Month 58 - Recap

My sweet K4er,
You're a few weeks into being a big, bad K4er and the verdict is two grubby thumbs up. Initially you were crushed to find out that none of your K3 buddies were in your K4 class but I assured you there would be plenty of boys in your new class for you to be friends with. You seemed a little unsure but you were still excited to meet your teacher and check out your room the day before school started. Once you saw the oodles and oodles of Legos and magnetic blocks and the smattering of other K4 boys, all was right in your world. We spent about an hour checking everything out, meaning that you and the other boys had an impromptu Lego light sabre battle while Natalie played in the dress-up area. On our way to the car, we stopped by to see your K3 teachers so you could give them both a gigantic hug. They're both ridiculously precious and seemed genuinely excited to see you. And they both oohed and ahhed over how big you'd gotten over the summer. Have you? Did I miss that? I swear you'll probably be 6'3" and I'll still be all, "Oh, are you not a size 2T anymore?"

You wanted me to walk you into class for the first week but after that, you insisted on you walking in yourself. The K4 teachers gently suggested to the parents that eventually (eventually! Not on week 2, punk.) they'd like for all the K4 kiddos to walk into class by themselves, to begin to foster some independence. I nonchalantly mentioned this to you late the first week and you were all "Oh, okay. But definitely not now. I like walking in with you, Momma." Boy, did your tune sure change just 72 hours later. I pulled to the curb, opened up your door, you grabbed your bag, kissed me, kissed Nat, and ran inside. I may or may not have cried a little.

You have becoming fully obsessed with Legos recently. Like, you've liked them for years. You've been obsessed with Duplos for years but Legos mostly annoyed you because they require dexterity that is typically outside the ability of a three- or four-year-old. But a switch got flipped and now all you want to do is play with Legos. You make no fewer than 10 random creations every day. You even wake up early to play with Legos before you eat breakfast. Sure it sounds adorable. But when bedtime comes around and you're going on not-a-full-nights-sleep-because-you-woke-up-early-to-play-Legos, there's a lot of unnecessary drama and tears.

You are already making birthday lists for your sixth, seventh, and eighth birthdays. I think you're taking the age ranges for big Lego sets a bit too literally. But I'll take that over you having a $500 gift list for your fifth birthday.

Side note, you often pronounce "fifth" as "five-th". It's adorable. You're adorable. Life is adorable with you in it, my sweet love.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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• Clinton calls Trump rallying cry racist, but used same slogan
• Love Lost: 9/11 Spouses Reflect on Life Without Their Partners
• Florida man's vehicle catches fire after charging Galaxy Note 7 explodes
• GM Recalls 4.3 Million Vehicles Worldwide for Software Defect
• U.S. 'Should Be Increasingly Worried' by Kim's Nuke Tests

August 2016 - Recap

My dearest student,
You're now a few weeks into your second grade year. And, full disclosure, it was a bit of a rocky start. Now your first day was a complete success and I was mentally high-fiving myself all day and concluding that all the hours I spent working on your curriculum obviously paid off because I'm such a homeschooling mom success story.

And then Tuesday came.

Tears, negativity, blinky blank stares, whining, not listening, daydreaming, and only an ounce or two of actual learning. Add in a few disrupting appointments, triple-digit heat, an achy head and neck, and Tuesday was just a big sack of crazy. And honestly, the next few days didn't fare much better.

For some reason (well, I know the reason. The reason is I often can't see the forest through the trees ...) I felt the need to get all of your schooling done while Charlie was at preschool. When you were in first grade, it was fairly easy. We even had a number of days where we finished early and had time to do some fun you-and-me stuff before we picked him up. But your second grade curriculum is more time intensive. (Because duh. Second > first) And I can't seem to get it all done before we leave to get Charlie. I was telling Daddy about this and he looks at me blankly and says "Um, who says you have to get it done before you get Charlie?" That was the little dose of reality I needed.

Instead of rushing to finish, instead of getting frustrated for you for taking too long to do your math work, instead of not allowing you the freedom to color more in between subjects (which is the joy of your life), we'll just take our time. We'll finish what we can while Charlie's at preschool and then we'll finish the rest in the afternoon. We'll have to figure out a new afternoon routine now that we're adding school into the mix but a new routine is much better than me trying to fit a second grade-sized square peg into a preschool-sized round hole.

This homeschooling gig brings to the surface so many of my faults. I'm not sure I like that. Hmph.

You can now do a legit handstand. Like a legs together, straight as an arrow, handstand. And you can do about a 98% legit split. And you're already homeschooled. So in your mind, you're all set for the 2024 Olympics.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for September 1, 2016:

• Florida's Gulf Coast Braces for Tropical Storm Hermine
• Willy Wonka Kids Pay Tribute to Gene Wilder
• SpaceX Rocket Explodes on Launch Pad
• Mexico President Rebuffs Trump: I Told Him We Aren't Paying for the Wall
• Pennsylvania professor goes on hunger strike over tenure denial

Month 57 - Recap

My sweet boy,
We went with Daddy to Men's Wearhouse to picked up his tux for a banquet that he and I went to recently. He walked out of the dressing room and Natalie immediately fell all over herself saying how handsome he looked (which he did - hubba hubba). But you, our dear sweet boy, you certainly have your own unique way of complimenting a be-tuxed man. You took one look at him and said "Daddy! You look like a fancy waitress!" We're so calling you 'a fancy waitress' at your prom. Or your wedding. Or whatever event where you look like James Bond.

You and Natalie have started playing in her room after you two get up in the morning. I can hear you two talking in the bathroom about the weird dreams you two have had and you talking about how "cwaaaazy" it was that Patches (your stuffed dog) was on the floor when you woke up, and Natalie sensibly explaining how when you move around while you sleep things can fall off your bed and onto the floor. Then I hear footsteps, Natalie's door close, and two muffled voices talking about who-knows-what. Sometimes it lasts for a few minutes, sometimes it lasts an hour. However long, I try to soak up that closed door and those sweet muffled voices because there must be some fun SmithKid stuff going on. Nobody's fussing or whining or arguing or pouting. There's only imagining, cooperating, giggling, and a whole heckuva lot of jumping on the bed. My morning coffee tastes the best when the background music is giggling and when the potential is high for Natalie's bed springs to explode.

You had an unfortunate encounter with a dog this month - as if you needed any more reasons to dislike dogs. We were walking up to the door to Panera Bread when a dog, on a leash and (presumably) asleep at its owners feet at one of the outside tables, lifted her head, saw you, didn't like what she saw, and reacted. It could have been your ninja shirt you were wearing (the one with the not-really-scary-but-not-totally-friendly pair of eyes on the front) or it could have been that this dog was a rescue dog and had been previously mistreated by a little boy. Who the heck knows; it doesn't matter. All I know is that one second the dog looked asleep and the next second the dog was up, barking, lunging at your side, and her tooth was caught in your shirt. Thank goodness your shirt was slightly too big or that morning would have gone much differently. Before I could do anything, the dog's owner shot out of her chair and restrained the dog. The owner was (understandably) horrified, you were (understandably) hysterical, and Natalie was (understandably) paralyzed with fear. I felt horrible. I held you for about 10 minutes while I talked to the dog's owner (who kept glaring at the dog, who kept her head buried under the table legs). I tried my best to show grace to the dog's owner, who really was a precious lady. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt that she wouldn't have taken a little boy mauler to Panera Bread. I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt that she had know clue her dog would react like that. After we were safely within the four walls of Panera Bread eating our muffins, you looked at me and said "I TOLD you I wasn't a pet puh-sun [person], mommy! I'm just a puh-sun puh-sun." I don't blame you, kiddo. I might be a bear puh-sun - namely a Charlie Bear puh-sun, but that's the extent of my animal-loving self.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for August 9, 2016:

• Clinton's Lead Over Trump Keeps Getting Bigger
• Paul Ryan Faces Off With Paul Nehlen as Wisconsin Votes in Primary
• King Edges Russian Rival as USA Wins Gold, Bronze in 100m Breaststroke
• Kerri Walsh Jennings, April Ross Make Quick Work of China in Beach Volleyball
• Gymnast Simone Biles in a League of Her Own
• Police Investigating Waterslide Death of 10-Year-Old Boy

July 2016 - Recap

My best girl,
July finally came which meant it was time for your bi-yearly dental visit. Which meant it was time for my bi-yearly reminder from your dentist that I'll need to spend a boatload of money for the boatload of orthodontia that your mouth (and Charlie's mouth) requires. You were both cavity-free, so that was pretty great. We celebrated by getting an ice cream cone. HA.

July finally coming also meant that it was time for art camp! You had two weeks of art classes this month, a week of black and white classes and a week of color classes. The classes were held at a local art studio - the kind of place where you bring a bottle of wine and a gaggle of girlfriends and an artist take everyone through the steps of painting a picture. Obviously the kids camp was sans wine but your teacher did a wonderful job of introducing you to the basics of drawing and painting, and walked your class through the steps of drawing and painting several pictures. You learned about shading and perspective, experimented with charcoal and watercolors, and filled your art book full of pictures of balls, jellyfish, and boats. Oh my. And teddy bears, gymnasts, and dresses. Oh my.

I'm your mom so clearly I'm 100% biased, and I know nothing about art so my opinion is essentially 100% worthless, but your I'm super-duper impressed with several of your drawings. My favorite is your charcoal drawing of a boat. Your brother/critic likes to tease you about drawing two boats but clearly brother/critics no nothing about reflections. Cuz, duh.

Keep it up, kid. Momma wants a sweet retirement home when she gets older.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for August 1, 2016:

• Cellphone videos sought in deadly balloon crash
• U.S. Launches Airstrikes on ISIS Stronghold in Libya
• Expert to Rio Athletes: 'Don't Put Your Head Under Water'
• Mike Pence Rally Interrupted by Protesters, A First for the VP Candidate's Campaign
• Get ready: The election under 100 days away
• 'Sharknado' rides marketing wave back to Syfy in latest sequel

Month 56 - Recap

My sweet boy,
You are Dothan's newest ninja. Oh wait - am I allowed to say that? Or is the first rule of being a ninja 'Don't Talk About Being a Ninja'?

Let's just assume it's safe to talk about.

I found out that Dothan offered this class for little boys a while ago, and had intended on signing you up right away, but never got around to it (Second Child Syndrome strikes again!). I finally did last month and you couldn't be happier. You wear a Super Cool Ninja Uniform - a black shirt with glare-y ninja eyes on the front and NINJA IN TRAINING written on the back and a black headband with NINJA written across the front. When you're all decked out, you look like a force to be reckoned with. With menacing dimples. And terrifying freckles.

I think you were expecting to do some serious American Ninja Warrior-type stuff in your class, and while you may one day graduate to the salmon ladder and warped wall, all ninja greats have to start at the bottom. And the bottom includes climbing over and jumping off of foam pads, rolling down inclined mats, walking along the balance beam, and doing ninja rolls (to the untrained eye, one might think they were somersaults. But one would be wrong. And one would be quickly chastised and loudly corrected and shown the error of her ways).

After those obstacles, you and your class head to the giant pit of foam blocks. I'm not gonna lie, it looks really fun. I kind of wish you little ninjas would leave so I could play in it. There's a lot of jumping, flailing, climbing, throwing, and falling. And then your teacher brings over the big rope so you guys can practice swinging on the rope and landing in the pit. Or, if you're four and your names rhymes with Barley, holding on to the rope with one hand, running toward the pit, throwing the rope out your hand, and belly flopping into the foam pit. Same difference, really.

After each class, you're as drenched as if you had just taken a shower with your ninja clothes on. The Sweaty Ninja has a nice ring to it.

A few weeks ago, Daddy put you to bed and you gave him a message for me. "Daddy, will you ask Mommy that I love her?" Will you ask Mommy that I love her?!! Ack. Your cuteness level is the best.

You have been on a serious Lego kick this month. You've already announced that you'd only like Star Wars Legos and superhero Legos for your birthday and Christmas. I asked you if that meant you were outgrowing your Duplos and you quickly reassured me that "No way! I'll probably have these Duplos when I'm an adult, especially because I want to be a Stay at Home Guy when I grow up." (You've got it in your mind that your dream job is to be a Stay at Home Guy. You can't pinpoint exactly what this job entails other than staying at home playing with toys. Solid plan from a four-year-old ...)

The Sweaty Stay at Home Ninja Guy has an even cooler ring to it. Not that you ever heard me talk about you being a ninja.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for July 9, 2016:

• Arsenal of weapons found in home of Dallas shooter who wanted to 'kill whites'
• Robot Bomb Apparently Used for First Time by Police in Dallas
• House GOP calls grow for FBI perjury probe into Clinton statements
• Players in hunt for Pokemon Go monsters feel real-world pain
• US Zika Infections During Pregnancy Climbs to 320, CDC Says
• Calvin Johnson's Retirement Reveals Pain Impossible to Ignore for NFL Players

June 2016 - Recap

My sweet girl,
We got back into the pool this month because in the South, there are only 12 minutes of springtime. Then it dives headfirst into SUMMER. There is no "summer". Only SUMMER. Last SUMMER, you started out in the pool pretty timid and nervous after such a long time being pool-less. This SUMMER, however, you acted as if there hadn't been 9+ months of a break. You jumped right into the deep end and swam to the shallow end over and over (and over and over). My goal for you for this summer is to be able to do an underwater somersault. You're about 90% there but then you freak out and undo that 90%. I keep telling you that undoing that 90% is way more work than just finishing the final 10% but it falls on deaf ears. You ain't got time for no logical thoughts from Momma.

Another goal is for you do be able to do a cannonball without letting go of your legs one nanosecond before hitting the water thereby doing a belly-flop-knee-flop-face-flop.

We tagged along with Daddy on one of his work trips last week. The hotels he stays at are usually really nice (read: nicer than where stay when we go somewhere as a family) and it's fun to go a different city, so whenever possible I like for us to go with him. This time it was in Daytona Beach. Our hotel was right on the Atlantic Ocean (on A1A ... BEACH FRONT AVENUE) and our room overlooked both the water and the little roller coaster and bungee jumping contraption next door. You and Charlie stayed up later than you ever have, but in doing so, we got to play in the Atlantic while we watched the moon rise and we got to watch this guy (whose name escapes me):



It's the first time you've seen anything like this before and you were mesmerized (and legitimately worried). You were peering through open fingers the whole time and kept asking "Momma, is he gonna be okay? Momma is he gonna be okay?" He was an excellent performer -- one second before the jaws snapped shut, he escaped from his strait jacket. You cheered and clapped and said to him after the show, "I'm really glad you didn't die." Amen, kid.

You went to VBS this month, too. And just like swimming this year when you showed no nervousness, you jumped into VBS this year with the Excitement Level cranked all the way up to 10. When I picked you up each day, you chattered nonstop about all the fun games you played and songs you sang. About all the yummy snacks you ate and all the nice kids you met. And you were plunged into the depths of despair (we just read Anne of Green Gables) on your last day because you wanted it to last forever. There was a Parent's Night on Thursday night where families come and listen to all the songs the kids have been learning all week. It was the most fun watching you on stage. You bounced nonstop while you were singing. You just get so excited when you sing that you can't possibly be still. I had a goofy perma-grin on my face as I watched my best girl dance and sing about Jesus. There just really isn't much better in life than that.

Tooth #7 kicked the bucket a few days ago. Now your smile is symmetrical and your Type-A momma can breathe a big sigh of relief (please know that I don't care that your smile was asymmetrical - wonky, little kid smiles always slay me, but in general, symmetry is my jam. But you > symmetry. I hope that makes sense.) In keeping with tradition, you completely forgot the previous six tooth losses and whined and cried and freaked out over the potential pain and potential blood. Honesty works the best for you, so I was all "Will it hurt? Sure, but maybe for three seconds and then it'll be over. Will there be blood? Probably, but I'm guessing not as much as Tooth #6. Are the hemostats scary? Well sure! Just close your eyes and problem solved! I'm 35 and even *I* keep my eyes closed when the dentist comes close to my mouth with one of his instruments." It took Daddy no time at all to pull your tooth and your whimpers quickly turned into giggles as you said "That wasn't bad at all!"

First thing the next morning, I made you write yourself a note to tell you to stop freaking out over losing a tooth. And I intend to make you read this note to yourself when Tooth #8 is ready to come out and you begin your Tooth Loss Amnesia hysterics. I don't have many quality, Original Mom Ideas but this one might make the cut.



Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for July 1, 2016:

• State Department seeks 27-month delay for release of Clinton Foundation emails
• Tesla driver using Autopilot feature killed by tractor trailer
• Texit? U.S. Secessionist Movements Seize on Brexit
• The 'Sully' Trailer Has Landed! See Tom Hanks as Hero Pilot
• Istanbul Airport Attack Victims Mourned, Honored, Praised
• Scientists report first amphibious centipede

Month 55 - Recap

My sweet boy,
I completely forgot to recap your end-of-the-year preschool program last month, my bad. I did, however, do a month's worth of your feeding, clothing, and providing for your every need. So there's that.

You came home from preschool a few month's ago and told me you had a speaking part in your end-of-the-year program. Outwardly, I was all "That's AWESOME, buddy! How exciting!" Inwardly, I was all "Do what? You're gonna do whaaaaaaa? Why did you agreeeeeee to this! Public speaking is scaaaaaaary!" (You'd think after a year of being in Toastmasters [even if it was about eight years ago], I wouldn't still be scared of public speaking. Yeah, well ...)

Your part was Ephesians 4:32 - "Be kind and loving to each other." You would periodically practice your verse with me at home, but most of the time you whined "I don't LIKE to pwactice at home! I don't NEED to pwactice at home! I do enough pwacticing at SCHOOL!" I didn't push you, but it was a relief to hear you say the verse to me every once in a while, just to reassure me that you did, in fact, know it and that the likelihood of you standing at the microphone going "I like grilled cheese sandwiches!" was reduced a bit.

We ended up snagging front-row seats to your program, so we had a prime spot to check out your public speaking debut. As soon as your class walked into the sanctuary, I could feel the tears start to well up. Gracious, I was a mess. Thankfully there was a smattering of adorable songs to cheer me up. And then it was your turn. You walked to the mic, looked out into the crowd (of about 50-60 people), smiled your wonderfully be-dimpled smile, said your verse loudly and clearly, then sat back down. Everyone clapped and I sobbed. You can't take me anywhere. This will probably just be the status quo whenever you do things in life. You do something, I cry. It'll be our little thing.

You've become interested, nay obsessed, with finding words that start with CH. Every time you see something that starts with CH - whether it's on a food package, the credits on a movie, or any word in any book - your face lights up and you screech "C-H, Mommy! Just like the C-H in the beginning of my name!" And how convenient that two of my favorite things happen to start with CH. Cheese and Charlie. In no particular order.

I've started a new bedtime routine with you and Natalie. I read about it online, loved it, totally stole the idea. After I tuck you in, I ask you a series of questions.

Me: Do I love you because you have cute dimples?
You: Nope ... but I do have cute dimples.
Me: Do I love you because you like to play with Natalie?
You: Nope ... but I do like to play with Natalie.
Me: Do I love you because you like superheroes?
You: Nope ... but I do like supuh-hewoes.
Me: Do I love you because you're a rascal?
You: Nope ... but I am a wascal!
Me: Why do I love you?
You: Because I'm yours!

The whole point of this little game is for me to point out unique qualities about you but to make sure you know those qualities are not the reason why I love you. Those qualities are wonderful but they're neither the source nor the reason for my love. That if those qualities somehow disappeared tomorrow, I would still love you simply because you're mine.

So while I love your dimples, I treasure the times that you and Natalie play together, I love that you think you're Batman and Captain America, and I love that you're a total rascal, those are not the reasons I love you. If you were a dimple-less kid who didn't enjoy playing with his sister, didn't like superheroes, and wasn't a rascal, I'd still love you. I love you simply because you're mine.

God loves you (and me - and everyone, for that matter) because you're His. God doesn't love you because you go to church or pray or follow the Golden Rule. God loves you simply because you're His child. His love isn't attached to what you do or don't do, where you go or don't go, what you say or don't say. You don't have to do anything, be anything, have anything for God to love you. God loves you simply because you're His child. And I pray this little bedtime game solidifies this truth in the deepest part of your precious, rascally heart.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for June 9, 2016:

• Blue Angels honor Fallen Marine Captain Kuss with Flyover
• Hillary Clinton Is First Woman To Secure Democratic Nomination
• How Trump is Fighting Both Hillary and His Own Party
• Maria Sharapova suspended for 2 years for doping
• Tel Aviv Shooting Leaves 4 Dead, Deemed Terror Attack
• Zika Virus Forces Tough Choices on Couples Seeking Fertility Treatment

May 2016 - Recap

My baby girl,
We're are a few weeks into summer vacation and you and I have come to the conclusion that summer would be nicer if summer wasn't so, um, summery. Playing outside loses its luster if you feel like your face is going to melt off your skull. So I try to throw you and Charlie outside with the sprinkler for some good ol' Vitamin D first thing in the morning. Thankfully our backyard is fairly well shaded until about 9am. At 9:01, however, it bursts into flames.

You've become a little worried over your snaggletoothed smile and crooked teeth. I keep reassuring you that all kids from the ages of 6ish to 9ish have some sort of snaggletoothy smile and that all kids with my Hulk-strong genes of janky teeth will indeed have crooked teeth, so there's no need to sweat it. This is usually met with a glare and a huff and a 15-minute long discussion on how braces aren't that big of a deal. Because they really aren't.

I've started a new bedtime routine with you and Charlie. I read about it online, loved it, and totally stole the idea. After I tuck you in, I ask you a series of questions.

Me: Do I love you because you have beautiful hair?
You: Nope ... but I do have beautiful hair.
Me: Do I love you because you like to sing?
You: Nope ... but I do like to sing.
Me: Do I love you because you're really responsible?
You: Nope ... but I am really responsible.
Me: Do I love you because you're super funny?
You: Nope ... but I am super funny!
Me: Why do I love you?
You: Because I'm yours!

The whole point of this little game is for me to point out unique qualities about you but to make sure you know those qualities are not the reason why I love you. Those qualities are wonderful but they're neither the source nor the reason for my love. That if those qualities somehow disappeared tomorrow, I would still love you simply because you're mine.

So while I love your hair, I treasure the Natalie Concerts I hear all day, I love that you are able to take care of Charlie when a migraine overpowers me and I have to lie down, and I love your quick wit, those are not the reasons I love you. If you were a tone-deaf kid with bad hair who was irresponsible and unfunny, I'd love you just the same. I love you simply because you're mine.

God loves you (and me - and everyone, for that matter) because you're His. God doesn't love you because you go to church or pray or follow the Golden Rule. God loves you simply because you're His child. His love isn't attached to what you do or don't do, where you go or don't go, what you say or don't say. You don't have to do anything, be anything, have anything for God to love you. God loves you simply because you're His child. And I pray this little bedtime game solidifies this truth in the deepest part of your precious, hilarious heart.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for June 1, 2016

• Yes, Child Trumps Gorilla. Can’t Even Believe That Actually Needs To Be Said ( ** No, this isn't typically the kind of headline I include in your recap, but I'm including it because ... well, because I can't even comprehend the madness ... when you're older I'll explain the kind of whackadoo world we live in where some people value the life of a gorilla over the life of a little boy. ** )
• Lawyers for Clinton aide block questioning on IT specialist who set up server
• ISIS reportedly uses hundreds of families as human shields to protect Fallujah
• Baby Born With Microcephaly in US to Woman Who Contracted Zika Elsewhere
• Surfing Star and Shark Attack Survivor Bethany Hamilton Impresses in Fiji
• Internet, Web Enjoy One Final Day as Proper Nouns

Month 54 - Recap

My sweet boy,
We took you and Natalie to your first concert (well, it was your first, Natalie's second) concert this month. Zealand Worship, Citizen Way, and MercyMe put on an amazing show. I was curious as to how you two would handle everything because it was quite an experience - the civic center was incredibly loud, really crowded, and dark (except for the stage lights, of course). We found our seats and quickly realized that the empty section behind us would be much more comfortable for two kids to jump around and sing, so we hopped the railing (Team Smith = rebels) and spread out. You switched between singing and telling (yelling) me "Momma! I know this song!!" to flying your Batman toy around.

The only problem I had with the concert was the starting time. 7pm. That's reeeeeally close to your bedtime. (Before the time change, that WAS your bedtime. Now, I have a hard time putting you to bed when it's still bright outside so we've pushed your bedtime back a bit). After you sang a few songs, you told me you wanted to go home and go to bed. I checked my phone. It was 7:45. Before MercyMe even got on stage. You seemed supremely bummed when I told you we had a long time before we'd be going home. You perked up during the intermission and we walked around the lobby for a bit.

When we sat back down and MercyMe took the stage, your eyes lit up and your lid was effectively flipped. The guys you've listened to on the radio and watched on YouTube countless times were now 50 yards away. You danced and jumped around and sang and laughed ... until you hit the wall. It was so way past your bedtime, I don't think you had been up that late since you had started sleeping through the night 3.5+ years ago. After singing a few songs, Bart Millard (the lead singer for MercyMe) spoke a bit about the wonderful thing that is God's grace. As he paused between thoughts, you let out a gigantic, dramatically loud, over-the-top yawn. It was both mortifying and hilarious. And apropos, given the subject of what Bart Millard was talking about. You and Natalie fell asleep within minutes of each other and missed the last 30 minutes of MercyMe's set. I imagine the dreams you dreamed had an amazing soundtrack.

Speaking of God, I'm pretty sure the rapture is a'comin' because you ate pork chops. That I cooked. This is incredible on several fronts. First, pork chops and hard boiled eggs always seem to best me in the kitchen, though I think I've finally found a pork chop recipe where the end result isn't like chewing on a racquetball. Hard boiled eggs however ... those wily beasts ... Second, you give 90% of my dinners either a thumbs-down or a side-thumb. The only dinners I cook that are worthy of the coveted thumbs-up are cheese pizza, grilled cheese, chicken drumsticks, and breakfast for dinner. To summarize, you never eat pork chops, especially MY pork chops. But you did a few weeks ago. AND you asked for seconds. If that wasn't evidence enough for an imminent rapture, you ate scrambled eggs. This is only incredible on one front, being that you're a Picky McPickyPants who refuses to try yummy food on the regular. Because my scrambled eggs? Oh buddy. MY scrambled eggs are the bomb. MY scrambled eggs are the best. This is common knowledge within Team Smith but you've finally decided to jump on board. You gobbled up the eggs on your plate, asked for seconds, then pouted when I told you that thirds would have to wait because I'd have to make another batch.

You had your first bout with strep throat earlier this month. You were a pitiful mess for about two days (and you fell asleep on me for the first time in years - momma heart = puddle) and then you recovered like a champ. You drank your disgusting medicine, you ate countless popsicles, you took multiple naps, and you watched a billion shows on Netflix. Other than the medicine part, it sounds like my perfect weekend.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy and Daddy

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Headlines for May 9, 2016:

• Prince Harry, President Bush Hope to Change Perceptions of ‘Invisible Injuries’
• Why Trump's Flip-Flop on Taxes is So Astonishing
• Ozzy Osbourne and Sharon Osbourne Split
• Boaty McBoatface Rejected as Name for Research Ship
• 7 Tips to Travel to the Rio Olympics on a Budget

April 2016 - Recap

My best girl,
Two ears, one mouth. TWO ears. ONE mouth. I have said that sentence approximately eleventy billion times this month, trying to get you to listen twice as much as you talk. And I have had zero success, eleventy billion times. Trying to teach someone something new when that someone talks more than they listen is, um, an adventure. If only you were talking about how blessed you were to be my daughter (cuz you are) or how blessed I am to be your momma (cuz I am), then maybe I wouldn't want to pull my hair out. But, alas, no. As I'm trying to explain - literally, as the words are spilling out of my lips, you're simultaneously telling me you don't understand what to do.

Me: So the main char-----
You: What does this even MEAN? I don't underSTAND!
Me: Um, well, I was actually in the middle of explaining it, if you'd like to open up your ear holes for a bit.
You: *hmph*
Me: So what main character of the story do-----
You: How am I supposed to KNOW this?!
Me: Dude, seriously? If you'd let me finish a complete thought, you might find that I can clear up the confusion you have - but only if you listen twice as much as you talk.
You: Fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine.

I've noticed that many of our school days have ended a with "fine" containing about 75 Is which, in turn, ends with lost privileges (Momma ain't got no time for sassiness). It's clear that both of us are ready for summer vacation.

You lost Tooth #6 (the one next to your front left tooth) a few weeks ago. It seemed to go from kind of loose to oh-my-word-pull-that-gross-thing-before-you-swallow-it in the matter of minutes. Thankfully you're not dramatic at all so the whole tooth-losing process was a breeze.

HA. I'm such a riot.

The tooth-losing process was extraordinarily painful for all our ears. You whined for hours about the potential blood ("Yes, there will be blood, but not a whole lot. Remember the previous five teeth you've lost?"), the potential pain ("Eh, it may hurt a little bit but as soon as it's out, it'll stop hurting. Again, remember the previous five teeth you've lost?"), and the best way to pull it out ("No, Mommy does *not* like pulling teeth, but Mommy will do it if you need her to. Cuz she's cool like that. Seriously, do you have any recollection of the previous five teeth?!"). Eventually you decided that you wanted Daddy to do it, but once it was discovered that Daddy-sized fingers don't fit onto Natalie-sized baby teeth, we went with Plan B. And, in this case, Plan B meant a pair of hemostats that Pep had given us a while back. Those little suckers were the perfect - once the hemostat was on your tooth, Daddy gave it a pull and popped your tooth out two seconds later.

It's funny how one missing tooth can change a smile, but you look completely different with this tooth gone. The tooth you lost is the tooth that often gets painted black to look like it's missing when someone is pretending to be a hillbilly in a school play.

The big day finally came. The Big Day. Your gymnastics exhibition was yesterday and it was everything you hoped it was going to be. You danced (and had Excited Feet the entire time - you couldn't stop bouncing your feet the entire routine, even when your feet weren't necessarily supposed to move), you balance beam'd, you trampoline'd, you low bar'd, and you vaulted. You stuck and saluted, you giggled and cheered for yourself, you had the best time ever.

I've always rolled my eyes at the whole Participation Medal notion that seems to be so popular. You showed up for every game? Here's a medal for doing what you're supposed to do. You have no discernable talent at this particular sport? Here's a trophy anyway.

However.

You (and everyone) received participation medals at the exhibition. You looked as proud as if you had won gold medal at the Olympics. So while I'm still not a fan of participation medals in general, I promise I'll continue my feelings about it at a later time. But for right now, I'm too busy being a proud momma watching my baby wear her medal around the house and loving every minute of it.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy and Daddy

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Headlines for May 1, 2016:

• Trump backers furious over defeat at Arizona GOP convention
• U.S. Reports First Zika Virus Death, in Puerto Rico
• U2 Guitarist Becomes First to Play the Sistine Chapel
• German Artist Jan Vormann Uses Lego to Put Colorful Twist on Urban Design
• Rescuers Pull 72-Year-Old Man From Rubble 13 Days After Ecuador Earthquake
• New Photos of Princess Charlotte Released Ahead of Her First Birthday

Month 53 - Recap

My sweet love,
I bought you a pair of reversible shorts (orange on one side, blue on the other). They're a little too big on you so they look kind of funny, but simply because they're reversible, they've become the Most Awesome Shorts on the Planet to you. Except you keep forgetting the word 'reversible' (which you pronounce as 'we-vuh-sible') so you call them your 'convertible' shorts. Or, 'convuh-tible shohts'. Gah, I love your Ws-as-Rs.

Your sister got to pull Older Sibling ranks and go to a Parent's Night Out at the gym where she takes gymnastics. It's a four-hour block of time where kids eat pizza and play on all the gymnastic equipment. In other words: it's awesome. It's obviously meant for parents to get a date night but for those parents (ie: us) with kiddos (ie: you) younger than five (since ya gotta be at least the wise old age of five to participate in PNO), it meant that we had a Daddy-Mommy-Charlie date where you called the shots for the entire night. And you, my boy, are a kid who's easy to please.

We started the evening dining at the upscale local bistro called Cici's Pizza Buffet. We had to get those reservations weeks in advance. You dined on the chef's special of cheesy bread, cheese pizza, and cinnamon rolls. This meal paired nicely with some freshly squeezed Minute Maid lemonade.

After Cici's, you decided you wanted to look at toys at Toys (backward)R Us. We spent over an hour checking out the train table, the foam swords, and the $400 ride-on cars (you picked out a sweet orange Jeep for me, a black convertible for Daddy, a pink VW bug for Natalie, and a blue Hummer for you). You and Daddy had a sword fight in the middle of the store and we ended up buying two swords (just so we could leave before we got kicked out).

We ended the night by coming home and watching Super Hero Squad on Netflix. You held your sword tightly as you cheered along Spiderman, Iron Man, the Hulk (you still call him the Honk!!) and all the rest of the Squadies.

You talked more in those four hours than I think you've talked in the past four months. It's like you live with someone who has the habit of talking for you and hardly lets you get in a word in edgewise and you've just been waiting for your chance to say something. Oh wait ....

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for April 9, 2016:

• Price of Mailing a Letter Dropping to 47 Cents Starting This Weekend
• Mohamed Abrini Confessed to Being 'Man in the Hat' from Brussels Airport Attack, Officials
• Suit Challenging Cruz Eligibility Reaches Supreme Court
• Teacher Volunteers to Donate Her Kidney to First Grade Student
• 'American Idol' Crowns 15th and Final Winner as Series Comes to an End

March 2016 - Recap

My sweet girl,
You went to your first play this month - you and I (along with some friends) saw a production of Cinderella. I didn't warn you in advance that it was Rodgers and Hammerstein's Cinderella and not Disney's Cinderella (there's a pretty big difference when you're seven ...) but you loved it. You were a little disappointed that the fairy godmother didn't bust out with Bibbidi Bobbidi Boo but the abundance of beautiful twirly dresses and puffy sleeves distracted you from the absence of all the 'Salagadoola mechicka boola ...' You bounced up and down in your seat and squealed when Cinderella spun around and her shabby dress suddenly changed into a beautiful gown, you tried to sing along to every song (even though you had never heard any of the songs before), and you clapped as the prince and Cinderella got married ("How romantic!"). It was the ultimate girl date with my best girl.

Daddy and Charlie were notably absent from attending the play. I thought it'd be fun for us to have a girl date, and the boys had a great time hitting things with tools, fixing Charlie's bike, and dunking chocolate chip cookies into a tub of Cool Whip. It sounds like the ultimate boy date with my favorite boys.

You've recently been having a super hard time not getting your way and I've been having to constantly remind you that you're not the queen of the world.  "But I just want everything to go my way!" "I understand. But the world doesn't work that way. The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be." This answer does not please you and is often met with sighs and pity parties. This response does not please me and is often met with me fighting the urge to lose my ever-loving mind.

You've conquered two new things in gymnastics. I wish I could remember their technical names, but alas, I cannot. So I shall call them by my funnier-made-up names. You can now do a complete 360* flippy-doo on one of the low bars and you can also do a back-kickover-thingie-while-lying-on-a-box. I am so immensely proud of you. You've tried for months to figure out these two moves. Give me a few months and maybe I'll learn the technical names of these moves (or maybe not ... funny names are pretty great, too).

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for April 1, 2016:

• The Coolest Parents in the World Celebrate a Decade of Wedded Bliss (and Sarcasm)
• Clinton Knocks Sanders Over Response to Trump's Abortion Comments
• 2 Killed After Amtrak Train Hits Backhoe, Derails
• 1st Passenger Flight Leaves Brussels Since March 22 Attacks
• Secret Service agents reportedly catch intruder trying to jump White House fence
• 'Officer Froo Froo' the Drug-Sniffing Cat Assists in April Fool's Day Prank

Month 52 - Recap

My boy,
You've become interested in numbers all of a sudden. It was inevitable. Your nerd genes are quite strong and it was only a matter of time before something science-y or math-y made its awkwardly charming debut. You like to quiz Natalie on addition problems while we eat breakfast, and she's more than happy to oblige. It didn't take long before you wanted Natalie to quiz you. After the second one you got wrong, you wanted Natalie explain why you were getting them wrong ("But Nallie, why doesn't 3 plus 4 equal 34?" -- I gotta admit, that's a really good question), and praise the heavens, she again was more than happy to oblige.

So now you like to ask us math problems and want us to hold up our fingers while you count. This is great and all but you get really annoyed and frustrated when it turns out that multiple math problems have the same answer. I know, right? Rude. You'll ask me what 2 plus 3 is so I'll hold up 2 fingers on one hand and 3 fingers on the other hand. You'll count 5 fingers and all is right with the world ... until you ask me what 4 plus 1 is. When you also count 5 fingers, you glare at me as if I just played a mean trick on you. I tried to explain to you that 2 plus 3 equals 5 just like 4 plus 1 equals 5 and you just look at me unconvincingly and say "You're so silly, Mommy. Can I have a cookie?

I was 99% sure I knew the answer to this question but I had to ask your preschool teacher anyway. "Does every boy in here make everything - literally everything - a gun?" Without missing a beat from breaking apart graham crackers for the day's craft, she smiled and said "Yes. Guns and lightsabers. Everything under the sun gets turned into a gun or a lightsaber." Then she looked down at her plate full of graham cracker rectangles and said "In fact, the boys will probably make guns out of these. It must be in their DNA." Which was reassuring to hear because you, my dear, sweet, sensitive, affectionate, cautious Momma's boy, insists on making everything a weapon.

A stack of Duplos? Makes a great bomb! A broom stick? The perfect gun! A pillow? A grenade, duh. A pencil? A lightsaber, of course. Your stuffed bear? A stuffed bear gun, clearly. To the casual observer, you act as if we force you to watch shoot-em-up shows and have brainwashed you to think our house is going to be attacked by a band of marauding villains so you must be adequately trained in the art of weaponry. I promise we don't. Unless Phineas and Ferb send out subliminal messages about how to turn everyday items into weapons ... but in that case, your sister would be equally as obsessed. Which she isn't. Because she squeals like a stuck pig every time you throw a pillow grenade at her or whack her with your pencil lightsaber. So it must just be your DNA.

Boy DNA is so weird.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for March 9, 2016:

• Michigan Win Rescues Bernie Sanders Campaign Ahead of Key Primaries
• Kim Jong Un Poses Next to 'Miniaturized Nuclear Warhead'
• Rough Primary Night Leaves Rubio Further Weakened Before Florida
• Zika's Link to Birth Defects, Nerve Disease 'Alarming', WHO Says
• First U.S. Uterus Transplant Patient Gives Thanks
• 'Fifth Beatle' George Martin Dead at 90

February 2016 - Recap

Peach,
There are times where I wonder (worry) if you get tired of being around me as much as you are. I mean, it's not like we're attached at the hip 24/7. You're involved in gymnastics and church things several times a week and we do playdates and whatnot, but still - as a homeschooled kid, you get toted around to the grocery store, doctor's appointments, and the bank. You go with me to get oil changes, haircuts, and prescriptions. And then I still have to make sure you're doing some of that there book learnin'. In other words, you're around your momma a lot.

I took a trip to Chicago with a few girlfriends this past weekend. When I left town you burst into tears. It caught me off guard because, well, frankly, I was thinking you'd be excited about a break from all my momming and errands you're neck deep into for most of your days. But seeing those big, fat tears roll down your cheeks reminded me that maybe you enjoy the you-and-me-time-even-if-it-is-just-running-errands-and-other-boring-stuff time more than I thought. Because truthfully, sometimes the sassiness, exasperated huffs, and whininess have me second-guessing this whole homeschooling gig.

But your reaction when I left confirmed that you do, in fact, dig your momma. I didn't like to see you cry, but it did warm my heart to see you care so much that I wouldn't be around for three (seriously, it was only three days!) days. And when I came back, you and Charlie both clobbered me and burst into tears (again). It was such a sweet little moment ... that only lasted for 0.2 seconds before you two greedy little punks started screeching "Where are our Chicago presents????!?!?!?!!"

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for March 1, 2016:

• AP Delegate Count Shows Trump Not yet on Track to Secure Nomination, Despite Big Wins
• Clinton Wins 7 States on Super Tuesday to Extend Delegate Lead
• FBI chief says agency made mistake in early stages of San Bernardino probe
• Astronaut Scott Kelly back on Earth after a year in space
• Possible MH370 Jet Part Found Off Mozambique: Sources
• Lee Reherman, 'Hawk' on 'American Gladiators,' Dies

Month 51 - Recap

My sweet boy,
Just like your sister, I put you on a probiotic to help with your eczema (though yours isn't nearly as bad as hers is right now). I was expecting more drama from your sister at the thought of having to swallow a pill for the first time (she surprised me with a very low level of drama). I was expecting zero drama from you but also zero success (cuz you're four. I mean, are four-year-olds supposed to be able to swallow pills?). I was correct on the lack of drama but totally surprised at your ability to a swallow pill as long as it's safely tucked into a cup of applesauce. You only had one day where you went through almost the entire cup before you were able to swallow the pill, but still. You did it! Color me impressed.

Fun fact - you still pronounce Rs as Ws, but when you say "I'm sorry", it's not a straight "I'm sowwy". Instead you have Canadian accent. It's really cute, eh?

You have a go-to "I'm frustrated" phrase and it's adorable. Whenever Natalie is driving you bananas (it happens on the regular) or your Duplo creation falls over (it also happens on the regular - you're not a fan of creating sturdy bases) or life in general is just hard (pity party, table for one), you roll your eyes and flop on the couch and wail, "Oh for cwying out for Pete's sake!" I have a hard time being sympathetic while swallowing my belly laughs.

You still love everything about preschool. But on Tuesdays and Thursdays (AKA your non-preschool days) you have 0.0% interest in doing anything school related. In my mind, I had imagined that you'd like to do school stuff with us at table on the days you're home with us. I couldn't be more wrong, unless by "like to do school stuff" means "like to pretend to be Iron Man while yelling out random numbers while Natalie does her math". The differences between four-year-old Natalie and four-year-Charlie are too many to count so I keep having to remind myself that just because your sister was (is) a giant overachieving nerd, you don't have to be (yet) (or ever). You are uniquely you and to be honest, it does your sister some good to have you lighten her up. So keep it up, for cwying out for Pete's sake.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for February 9, 2016:

• Trump Gives Victory Speech Following Projected New Hampshire Win
• Alabama Health Agency Confirms First Zika Case in State
• Clinton's Advantage Hits a Campaign Low; She Lags on Trust While Leading on Issues (POLL)
• UAE Picks Woman to Be First "Happiness" Minister
• Music publisher doesn't own 'Happy Birthday,' has to pay back $14 million

January 2016 - Recap

My little peach,
Your eczema has flared up recently and while I kept it at bay for a while using coconut oil and lavender, it got the point I needed to use Cortisone. I also decided to start giving you and Charlie (also an eczema sufferer) a probiotic to help your skin, too. I've given you both a probiotic before but it was in powder form. This new one is a pill and I was curious as to how you'd react to swallowing a pill. Per the instructions of the Mom Handbook (pg. 482, in case you were curious), I stirred the pill into a cup of applesauce and told you to swallow each bite without chewing. That first day you went through the whole cup of applesauce and still had the pill rolling around in your mouth. We gave up, you chewed it up, and we moved on with life. The next day we tried the applesauce again and it was a success. The day after that you only needed a sip of water to swallow the pill after you (dramatically - shock!) declared "Eating applesauce makes me feel like a BABY! I can swallow pills with just water from now on so PUH-LEASE don't make me eat that APPLEsauce again!" Point taken ... but whatever. Applesauce is awesome.

You were dancing around the living room to Pandora the other night and Daddy and I were sitting on the couch watching you. After your song ended, you gave a big dramatic bow and Daddy motioned for you to come sit in his lap. He held you tight, brushed the hair out of your face, smiled a big smile, and sweetly said "Babydoll, I could watch you dance forever." You looked up at Daddy, hugged him back, returned the smile ... and shouted "OKAY!" as you jumped up from his lap and proceeded to dance for the next 173 songs before we made you go to bed. Not quite what Daddy meant (or the response he had intended) when he said that he could watch you forever, but c'est la vie. Such is the life with a seven-year-old girl.

School has been going along really smoothly for the most part. I'm already thinking about August and what I'd like to do differently, so I often have to remind myself to reign it in and focus on the here and now. You still really like math but you still insist upon losing your ever-loving noodle when you get a problem wrong. I've had to say "Go run around outside for 10 minutes and then we'll try again" or "Go to your room and pitch an enormous fit for five minutes and then we'll try again" a lot this month. I can't say that it's a foolproof method for school success but it works for us. And I might just add "Angry P.E." as a subject on your report card this semester.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for February 1, 2016:

• Iowa: The First Test is Now -- Cruz, Sanders hope to defy polls, upset Trump, Clinton in caucus
• New York vet gets Purple Heart 70 years after WWII battle
• Cindy Crawford announces plan to retire
• Zika Virus Update: 36 People in US Infected
• Malala Seeks to Raise $1.4B to Educate Syrian Refugees

Month 50 - Recap

50 months old. That makes me giggle. And it makes me think about the funny parents who refer to their children's ages in months-form even after the child is older than two. "Oh my son? Yes, he's 31 months old. And my daughter is 44 months old. I also have a pair of twins who are 127 months old."

Christmas has come and gone and you are now the proud owner of a Nerf gun and approximately 7,000 spare darts/bullets. The joy that this toy brings you is only rivaled by the joy brought by your bow and arrow. Nothing in our house is safe ... except me. Because "No Hitting Mommy" became The Rule of the Utmost Importance the moment you opened the package. You spend much of your time indoors protecting Natalie and me from the droves of bad guys who seem to hide in our house.

I hung up some paper lanterns to decorate for Natalie's birthday and it took you less than a second to realize they make excellent targets for your beloved Nerf gun. While we were eating lunch in the kitchen, you scooted away to the living room. The next thing I hear is you belly-laughing as you launched a full-scale attack on the lanterns. Natalie quickly put down her hot dog and joined the assault. These poor lanterns didn't stand a chance. And Daddy may or may not have modified one of the Nerf darts with a thumbtack and shot at the party balloons. It may or may not have been a brilliant idea.

You came up to the me the other day looking really distressed. I asked you what was wrong and, hand to heaven, this is what you said:

You: I weally [really] need to find a wife.
Me: Um, like, now? This year? This month? This week? In 15 minutes?
You: *dramatic sigh* I don't know. I'm just worried I won't find a wife. And then I won't be able to have kids. And then I won't be able to be a daddy.
Me: Trust me, kiddo. You'll find a wife.
Me: *to myself* Cuz with those dimples?! I'm going to probably have to beat some girls off with a stick. Not that I'm biased or anything.
You: But what if I don't?
Me: Well, it's okay to not be married. But I have a feeling you will be. And plus, I'm already praying for your wife.
You: You're WHAT?
Me: Yep. Already praying for her!
You: That's funny.
You: *not two seconds later* Hey Natalie! Let's go shoot the lanterns again!!!
Natalie: YES!!!

Dear Future-Daughter-in-Law-of-Mine,  

I certainly hope you can find joy in the silly things in life, like shooting paper party decorations with foam bullets. But I assume you will. Because I assume that'll be one of the first things that brings you and my sweet be-dimpled boy together.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for January 9, 2016:

• New Iowa Poll Shows Ted Cruz and Donald Trump in Tight Battle
• 'El Chapo' in Solitary Confinement as Lawyers Fight His Extradition to US
• Powerball Jackpot Is Now $1.4 Billion
• Ringling Circus Elephants to Retire in May
• Musician David Bowie Dead at Age 69
• MADD Petition Demands 'Affluenza' Teen Be Moved to Adult Court

2015 - Year End Review

Well lookie here, Miss You're-Now-a-Whole-Hand-Plus-a-Peace-Sign-years old. This has been a funny, silly, emotional, dramatic, and blessing-full year. As per the ushe (uzhe? you-zhe? Seriously, how do you spell this?), here are your Top 10 Lists ...

Top 10 Things You Love:

1. All things artistic (drawing, coloring, painting, etc)
2. Singing
3. Gymnastics
4. Writing stories
5. Reading
6. Playing basketball 
7. America's Funniest Home Videos, Phineas and Ferb, and Road Runner
8. Church
9. Lauren Daigle, MercyMe, Francesca Battestelli
10. Folding towels for $0.50

Top 10 Things You Don't Love:

1. Avocados, sweet potatoes, beans, nuts, Cheez-Its, Larabars 
2. Waiting your turn to talk. The moment you have a thought, it immediately comes out of your mouth.
3. Sleeping in. You're not an early riser but you're not a sleeper-inner either
4. Jeans
5. Being sweaty 
6. Being aggravated by Charlie (which is unfortunate, because aggravating you is one of his most favorite things ever)
7. Getting something wrong. You're ridiculously hard on yourself, you give yourself zero grace, and you feel like you should master all new concepts within two minutes. And if you don't? Well clearly you'll never get it and you should totally cry and pitch lots of fits. Cuz that always works. 
8. Unkindness. You have an enormously sensitive heart.
9. Automatic toilets. You love going to the bathroom in a stall by yourself but nothing makes you turn around on your heels faster than seeing a handle-less toilet. You practically hyperventilate the entire time you're on an automatic toilet, convinced the toilet paper I'm using to cover the sensor will not do its job and the toilet will spontaneously flush. 
10. Untwirly dresses

Top 10 Things You're Good At:

1. Math
2. Emptying the dishwasher
3. Ordering folks around (whether or not people listen is another thing, but you do a bang up job at the ordering around thing)
4. Singing. You can carry a tune fairly well.
5. Drawing. I know you're only seven, but you're a pretty good little ar-teest.
6. Going across the monkey bars
7. Making cards and signs for people (you love making anything from birthday cards to "I'm Sorry Your Head Hurts, Mommy" to Yay, "It's Pizza Friday!" signs to put on the front door for Daddy to see when he comes home from work)
8. Keeping secrets about gifts. You really enjoyed knowing what Charlie was getting for his birthday and for Christmas. I think it made you feel grown up. So I happily obliged and took you shopping with me for his presents. You never once spilled the beans. (Charlie, on the other hand, makes it his life's mission to spoil surprises.)
9. Doing a backwards roll. (I only include this because you tried for months to do one in gymnastics and you just couldn't get your brain and your legs to work together. Then, lo and behold, a few days ago, you did it. And now, you do a backwards roll like a boss.)
10. Talking to adults. 

Top 10 Things You're Not Good At:

1. Brushing your entire head of hair. You're a pro at about 70%. And that 70% is smoooooth. But the other 30%? A family of squirrels could happily make their home in those tangles.
2. Minding your own beeswax. If Mommy and Daddy are talking, you demand to know every detail of said conversation.
3. Speaking Spanish. It's been many years since I took Spanish in high school, but I do remember distinctly that "Fleeb flop floob" is not Spanish for 'I love you', despite your insistence.
4. Deviating from your bedtime routine. Let's just say that Charlie has the nerve to brush his teeth first (I know, right?). Instead of doing something productive and bedtime-related (like going to the bathroom or getting your jammies on), you'll sit on the edge of the tub and wait for him to finish brushing his teeth. You can't budge from your brushing-your-teeth-going-to-the-bathroom-getting-jammies-on pattern without a serious breakdown. Most of the time, it's not a big deal. Charlie the Flexible doesn't care in what order he does his stuff, but there are those times where he gets to the sink first and I walk you through the process of deviating from your routine. I have a 100% success rate and you have a 100% crying rate. 
5. Speaking in a normal volume. I worry you feel everyone has a hearing problem.
6. Reading directions on a worksheet and not immediately declaring that "I HAVE NO CLUE WHAT THIS SAYS." Reading instructions two times (or three, four, or twelve) times is not something you prefer. You prefer to read them once then promptly have a meltdown. It's so cute. *eyeroll*
7. Coming up with ideas for what to draw or what to write about. This has been on your Top 10 Things You're Not Good At for several years and it continues to be hard for you. What's funny (aggravating?) is that you want to be fed ideas but you rarely like the ideas I come up with. I'm just going to start suggesting really awful things to force you to come up with something better. 
8. Differential Equations
9. Sitting still on the couch. You are the squirmiest and flippy-floppiest child I've ever seen. "Snuggling" with you isn't so much as "snuggling" as it is "the five-second respite in between position changes"
10. Sleeping gracefully. Arms spread out. Feet hanging off the bed. Mouth wide open. 

Becoming a parent is inherently humbling. The "I'll never do THAT when I'M a parent"-isms quickly turned into "Aw, snap. I'm doing THAT. Aaaaaaaand ya know what? I'm really okay with it." And the whole "My kid will NEVER act like that!" thing quickly turned into a "Wow. My kid can be a little punk." thing. God is so funny.

It's also hard to see the qualities I'm most self-conscious about be front and center in my child's personality. I guess I had these notions of grandeur that you'd somehow luck out and be everything I didn't think I was when I was younger - cool, confident, and easy-going. But God knew better than to bless me with that kind of child. He knew I needed to be changed and molded so he blessed me with a child who mirrored myself so clearly. So the only thing I could do - can do - is turn to Him and ask for heaps and loads of grace and mercy.

Please don't misunderstand that paragraph, my precious girl. You are exactly what I need and everything I want. You are made perfectly and wonderfully in His image. However, I need to be challenged so I don't get lazy. I need to be humbled so I don't get proud. I need to be weak so I won't count on my own strength.

I needed a girl who wants so desperately to understand and master new concepts the first time. Because that kind of bananas mentality is the exact same time of bananas mentality her momma possesses. So one of my many prayers is that the Lord softens my heart to your ill-fated desire towards Mastery of All The Things and simultaneously strips away my similar desire.

I needed a girl who had big, confusing emotions because it made my big, confusing emotions have a partner-in-crime.

I needed a girl who would be enormously responsible at a young age because there have been numerous days where headaches have left me all but incapacitated. I'm able to take a nap and you take on the maturity of someone twice your age by turning off the TV after watching one more show with Charlie. Then you let Charlie spend Quiet Time in your room while I sleep and you two play quietly for a few hours. When I wake up, I can count on a beautifully drawn Get Well Soon, Momma card to be the first thing I see. My headaches cause me so much frustration, but it's only a fraction of the frustration I would feel if you weren't able to be trusted to watch over Charlie while I slept. Even as I type this, the tears are falling because God is so good. He's so GOOD, baby girl.

I pray you feel His goodness and His unending love for you, because every time I look at you, I'm reminded of His unending love for me. And His epic sense of humor.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

December 2015 - Recap

My love,
You're seven today. Halfway to fourteen. A third of the way to 21. A fourth of the way to the age I was when you were born. Dude.

You finally conquered your Mt. Everest, also known as a backwards roll. After months of backward roll-less gymnastics classes, you figured out how to get your legs to cooperate. And it was a glorious sight. I have to admit, I enjoy watching you struggle at something you really want to figure out. Watching you struggle at folding gigantic bath towels is one thing (albeit a funny thing). Watching you struggle at word problems is another thing (albeit a good character-building thing). But watching you struggle at something totally voluntary is something completely different. You practiced so much at home, determined to figure out how to do it. And one day at class, you did. Hopefully this will convince you that struggling through things is not, in fact, fatal.

Christmas is so rad with kids. There can never be too many Christmas lights, too many sprinkles on Christmas cookies, too many Christmas carols, or too many Christmas decorations. You and Charlie wanted to cram as much Christmas stuff into our days as humanly possible. And God bless your sweet little self, because there were many days where I forgot to do my Official Christmas Duties.

You: Mooooommmmmmm! You forgot to hide Sam [our Elf on the Shelf ... we don't do Santa, so Sam doesn't have any Santa responsibilities. My job is just to hide him each night and you guys find him each morning. You would think that wouldn't be a problem. You'd be wrong.]
Me: I know. I forgot.
You: But you forgot the past four days!
Me: Well, yes. That's true. Maybe Sam just likes it behind the picture frame.
You: Mooommmmmm! That's not how to play! You're supposed to put him in a different spot!
Me: Sometimes I have to make the choice between providing you with clean underwear and clean dishes or a new Where's Sam? game.
You: Oh, well, thanks. I'll hide him for Charlie then.

You: Moooooommmmmmm! We forgot to make Christmas cookies!!!!!!!
Me: *thinking* Oh snap. I don't have the time to do homemade cookies. And isn't that, like, a law for Christmas? Aren't I supposed to cover my kitchen in flour and powdered sugar and tra-la-la in and amongst the dirty bowls and messes and twirl about making lasting memories with my precious children? This Mom Guilt struggle is real.
Me: *out loud* Oh look! I have these break-apart-some-pre-portioned-cookie-dough-blobs-and-bake-them cookies! Let's throw these in the oven and then y'all can drown them in sprinkles.
You: THIS IS THE BEST EVER!

Grace. Kids are just chock full of it.

Appreciation. This momma is just chock full of it towards Pillsbury and its products geared towards last-minute mommas.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for January 1, 2016:

• Natalie Cole Dies at 65
• San Diego Twins Born in Different Years: New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day
• Attorney denies report that 'affluenza' teen had gun
• Researchers Fly a Drone Using an Apple Watch
• Kim Jong Un Says North Korea Is Ready for War if Provoked

Month 49 - Recap

My sweet boy,
Well, your first month as a four-year-old is much better than your first month as a three-year-old. You've been able to keep the whining to a minimum (read: only 49% of the day) so life has been pretty swell. You are still thoroughly obsessed with your bow and arrow (who am I kidding? We are all obsessed with it. It's the best.) and you can't get enough of that dang fart gun. You've perfected the art of when to use it, so secretly I'm high-fiving your comic timing. If Natalie is fussing at you or bossing you around, you'll simply hold up the gun to her face and fire away. Nothing puts a damper on bossiness like 20 seconds of nonstop flatulence noises. You've also come up to me with your hands behind your back, wearing your impossible-to-resist smile, and say "Mommy! I have a surprise for you!!!" And while I sometimes get dandelions from the front yard (heart = melted), most of the time you bring the gun around from behind your back and let 'er rip. It's so charming.

You're in full-on We Must Decorate All The Solid Surfaces in Our House for Christmas mode. You and your sister are like two peas in a pod. Whenever we go to the store, you two will point out all the things I HAVE to buy to decorate for Christmas. If it were up to you two, our front lawn would be covered with blow up a Rudolph, Santa in an outhouse (real cute, Walmart), and Olaf. And inside, our tree would be 12-ft tall and the floor would have to be reinforced after taking into account the weight of the millions of ornaments you two want to put on it. You love all the Christmas songs and the Christmas shows on TV. You have, however, noticed that the weather is anything but Christmas-like. It's in the 70s this week. Yes it's gorgeous, yes the humidity is low, yes if this were as hot as it EVER got, I'd be a happy camper. But it's DECEMBER. Get with the program, weather.

Speaking of Christmas, you like to investigate all the presents under the tree to see if you can figure out what they are. You've already figured out a Lego set (but I told you that you were wrong). You're really confused by the underwear (oh yes, I went there. I wrapped a pack of underwear. [It's part of the Wear for your Want, Need, Wear, Read presents]) "What IS this? Is it a squishy book? Is it a weird stuffed animal??"

You know which package is your Christmas jammies - you're really excited about them. As well you should be. They're the cutest jammies EVER. I bought you and Natalie matching (well, matching-ish - yours are blue, hers are pink) jammies. They have abominable snowmen all over them and the shirt has a big one that says "Yeti for bed!" Not very Christmassy, per se, but still, totally adorable. You'll probably realize when you're older that some things you do for your children are solely for your children. And some things you do for your children are actually not for your children at all. They're purely for you and your wife's amusement.

Hugs and smooches,
Mommy & Daddy

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Headlines for December 9, 2015:

• SoCal terrorists likely forged bond in online jihadist forums
• Accused Colo. Planned Parenthood shooter shouts in court 'I'm guilty'
• Girl Who Lost Family in Fire Only Wants Christmas Cards as Presents
• Cop's Wife Caught on Video Stealing Packages From Neighbor's Porch
• 'Star Wars: The Force Awakens': How Harrison Ford Mentored the New Cast Members
• Beneath the Mona Lisa Lies a Second Portrait, Scientist Claims