If At First You Don't Suceed

Dear Tyson,

There's a saying that if you don't already know by heart, you certainly will within the next few years. Daddy says it often:

If at first you don't succeed, try and try again.

 

It seems an easy sentiment, but it's something I still struggle with on a daily basis. I want to do it right, do it the best and do it first. The try and try again part is hard for me to embrace.  There is an inherent nature to give up when I'm not good at something. And, I'm pretty quick to throw in the towel if I can't do it perfectly the first time I try. Unfortunately for you, despite looking so much like you're Daddy, you seem to have inherited your personality from your Momma.  Type A, a bit obsessive, and perfectionists-you & me.

 

A few weeks ago, you started a skating class. Within minutes, it quickly became clear that you were far behind the other four boys in your class. They skated faster, looked more comfortable on the ice and knew skills that you hadn't even begun to grasp yet. My stomach twisted as I watched you struggle to keep up with the class and despite the smile I had plastered to my face I whispered to Daddy that maybe you weren't ready for this particular class yet.

 

 

 

You came off the ice on the first day a little flustered. The next week you quietly told me that your stomach gets a little upset before you go skating. As I watched the second class, I ached to pull you out of it. To protect you from feeling like you weren't good enough. To put you in a class where you would be the one who skated ahead of all the others instead of the one who fell behind. To stop your stomach from hurting before you got on the ice.  

 

But I didn't.  Despite knowing exactly why your stomach was upset,  I also knew it was good for you to learn that lesson up there. The one Daddy must have said to you at least one hundred times during your nine weeks of skating lessons.

 

If at first you don't succeed, try and try again.

 

 

 

That's what exactly what you did, Tyson.  Tried and tried again. Nine weeks of not giving up, not getting frustrated and working hard to succeed at what you couldn't do when you started the class. You practiced hard and hard work pays off.

 

 

On your last day of class, I proudly watched as you skated with the other boys. You could easily demonstrate all of the skills they could, but most importantly you  looked comfortable and happy on the ice doing so. Trying and trying again led to you successfully passing Skating 3.

 

I am so so proud of you, Tyson.

 

Thank you for teaching you old Mommy some new tricks.

 

Love,

 

Momma

 

PS: This peanut got on the ice for the first time on your last day of class. She has a lot to learn from you, buddy. Start with that lesson up there.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Easter 2014

I forgot to take the kids to see the Easter Bunny this year. That's my story if they ask. I'm sticking to it.

In reality, the thought of spending $20 plus on a picture that would result in a screaming two year old and at least seven hundred questions from the four year old made my skin crawl. I don't know how the bunny gets around the world so fast. I'm not sure why he looks different than in person than he does on Hop. And, I have no idea how he knows that you want in your basket.

The Easter Bunny needs an instruction manual.

We DID manage to dye eggs, play one hundred rounds of hide the plastic eggs and make multiple Easter crafts. Who needs an overpriced pic with a bunny anyways?

Both kids loved dying eggs this year-the extra enthusiasm and competition over who had the prettiest egg led to many beautiful eggs and a slightly more colorful wood floor.

The bunny face masks we made were a hit for both the kids and me. Tyson cut out all the bunny whiskers and the ears-we're working on fine motor skills a lot lately, so, this art project was perfect practice.

And, look, they each have a picture with a bunny now!

On Easter Eve, we left out carrots and a note for the bunny. The night before note is quickly becoming one of my favorite parts of parenting and the Easter 2014 letter did not disappoint.  Tyson originally requested I write, "Give me some toys, Jesus Christ." After a quick refresher on Easter-at least he knew that Jesus was involved in the holiday somehow- he came up with this revision. Artwork completed on his own-proof of fine motor skills paying off!

 

Easter morning was filled with sounds of tiny feet running, small high squeals, and lots of laughing. The Easter Bunny hid eggs and baskets inside our house and then surprised the kids with a bike and scooter on our front porch.

 

The surprise, happiness and excitement in his eyes was easily worth the blood, sweat and tears we shed trying to help the bunny put the bike together.

This one liked her scooter, but LOVED her candy.

 

For those wondering, attempting to take Easter pictures AFTER the two year old has eaten all of her Easter candy is not a good idea.

We're all still coming down from our sugar high and happily packing away the plastic eggs until next year.

Mila's First Haircut

The little curl that trailed down her neck had been there since birth-soft, fine and wispy. For the last two years, it has wrapped tightly around my finger each night as I stroked her hair before bed. As time passed, the little curl grew even smaller. And softer and finer.

Last week we cut that little curl off.

It was time. And even though I knew it was time, I was worried there would be tears and apprehension.

After warming up to the idea of someone other than Mommy playing with her hair, Mila enjoyed her first trip to the salon. Of course, when it includes suckers and watching Frozen there's really not much for a two year old NOT to love.

She thinks her haircut is "Blue-ti-fow!"

And, despite the photographic evidence that proves otherwise, there were still a few tears of apprehension. I just didn't take a picture of myself tearing up at the first snip.

Daddy's Birthday

Last week we celebrated one of my favorite days of the year-Daddy's birthday.

I realize I should say it's my favorite day of the year because he's my husband and I love him dearly. Or because he's the father of my kids-and an amazing one at that. Or because he's my best friend who makes me laugh and holds my hand when I cry.

All true.

But, honestly?

It's my favorite day of the year because for the next month I get to claim being two years younger than him. It's like he's robbing the cradle.

This year, I left the kids in charge of Daddy's presents. Which means I took them to the Dollar Tree, gave them free reign of the store and told them to go wild.

The results were priceless. Daddy's present consisted of:

1) Work gloves-" Because Daddy works." Obviously.
2) Nacho Cheese Doritos-his favorite chips.
3) A non-working flashlight.
4) Silly string-which I suspect was more for Tyson than for Daddy.
5) A juice glass for, "Daddy's beer."
6) A 300 piece puzzle with birdhouses on it.
7) Speakers for his phone-when tested, the phone was actually louder without the speakers in.
8) Dull razors.

Let me just say, Daddy was impressed. 34 was a big year for him.

Did I mention I'm 32?

Happy Birthday to the best Daddy around!

Bike Rides

If I close my eyes, I can still remember the first time we put her on the trike. Her chubby legs dangling from the too big baby seat. Her eyes wide with interest-there was no such thing as fear for her at that age. Her red checkered jump suit with yellow straps that I had bought before I had even met her- knowing, somehow, that it would match her personality to a tee.

I remember him staring at her-a mixture of pride and excitement. Realizing that at some point she would be not only his baby sister, but his best friend. His tiny bare feet dangled then, too. His bike helmet was a little too big. He needed a push to get up the hills and walked tepidly down anything steeper than our driveway because he was afraid of going too fast.

 

 

A year passed. She donned her Minnie Mouse hat and a smile for most of our trip around the block. Her feet couldn't reach the pedals, but her hands could reach far enough to push the music button repeatedly (and annoyingly, I might add) announcing our arrival to the neighbors. Still not afraid of much she moved her tiny body back and forth in attempt to get me to go faster.   

 

He grinned at her quickly after we forced him to stop for a picture and then pedaled ahead as fast as his feet would take him. His helmet fit just right. He was no longer afraid of hills and asked for less pushes.

 

 

 

 

 

This year, we took off the baby seat. She holds herself on the bike all my "Mia-self" now. Her legs are still little and chubby. She prefers to let them dangle while we push. She wears her own bike helmet that looks just a  little too big. She smiles, but it's  a timid one. She's afraid of hills and bumps. She still loves to play the music, but quickly brings her hands back to the death grip she has on the handle bars.

 

He still smiles down at her with pride. He was a half a block ahead of us by the time we were ready to take this picture. His bike helmet is too small. So is his bike. He pedals as fast as he can down the hills and waits for us impatiently at each corner. We have to remind him to stay close.  

 

 



 

 

Someday, all too soon, they will climb onto their Mountain bikes. I will watch their long muscular legs carry them away from me and wonder how time could pass so quickly. They won't need a push and they probably won't wear their helmets. I will miss the annoying music that accompanied my walks around the block. I will miss chubby legs and smiling faces waiting impatiently for me.

 

I will miss our bike rides around the block.



Spring Break 2014

We spent Spring Break 2014 in Des Moines, IA.

If that wasn't enough to make you jealous, I'm certain you'll be green with envy (or just plain green) when I tell you that both kids puked during our two day stay. Also, Dan tested positive for strep the night before left AND we were welcomed to the state of Iowa by way of a speeding ticket.

In true spring break form, however, we puked and rallied. Turns out, Des Moines, IA is a pretty epic spring break destination for toddlers and their parents.

For starters, it was 65 and sunny there. 65!

We witnessed the anomaly for all of two minutes before Tyson stated that it was actually warmer in the water park.

Apparently 65 and sunny cannot compete with 80, humid, and slides.

Oh, the slides! Tyson and Mila spent half of our 48 hour stay throwing their bodies down as many pirate ship slides as they could manage.

Tyson also ingested half of the pool water at the bottom of each slide. We saw all of that pool water (and his lunch) again later.

Why, yes, that is the ice bucket converted into a puke bucket. Why, yes, this is our second round at puking in a water park hotel room. Why, yes, I do consider myself an expert at managing puke in a hotel room. (Said no one else ever.)

Did I mention he rallied?

Despite the extra loads of laundry and $100 speeding ticket expense, we are actually already planning our next trip back to Des Moines. We're a glutton for punishment, I tell ya.

A Birthday Party Fit for a Princess

Me: "Mimi, what kind of birthday party do you want to have?"
Mimi: "Cake."
Me: "But what kind of birthday, honey? What kind of cake?"
Mimi: "CAKE!"

Rinse and repeat for at least ten conversations. Girlfriend likes her cake.

We settled on a Princess party. I realize I'll likely be throwing a similar themed party for the next eight years of my life, but it's ok. I kinda like Princesses.

Especially this one:

 

Thanks to Pinterest, I spent way too much time crafting up a Princess storm.

Thanks to my husband, we sent each and every kid home with an intense sugar high. For the record, candy buffets, piñatas and toddlers don't mix well.

 

Thanks to our friends and family, this little girl had one amazing day.

 

And lots and lots of cake.