3.

Mimi,

After the fourth month of my pregnancy with you, I started sleeping in our guest room- and I use the term sleeping loosely. Very loosely. For hours on end, I laid awake in our old, lumpy, and uncomfortable bed. As I tossed and turned, random contractions caused by tiny elbow jabs and what I can only imagine were little dance steps kept me wide awake. It always amazed me that someone so small could make their presence so known.

When I held you for the first time, I couldn't speak. I was shaking-from labor, from excitement, from love. I studied your hands (long and dainty) and your hair (brown and curly).  I double checked to confirm that you were really a girl, then I triple checked. My first words finally fell out of my mouth long after you were placed in my arms-" You're beautiful," I whispered in your ear. I was in awe that someone so tiny could be so captivating.

When you were a baby, I spent hours quietly nursing you in the dark while Daddy snored next to us and Tyson slept soundly down the hall. I had so much time to think as we sat there-it wasn't often quiet with a newborn and toddler running around. I thought about the way you already had Daddy wrapped around your little finger and the way Tyson loved to make you laugh as you bounced in your excersaucer and how I just couldn't believe that someone so small could make our family feel so complete.

When you were just shy of a year old, we took you out to eat with your Auntie Katie and Uncle Ryan. You wore a jean skirt and striped leggings with a matching headband that was way too big for your tiny head and some bedazzled tennis shoes that totally made the outfit. You stood on your highchair, tight grip on my hands, and made some sort of dinosaur noise while smiling and waving to the other diners. I watched as people waved back, as waitresses stopped to "talk" with you, as strangers turned and smiled. I didn't realize someone so small was capable of lighting up an entire room.

When you first learned to talk, you named your lovie "GetThat", which couldn't have been more appropriate. "GETTHAT!" you yelled constantly, and, of course, we happily obliged. When you were eighteen months old, you discovered you could delay running errands with me if you needed a diaper change. "I'm STILL pooping!" you would yell when you didn't want to leave the house. When you moved into a big girl bed, you repeatedly asked me for "another tisss and hug" as I tucked you in knowing full well it was a request I just couldn't refuse. I'm still shaking my head and trying to figure out how someone so young is outsmarting me nearly every day. As an aside. I'm also trying to figure out how to curb this behavior by the time you reach your teens.

When you wake up tomorrow morning you will be 3. You will no longer be small or tiny or even young in the eyes of the world, but I can guarantee you'll still make your presence known. When you tiptoe into our room, bright and early with a huge smile on your face, I will still think you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. At your birthday lunch, waitresses will still stop to talk with you-other diners will wish you a happy birthday-you'll still light up the room. I was planning on treating you to cupcakes OR ice cream for dessert, but you'll probably outsmart me and wind up getting both. And when I tuck you into bed tomorrow night, I will still marvel at how perfectly you complete our family.

Happy Birthday, my sweet, crazy, little Mimi.

I love you more than words.

Momma

Dory

Yesterday Mila and I dropped Tyson off at a local art studio for a day camp. The studio had two tiny birds chirping away in a cage near the back of the room that both kids were quickly drawn to. So quickly, in fact, that I'm beginning to wonder if they're actually mine. I mean, what part of dangerous, dirty and pecking your eyes out do they not understand?

But. I digress..

One of the teachers came over to my kids and told them the "cute little birdies" (her words, not mine) were named Arty and Crafty. Clever. She then asked my kids if they have any pets. Tyson smiled and told her about Lola.

Then I left and Tyson made an odd looking dog out of tissue paper.

When I returned to pick Tyson up the first words out of his mouth in the car were, "MOM! We forgot to tell her about Dory. I told her about Lola, but I forgot about DORY!"

Turns out we all kinda forget about Dory.  Myself included. I forgot to document that, on a whim, I let the kids bring home a beta fish one random Tuesday morning. I blame all my stupid ideas on the lack of things to do in MN during the winter-random beta fish included.

Meet Dory:

She's (he?) been a quiet addition to our house. So quiet that we usually forget she's here. She currently resides in the kid's bathroom which, I'm sure, is wonderful existence. We haven't forgotten to feed her (at least not yet) and have managed to keep her bowl mostly clean (thanks to Daddy).

I'm fairly certain that if I find her belly up one morning it will take the kids at least a week before they'd notice she's gone. It should also be documented this is a once in a lifetime experience.

Welcome to the family, Dory.

Skipping Nap Time is NEVER a Good Idea

Last week I had the brilliant idea to surprise the kids, skip nap time and visit the Eden Prairie ice castle. This week I understand that any brilliant idea that involves skipping nap time will not end well.

Touché.

In hindsight, the 45 minute drive to the ice castle accompanied by constant bickering, intermittent crying and random screams from the backseat should have been my fair warning that this might not be my best laid plan. Still, I trucked on.

Again, touché.

We arrived, shelled out $24 to get "inside", and spent exactly 8 minutes there before this:

Because running to keep up with your big brother in an ice castle, on ICE, is not safe.

Items the above picture does not accurately capture:

1) ALL THE BLOOD. Afterwards I was able to determine she cut her lip and suffered a few minor scratches on her face, but in the midst of it, I was fairly certain she was going to bleed out. There was blood EVERYWHERE-coats, scarves, pants, mittens-EVERYWHERE.
2) The crying. Oh, man-the crying.... by the end of the episode all three of us had shed tears in public. I have no shame.
3) The 5 year old meltdown over having to leave. Almost messier than the ample amounts of blood.

On a bright note (because, after shelling out $24 for 8 minutes in an ice castle, I NEED to see a bright spot), the ice castle was really beautiful and the weather on the day we went was amazing. Also, the "before" pictures I managed to snap turned out pretty great, too.

Kindergarten Orientation

A little over a month ago, I covered up my adult acne and hid my (curling iron) hickey to attend our local kindergarten tour. For thirty minutes, the school Principal graciously showed us his school, answered our many questions and tried his hardest not to stare at the growing craters on my chin. I now know the school's average class size and their teaching philosophy. I saw their cafeteria and their gym and their skating rink and their music room.  I met two seemingly wonderful and caring Kindergarten teachers (who also tried really hard not to stare at my acne). I saw art projects the current year Kindergartners had painstakingly painted and talked to 6th grade students about why they adored their science teacher. I left the tour excited, nervous, apprehensive and happy.

And then I went about my business trying to pretend that day never happened.

I mean, surely if I'm still covering up acne and investing in scarves to hide hickeys I'm too young to have a Kindergartner, right? RIGHT?

Apparently not. Yesterday this came in the mail:

Gulp.

In two short weeks, I will escort Tyson into the halls of his elementary school for the very first time. Just typing that sentence makes me want to eat all the chocolate while crying my eyes out. It's a wonder I have acne, huh?

It's just that I'm not ready.

I'm not ready to have him gone 5 whole days each week. I'm not ready to rush him out the door each morning and beg him for information about his day each afternoon. I'm not ready to put him on a school bus with kids 7 years older than him. I'm not ready to not know who he ate lunch with or who he sat next to or who he played with at recess. I'm not ready for homework and field trips.  I'm not ready to pack school lunches. I'm not ready to deal with the tough issues that come with bigger schools-like bullying and fights and inclusion.  I'm not ready to not see his smiling face all day long I'm not ready to say goodbye to my baby. 

I'm not ready, but he is.

He is ready. When he enters Kindergarten he will be almost 6 years old. He'll have completed three years of preschool where he learned not only how to write and read and count, but also the more important lessons like how to listen and be a good friend and be respectful. He's ready for testing and learning to read and new friends. He's ready to play in a gym and have a school library. He's ready to have music class and art class.  He's ready for new adventures, new lessons and new teachers.

He's ready, and he'll do great.

I plan on repeating that mantra when we walk into his Kindergarten orientation in a few weeks. In the mean time, I'm busy praying that some of his readiness rubs off on me by September. Oh, and clear skin-I'm hoping some of that rubs off on me too.

Guy Crazy

This is Mila's bed:

 

This is Mila's bed on crack.... also known as Mila's bed when she snuggles in for the night.

At last count, there were 22 lovies tucked in there with her. I know I should be worried about her suffocating with all that packed into a full size bed, but, I'm far more concerned with the fact that she calls all these stuffed animals her, "guys."

As in:

"My guys are sleepy too."

"I have to make sure all my guys are tucked in before I can sleep."

"My guys had a bad dream last night."

"Mooomm...give a goodnight kiss to all of my guys."

And, my personal favorite,

"I'm tired. My guys kept me up all night long."

Please, please, please let her never utter this sentence to her Mother again.

Last week, we caught her tearing apart her closet while she was supposed to be taking a nap. As I carried her back to bed and reminded her that this was nap time, she calmly explained, "but Mom, I was just looking for more guys to sleep with."

Gulp.

I figured we would go through a time when she was a little guy-crazy, I just had no idea it would happen at the ripe age of 2.

Does this mean she's advanced for her age?

Elf on A Shelf 2014

It's been 26 (glorious) days since I retired from my part time job as an Elf. Not that I'm counting.

For those reading, I'd like it noted that I took over Elf duty 100% this year-there was no participation or help or even suggested ideas from the husband. None. Oh, no-that's not bitterness you hear in my voice.

While you're taking notes, I'd also like it documented that it was exhausting and tiring and a lot of really hard work. Also, blood, sweat and tears. While maybe not blood-but definitely sweat and tears.

Don't believe me?

I present Exhibit A:

 

That's three strands of Christmas lights wrapped around our toilet. Strung at 2 AM. Because I woke up in a near panic attack when I forgot to move him before I fell asleep.

Still not convinced?

How about Exhibit B:

33 balloons in a bathtub blown up by yours truly during two nap times. Yes, I wasted TWO nap times blowing up balloons for an elf. If you're not crying by now, I'd like to know the names of the medications you are on.

Also, for good measure, Exhibit C:

A zip-lining elf. Idea credits to Pinterest on this one, but work credit to me. I woke up at 4:30 to construct that bad boy. And there may have actually been blood drawn as I cut the zip line on this one-my memory is hazy from the lack of sleep.

So-yes, BLOOD, SWEAT, TEARS.  All of them.

By day 20 in Elf-land, I almost threw in the towel. Desperate not to disappoint the kids, I searched Pinterest and found what might be the only reason Chippy gets to return next year-elf provoked random acts of kindness day.

On day 21, my kids woke up to an empty box, some supplies from Chippy and this note:

 

Not one to let an opportunity to get on Santa's nice list pass him by, Tyson dove right in and came up with 2 boxes of old toys to donate before breakfast. Mila was less enthused with the idea of giving up her toys, but agreed to pose unsmiling next to said boxes.

 

 

 

We spent the better part of the morning hand drawing cards for our local police and fire stations and compiling a list of people who make us smile or work hard for us everyday (Target cookie lady, our pastor, the kid's pediatrician, Mommy's Starbucks barista-clearly).

 

 



 



Then we set out. For two hours, we drove around handing out Redbox movie codes, popcorn, donuts, coffee and hot chocolate. In return we received smiles. Lots and lots of smiles-from the recipients, from people watching us, and on our own faces.

It was hands down my favorite day of the holiday season this year and a tradition I can't wait to continue. I'm hoping the kids learned that giving can be more rewarding than receiving. And that it's easy to make someone smile. And that it's important to appreciate the everyday things other people do for us.  If day 21 left even a tiny imprint of those lessons on their brain, Chippy was worth the blood, sweat and tears this year.

That said, on day 23, I did send a subliminal message to the husband:

Still not sure he got it.

Until next year, Chippy.

 

Christmas 2014

I've delayed writing our 2014 Christmas summary for as long as possible. Too long, maybe. It's just writing the blog entry seemed equivalent to pounding the final nail in our Christmas coffin and I wasn't ready.

A tiny part of me wants Christmas to last year round. The wonder and awe, the magic, the family time-I could take that 365 days of the year. It's the crazy amounts of spending and eating (and the small amounts of sleep) that I could do without.

We are (somewhat) back into a normal routine-eating better and sleeping more, but I miss this:

I don't miss the screaming and yelling over who got to use the red fishing pole, but that hug he gave her as a thank you? Priceless. This year we started a new tradition of the kids picking out presents for each other. Tyson gave Mila a Lego set and Mila picked out this fishing game for him. Both were pleased with their gifts and pleased over giving their gifts. Win/Win.

Other top presents (not from the big jolly guy) included:

Mila- A dress like me dolly from Auntie Katie and Uncle Ryan-if allowed she and her doll would wear their matching PJs all day every day.

 

Tyson- A Teddy Bridgewater jersey from Mommy and Daddy (#5 to match his age!). Apparently this was, "just what he always wanted!"

Mommy and Daddy-These headphones. The quiet they generate is worth sooo much more than the $8.99 I paid for them. So much more.

Christmas Eve, after the family presents were opened, we meticulously selected the best cookies for Santa, laid out the reindeer food for Rudolph and dictated this well thought out letter in a last ditch attempt to get the best presents next to our stockings.

It worked!

Apparently they were on the extra nice list this year. Also known as the spoiled rotten list.

Favorite present from Santa:

 

Tyson-this Lego set that he begged and pleaded for. And the country skis Santa bought at a garage sale. And a basketball hoop. I know. Trust me, I know. I think he even knows-he actually exclaimed in excitement, "ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME?!" when he rounded the corner Christmas morning.

 

 

Mila-a new "Get-that." The amount of love she has for these two lovies is alarming. She is still telling literal strangers on the street that she got a new "get-that" for Christmas. They have no idea what she's talking about, but she's telling them.

 



We capped off Christmas 2014 with more of this:

And a birthday cake celebration for Jesus. Which, more sugar-just what we needed.

Hoping your Christmas was just as magical as ours.

Stage Fright

About twice a week, I am treated to a loud and joyful concert by our two year old. She sings proudly with genuine excitement and often, surprisingly, on key. It's beautiful noise that stops me in my tracks and puts a smile on my face.

Cute, no?

Unfortunately for me, most of these loud and joyful concerts usually take place when said two year old is supposed to be napping.

So, smile on my face, but fear in my heart because, oh God, are we are approaching no naps?

Somebody hold me. Or, better yet,  hold HER-rock her to sleep-sing her a lullaby! Anything! We CANNOT give up naps yet.

Ahem.

As I was saying, for the last month and a half during "nap time" she has been perfecting her preschool's Christmas pageant song, "Away In a Manger." For an hour or so a day, she would sing about the little Lord Jesus laying down his sweet head. She knew every single word of the song and she sang it LOUD. It was adorable and the reason why I could hardly contain my excitement for her first ever Christmas pageant.

On the day of her performance, we dressed her in her red holiday velvet and headed off to church with our cameras  ready to capture all of the adorableness.

Well maybe not all of it......

Shortly before her class was to take the stage, while sitting in the middle of a quiet church, Mila loudly declared she needed to poop.

Of course she did.

Five minutes later, business taken care of, Mila joined her class on stage already midway through "Away in a Manger." I ducked down in the front row and pulled my phone out hoping to proudly catch her loud and adorable voice belting out the second half of the song.

But she did nothing. NOTHING. Despite months of private dress rehearsals, she did not speak a word on stage. She also didn't smile on stage. Or move.

That's her-front left-adorable red velvet dress, no smile on her face and no songs coming from her mouth and frozen in place.

Still cute, but.....

Perhaps she was aware of how ridiculously cute she looked just standing there and didn't want to risk making it any more adorable by singing too.

Or, maybe she was tired from her lack of napping.

She did manage to give us a private performance later that day at, yep, you guessed it-nap time.

PS: Mila also had her first ever dance recital this week where she was able to sing and dance on stage.  Her curtsy at the end was with her back to the audience and slightly resembled an attempt to moon us. I guess she's worked through her stage fright.

Like Father, Like Son

In 1998, when Daddy graduated from high school, he was named best athlete of his graduating class. It's an accolade he won't let us (or anyone he meets on the street) forget. Its clear to us that Tyson, at the ripe age of 5, is already following in Daddy's footsteps.

Already a multi sport athlete, he excels at hockey, basketball and football. Not one to limit his talents, he also dabbles in golf, baseball, wrestling, soccer and tennis. We're happy he's keeping all of his doors open and hoping for a contract (any contract!)that will help pay for our retirement.

Just a few weeks ago, Coach Pitino of the Minnesota Gopher basketball team asked for his assistance on the court.

 

At 41 inches tall, his layup percentage was poor, but he never missed a dunk.

Thankful for his help, the team invited him back to watch their first home game. He was a bit confused as to why the players didn't recognize him, but we explained it was good to keep a low profile.

His quick feet on the court have also proven useful in his backyard football games against Daddy where he consistently wins by at least 145 points. Yes, you read that right-145 points against North St. Paul's 1998 Athlete of the Year. Pretty impressive stats if you ask me.

He has also inherited the art of armchair quarterbacking from his Daddy.  Every Sunday you can find him on the couch yelling at the Vikings to "Get the Packers!" We've tried to explain that the Vikings don't always play the Packers, but are hesitant to squash his staunch disdain of Cheeseheads.

His hockey talents have also continued to amaze all (2) of his fans. Despite actually being smaller than his hockey bag, Daddy says he is one of the fastest skaters on the ice. Apparently this stems from his ability to stay low to the ground when he skates which, despite how it might appear from the stands, is not the same thing as staying on the ground. Just yesterday he told me he was looking forward to his first "real" hockey game so he could "crush up the other team." Obviously.

All this to say, Stillwater class of 2028, you better start working out if you expect to beat  Tyson for best athlete-he's got good genes working in his favor.

PS: Daddy was also the runner up for best hair in his graduating class. Looks like Tyson is going to one-up him on this one. Touche, Daddy.

Santa and Sass

My mom warned me that dealing with sass was an integral part of having a daughter. She cautioned me about the defiance, reminded me of my own back talk and advised me to prepare for the eye rolls.

I guess I just didn't realize it would start so early. Like today. At the ripe age of 2.

This morning, because I believe in cruel and unusual forms of parental torture, I took the kids to the Mall of America to see Santa. By myself.

It's ok, you can laugh.

Our day started off swimmingly. We took in the free performance of Rudolph in the rotunda, colored at the Disney store and took this adorable pictures in front of their giant Christmas trees.

Don't let that sweet smile fool you.

As we waited in line to see Santa,  I wasn't even anticipating the sass that Mila was about to throw down to the innocent bystander behind us.

Sweet Lady in Line: "Oh I bet you two are excited to go see Santa!"
Tyson: "We are!"
Mila: "I'm not..." (please read in the most annoying whiny sing-song voice you can imagine)
Sweet Lady in Line: "What are you going to tell Santa you want for Christmas?"
Tyson : "I'm going to ask for more Legos"
Mila: "I want a GETTHAT!"

************We interrupt this story to bring you the story of "GetThat." "GetThat" is a (usually dirty) lovie that Mila has slept with since birth. It was also one of her first word(s?). Since just over a year old she has referred to her lovie as "GetThat" and we have lovingly complied. Looking back, this probably was a strong indicator of the amount of sass she possesses.********************

Sweet Lady in Line: "Oh! You want a cabbage patch?"
Mila: "NOOOOOOAHH! I want a GETTHAT!"
Sweet Lady in Line: "A what, honey?"
Mila: "A GETTHAT!"

Sweet Lady in Line looks to me for an explanation. I mumbled the above story as my cheeks turn red.

Sweet Lady in Line: "Ohhh. Well, wow. You certainly have a lot of sass in that one, don't you?"

You have no idea, sweet lady. No idea.

And just think, Sweet  Lady in Line didn't even get to witness Mila rolling her eyes at Santa a few minutes later.

I'm saving this picture so I know there is someone who can commiserate with me in a few short years.

On a bright note, sass still looks cute on a 2 year old.

Chippy 2014

Prior to getting married, I was told I needed to register for China. It was, apparently, a requirement of marriage. A necessity. As a 27 year old who frequented such fine establishments such as Chili's and Applebee's, I was faintly aware that China referred to fancy plates of which we were to eat off of. I was even more faintly aware of the price of said China.

We searched high and low for China. Oh, who am I kidding, I searched high and low for China. Dan didn't give two shits. I scoured the Internet and visited multiple stores searching for the perfect China.

Afterwards,  I would meet Dan at Chili's to discuss my findings.

We (read I) finally decided on the perfect place settings. They were simple, yet classic. Timeless and elegant. Everything China is supposed to be, I'm sure.

To date, we've been married 6 years and 4 months. We've used our China three times total. It's sat on our table for less time than I spent searching for it.

Even more pathetic? Each of the three times I've hauled out (and dusted off) our China has been for our Elf on a Shelf, Chippy.

Not exactly the special occasions I imagined I would need the required China for.

Elf on a Shelf season is quite possibly my least favorite time of the year. It's stressful and exhausting and it stretches my highly uncreative mind to all of it's limits-I mean I dusted off China for this foot tall visitor. I also spent over four hours (ahem) hand painting a sleigh for him to arrive on.

Yes, I've questioned my sanity.

Thankfully, the looks on their faces when they saw Chippy in his pint sized sleigh and their tiny donut snowman on our beautiful China made it (mostly)all worth it.

Happy Elf on a Shelf season. If you need me I'll be busy stringing lights around our toilet, hanging underpants on the tree and attempting other elf feats.

Thankful (the 2014 edition)

The Thanksgiving tree made it's second appearance in the Pavel house this year. True to form, Tyson out-performed everyone and Mila, well, Mila let's just say she's happy there's food on our table.

The things we are thankful for in 2014:

1) I am thankful we forgive our family members-Tyson
2) I am thankful that this year, instead of driving to work in the first snowfall, I was able to go outside and play in it-Mommy
3) I am thankful for water-Mila
4) I am thankful we are all healthy-Daddy
5) I am thankful that we spend time with our family and do fun things-Tyson
6) I am thankful for our friends, family and neighbors-Mommy
7) I am thankful for milk-Mila
8) I am thankful we have such a wonderful and caring Mommy-Daddy
9) I am thankful our family loves holidays-Tyson
10) I am thankful for the 2 great schools that Tyson and Mila go to-Mommy
11) I am thankful for french fries-Mila
12) I am thankful we have such smart kids-Daddy
13) I am thankful it's sunny in the summer and a little sunny in the winter-Tyson
14) I am thankful my kids have a Daddy who loves playing with them-Mommy
15) I am thankful for family dinners-Mila
16)  I am thankful for the roof over our head-Daddy
17)I am thankful we all like candy except Daddy-Tyson
18) I am thankful for a good conference with Tyson's teacher-Mommy


Happy Turkey Day!

5 Years

Dear Tyson,

When I was a little girl, I dreamed of being a Mommy. I would wrap my dolls up in blankets and sling them on my hip while I cooked dinner in my Little Tykes Kitchen. My babies had a pretend Daddy that I would talk to on the phone-I'd tell him to bring home more milk and chocolate chip cookies. I fed my babies bottle after bottle and perfected the art of singing a lullaby while rocking them to sleep.

When I was a little girl, my babies were always babies. They never got older. I never played Mommy to a two year old boy who was awesome at puzzles. I never read a precocious three year old boy bed time stories. I never watched a determined four year old boy play hockey.

What a shame.

Today, as of 6:02 PM, I am the Mommy to a talented, sensitive, kind, ridiculously smart and hilarious 5 year old boy--you! And, while feeding you a bottle in my arms so many years ago was pretty awesome, so, is feeding you macaroni and cheese while discussing Gopher football and the newest Jake and the Neverland Pirate episode.

I'm kicking myself for not knowing then what I know now. Little girl me would have loved being the Mommy to 5 year old you-its pretty awesome.

As your Momma, I get to know true unconditional love. I hear, "I love you, Momma" through bleary eyes at 5 AM-it's the first thing out of your mouth most days. And I hear it from around the corner at 1:20 PM as I'm struggling to quiet your crabby sister. And always, always it's the last thing you whisper to me each night before bed. "You look beautiful today" and "Your the best Mommy ever" also escape our mouth often and usually when I need to hear it the most. You offer endless hugs, still want to give me a kiss before I leave, and give the best butterfly kisses around.

And I get to have SO MUCH FUN as your Mommy.  I get to build forts and roads and cities. Because of you,  I am well versed in Superheroes and was even protected by Batman himself this Halloween. I get to  play UNO and Yahtzee and Monopoly with Disney characters on the game pieces. I get to color and play with Legos and find the best hiding spaces for hide and go seek. I get to watch you "crush" Daddy in backyard football and race you to bed each night.

There's also an element of adventure in being your Mommy. My heart never pounded when I swaddled you as a newborn but it sure does when I see you twenty feet in the air at Spiderman park. Or climbing the jungle gym with a broken (and casted) arm. Or reaching out to touch a shark on the beach in Florida. Or attempting to ride your bike without training wheels for the first time. You sure like to keep me on my toes!

I also feel overwhelming pride. My heart swells just watching you walk into preschool each morning. Last week you told your teacher that your favorite toys were "all the learning ones" and I had to wipe away the tears.  I also cried at preschool graduation last year, your 5 year well check yesterday and from the sidelines at hockey last summer as I watched you finally get the hang of pushing off with both feet. I cry-a lot, but it's a good cry, baby. I also smile- when you share happily with your sister, when a stranger compliments your behavior, when you use your manners, when I look at your sweet face.

If I had even an inkling of just how awesome it was to be a 5 year old's Momma, I'm certain my pretend babies would have grown up. I would still call Daddy to bring home more cookies, but I'd also ask him to pick up some Gatorade and meet us at your next hockey game. And, instead of rocking you to sleep, I'd tuck you in to bed and steal one more butterfly kiss and wait patiently for that last, "I love you Momma."

I love you, buddy.

Happy Birthday to the smartest, funniest, and most determined 5 year old I know.

I am lucky to be your Mommy.

Love,

Momma