Author Archives: Natalie
Happy 6th Birthday, Stella Marie
Dear Stella,
Today you turn 6. Six years old, baby!
Geez, I don’t even know where to begin. Although my blogging seems to have all but skidded to a halt this year, I do think I managed to capture some of the highlights. Like the ear piercing! the soccer! the no-training-wheels-required bike riding! the endless string of lost teeth! the skiing! And as if that wasn’t enough, there was also the highly anticipated entry into Kindergarten!
And, um, since we are on the subject of Kindergarten, there’s something I need to tell you. Stella, it was recently determined that you will be passing go, collecting your $200, and advancing straight to 1st grade. As of January. Um, so yeah.
Last year I bemoaned our struggle with whether or not to start you early, but once the decision was finally decided I began the slow process of reconciling it with myself that waiting the extra year would certainly afford many benefits. No need to rush, right?
So, I strolled into the first parent-teacher conference confident that I would hear about my taller than average Kindergartner who happened to be a pretty awesome reader. Instead, it was patiently and delicately explained to me that my Kindergartner had no business being in Kindergarten. Huh?
Our 20 minute conference turned into an hour-long discussion, and the next thing I knew I was looking at your teacher with that are-you-saying-what-I-think-you’re-saying? look – making me want to do nothing more than sprint from the room to text your father: THEY WANT HER IN THE 1ST GRADE! BY JANUARY!
As it was explained to me, you are the sole person in your class who has either the inclination or aptitude to sit down with a chapter book and quietly read it cover to cover. You jump rope. Up the driveway. Backwards. While the rest of your class is sounding out the words bat and cat, and clapping along with the alphabet, you are usually seated at an adjacent table writing a story about how to roast a turkey or working word problems, or doing the teacher’s taxes. Okay, not really that last part. But almost.
All I keep thinking is A.) how in the heck did this happen, and B.) I think I need to find myself a support group, because at the pace you are setting, you will be smarter than me by the time you reach the 3rd grade.
So, the class of 2021 it is.
Much to your father’s delight, you also spend a healthy amount of your off-time honing your dramatic female side. Back of hand to forehead. Good. Now eye roll. Annnnd, finish it off with a stompy-pouty-FINE-I’LL-JUST-STAY-IN-MY-ROOM-FOREVER! flourish. Excellent. Now, step-ball-change, and Ta-Da! Oy, we are going to be so in for it with you.
Thankfully, you channel the remaining amount of your energies into being a complete and total science nerd. It has reached the point where you are regularly schooling me on the finer points of all matters related to the animal kingdom and their habitats. I had an extensive debate with you the other night about whether or not a particular sea creature was a mollusk – which you won. Whatev. I get to stay up past 8:00. Top that, Smarty McSmartson!
And no birthday post would be complete without proper attribution to your role as a big sister. And I can – with sincere honesty – say that you are the purest and most perfect embodiment of Big Sister genetic coding. The relationship you share with your brother is the ultimate in sibling cliché. You split your time evenly between loving each other and trying to throw one another into traffic.
Right now, we are in the early stages of moving you each into your own rooms. Something I have been toying with ever since we moved here. And to be perfectly honest, it has less to do with the two of you needing privacy and personal space, as much as it does our need to better utilize the limited space in this house. You two are literally spilling out of that bedroom while there is a perfectly decent empty bedroom right next door.
Although you are both pretty excited at the prospect of having your very own bedroom, I know the reality of sleeping by yourselves will not come easy to either one of you. Neither of you ever complain about having to share a room with one another, and I will be very interested to see which one of you ends up in the other’s room at night.
So here we are. Embarking on year 6. If these first 5 have been any indication, you are going to continue to pick up speed in a way that makes me wonder how we are going to be able to keep up. Our conversations are getting more poignant, and your awareness of the world around you makes me always have to be on my A-game. You don’t miss much, always absorbing what you see, what you hear, what you read. And just as you are growing and changing, so am I. You continue to challenge me to be my better self. And, I just hope, Stella, I can always do the same for you.
Happy Birthday, sweet girl!
Much Love,
Mom
Street Legal?
The Pumpkin Pilgrimage
Last weekend was our annual trek out to the Blue Lake pumpkin patch. Turned out everyone I know in Humboldt County had a similar plan, and I could hardly take two steps without running into someone else I knew. I guess once you have lived here for 17 years these things begin to happen.
This year the Bakers joined our group, and I honestly and truly tried taking photos. Really, I did. However, it became increasingly difficult considering that our Team Pumpkin ran non-stop in opposite directions the entire time and it was all I could do to actually get Stella and Alex to sit still in the same spot for a couple of photos with actual pumpkins. Porter hooked up with one of his pre-school friends and the two of them ran and ran to nowhere in particular. At one point we all looked up to realize that Porter had taken it upon himself to load up on the tractor that was headed back for the barn – while the rest of us roamed the far corners of the pumpkin patch. Let’s just say that I could – hypothetically – hold a gold medal should there ever be an Olympic sport requiring one to sprint across a dirt field carrying a large camera and two jackets without tripping over a single pumpkin or vine. Just sayin’.
Due to the fact that all of California was due to be clobbered with a massive storm, we decided to go ahead use the rest of the afternoon to get the apples off the trees before they all ended up on the ground as deer food. Thankfully when you put two doorknob-touching men on the task of picking apples you are guaranteed to end up with not a single apple left on a single tree within the entire property line. Anthony and Steve took their charge very seriously, and we now have 6 plentiful baskets of apples that we are going to cook, eat, pawn off on friends & family and use for obnoxious craft projects. Unfortunately, Steve says I can’t throw them at our snotty neighbors. Boo.