Month 47 - Recap

My sweet boy,
You, sir, are continuing to take the role as Resident Smith Family Picky Eater very seriously. You're now to the point where you ask me what we're having for dinner ... while you're eating breakfast. There are several possibilities why you ask this question.

1. You're naturally curious.
2. You want to spend all day in anticipation of the culinary magic I'll be serving.
3. You need to make sure you eat all your lunch and prepare for a dessert-less evening because I'm serving neither grilled cheese nor cheese pizza.

I'll give you zero guesses as to which one is correct.

You even go so far as to tell me "Well, Mommy, I've decided that I don't like ice cweam today. So it's no big deal if I don't get any dee-zuht." And miraculously, you suddenly start liking ice cream again when I serve pizza for dinner.

You're starting to draw people. And in three-year-old fashion, you specialize in the toothpicks-sticking-out-of-an-egg approach. It's a good thing my self-worth isn't wrapped up in how you draw me. Cuz ouch, man.

You like to talk about what you want to be when you grow up. First it was a superhero (like most little boys, I imagine). But Natalie the Realist burst your bubble and informed you that superheroes aren't real. You were seriously bummed but she redeemed herself by listing all the occupations that are like superheroes. None of those really appealed to you (probably because those occupations don't include a cape, a rad car, and/or the ability to fly). So now you've decided that you want to be the lead singer of the Newsboys. I hope Michael Tait is ready for a run for his money in 20-something years.

You always want me to put you to bed and Natalie always wants Daddy. And recently, the four of us have started racing to your respective bedrooms at night. It's a guaranteed way to get you two to temporarily forget that you're going to bed and instead focus on winning. At whatever cost. Oh yes, we sometimes play dirty. Sometimes Daddy tries to block the entrance to your bedroom. Or I'll sit (gently) on Natalie on the couch to give you a head start to your room. Or I'll scoop you up immediately after our family prayer and run to your bedroom before Daddy and Natalie know what hit them.

But recently, you fall apart if Daddy and Natalie get to her room before you and I get to your room. You burst into tears and start yelling how it's not fair that we lost. So now The Great Bedroom Race is on hiatus until we're able to teach you the right way to lose. Losing is inevitable but there are ways to lose that don't involve such high decibels. Hopefully you'll figure this out soon so that we can get back to playing. Because there's no better way to end my day then by sitting on your sister to win a game.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for October 9, 2015:

• Next man up? House GOP pushes reluctant Ryan to seek speaker's chair
• One dead, three hurt in shooting at Northern Arizona University
• 'We are so relieved': Missing king cobra snake found under dryer near Orlando
• Nobel Peace Prize awarded to Tunisian democracy group
• Think Your Commute Is Bad? Try 50 Lanes of Beijing Traffic
• GM Fined $900M Over Faulty Ignition Switches

September 2015 - Recap

My darling girl,
You started gymnastics this month, and you couldn't be any more excited if I paid you in cupcakes to go. There are several classes offered throughout the week, and we can go to one or several of them. For now, we're sticking with once a week. And it's in the early afternoon, so your class is comprised of six cute little homeschooled girls. You knew two of the girls already from our homeschool group so that made you a little less nervous. The class is an hour long ("a super boh-wing [boring] hour," according to Charlie) and your teacher keeps you working the entire hour. You were drenched in sweat after your last class, partly because you were introduced to the heinous world of sit-ups. "What are those, Momma?? My friend was pushing on my feet and I had to sit up without using my arms. I mean, can you believe that?!" I immediately flashed back to elementary school PE and those fitness tests (that I consistently failed. Being inflexible with zero upper body strength and zero endurance doesn't equate to a successful fitness test.)

We've been having a lot (like, a LOT) of conversations about listening more and talking less. You know, the whole "God gave you two ears and one mouth for a reason. Listen twice as much as you talk" thing. It doesn't seem to have sunk in quite yet though. You seem very dissatisfied with simply sitting and listening and not being a part of every single conversation that goes on in our house. If Daddy and I are talking, you interrupt and want to know what we're talking about. If Charlie and I are doing something, you interrupt and want to know what we're doing. If I'm on the phone, you wave your hands wildly around to get my attention so I'll tell you who I'm talking to. It's as if it physically pains you to hear something but not be directly involved in in. So we'll continue to work on it. (And frankly I'm surprised I typed out this paragraph sans interruption.)

You're still really enjoying school (thank you, Jesus). I'm fascinated by watching you work out problems. Math seems to come fairly natural to you (your nerd DNA is clearly showing itself). Manipulatives (Cuisinaire rods, base 10 blocks, pattern blocks) have worked wonders for you. You still work too fast and make silly mistakes, and I have to often tell you "Listen, kid. You're the only student in this here school. If you take 10 minutes to solve a problem, you'll be the fastest. If you take 1 hour to solve a problem, you'll still be the fastest. So stop rushing through things to show me how fast (and often incorrect) you can do things."

You love having Girl Time while Charlie's at preschool, so after school on those days, your first question is always "So! What fun girly thing do you think we should do?" Sometimes we make something pink and princess-y out of your Legos, sometimes we go to Hobby Lobby and look at all the pretty fall decorations.

Funny note - you walked into Hobby Lobby and we're all "CHRISTMAS decorations? They have CHRISTMAS decorations out? It's only SEPTEMBER!" So I got to be all "Oh honey, Hobby Lobby puts out Christmas decorations in May. If not sooner." 

You're convinced we should decorate our entire house (inside and outside) for every holiday. I broke it to you gently that however fun decorating is, it's expensive and impractical to do it for every holiday. But since I'm a sucker for fall decorations, we came out of the store with bags of little pumpkins, vases, and fall flowers. We've also checked out some local boutiques ("Oooh, Mommy, Charlie would HATE this store! But I LOVE it!!") and admired their assortment of monogrammed dresses, monogrammed purses, monogrammed hats, monogrammed scarves, monogrammed cups, monogrammed napkins, and monogrammed monogram machines (just kidding on the last one. But maybe not.)

"Mommy, is everything monogrammed?"
"We're in south Alabama, love, so yes. Don't stay still for too long or your forehead might get plastered with NSJ."

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for October 1, 2015:

• Umpqua Community College Shooting Leaves at Least 10 Dead, Police Say
• Hurricane Joaquin at Category 4
• 14 Dead After US Military Plane Crashes in Afghanistan
• FBI Director Confirming Inquiry Into Clinton Email Setup
• College Student Writes Heartbreaking Note to Family After Failing to Save Son

Month 46 - Recap

Why hello there, you preschooler, you.
You started K3 preschool last month. We met your teacher a few days before you started, and I immediately liked her. She clearly has a heart for three-year-olds, and God bless her for it. You loved checking out your new classroom, but you made sure I didn't wander too far from you. You wanted me to sit beside you (in chairs meant for a three-year-old ... not a six-foot-tall thirty-four-year-old) while you explored the buckets of trains, cars, dinosaurs, and magnetic blocks. There was a neat dress-up area, a sweet tool bench, and lots of books. It was pretty much everything you love in the world.

You were shy when we met your teacher and you clung to my leg like a koala bear. I warned her that you might have a hard time leaving my leg on the first day. She assured me that there would be extra volunteers on hand to pry nervous kiddos of their mommas' legs. I did a mental whew as we left the classroom. You've had some fairly rough weeks being dropped off at Sunday School recently, so I was prepared for a Super Sobfest of Epic Proportions at your first preschool drop-off. Just when I think I have you (or your sister) figured, you go and throw me a curve ball. This particular curve ball was you walking up to your teacher on the first day, giving her a big hug, and waving to me as you walked into your classroom. I was floored. And I may or may not have been a little teary watching you put away your bag then sit down at the table to work on a puzzle. You looked so comfortable, so NOT nervous, so grown.

I'm not much of a baby person. I mean, I like babies - I like their inherent cuteness and smushiness. But when you were a baby, I didn't really mourn each passing stage as you learned new things because each stage has been more fun than the previous. I don't want to keep you a baby forever (even though you were a delightful baby); I love that you're growing up. And watching you in your new preschool made me feel so happy.

You've handled drop-off like a champ every day. You give me a kiss, give your teacher a hug, then run into class. And every day when I pick you up, you're drenched in sweat and have a big smile on your face. It can't get much better than that.

Speaking of kisses, you've decided your preferred method of kissing is with a fish face. You have an impressive fish face and an even more impressive kiss noise. Your Fish Kisses are indeed a treat for the eyes and the ears.

You and Daddy like to wrestle. You two punch each other (you, as hard as you can; Daddy, not so much), blow raspberries in each other's face, and make disgusting boy noises. It baffles me how this could ever be enjoyable, but you two have the best time. Daddy and I have (hopefully) made it clear that you're only allowed to play like that with him. In other words, Momma don't play that. I'm happy to be the booboo-kisser, the lunch-fixer, and the tickle-giver. But getting spit at in my face by a be-dimpled boy is infinitely far down on my list of Things That Sound Fun.

Getting one of your Fish Kisses is at the top.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for September 9, 2015:

• Clinton offers first apology for private email server
• Refugees Left Behind: Millions of Syrians Flee, Few Reach Europe
• Sofia Vergara, Kaley Cuoco tied for highest paid TV actress
• Queen Elizabeth II becomes longest-reigning monarch in Britain's history
• Kentucky clerk battle fuels debate over religious accommodation laws

August 2015 - Recap

My darling first grader,
You now have your first few weeks of first grade tucked safely into your (theoretical) belt. And I had my first day of failing to prepare you what the first day of school would be like tucked safely into my (also theoretical) belt. I completely forgot to warn you prior to the first day that the first week or two of school is always spent in review. I distinctly remember this when I was in school, and I totally forgot to relay that information to you ... until you had your first meltdown. But by then it was too late.

Most of your first day was you spent in tears because you couldn't remember ANYthing (not true), that you'd NEVER remember what you learned in kindergarten (also not true), and that you'd NEVER be able to learn ANYthing new EVER AGAIN (I admire the dramatics, but again, still not true). It was an ugly day for sure. I toyed with the idea of putting you in public school for Day #2 because CLEARLY I am not cut out to be a homeschool mom if I can't even BOTHER to warn my child that the first week or two is going to a lot of frustrating review and all I did was make it WORSE when you were so upset.

It's no wonder where your flair for the dramatic comes from.

I stuck it out and thankfully Day #2 (and most other subsequent days) went great. You start out every day by writing your weekly memory verse. In addition to memorization, this helps you work on your handwriting (I think pretty handwriting - particularly cursive - is such a lost art, so I'm probably more of a weirdo about handwriting than most people) and learn new vocabulary words. I also just think it's a great way to start our day. Then you work on your math - sometimes there's an activity to go along with what you're working on, other times it's just a page or two in your workbook. The math is still a review at this point so you usually finish your work pretty quickly. I've looked ahead in your book and you're coming up on things you haven't learned yet, so I'm already preparing for teeth gnashing.

After math, we read about pilgrims and pioneers. Your curriculum does a great job at lining up the stories we read with the weekly memory verse, so you're able to connect the two really well. There are usually one or two science experiments each week that also go along with what we've read about pilgrims and pioneers. (SEE, Karen??? We do science!)

We usually finish school by curling up on the couch and reading. This curriculum introduces nine different genres, providing a book or two for each genre. We just finished up reading biographies of Helen Keller and Louis Braille (did you know that Helen Keller was at Louis Braille's funeral? I didn't, until a few days ago.) You were fascinated by those stories ... after we read them multiple times. Alas, you seem to have inherited your poor reading comprehension from your dear mother. So I'm learning to stop every paragraph or two and ask you questions about what I just read. Sometimes you give the right answer. Other times you were zoning out, and try your hardest to come up with a good answer.

Me: *finishing up a paragraph* So what was Helen Keller just do?
You: *clearly caught daydreaming* Oh! Um ... She was ... yes, she was praying to God to help her be kind to the people around her and follow His plan for her life.
Me: *trying not to snort* Well, I'm sure she did pray to God to help her be kind to the people around her and follow His plan for her life. However, what I just read talked about how she learned to swim.
You: *still trying to convince me you were paying attention* Well that's what I mean! I mean, she was praying to God to help her be kind to her swimming teacher and follow the swimming path He wants her to follow.
Me: Ah yes. Makes total sense.

As fun as the first few weeks (minus the first day) has been, I've also seen how hard you are on yourself and how defeated you feel when something doesn't come easily to you. Oh my precious girl, how I wish you could see yourself as I do. If you could, you'd see yourself as someone who's sharp as a tack, immensely creative, wildly imaginative, totally capable. But I worry your mirror is foggy. Because you see yourself as only smart SOMEtimes, only SORT OF creative with a MEDIOCRE imagination, and very incapable of learning hard stuff. I see so much of me in you. All the negative feelings you have about your abilities, I had when I was your age (and still struggle with today). All your insecurities about looking dumb when you don't understand something, I had when I was your age (and again, still struggle with today).

It's a humbling thing to become a momma. Particularly because sometimes the very things you don't like about yourself or things you struggle with are mirrored in a pint-sized be-pigtailed beauty. So we'll learn together, you and me. We'll grow together, too. We'll also cry, fuss, stomp our feet, and scream into pillows. And by God's grace, it will all be okay. But at least we can do all that screamin' and fussin' in our jammies. Because homeschooling is rad.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for September 1, 2015:

• State Department IT staff among those in the dark about Clinton's private email address
• Next Stop for Google's Self-Driving Cars: Austin
• Georgia Cop Critical, Dog Dead as Police Go to Wrong Home
• Carson Surging in Iowa, Tied with Trump at Top of New Poll
• Iranian Guard Chief Says US 'Still the Great Satan'
• Obama to Chat with Bear (Grylls, That Is) in Alaska

Month 45 - Recap

My sweet boy,
Like Natalie, you had swimming lessons last month. And like Natalie, you improved a lot after that week of lessons. And like Natalie last summer, you had 0% desire to put your face under the water. You were convinced you could swim with your face above water. (Note: you were 0% successful). You did, however, jump into the pool (into your teacher's arms) on the third day. And a few hours after your last lesson, you discovered the wonder of getting dunked. I dunked you about 50 times that afternoon. This Mommy-dunks-Charlie or Daddy-dunks-Charlie game continued for a week or so until you realized that you could dunk yourself. It must be noted that Daddy and I repeatedly told you that you could dunk yourself, but as is so often the case with the SmithKids, you didn't believe us until you found out for yourself. My arm muscles are so thankful you did.

And you've started to swim. Well, not really. I mean, you're in the position to swim - face down, arms out, legs out - but there really isn't much forward progress made. You're doing a great job of Uncoordinated, Asynchronous Paddling. Despite not going forward very much, you're so. proud. of yourself.

You're starting preschool in a few weeks at a nearby church. You're so excited, and you ask no fewer than five times every day, "Do I go to pweschool today?" Telling you that you start in two weeks doesn't help. You have no concept of time; I could tell you that you start in two flibbertyjoobs and it would probably mean just as much.

I never know if you or Natalie will wake up first each morning. You two are consistently inconsistent. On the days you wake up first, you come into the living room and join me on the couch. You snuggle under my blanket and give a big, content, exaggerated sigh. It's so fun. Then you begin to tell me about the wildly fantastical dreams you had. Sometimes you're Batman (because, duh), sometimes you're a hot dog, sometimes you're flying, and sometimes you're cooking. You get louder and louder, more and more expressive, so that by the end, you're making big hand motions, your eyes are wide, and you're practically jumping out of your skin. If the Batman gig doesn't pan out, you should be a professional story-teller.

You're in a stage where you don't like to play by yourself. Like, ever. And I have to remind myself that something like Quiet Time probably makes zero sense to a three-year-old. Like, why would someone want to be quiet? Why would someone want to play by himself in his room? Why does Mommy need Mommy Time? (Answer: so she doesn't get any crazier). I'm sure it'll get easier. I remember Natalie acting like this when she was your age. She's finally gotten to the age where she craves quiet time (most days). But you think the whole notion gets a big ol' Thumbs Down. So I'll continue to explain how everybody needs a little down time each day. And those words will continue to go in one ear and fly out the other one. Until one day, you figure it out for yourself. And I'll get to watch an episode of Cutthroat Kitchen without any interruptions.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for August 9, 2015:

• Typhoon Soudelor Hits Taiwan and China
• Jennifer Aniston and Justin Theroux Are Married
• Families Calls off Private Search for Missing Teen Boaters, Perry Cohen and Austin Stephanos
• Man Gets a Year for Printing $100 Bills in Casino Hotel Room
• Donald Trump Booed at Republican Presidential Debate, Takes Shot at Rosie O'Donnell

July 2015 - Recap

My dearest peach,
You wrote a letter to our sweet sponsor girl this week. You often want my help for ideas when you write letters to people, but you didn't ask for any help with her letter. I admit, I was curious as to what you'd say. You're a fan of the Stream of Consciousness letters, where you jot down a random smattering of statements without context or any follow-up information. It never surprises me to see this kind of note from you:

Dear So-and-So,

Charlie put his head underwater all by himself! I want to be an illustrator when I grow up and Mommy makes me brush my teeth every night. Charlie doesn't like green beans. My friend got a stuffed cat for her birthday!

Love, Natalie

But this letter ... THIS letter. Never have you written something that instantly made me cry. Like, I didn't even finish reading it and I was already sobbing. Here's what it said:

(If you didn't feel at least a slight inkling of emotion, may I suggest getting your pulse checked. Because you may be dead.)

Daddy and I have decided to put Charlie into 3K preschool this year. Notice who I said decided it. Daddy and I. Daddy. And me. But clearly you ran into a Fairy Godmother who bestowed upon you the privilege of Preschool Decider, because you acted like it was all your decision. The three of us checked out several schools, and after leaving one, you looked at me and gave me an all-knowing head-bob and said "Oh Mommy, this is definitely the one for Charlie. It has his name written all over it. Let's go let them know we've decided." So I looked at you with an all-knowing Momma-thinks-you're-off-your-rocker look and politely informed you that the preschool selection will be a decision left to the two adults of Team Smith. This did not go over well with you. C'est la vie.

You rocked swim lessons (and thereby made up for the debacle that was Swim Lessons 2014). It was just five days, just you and Charlie, held at our friends' pool. On the first day, you cried at the mere suggestion of jumping into the deep end (into the arms of the teacher). Two hours after the end of the fourth day, you were jumping off the deep end into nobody's arms and swimming the entire length of the pool. By the end of the fifth day, you jumped into the deep end and treaded water.

The look on your face when you first swam all the way to the shallow end was one I treasure, and one I don't see nearly enough. You are very much like your dear momma in that if something is hard, instead of trying and failing (and potentially looking silly/foolish), you often give up. If something takes you longer than 20 seconds to figure out, you often assume you're dumb and will never be able to figure it out.

In all honesty, I was thrilled when swimming didn't come naturally to you. And giving up wasn't an option because 1) I'm not paying good money for you to give up on five days of swimming lessons, and 2) you must become drown-proof (in the most general sense). It was non-negotiable. So you struggled, you got tough-loved (by me; you were gently loved by the teacher), you cried, you stomped your feet, you turned into Debbie Downer. But you kept with it. I saw the tears in your eyes when you first jumped into the deep end (into your teacher's arms). I knew you were scared, I knew you were mad. I also knew you wanted to do it. And you did.

Good things are worth working hard for. Working hard doesn't always get you first place, the best grade, or best job. But nobody should ever regret working hard. So I'll continue to encourage you, to support you, to dry your tears until the fear of trying new things and working hard passes. I've cleared my schedule for the next 70 years.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from August 1, 2015:

• Undercover videos spark Planned Parenthood funding feud
• Seattle CEO who set firm's minimum wage to $70G says he has hit hard times
• GOP candidates jockey for position in final debate dash
• Baltimore killings soar to a level unseen in 43 years
• Bobbi Kristina Brown Mourned at a Funeral in Georgia

Month 44 - Recap

My sweet bear,
You saw your new pediatrician in Dothan this past week. You're in the 75th percentile for height and weight - not too shabby, considering you were somewhere around the 19th percentile when you were a baby. For being an extraordinarily picky eater, you're growing just fine. But I'm not telling you that. I may never get you to try new foods if I tell you that disliking meat (except bacon, because, well, duh. It's bacon.) and most veggies and loving all things sweet and white carb-y has gotten you up to the 75th percentile.

You're such an efficient counter: you can count from one to twenty in only fourteen numbers. It's pretty amazing.

Your sister is precocious (duh, right?). Your sister is a dramatic sass-pot (again, duh). (Your sister is also amazingly sensitive and kind-hearted, but that't not the focus of this paragraph). Your sister is also your most favorite person ever. Therefore you often mimic her and follow her lead. But because she knows more than you, your mimicry gets a little lost in translation.

Me: Let's have some ice cream!
Natalie: Y-A-Y YAY!!

*I don't know this for a fact, but I'm pretty sure your thought process was "Hmmm, Natalie just spelled something. Must be a good idea."*

You: *jumping up and down* Having ice cream sounds like E-N-P FUN!
Natalie: E-N-P fun??!?!?
You: Yeah! Fun is spelled E-N-P.
Natalie: Um, not it's not.
You: Sure it is. I just spelled it!

You become afflicted with random ailments when it's time to empty the dishwasher or brush your teeth or anything that doesn't involve Legos, superheroes, trucks, or doing a headstand on the couch. You could be playing just fine five minutes before it's Time to Do Something You Don't Want To, but the second it's time to stop playing, you immediately fall to the ground and declare your legs are broken. Or the scratch on your knee is so severe you need to lie down. Or your fingernail is too long. Or you're hungry. Or your brain is broken. Or you want to read a story. It must be tough being plagued by so many problems.

You are obsessed with Daddy and I backing into parking spaces. You call it Parking Like a Truck (because apparently only trucks back into parking spots? Even though we don't own a truck?) You were blessed by a daddy who thinks nothing of backing into a parking spot. Your mommy, however, has never figured out how to do it without it taking 45 tries and 15 minutes, so she just pulls through a parking spot and the end result is the same (but, for the record, my version is NOT Parking Like a Truck. According to you, it's only Parking Like a Truck if the car is in Reverse when the parking is complete.)

You're a Momma's Boy through and through. And it gives my heart such joy to be the recipient of a Momma's Boy's love. I love you (and your poor too-long-fingernail-that-prevents-you-from-emptying-the-dishwasher) more than you know.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for July 9, 2015:

• South Carolina House approves removal of Confederate flag
• RNC chairman reportedly tells Trump to tone down remarks on immigration
• Microsoft waves the white flag in battle with iPhone and Android
• Open Criminal Investigation for Bill Cosby, LAPD Confirms
• Boko Haram willing to release Chibok girls in exchange for detainees

June 2015 - Recap

Why hello there, six-and-a-half-year-old,
Mercy, have you been waiting for July 1. Now you can officially tell people you're six-and-a-half, and tell them you have (we've only been two places today but you've told multiple at each place).

We've been sending you several VBSs this summer and you couldn't be happier. Three hours a day, five days per week of singing and doing arts and crafts?! It's like it was taylor made for you. And it's been fun having some one-on-one time with Charlie while you're a'singin' and a'craftin'.

We went swimming for the first time this season. After not being in the water for nine months, I was a little worried about how you'd do. We worked so hard and so long (5+ weeks) last summer to get you to just put your head under the water and I was not looking forward to having to go through that again. Thankfully I had nothing to worry about because you jumped right in (literally). I've signed you and Charlie up for another round of lessons because now that you can put your head under, there's more important things to teach you. Namely, how to not drown.

You and Charlie are now responsible for emptying the dishwasher. You're convinced you can do it yourself and don't need Charlie's help. And while that may be true, I'm trying to teach you two how to work together better. And if I can get the clean dishes put away at the same time, then so be it. You two take nearly 30 minutes to empty the dishwasher, but it gets done. And in those 30 minutes, probably only 12 minutes is spent handling dishes. The other 18 minutes is spent by you two chasing each other around our (tiny) kitchen with dishtowels over your head, you using your Mom Voice on Charlie for not stacking the plates the right way, and asking me "Mommy, where do the forks go?" It's a hoot.

You had a dentist appointment today. It's the first one you've had in an embarassingly long time. You did great - you're cavity-free and will need to be braces-full when you're older. Both you and Charlie got my small (physically, not sassy-ly) mouth and will therefore need multiple thousands of dollars worth of braces. It's the price you pay for inheiriting qualities from such an awesome and humble momma.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines from July 1, 2015:

• NY Inmates Practiced, Perfected Escape Route
• Clerk Refuses to Issue Gay Marriage Licenses, Resigns
• Jennifer Garner and Ben Affleck Announce Plans to Divorce
• GoPro-Wearing Turtle Films Tour of Great Barrier Reef
• Another Shark Attacks Swimmer Off North Carolina Coast

Months 42 & 43 - Recap

My dearest second child,
I forgot to write your recap from April. Life happened and documenting yours didn't. My bad. But please tell your therapist hello for me when you inevitably end up on his couch from a month of no proof of your antics.

Daddy's dad passed away last month from pneumonia. I don't give you enough credit for how well your ears work because I had talked with Natalie a few times and talked to friends on the phone about it, but never talked directly to you about Grandpa's illness. But when you saw my mom a week or so before Grandpa passed away, you looked at her with a solemn expression on your face and told her about Grandpa's 'demonia'. And you told her how food sometimes goes down Grandpa's air tube instead of his food tube and that made him have demonia. DEMONIA. Lawsy mercy that's the cutest.

Know what else is the cutest? You call eczema 'eczemo'. Know what else is the cutest? You call the Incredible Hulk the Incredible Hunk. Or the Incredible Honk.

Back to Grandpa, though. We took you and Natalie to his funeral, and we think it ended up being absolutely the right decision. Natalie made it through about 90% of the service before she got antsy. You, on the other hand, cracked your first joke about 15 minutes into the service. While Pastor Joe described Grandpa's service in the Air Force, he mentioned that Grandpa served a tour of duty in Okinawa, Japan. Upon hearing that, you immediately perked up, looked at me, and said "Doodie! " What's even better was that I was recording the service (for the family members who couldn't make the trip), and your comment can be heard loud and clear on the video. You made it another 10 minutes before you fell asleep for the rest of the service. Fast asleep. And snoring (but your snores didn't make it on the video - bummer). Neither you nor Natalie have ever been ones to sleep anywhere and everywhere. You two sleep in your bed and your carseats, if you're especially tired. But anywhere else? You'd prefer the whine-until-I'm-in-my-bed approach rather than sleep-
wherever-I-am-if-I'm-tired approach. Except at funerals.

You said the snacktime prayer at Sunday School the other day. When your teacher told me, I melted. You usually don't do that kind of stuff in front of a group of people - sometimes you even get nervous in front of Daddy and me. But you did it at church, and I think that's awesome. You're a creature of prayer habit, so I'm assuming this was the prayer (probably said with your eyes squished shut and your hands poking your delightfully plump belly):

Dear Lord, Thank you for sending Your Son for dying on da cwoss and for saving us. In Jesus' name, Amen.

Couldn't have said it better myself.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for June 9, 2015:

• ISIS militants kidnap 88 Christian migrants in Libya
• Murderers Sweat, Matt on Run 4 Days After Escaping Clinton Correctional Facility
• Piglets Get Loose After Truck Overturns
• American Pharoah Jockey Victor Espinoza Gives Back to Cancer Center
• Teen carries brother 57 miles to raise awareness of cerebral palsy

May 2015 - Recap

Sweet Girl,
What a MONTH. In the middle of all the packing and throwing away and donating to get ready to move to Dothan, Daddy's dad, your grandpa, passed away. The Lord's hand was wonderfully present throughout his short illness, and Grandpa and Daddy were able to share some sweet moments together before Grandpa passed away.

Daddy and I initially decided to not have you and Charlie at the funeral, but we changed our mind after talking with a woman with Hospice. She told us she deals with many adults who have never been to a funeral before and don't know how to handle it. Because Grandpa had a long life, his death wasn't unexpected, and we knew he was in Heaven, that it might be a good idea to bring you and Charlie to the funeral. So we did. And it was really, really special to have you two there. You made it through about 90% of the funeral before you asked if we could leave and get some ice cream. That's a win in my book.

While we were in Pensacola for Grandpa's funeral, you lost one of your top teeth. It had been loose for a while and finally got to the point where it needed to come out or you'd swallow it while you slept. We were at my friend's house for the night so you got to have two mommas attending to you. You were all panicky and weepy over the thought of there being any pain and/or blood. My friend had the genius idea to sing the books of the Bible, and for each book, you had to wiggle your tooth. That worked great until she had to leave to help her son get ready for bed. You looked at me with big, tear-filled expectant eyes, ready for me to pick up the song where my friend left off. Except your mom doesn't KNOW the books of the Bible in order. And you didn't LIKE that your momma didn't know books of the Bible in order. And you didn't LIKE my suggestion of me reciting the 50 states in alphabetical order (I can't get that out of my head after 25 years). And you didn't LIKE my alternate suggestion of me singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. I finally found something you like (hurricane names - alternating boy and girl names) and by the time I got to L, the tooth was in your hand. And all was right in the world.

Your second top tooth came out a week later. You and Charlie were doing your obstacle course in the living room (hopping over my legs [that are propped up on a chair], jumping over a pillow, jumping off a chair, and running back to my legs. Repeat forever.) You misjudged where my knees were and faceplanted on my knee. Your tooth was sideways and twisted and super gross. It took only two swishes of salt water before you spit it into the sink.

And you lisp a bit now. Great GOODness it's cute. And, in full dramatic fashion, you're lisping words that aren't even lispable. Like 'Charlie'. And 'pillow'. And 'water'. *eyeroll*

Speaking of eyerolling, in the midst of all the craziness of moving, you starting acting like a sullen, moody, eyerolling, put-upon little sass-pot. And I had my fill. So as a result, I assigned you sentences.

Me: Natalie, you have to write I WILL USE A KIND TONE 50 times.
You: FIFTY TIMES?! NO WAY! I can't do that!
Me: Now it's 60.
You: SIXTY? Well if I can't do 50, I certainly can't do 60!
Me: Now it's 70. Do you see a pattern?
You: This is the worst EVER.
Me: Now it's 80. Shall we continue?
You: No ma'am.

Not five minutes after turning in your sentences to me, you were rude to Charlie. Which bought you 40 I WILL USE KIND WORDS. You were none to happy but didn't talk back and earn yourself more.

I'm not sure I'll give you sentences to do again because it only took you writing two sentences before you learned the trick. You realized that it's much quicker to write a whole column of I's, then a whole column of WILLs, then a whole column of USEs, then a whole column of As, then a whole column of KINDs and a whole column of TONEs, than it was to write each complete sentence over and over again. I was 98% irritated and 2% amused to no end.

We are now Alabama residents and you love our new house. You love being close to church, you love the non-creaky floors, and you love that one wall in your room is all chalkboard paint and the other has a huge dry erase board on it. And you love being close to Target (I've taught you well).

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for June 1, 2015:

• Ohio Teen Chooses to Walk 30 Miles to Avoid Going to Jail
• Concern over Hillary's emails dates back 5 years 
• Duggar scandal: New police report reveals sister was 5 at time of abuse
• Owner wants over a million bucks for his VW Bug
• Amazon now offers free shipping on 'small and light' items, no minimum order

April 2015 - Recap

My sweet girl,
We've been on a house hunt this month. Our house in Marianna is perfectly fine, but our church in Dothan is 45 minutes away. It makes for looooong Wednesdays and looooong Sundays. Daddy and I have been prayerfully considering a move to Dothan and an adorable rental house just popped onto the market. I took you and Charlie to see it and you two loved it right away. (In all fairness, you two have loved every house we've looked at. "Oh look! A sink in the bathroom! This is so cool!" And in all fairness, I have NOT loved every house we've looked at. "Oh wow - there's not a spot in the kitchen for a fridge? We'd have to put it in the living room? That's, um, weird.") But I loved this house.

As hard as I tried, I'm not built for country living. I want neighbors, not acreage. I'm a plant-killer, not a gardener. I like the peaceful sounds of nature, but I'd prefer the sounds of neighborhood kids laughing and playing. So this house we found is in a neighborhood with postage stamp-sized lawns - and I'm ridiculously excited. And the house is fairly small; we're losing about 400 sq ft by moving. And I'm ridiculously excited about that, too. And the house has a garage; Daddy's ridiculously excited about THAT.

I've been a selling, donating, throwing away MACHINE. As of right now, the only toys you and Charlie have are Legos and art supplies for you and Duplos and superheroes for Charlie. I was worried you two would be puddles of despair after I boxed up all your other toys, but you knuckleheads haven't cared one little bit. Which just confirms that you guys had too many toys.

You've taken it upon yourself to decorate the moving boxes. So right next to the Jim Beam logo is a picture of a happy ladybug. And a rainbow is coming out of the King Cobra Malt Liquor logo. (Don't judge - liquor boxes are the perfect size for packing. And thankfully we have a smattering of boxes from Christianbook.com to balance out the Boxes o' Booze.)

You lost your third tooth last week! You were eating a quesadilla and it fell out while you were eating. I wasn't there when it happened, but Daddy said you handled it like a champ - and were tickled that it didn't bleed at all. I can already tell you'll need braces ... you poor small-mouthed, big-toothed peach. You inherited my mouth and not Daddy's. Sorry 'bout that.

Your top two teeth will probably be the next to go; they're practically flapping in the breeze. I wonder if it'll take some more country breeze or some suburban breeze to knock those suckers out.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for May 1, 2015:

• Hundreds of Americans stranded in Yemen during unrest
• Baltimore protesters breathe sigh of relief after officers charged in Freddie Gray's death
• Ohio college brings academic analysis of zombies to life
• Duchess Kate Prepares For Birth of Second Child
• Nepal Offering $1,400 to Earthquake Victims' Families as Dead Tops 6,000

Month 41 - Recap

My dearest boy,
I took a cue from one of my good friends and began reading to you and Natalie during breakfast and lunch (and sometimes dinner if I'm feeling particularly chatty). You two think it's great. And I'm sure you thought it was EXTRA great because the first book we read was Charlie and the Chocolate Factory ... and now, you're ready for your own Chocolate Factory (because, duh, name-twins always get the same prizes). And in the next book I read (Danny the Champion of the World - we've been on a Roald Dahl kick lately), the taxi driver's name is Charlie. So naturally you want your own taxi.

I bought Uno for us this month and you two have turned into Uno FREAKS. Sometimes you like to be on a team with one of us but other times you want your own set of cards.

Here's how it goes when you're my partner:
You: "Oooh, we got a Skip card, Natalie! We're gonna skip you!!!"
Me: Dude, don't TELL her we have a Skip card!
You: Well I did tell her it was a BLUE skip card.

*the card in play is a red 7*
You: *look through our cards, decide on the green Reverse and play it*
You: BOOM, Natalie! We Reversed you!
Me: Except you can't play that card.
You: Yes I can - see? I just did! And I said BOOM, too!
Me: Right, except you either have to play a red card or a 7 card. A green Reverse is neither red nor a 7.
You: hmph.

Here's how it goes when you play on your own:
You: *gather up all your cards into a stack and hold the stack in your hand (ie: NOT fanning them out)*

*the card in play is a blue 3*
You: *look at your stack, but with only one card visible - and it's a green 0 - you determine you don't have any cards that are either blue or a 3, so you draw one*
Me: Wait, buddy. You're just looking at one of your cards. You have a whole stack of them underneath. Look at those to see if you have anything blue or a 3.
You: *do a purposefully bad job at fanning out the cards, then the cards fall to the ground*
You: UGH. I can't do this EVER! I want a snack.

I think you're almost ready to give up your nap. And I think I might cry when that happens. But truthfully, I stretched it out as long as I could. You were close to phasing it out a few months ago but I sweetened the deal by letting you nap in my bed. And it worked! For a little bit, at least. But it's getting harder and harder now, so you usually just hang out in your room, not sleeping. During the times you're not coming into the living room asking "When is quiet time over?" (you only do it every 4 seconds, so it's cool), you're in your room concocting elaborate scenarios that, from what I can hear, involve Batman, Superman, Baymax, a volcano, a flood, and gummy bears. Frankly I'm impressed you don't need a nap after developing a plot that intense.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for April 9, 2015:

• Hillary Clinton Running For President In 2016
• Boy Who Fell Into Cheetah Exhibit Was Dangled Over Railing, Zoo Says
• Fears over Roundup Herbicide Residues Prompt Private Testing
• Justin Timberlake and Jessica Biel Welcome Baby Boy Named Silas
• Amazon founder plans to test suborbital spacecraft

March 2015 - Recap

My sweet girl,
You haven officially entered the age where you're totally grossed out by people kissing. It's hysterical. I asked you if it's gross when Mommy and Daddy kiss and you said "Yes, it's only not gross when you kiss us. And it's super gross on TV." I totally expect you to write a letter to Disney saying how the princesses should knock it off with all this kissing nonsense.

You're 25/26th of the way to knowing cursive. I keep forgetting to teach you X. One day I'll remember.

The Tooth Fairy made another visit not long after her inaugural visit! You're now the proud owner of $5.50. Thankfully the 90% markdown of Tooth #2 from Tooth #1 went over quite well with you. "I got TWO quarters?! That's AWESOME!!" But you know what's not awesome? I had to pull Tooth #2 (something I put in your last recap that I swore I'd never do).

We were eating dinner at Zaxby's before church on Wednesday (three cheers for Kids Eat Free nights!) and apparently your loose tooth did not agree with the manner in which you chomped down on your chicken tender. Before we knew what was happening, your mouth was covered in blood. You immediately went into Hysterical Mode of the Highest Order because in your mind, all that blood clearly meant you were dying. I tried to explain how it just looked like a lot of blood, that when blood mixes with spit, it makes it seem worse than it actually is. But all you heard me say was "Blah blah blah, a lot of blood, blah blah, blah, YOU'RE DYING."

After biting down on a gigantic stack of napkins, you finally got the bleeding to stop, you calmed down, and I was able what was going on. Your stubborn Tooth #2 was hanging at an awkward angle, almost parallel to the floor. If we were on our way home, it wouldn't have been a big deal. But since we were on our way to church, I knew I couldn't send you to your class when you were all hysterical and parallel-toothed.

You flew right back into Hysterical Mode of the Highest Order when I told you the tooth had to come out before I could take you to your church class. The whole ride to church (all seven minutes of it), you were trying (maybe ... since I was driving, I had no visual proof that you were trying, I only had your verbal assurance that you were trying) to pull it out but it wouldn't budge. No budging but plenty of bleeding. Which is a blast to deal in the car, by the way.

We went straight to the bathroom when we got to church. You showed me how you were trying and then you tearfully asked me to pray for your tooth. I gladly obliged. After the 'Amen', I dried off your tooth as best I could, got a hold of it, and tugged. And I had to tug waaaaaaaaaay harder than I was thinking I would have to. But it popped out and you immediately started laughing. It was so good.

I'm telling you this story for two reasons. One: we serve an amazing God. We get to talk to Him about anything and everything and He cares about it all. It's not like something has to be at least a 7 out of 10 on the Big Scale of Importance for us to be able to talk to Him about it. I mean, He loves those 7s, 8s, 9s, and 10s. But He also cares about the 1s and 2s, the stuff we might think isn't 'important' enough for Him. Like, we don't want to 'bother' Him with our 'insignificant' 1s and 2s when there are people dealing with some major 10s. But that's not true - He wants to hear it all.

I love that you wanted me to pray for your tooth. It told me you understand He cares about your tooth. He cares about everything in your life.

And two: sometimes you have to eat your words when you're a mom. I should have realized when I typed "I'll never pull your teeth", I would most assuredly end up pulling your tooth. This crow sure is tasty.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for April 1, 2015:

• The coolest parents in the world celebrate their 9th wedding anniversary.
• Arkansas follows Indiana, OKs religious freedom law
• Medieval eye remedy found to kill MRSA superbug
• Germanwings Co-Pilot Had 'Previous Episode of Severe Depression,' Airline Says
• New 'Daily Show' Host Criticized for Tweets

Month 40 - Recap

Oh my sweet kid,
This has been a month full of funny little moments. Moments that have perhaps given me glimpses into what you'll be like in five or ten years; moments that have reminded me that you are so very three and both fascinated and frustrated by this great big world; moments where your sweet personality stops me in my tracks; moments that encourage me to keep on keeping on with this parenting gig because what we're teaching you is slowly sticking; moments that encourage me to run and hide in the closet because I'm convinced what we're teaching you is going in one ear and out the other.

Periodically throughout the day, you'll stop what you're doing and ask me what certain words start with. And because of the way you say Rs (like Ws), our conversations can get crazy. Case in point:

You: Mommy, what does 'ride' [but pronounced as 'wide'] start wiff?
Me: *not sure which word you're referring to, so I take a guess* Like, 'I want to ride in a car'?
You: Yep!
Me: 'Ride' starts with an R. Ruh-ruh-ride.
You: *laughing* You so silly, Mommy. 'Ride' starts wiff a W! Wuh-wuh-WIDE!
Me: *not sure how to explain a speech issue to a three-year-old*
Me: Um, well, you're kind of right. Wide starts with a W. Ride starts with an R.
You: You still so silly, Mommy! Wide and Ride [again, still pronounced as Wide] both start wiff a W!
Me: *SERIOUSLY! HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO EXPLAIN THIS TO A THREE-YEAR-OLD?*
Me: Hey buddy, let's go get a cookie!

You call 'feetie jammies' 'Phoebe jammies'. I can't make this stuff up.

You and Natalie have been having some intense sibling fellowship recently. (That's just a nice way of saying that you two have been like bickering old ladies recently.) One source of contention is who gets to pray first at mealtime. It's a constant barage of "Me first! No MEEE!" It's ever so pleasant. But what IS pleasant (and precious and adorable and lovely) is how you pray. You prefer to bypass the "Thank You for ..." part of praying and jump right into "I wish You'd give me ..." You're three. God knows that. I'm pretty sure He's okay with your self-absorbed prayer.

"Dear God [I so wish I were able to type phonetically the way you pronounce 'God'. The closest I can come up with is 'Goaw'd'], I wish I could have a bow and awwow, an ice cream machine that I can lick the ice cream when it comes out, and a car set [no idea what this is, but I'm assuming it's something along the lines of big box o' Matchbox-type cars].  ...................... [long pause] ...................... Um, and please bless, um, ......................, my family?? Amen."

Amen indeed, my sweet boy.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for March 9, 2015:

• Firestorm erupts over GOP letter challenging Obama's power to approve Iran nuclear deal
• Utah officers say mysterious voice called them to rescue baby trapped inside car
• Fraternity Crackdown: Universities Are Clamping Down Hard, But Do Bans Work?
• Apple Watch Coming on April 24, Lasts 18 Hours on Charge
• Duchess Kate, 8 Months Pregnant, Steps Out With Royal Family

February 2015 - Recap

Dearest Snaggle-tooth,
The Tooth Fairy made her first call to Team Smith this month. Your wiggly tooth was getting wigglier and wigglier - the point that you could literally pull it straight down and it touched your gums. Not the classiest or most appetizing party trick, but it was still pretty impressive. You wanted me to try to pull it out, so I tried. But I couldn't. And I learned something. I will NOT be one of those moms who pull teeth. It made me feel sick and queasy and disgusting. I'll clean up vomit all day as long as I don't have to pull a loose tooth.

I finally told you that if you just pinched the tooth and twisted it a bit, it would probably fall out. You grabbed the tooth, twisted, and all of a sudden there was an itty bitty tooth in your hand. You immediately started laughing and crying and couldn't BELIEVE that just happened. You had a death grip on your tooth as I cleaned up the (minuscule amount of) blood, then you gave it to me to investigate. (Because that's what mommas do ... they get to be on the receiving end of a small bloody chunk of enamel). I had forgotten how small baby teeth are. It didn't look that small in your mouth, but it looked comically small in my hand.

The Tooth Fairy was pretty sleepy that night, but she managed to remember to put $5 (and a Post-It with a smiley face on it) in your tooth pillow before going to bed. You were one happy kid the next morning. I know it's only one tooth - and it's a bottom one at that, so it doesn't even show much when you smile, but you look so different now! And if you say certain ends-in-an-S words, you whistle ever so slightly. I love, love, love it.

In other news, you came to me one night with tears in your eyes and a library book in your hands. You had only been in bed for 10 minutes so I knew it couldn't have been from a bad dream. You held up the book and told me that you had forgotten it was a library book and had written in the book to solve a little maze. You looked absolutely heartbroken. I tried to put on my most sympathetic face, but it was tough. Because on the inside? I was jumping up and down, cheering you on and celebrating your honesty. You were worried I'd be mad and worried the librarian would be mad. I reassured you that I wasn't mad, that I cared way more about you being honest than you writing in a library book. I told you that we'd tell the librarian what happened and I would offer to pay for the book. Again, you looked heartbroken that we might have to buy the book. I said that I didn't mind at all - it was a Boxcar Children book. We like them. It'd be A-OK if we added another one to our collection. A few days later we took the book back to the library to explain what happened. The librarian was so kind and complimented your honesty. He told you not to worry, that you weren't in trouble, that the book was just fine.

I can't put into words how proud of you I am that you told me about the book. You didn't have to. You could have closed the book, pulled up the covers, and gone to sleep. I would have been none the wiser. But you told me. You listened to that still, small voice that told you to do the right thing. I would have paid any price for that book if the library had wanted me to. Because you being honest is priceless. And in case you were wondering, you did a great job on the maze.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Natalie

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for March 1, 2015:

• Do Obama and Netanyahu Really Have the Same Goal on Iran?
• Officials: Mom Knew Her Son Was 'Jihadi John'
• Like Magic, New Company Delivers Anything You Wish For
• Toss the Cords! IKEA Furniture Will Charge Devices
• 'SNL' Draws Criticism Over Dakota Johnson ISIS Sketch

Month 39 - Recap

Well. We've reached a momentous milestone, my boy. I made it six years and two-and-a-half months before I had to make a call to Poison Control. Not bad, I say. Much like your sister, you like to dilly-dally in the bathroom. For some reason, in your mind, the short distance from the toilet to the stool at the sink (approximately 18") is long enough to warrant daydreaming. I haven't been three in a really long time, so maybe that's legit. Either way, it's not uncommon for you to be in the bathroom for a long time.

A few weeks ago, I went to check on you (after many many minutes in the bathroom) and you were standing at the stool about to put toothpaste on your toothbrush. I'm all for oral hygiene, but it was the middle of the morning, you had already brushed your teeth after breakfast, so I told you that you didn't need to brush your teeth right then. You looked bummed, but you handed me back the tube of toothpaste. And it felt lighter. A LOT lighter. I knew this because it was brand-stinkin'-new less than 24 hours ago.

Me: *looking all around the counter, the toilet, the trashcan - EVERYwhere - for the missing toothpaste*
Me: Buddy, where on Earth is all the toothpaste? This was a brand new tube!
You: I ate it, Mommy!
Me: Um, you WHAT?
You: I ate it! It was yummy!
Me: You can't EAT toothpaste!
You: What?
Me: NO! You can't eat it!
You: Really??
Me: Yes! It's not FOOD! You're not supposed to eat things that aren't food!
You: *looking as sad as if I just told you we had to get rid of all your Legos* Oh.

It's at this time where your well-intentioned sister hears our conversation, pops into the bathroom, and reads the toothpaste tube.

Natalie: But Mommy, it says right here that it's safe to swallow! So he's fiiiiiiiiiine. Relax, Mommy!
Me: It's safe each time he brushes his teeth. The serving size for the whole tube isn't ONE.
Me: *wondering why I'm trying to reason with a six-year-old*

So I talk to a nice man named Hugh at Poison Control. He assures me that since the toothpaste was fluoride-free, you would probably be fine. That the worst thing would be that your stomach would be upset.

BTW: Thanks for nothing, Elmo and your enticing Berry Blast.

In cuter news, I introduced you and Natalie to the movie Elf this past Christmas. You immediately loved it. And now, at bedtime, instead of giving me a simple "Love you, Mommy", you go full-on Buddy with "And guess what! I love you, I love you, I LOOOOOOOVE YOUUUU!" It's the best ever and wouldn't mind at all if you kept that up for the next 10 or 75 years.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for February 9, 2015:

• White House: ISIS Fully Responsible for Kayla Mueller's Death
• Wrong-Way Crashes: Could a $300 Sign Stop Killer Wrecks?
• Measles Outbreak Grows to 122 Cases Across 18 States
• Kanye West Slams Beck's Album of the Year Win at the Grammys
• 'Better Call Saul' debut breaks cable ratings records
• Brian Williams’ rescue plan crumbles as friends plead for mercy

January 2015 - Recap

My future snaggle-tooth,
You have at least five loose teeth (two on top, three on bottom) in your mouth. One is so loose (how loose is it?), it'd probably fall out if you sneezed hard enough. You're simultaneously delighted and horrified at the thought of one of your teeth coming out. And Daddy and I are 100% delighted by your reaction when we tease you incessantly about the ways we can pull your tooth out for you. You squeal and shriek and run away from us whenever we mention a string and a door.

And I've found another reason why I'm glad we homeschool. It was made aware to me that the Tooth Fairy has raised her rates considerably since I lost my baby teeth. And apparently, it's not uncommon for the Tooth Fairy to pay out anywhere from $10-$20 (and up!) per tooth. But that's for the Public School Tooth Fairy. And the Smith Academy of Periodic Learning and Constant Singing, the Tooth Fairy doesn't wish to participate in that payment plan. The SAPLCS Tooth Fairy prefers single-digit payouts. Like, you'll be lucky to get $5 for your first tooth. And maaaaaybe $1 for each additional tooth. Because who wants to spend a the equivalent of a car payment on a heap of enamel? Not THIS Tooth Fairy.

You've wanted to learn cursive for years. The rule was that you had to (re)learn how to hold your pencil correctly and consistently form all of your letters the proper way before we'd do cursive. Now you do, so we started cursive last week. You've written "fancy letters" (your term, not mine) for a while now. If you had a massive crush on a cute boy, I'd imagine that's the kind of writing you'd do when you put his last name with your first name. (Note: this is not allowed to happen for another ten years). It's very flowery and cutesy. And it's also how you think real cursive is. So it came a big shock to you when I showed you how cursive As were not, in fact, written with 18 loops and swirls, complete with a smiley face and a flower. Traditional cursive As are, in fact, pretty plain and do not, contrary to (un)popular opinion, have or need bedazzling. Needless to say, we're still working on As and Bs. Not decorating the letters is difficult for you, but I've been impressed with your restraint. Although you did sneak in eyes and a nose when you wrote the tail (the smile) part of the cursive capital B. Cute, definitely. Correct, not so much.

I'm astonished at the degree to which you both Dilly and Dally. If it were an Olympic Sport, you'd bring home gold, silver, bronze, AND the Thanks for Participating medal. You're six. You don't wear makeup. You don't do anything to your hair except spray some detangling spray in it and periodically run a brush through it. But you're in the bathroom for an incredible number of minutes. Waaaaay more minutes than it should take someone to go to the bathroom and wash her hands.

And you don't have an abnormally large number of teeth, nor are your teeth abnormally large. But it takes you eons to brush your teeth. Wait - I take that back. It doesn't take you long to brush your teeth. It's the prep work that goes into the teeth brushing process that's so time-consuming.

Did you know there exists no rule that states you must have the precise amount of water in your cup before starting to brush your teeth? You'll spend minutes trying to find the perfect amount of water.

Fill up your cup
Check the level
Discover there's too much water
Dump a little out
Oops, that was too much
Fill it up some more
Pour out a bit
Take a few sips.
Fill the cup back up to replace what you drank.

And then ... THEN comes the one woman Broadway show. You sing, you dance, you make wild faces in the mirror. And only after you've sung your grand finale, can you begin to clean your teeth. I'm hoping you lose these five teeth soon, so maybe that'll shave off a few minutes of your hours-long bathroom routine.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Headlines for February 1, 2015:

• Super Bowl 2015: Tickets Priciest in History ($4K+)
• Japanese prime minister 'infuriated,' by journalist's beheading, vows to hold ISIS responsible
• Justin Timberlake confirms wife Jessica Biel's pregnancy with cute pic
• Comet Lovejoy Glows as It Swings Around the Sun
• Robot Learns Moves by Watching YouTube Videos

Month 38 - Recap

My darling boy,
Hold everything! Stop the presses! Alert the media! Charles Elijah Smith has knowingly consumed both ham AND broccoli. ON MULTIPLE OCCASIONS. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. Dessert has often been a motivator to get you and Natalie to eat a good dinner. Perhaps that's not the smartest method, but, well, we've never claimed to be the smartest folks, so it's the method we use. Up until last week, 100% of the time I offered dessert as a way to get you to eat something that wasn't found on the base of the Food Guide Pyramid, you would say something like "I'm not in a choc-wit mood" or "I not feel like eating ice cweam tonight". I, of course knew that was complete malarky. Because who in their right mind isn't in either a 'choc-wit' mood or an 'ice cweam' mood? Nobody, I tell you. No. Body.

Do you know what it took for you to eat both ham AND broccoli that first night? Was it the promise of never offering you vegetables again? Was it the promise of a puppy? Was it the promise of beating your sister in a foot race? Was it the promise of actually turning into Batman himself? No, no, no, and no. What it took was this: someone you had just recently met simply said "Oh! You should try that! It looks good!" Seriously. That's it. And it worked. *insert epic eyeroll*

I was blow drying my hair recently and you popped your head into my room. I turned off the dryer, looked over at you, and you said "I just wanted to tell you that you're pwetty." Stick a fork in me. This momma is DONE. I could barely function the rest of the day under the weight of all that sweetness.

You threw up in Target a few days ago. You had been complaining that your stomach hurt but, in all honesty, I thought that was code for "Geez, MOM! I'm tired of looking at boring stuff. When can we get to the toy aisle?" I took you to the bathroom a few times, but you still kept complaining. And then, right under the 50% clearance rack of girl clothes, you let loose with what I can only assume was every morsel of food you had ever eaten in your 3+ years on this planet. But, as I'm trying to make a point to do, I found the good in the situation.

1. At least it was Target and not another store that shall remain nameless (but happens to rhyme with Stallmart). The employees were very helpful and kind.
2. At least it was Target and not a gas station. I didn't have extra clothes with me and gas stations don't usually sell boy clothes.
3. At least it was Target and not the library. Natalie sobbed hysterically the whole time. I'm pretty sure she thought you were dying.
4. At least I was with you and not Daddy. Daddy is a sympathetic puker. I am not.

I might send Target a thank you note for helping us. I know this isn't the first or last time it's happened, but I did feel bad they had to clean it up. Later that night, you looked at me and were all "Momma, I don't like fowing [throwing] up. Food isn't 'posed to come out of my mouff." Truer words were never spoken, my bear. Food in, good. Food out, baaaaaaaaad.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for January 9, 2015:

• Kidnapped Toddler Rescued After Picking Up Cell Phone
• Canine Commuter Rides Bus Solo to Dog Park
• Boko Haram Uses School Girls in Nigeria Suicide Bombings
• Paul Ryan Will Not Run for President in 2016
• A 12-Year-Old Wrote a Letter to Each NFL Team – And Only the Carolina Panthers Responded

Edited to add: I totally forgot about your recap this month. You'll notice this was written four days late. Here's hoping my neglect doesn't land you on a therapist's couch one day.

2014 - Year End Review

Happy you-now-need-two-hands-to-show-how-old-you-are, my precious little peach.

You are the girl who made me a momma. You are the girl who mirrors many of my flaws and the girl who inspires me to be better. You are the girl who leaves me in stitches and the girl who leaves me wanting to pull my hair out. You are the girl my heart needed.

Here are your Top 10 lists.

Top 10 Things You Love:

1. Big kid chapter books (Nancy Drew, Ramona Quimby, and the Boxcar Children are your current favorites)
2. Singing (you get so into singing that sometimes I expect you to put your finger in your ear a la Christina Aguilera and erase an imaginary chalkboard with your other hand)
3. Church
4. Doing (most) anything with Charlie
5. Playing on my Kindle
6. Rainbows
7. Drawing (you say you want to either be an animator or an illustrator when you grow up)
8. School (thank the Good Lord!)
9. Francesca Battestelli
10. Legos

Top 10 Things You Don't Love:

1. Trying new things (sadly, this is one of my less desirable attributes that you inheirited from me. You hate making mistakes and you feel that if you can't figure something out within two minutes, you'll never figure it out. You like the familiarity and predictabilty of doing things you're good at.)
2. Beans, cumin, steak, avocados, rice, and yogurt
3. Jeans ("Oh Mommy, they're just the worst things in the WORLD.")
4. The dark (You've slept with a lamp on in your room for years)
5. Storms (they're magnified by our house's metal roof)
6. Sweating (clearly the apple did not have far to fall with this one)
7. Bad guys in movies
8. Waiting, taking turns, and sharing
9. Dresses that don't twirl
10. Bugs

Top 10 Things You're Good At:

1. Reading
2. Unloading the clean silverware from the dishwasher
3. Writing notes and stories
4. Being too big for your britches (I know it's hard to believe, but I have a mom. Daddy has a mom. Charlie has a mom. And none of those mommas are you, my love.)
5. Sleeping (except you have been known to come back out into the living room after being in your room for only eight seconds complaining that you had a bad dream ...)
6. Telling stories (your flair for the dramatic really shines)
7. Cleaning your bathroom 
8. Thinking of others (you love drawing pictures and writing notes to practically everyone you know)
9. Praying (although you don't usually like to do it in front of anyone other than Daddy, Charlie, and me)
10. Jump-roping

Top 10 Things You're Not Good At:

1. Using your indoor voice (BEING LOUD IS FUN!)
2. Playing without an audience (doing things independently is something you've always had a hard time with)
3. Being creative (And I don't mean that as necessarily a negative trait of yours - you just like clearly laid-out directions. "Make a house out of blocks" thrills you. "Make something out of blocks" frustrates you.)
4. Making decisions (it usually ends with a teary "I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO PIIIIIIIIIIIIICK!")
5. Tying your shoes
6. Being sick in silence ("Mommmmmmmmmmmy! I don't FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL well! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!")
7. Thinking before you speak (this has been something we've been working on a LOT this year ... and will continue on for at least another year or twelve)
8. Differential equations (six years going strong)
9. Washing your own hair ("It's TOO HARD, Mommy!")
10. Asking for something only one time ("Mommy, can I have a cookie?" "Mommy, can I have a cookie?" You don't even give me time to take a breath before you ask again.)

This year was a pretty eventful one, my love. You started ballet, graduated preschool, learned to put your head under water in the pool, and started kindergarten (I hear your teacher is pretty rad, by the way). Some things I didn't think would give you trouble, did (swimming) and things that I thought you wouldn't like, you did (school). Both swimming and school involved learning new things, but one was met with tears and bribery and the other one was met with excitement and eagerness. This just confirms that I still haven't gotten you figured out. And that's OK. I'd probably turn into a lazy momma if I had you pegged this early on in your life.

One thing that sticks out in my mind is church. You love church. The kids program at our church is amazing and they do such a good job at feeding, nurturing, and encouraging the kiddos. A few times, you've come to big church with Daddy and me and you LOVE it. You're not a fan of sitting quietly and listening to the message, but you LOVE the singing. And you know most of the songs because you've heard them on the radio/Pandora. To watch you standing up, arms raised out, belting out the words and so openly worshipping our Great God is a humbling moment for me. You are unashamed about expressing yourself and you just look so free. It's a moment that's tucked away in my heart forever.

You are emotional, kind, helpful, responsible, sensitive, and curious. You are moody, dramatic, snuggly, expressive, and sensible. You are hilarious, thoughtful, energetic, insightful, impulsive, and nurturing. You love to learn, you love to be tickled, you love to succeed. You like to be alone, you like to be with people. In short, my girl, you are the Queen of Overreacting, the Feeler of All the Feelings, and the Follower of All the Rules. And Daddy and I are the Luckiest Parents in all the Worlds.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

December 2014 - Recap

How was this your last month as a five-year-old?!

We began sponsoring a beautiful little girl this month. Her name is Joceline and she lives in West Africa. I specifically chose her because you girls have the exact same birthday, right down to the year. So we call you two twins! You've been really interested in learning about her and where she lives. You like finding where she lives on the map and are always amazed at how far it is from Florida. We've had some pretty somber conversations about her. Like how the money we send her won't be used to buy Elsa dolls, crayons, and pizza. "What do you MEAN she doesn't have clean water?!" "How come she doesn't have medicine if she's sick? If she gets SICK, she has to have MEDICINE!" "Wait, she doesn't have a BIBLE? But she NEEDS a Bible!" This has been a nice lesson for you to learn about how fortunate we are to live where we live (a house, a safe neighborhood, a quiet city, a nice state in a free country) and to have what we have (Daddy's job, family, medicine, books, healthy food, church, education). We've sent her a picture of our family to connect her with people who she knows are praying for her, and we've mailed her some letters. You're also working on writing a 'Note-y Picture' (what you call a picture on one side of the paper and a letter on the other side) to her. One day, I hope we'll have the means to travel as a family to meet Joceline and love on her in person.

You've added to your list of future aspirations. When you grow up, you either want to be an animator, an illustrator, or [the new one] a judge on a cupcake baking show.

Me: So pretty much, you just want to get paid to eat cupcakes?
You: Yep!
Me: I like the way you think.

You were sick over Christmas, you poor thing. I don't know what it was, but it sure as heck caused you some serious internal distress. And, in keeping with Natalie tradition, you refused to suffer in silence. You whined and wailed and moaned and cried and dramatically flung your head up to your forehead. Thankfully Bob was here to play with Charlie because there was no way you were letting me out of your sight, let alone earshot. I mean, if you can't whine to your momma, WHAT'S THE POINT.

You got a neat Lego set for Christmas. In my mind, it would take you at least a few weeks to put it together. And the day after Christmas, you had successfully put together over half of it. I imagine you'd have finished the whole thing if you had felt better. Clearly you've outgrown your inability to put together Lego sets without dissolving into millions of teardrops (like you did this past summer - on a set that was probably 1/10 of the size of your new one). I like that growth, kid.

Speaking of Christmas, you are Christmas decoration CRAZY! You love the tinsel, garland, wreaths, Nativity sets, lights, the blow-up Christmas critters, the whole shebang. You've taken it upon yourself to redecorate our Christmas about a dozen times. 90% of the ornaments are now hanging precariously on the bottom third of the tree. It's, um, oh what's the word ... charming?? In my mind, I think I'd like a fancy tree, looking like a page from Better Homes and Gardens. And maybe I'll have that one day. But right now, I'm OK with my lopsided, skinny tree that's full of homemade Popsicle ornaments and gaudy snowflake ornaments (that you picked out because we just HAD to have them). BHG ain't got nothing on that.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for January 1, 2015:

• AirAsia Flight 8501: Searchers Race 'Against Time and Weather'
• NY Man Breaks World Record for Most Champagne Bottles Sabered in One Minute
• 36 dead in New Year's stampede in Shanghai
• Earthquake off coast shakes northern California
• American Girl's 2015 Girl of the Year: Meet Grace Thomas, Baker and Entrepreneur