Keep her away from the sugar.
Union negotiations dictate that they are required to participate in twice-yearly cute breaks (to break up the monotony of the emotional and physical torture they inflict the other 99% of the year). Unfortunately, it is only January, so I now only have one left for the rest of this year.
Okay, so lets be honest here. Who, in their right mind walks away from the November/December months riding on a blissful holiday high? That’s right. No one. I don’t care what kind of pious or abstinent life you lead, there is no way you can honestly look back at the previous two months and not want to be all, LATER DUDE! And its not even like I’m trying to get all Bah Humbug, and whine about the same inane things that everyone bemoans (I’m Broke! I’m Fat! I’m Hung Over!). I’m just sayin’. If the holidays ran year round we’d all be dead by the age of 7. (Throw in a couple holiday-adjacent birthdays and it automatically shortens to 5.)
This year was our rotation to host the holiday extravaganza, which meant it was up to us to make sure everyone was tended to and cared for so as to minimize the boredom, hurt feelings, foot pounding, over-stimulation and general dramatic flair. Oh, and make sure the kids were happy too. If I were to rank it on a scale from 1 to 10, with 1 being someone pitching the Christmas tree on the lawn in an egg-nog-fueled rage, and 10 being that we all shared in a group hug at the end, I’d say it was probably somewhere around 7 – being that no one cried in the presence of anyone else and everyone seems to still be on speaking terms with one another. I shall proclaim it victory.
It took a full-scale global recession for everyone to finally stick to their “we’re keeping it simple this year” proclamation, and although our kids were showered with gifts aplenty, we are – overall – getting much closer to a manageable scope of gift giving. At first glance, you probably wouldn’t have been able to tell, considering all 12 of us sat down to open gifts at the same time – then multiply that by 6 or so gifts per person, then multiply THAT by the fact that the kids had somewhat patiently waited all morning and until AFTER breakfast. If we had opted for the one-at-a-time gift opening method we would probably still be sitting there – and/or one of the kids may have exploded.
Somehow, we all managed to make it through.
(note: roughly 6 minutes, with audio)
Because we are stupid can’t leave well enough alone, we had decided to undertake the task of moving the kids into separate bedrooms the first week of December – unleashing a project I am certain will never actually end. Currently, there are clothes piled on the floor, and framed pictures stacked in corners of every room. Now has come the realization that we don’t have ANY decent furniture for Porter’s bedroom other than his bed a giant toy pit toy box. We have set up a makeshift card table and I bought a lamp to, you know, make it look respectable. Other than that we are on a quest for a bookshelf. And as per usual, based on our findings so far, we are about as likely to find one locally as we are to get Porter to deviate his wardrobe. (I’m pretty sure he is eligible to set a world record for wearing the same outfit for the most consecutive days in a row.) Thankfully, as we began the rearranging process we were able to convince him that we could throw away the last of the contents of the diaper shelf and have successfully entered into 2010 without a single Pull-Up of any kind. Boo. Yah.
We are all now back at work and school, and Stella is now officially a 1st grader. The realizations of this shift continue to reveal themselves to us: Homework is no longer an activity, but rather a requirement. She won’t have an official 1st grade school picture. We need to begin saving quarters to make-up for the year we just lost in saving tuition. It wasn’t until the last moment that I realized that I had to actually prepare for this as another 1st day of school exercise. Let’s just say it wasn’t quite as big a production as it was the first time around. I managed to get a couple of photos, but that was about it.
By this point you have probably figured out that we have basically rolled into this year with our usual pomp and circumstance. Nothing is dire, but nothing is dull. There is a term they use in the clinical world of doorknob touchers where they either refer to someone as neurotypical or non-neurotypical. As you can imagine, we utilize these adjectives quite often around these parts. As such, I think I am going to coin my own household term by saying that overall, this season was pretty much Walston-Typical®
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
Look, this is no worse than the shingled-cabin-camper-shell my parents carted me and my sister around in when we were kids.
