The Grand Middle

Yesterday was The Big Little One, aka The Middle One, aka Middie, 's birthday.
She turned six years old.
It makes me want to cry a little.  I realize six isn't that big, but it is, in many ways.  In just a couple of months, she will be out of kindergarten, and on her way to first grade.  She won't be a little girl any more, really.  For some reason, in my head, while The Littlest One is the baby, I see Middie as my baby, too.  It feels like just yesterday I brought her home from the hospital.  I have all these beautiful memories of her just being such a snuggly baby.  She still is a snuggler.
She really is a fantastic kid.  Middie is smart cookie.  She is an avid reader, which I love.  She is fantastic at math, which is really fantastic since it means I don't have to help her with it.  She has a sharp wit, much like her Father's, and a great sense of humor.
I love this kid.
She amazes me all the time.  I look at her, and I really wonder where she will go in life and what she will do, because I see in her the potential to do anything and do it very well.
I am very proud of her already, and I know her future will be amazing.  I'm just so happy that I get to be a part of it and watch her grow!!

Love you, Middie!!!

How did we get here?

This morning, when I woke up, something was wrong.  There was a disturbance in the force, of sorts.  I got ready, came down stairs, and there was The Big Little One, eating her weird concoction of 5 different kinds of cereal, and I realized what it was.  I now have two school age children and only one baby.

Today is The Big Little One's birthday.

While I knew it was her birthday, I am the one who gave birth after all, it really hit me that in a few months, I will be sending two girls to school, and not one.  I'll suddenly be back to just one child with me all day.  I'll be able to do things you do when you have only one child, and that child is younger.  We can go back to the toddler story time.  I can go hang out at a park, and not have to worry constantly about trying to keep my eyes on all my children at once.  Things will be different.  This time around, on her first day of school, I won't have nearly the anxiety about her that I did with her big sister.  I've done this once before and that helps.  More importantly, I know she is ready.  She is so independent.  She wants to go.  She talks about going to school almost every time we walk by the kindergarten classes as we drop The Big One off at school.  Probably most importantly of all, I know she will not only thrive, but she will flourish.  She is a smart kid.  She loves to learn.  She will love school in general.  I'm sure there will be challenges along the way for her, there are for everyone, but I expect her to do very well, and tackle them head on, just like she does everything else.  I can picture her being my athlete, and competing in every sport each of her schools have to offer as she grows.  I can see her being the one with the soccer, softball, and maybe even basket ball games year round, while perhaps her older sister is a cheer leader.  They are just so different, it amazes me.

Today we will have birthday cake and ice cream.  There will be presents.  We will celebrate how wonderful and amazing she is.  Today, it will be about her as much as it possibly can be.  Next year, there will be new friends, and a party with kids from class for the first time.  She is growing up so quickly, I can't believe it.  I swear just yesterday she was taking her first steps, and learning to use the potty.  Now, she is about to enter the world of the big kids, and really start a major new phase in her life.

I love you, my sweetheart.  You are amazing and fantastic.  You are funny and ferocious.  I am thankful every day that you chose me to be your mom.  I love you forever.  Happy Birthday!

Eight Years and Torture

For the last two birthdays, The Big One has begged me to have a sleep over for her birthday party.  This time, when she begged, I gave in.  I'm not sure why, but I think most of it was guilt because her Dad was going to be gone at the time, and I wanted to make sure she still had a wonderful birthday.  That, and there must have been some sort of temporary insanity that allowed me to to agree to do this a)by myself, b) with an infant to care for as well, and c) with 6 other little girls.  Actually, we invited 9, knowing that not all of them would come.
I ended up with 6 guests, plus my three children, all by myself, for a very girly, Hello Kitty themed birthday party sleep over.
As I am actually blogging about this, you may assume that I survived.  You would of course, be correct, but don't assume I survived unscathed.  I'm pretty sure that the amount of stress that I incurred cost me years of my life.   I would guess one year for each guest.  Six years are gone that I can never get back.

I planned the best I could for this party.  I bought a new Wii game that they all could play, Smurf Dance Party, and it was also physical.  My idea was to get them dancing for hours so that they would be exhausted before bed.  We picked out a movie to watch once they got settled in bed.
Though, some of my planning caused more stress than it should have.  I should have had pizza delivered, but instead I opted to let them make their own.  I should have just had cake and ice cream, but instead I made the cake and decorated it myself, then we did make your own ice cream sundaes to go with it.  Those two things probably cost me a good 2 months of the year I lost, but by no means was it the worst part.  That falls squarely on the shoulders of the girls themselves, in particular, three of the girls who did the greatest amount of damage.  Three little girls that I will very generously just call "high maintenance".  Let me assure you none of them were maliciously bad, but they each have their own personality twists that I should have taken into account when planning, and didn't.  In all fairness, I didn't know one of them at all until after the sleepover.  One of them would not participate with the group.  She was constantly somewhere else, no matter what I tried to get them to do.  If the other girls were smurf dancing, she was in the back playroom, trying to go through every bin of toys, toys for younger children mind you, that she could.  If the other girls were playing "Don't Say Hello Kitty", a game devised by my own child and not unlike the baby shower game where you can't say "baby", she was in the back room (again) playing with the play kitchen.  If the other girls went to the back room, she was pacing back and forth between my stair well and me, repeatedly asking me why she couldn't go upstairs and play.  When it was time to lay down at night, the other girls all gathered together to sleep in their sleeping bags, and she would inch worm around the room in her bag, until she hit the guinea pig cage.
And oh the poor guinea pigs.  This event probably cost them time off or their short lives as well.  I swear that I must have said "don't touch the baby" and "don't touch the guinea pigs" at least 40 times each in about a 18 hour period, that did include some sleep.
And by some, I mean a very few hours.  When it was time for bed, I couldn't get them to sleep.  It wasn't so much that they weren't tired.  I just couldn't get them to stop talking.  Again, one in particular, ad different one, wanted desperately to talk ALL NIGHT LONG.  Finally, about midnight, I told her to actually zip her lips, and that she wasn't allowed to speak again.  I lay on the couch, and "shhh"ed her every time she started talking.  After about 40 minutes or so of that, they all fell asleep.
Since most of the girls stayed up very late, I expected them to sleep at lease a little in the morning.  I was wrong.  Very wrong.  They were all up by about 7am.  The Big One was mainly the cause because she was up, and ready to go instantly.  She ran to her room, threw on a dress, because she needed to look snazzy at 7am on a Sunday, and was ready to go.
I was prepared for the morning.  I had cereal, muffins, fruit, and croissants all lined up so that they could get what ever they wanted.  I'm may be crazy, but I wasn't crazy enough to think I was going to cook.
By the time i got them fed, dressed, and then put everything away, we only had a little time left.  Score one more for thinking ahead, I had a craft project.  I had them decorate frames with hello kitty pieces I cut out with my cricut.  Then, when I get back the pics from the party, I'll give each one a framed pic along with their thank you note.  Anyway, that project was a huge success, and was the quietest my house had been for since the whole thing started.  Lesson learned, keep them busy!



Still, this was certainly a learning process for me.  Sleepovers of more than two children at a time are hereby prohibited until a girl reaches the age of at least 14 where I will no longer be cool or needed by her.  At that age, I will be able to set food out on the counters, lock the doors to the house, set the house alarm so that no one can get in or out, and then go hide in my own bedroom, with door locked, until everyone is gone.  That I will do anytime.

She Isn't Quite So Little Anymore

The Little One, my soon to be middle child, isn't quite so little anymore.  She just turned four years old.  I forget that she isn't a baby anymore.  She reminds me all the time, in the best of ways.  She can write her name.  She can not only count, but with a little help, she can count to 100.  She can do simple addition by herself.  She does all these things, and sometimes I have to step back, remembering that she isn't so tiny.
She is funny, spunky, sweet, and adorable.  She is very intelligent and insightful.  She is fantastic, all around, and I truly believe she will grow up to be an amazing young woman.
Happy Birthday to you, my darling!  I love you forever!

My Birthday.

Today is my birthday.

I am 29.

Again.

Coming of Age

Ok. I am going to admit something publicly that I really don't care to. I am going to turn 30 soon. I know, I know. It may seem petty to many that I am fretting over turning 30. It isn't a big deal to many people, but it is to me.

For whatever reason, my mind simply can not wrap itself around the fact that I am hitting up another decade. I don't feel what I think 30 is. I don't feel like I should be in the 30 something category. True that I am married with 2 kids, but I just don't feel ready to be 30. Now, before I get snarky comments about 30 not being old; I know it isn't. considering the potential life span of an average female in the US, it is far from old. It is though, that age where you are supposed to be somewhere. There is a place that you should be in within in your own life when you hit 30. It is sort of a settled place. I am not any where near that place. I haven't yet to finish school. I am far from buying a home. We just haven't done all of the 30 year old things that we should have done yet. I suppose it is not the numerical age that is the problem, but the fact that I am simply not where I thought I would be at this age.

So, I have decided not to celebrate this year. Not yet. Perhaps if I come to terms with the age, I will. For now, though, I have instructed my husband not to do anything for my birthday. I don't want a presents or a party. I don't want cake and ice cream....well. Ok, I want cake and ice cream, but not birthday cake and birthday ice cream. = )