing in my mind is child molestation. Now, Emma can read, and she can type (to some extent). This is what the comment section looked like.

Other Player: you are good.
Emma: I am 5
Other Player: CRAP
Other Player: You are good for a 5 year old

I immediately turned the game off and did not let her finish. It was a man. Technically, he did nothing wrong, except said CRAP to a five year old. This conversation could have went any direction at this point.

I was sick. I then received the BAD MOMMY OF THE YEAR Award.

It never occurred to me that my daughter would talk on the comment section, she would tell them she was five, or that she would be playing farkle with a big hairy fat old man who could possibly be a child molester.

I cringe.

Anyways, My lesson is learned. I just got busy, and even though I was in the next room, and had only been for a couple of minutes, I need to find something else to occupy Emma besides the Internet. I let my guard down. I want to disconnect.

My last day.

Today is the last day that I have with my small kids.
Tomorrow, Tripp goes to Pre-K.
Then, the following day, Emma starts her real kindergarden year.

All week, these kids have been at work with me. Grandma is out of town, David is working.

I listen to them playing. Right now, they are playing a game where Tripp is going to his girlfriend's house and Emma is going to pick him up after she texts him. They have "cellphones" and are taking pictures of each other. Wouldn't it be nice to be so carefree?

Starting tomorrow, they are going to make new friends. They are going to have new adventures. They will have new stories to tell. Their days will not be with each other anymore. I know they were separated last year, but that was by choice. I can't help but feel a little sad at the fact that they are growing up so quickly.

Instead of working, I would like to go home and lay in the floor, and play matchbox cars and barbies and eat happy meals. I think I might cry later. Or now.

Out for blood.

Last night, Tripp, Emma and Mallie were playing in the bathroom.
Emma did not want Tripp around.

So, she kicked him in the stomach. He, in turn, bit her on the chest when she tried to hug him and tell him she was sorry.

Screaming like there was something really happening was what I heard first. It took me close to 30 minutes to figure out the story. They were telling it at the same time, while Mallie stood back looking pleased that she kept out of the fight. After all the tears were dried and everyone got an icepack for their injury, I showed Tripp what her bite mark looked like.

Today, when I came home from work, I looked at Emma's purple and green mouthprint Tripp had left on her chest.
I made Emma show it to Tripp. I told him that this is what happens when you bite. It hurts friends.

He told me, "Thats because I am a vampire. I told you I am a vampire."

A few minutes later, she took a toy from him. As I sat and listened to them playing, I heard him say to her, "Do you want me to bite you again?"

Bedtime.

Last night, I was blessed with being able to hold Emma as she went to sleep. This is a rare occurance anymore, usually by bedtime I am ready for them to go and try not to give them time to dwadle. (Is this a word, anyways?) After she went to sleep, I looked at her sweet face and realized how big she is getting. Her hair is so thick, her eyelashes are so long. I notice that day by day how her expressions and mannerisms are changing.

She is becoming a big girl. I am so proud that I have a daughter.

Eli picked her up out of my lap and carried her upstairs to her room. Following this, Tripp climbed up in my lap and then he told me he was ready to go to sleep. He does this new thing with his belly - when he wants something, his belly talks to you. He makes his belly button the mouth and he always begins by saying "My belly says..." and it usually ends with "I am hungry" or "I am thirsty" or "I want some red juice." This comes out in a nice, growl -y voice.

So, last night after he told my "My belly says I am sleepy," I carried him upstairs and I laid down with him. And we talked. He told me the story of Goldilocks and the three bears. And he got it right.

When I put the kids to bed, they ask me to come back "just one more" oh, about fifty times.
I usually just walk away. But last night, since I did not have two children in competition with each other, and I went back twice for that ""just one more." What a blessing I got when I went back.

Tripp says to me "bend down and give me your ear." So I did, thinking he was going to whisper one of his secrets. Instead, he gave me a kiss on the cheek. As I melted in a puddle on the floor, I kissed his cheek back. He lifted his little hand and rubbed his cheek where I kissed. And then he told me " I wanted to keep it, Mom."

What a Good Night.

a dedicated student.

Only two days of school left for Eli and Emma.

Today, Emma's class was rewarded for good behaviour. They got a late-afternoon ice cream sundae party! It was important to her that I come over. I went right as the party was supposed to start and I got to help get things in order.

I explained to Emma that due to the time, I was going to sign her out because I could not leave work again at 2:30 to come pick her up. That was fine, she said. We were going to spend time together, by ourselves.

WRONG.

As we gathered her backpack, the tears started rolling. She wanted to stay, she told me. She wanted to be a pick up, she told me. I explained, again, why she had to go with me. She cried. Snot flowed. And every teacher in the building came out as we walked down the hallway - they wanted to know why she was crying. What could be wrong with Emma? How can I explain that my five year old daughter likes to follow the rules and has a love of consistancy? How do I explain that she is a type A personality?

I thought that the fit would never end. The crying went on for about 30 minutes - AFTER we got back to my office.

This is not the first time this has happened. Once before, no, twice before, I have went to get her, and she has changed her mind. I am so thankful for her independance, and I love how she knows her mind. But, I would like her to be able to bend the rules just a little.

Emma the Softball Player.

Once there was a little girl named Emma. She decided that she was going to play softball. She was so excited about being on a team.. and her grandma was her coach!! She loved her stripey socks and she loved her pretty pink glove.

During Emma's first game, she went onto the field. She put her glove on her left hand....
And then she switched it to the right!


After standing on the field, she decided to go back to her dancing roots.
And she twirled and twirled.

And she got bored.. and decided to go back to the dance studio! But, she was locked in by the fence.. so she decided to climb over!

Not Really. Well, most of this is true. Just not the climbing over the fence part. That was actually in the beginning. And she did it so she could give me a kiss.

Emma the Tap Dancer.

There is a sweet little girl named Emma. She is five years old and she LOVES to dance. And, as much as she loves to dance, she loves to pose for pictures. She always has a variety of expressions to give her biggest fan - her mommy.

Sometimes she gives the one leg kicked out to the side pose.

Sometimes she sticks her chest out proudly as she poses.

Sometimes she just likes to look in the mirror to see how cute she is.

And, then she travels to the stage to perform and dance with her partner, Mallie.



After the performance is over, she calls her agent... AKA Daddy - and tell him she has finished her show.

Being a star is a hard job.

Ball season is here!

Well, it is that time again! And this year, I am so blessed to have not one, not even two - but, ALL THREE kids playing some sort of ball. Emma's softball season started Thursday. We have a great coach - none other than our own Grandmama - and this is sure to be a treat for my super athletic 5 year old daughter who doesn't like to get dirty or sweaty.

For your viewing pleasure, I give you the following photos. See for yourself.

On the field throwing the ball. Check out the glove.

Dave is making her bat. Doesn't she look enthused?

She hit the ball!!! Yey, Emma.

Later, on - it was time to go back and pratice catching.

She is sleeping on the field.

Well, not really. But it makes for a good story, right?

She was super sweaty... and proceeded to tell me about it. And she said, "Will we practice like that everytime?"

This is just the beginning.

What a helper.

Tripp lay down on the floor and Emma helped him put his socks and shoes on.

She's into choreography, too.

Emma has her notebook in front of her... she has written down all her "dance steps."


This was last night - and she was going from room to room making her brothers and I watch her performance. She would yell,"Five, Six, Seven, Eight. Step right, step left, shuffle step, turn and turn."

And she would always throw the book down in front of her before she did it.

So, she moves into the livingroom where Tripp is watching tv. Spongebob, I think.
And she says,"Tripp, watch this." She throws down the book, and starts again.
Tripp is not amused.

He chucks the remote at her. And hits her.
She picks up the book and runs to Eli. And then, she starts over.

I guess three year olds don't appreciate good choreography.

Ba Ba Black Sheep.

For Emma's first Halloween, I tried to come up with THE MOST super costume ever. After searching, and looking, I found a little lamb/sheep on one of the "make it yourself" costume websites. I loved it! What a cute lamb/sheep she would be!

I went to Wal-mart and Hobby Lobby and got the felt, the cotton balls, the ribbon, the glue... you get the picture. So much time was spent cutting and sewing felt and then gluing each.and.every.cottonball to the blasted outfit. I EVEN sacrificed a baby gap onesie out of her closet so she would be a super stylin' lamb/sheep.

Fast forward a couple of weeks. What happens? I proudly show her the costume. "Ohhh," she says in her sweet -little girl of 13 months- voice. And, with so much crafty pride, I slip the pretty little outfit over her sweet little white tights and then I pull it up over her belly. I place her tiny little arms in the armholes. Snap. Snap. Snap. I close the three back buttons. Turning her around so proudly I admire her. And I admire all the work I did. Won't she be the cutest kid EVER when we go trick or treating? Won't all the other mothers be so jealous that MY kid is so cute and her costume is super cool?

Guess what happens?

Sister grabs the cotton balls in her precious 13 month old hands. And she starts PULLING. And we all know that cotton glued onto material won't stay forever. So the cotton comes off in her sweet hands.

I scream. I jump. I jerk the costume off. And I go to Wal Mart. That year, she was a precious store bought little lion. It fit her personality. Exactly. :)

FYI - during our recent move, I found the costume hanging up in the back. Guess who modeled this weekend? The onesie is a 24 months. The kid is five and 1/2.

What are they learning in church?

I came home this afternoon and started my weekend off right by cleaning house. While I was vacuuming, I asked Emma to go upstairs and line up her shoes in her closet. I told her that was her chore. I then reminded her that today is Friday, and that is allowance day. And to get allowance, she has to do some chores.

She looks at me and says," Turn the vacuum off." I do
Then she sits down on the steps and says, "In the bible it says husbands help wives to clean their house to make a help meet."

Gotta love the lesson that Mrs. Barbara is giving my daughter.