Five.

Mason,

Happy birthday baby!! Today you are five. FIVE. FIVE. FIVE. FIVE. FIVE. It is weird to even type that.

FIVE.

A whole HAND FULL. (Not to be confused with a handful, which you often are as well.) Though it's just five fingers it's so much more than that. Five years makes for a lot of memories. A handful of years, a heart full of joyous, chaotic moments. Surprisingly, it didn't really sneak up on me like past birthdays. Years past each birthday was bittersweet. Another year we'd made it. Another year you'd thrived. Another year flew by. This year isn't any different.

WE MADE IT.
YOU THRIVED.
AND IT FLEW BY.

But in its own way it is different.

Five is a little different. With five comes kindergarten. Let me just tell you what a BIG DEAL Kindergarten is these days. For nearly every parent of a four year old I know this is the topic of discussion. There are reoccurring themes in these conversations, the most popular -- anxiety. Followed closely by fear paired with excitement. Unknowns. Hysteria. And here is where I admit to you that I am not really that sad about it. I feel a little guilty, because for years the mere thought of you turning five panicked me. Just hearing the word kindergarten made me worried, perhaps anxious is a better word.
OKAY....it made me come TOTALLY UNGLUED.

But magically with the nearing of five...I think we are ready. But I can't help but wonder did I  DID WE do enough? Did we build enough puzzles? Paint enough with our fingers? Did I snuggle you long enough when you'd drift off to sleep? Did I watch your tiny little sighs while you were napping? I second guess myself often. Did I laugh hard enough when you first started telling me stories? I replay afternoons in my head. I question did we build tall enough towers? Watch enough Pixar films? Did I listen? I heard you, but did I really listen when you asked questions about dinosaurs and volcanoes? And better yet, were my answers sufficient? Did I read enough nursery rhymes? Sing enough lullabies? Did I let you get muddy? Jump in murky puddles? Did I take enough pictures? Film enough memories? Because I can't forget those things, they aren't coming back. Because I don't WANT TO FORGET them. Because they were  are ours. Did I prepare you? Did I spend the five years that I was given with you wisely? Abundantly? And most of the times the answer is yes.

But sometimes I wonder.

And so I accept that the afternoons won't still get to be spent in pajamas, or me whispering I love you as you fall in to a deep 1:00 PM slumber. Instead, we'll spend them building Lego ships after school, hearing about your day, reading new stories, making new friends. I'll probably still whisper I love you. But the good thing about FIVE is you say it back. And you know what it means. And it means so much more coming from a FIVE YEAR OLD who gets it. You totally get it.

This year you've blossomed in a new way. You have matured. Your questions now have purpose. You fill your role as biggest brother in ways I never imagined a five year old could.You play harder, sleep harder. You talk faster, you stand taller, you laugh louder. You jump higher, you eat more, OH MY GOODNESS YOU EAT MORE. People always joke when they see me grocery shopping with you and your brothers. Just wait until they are teenagers. Wow three boys, you are going to need a part time job to pay for groceries once they reach high school. Ummm, why yes, thank you. But what about now? Because they are two and five. And this chubby one, he's not even ONE. And I think I should probably just buy a cow. And a chicken. And a field full of wheat maybe.

You really understand things. You have started to read. You have started to write. You take pride in your drawings and you should, because your artwork is awesome. You draw elaborate scenes, filled with people. People who don't really have have clothing or bodies, but these kick ass people HAVE FINGERS. And tiny little heads with eyes as big as quarters. And I love them.

I absolutely love those little people, because you drew them. They are your signature masterpiece. And you are mine. My masterwork, my showpiece, my gem. You started as this small little empty canvas and now your canvas is painted with personality, coated with curiosity. A true masterpiece we call Mason. Ornate, yet simple. Dazzling. Simply stunning. And just like you do for your works of art, I too take pride.

So much pride that it bursts at my seams. The pride overflows the arch of my lips and sneaks up the corners of my mouth  in to a gigantic beaming smile of delight. Delightful pride. All because of you. I am proud of you today. I am proud of your yesterdays, your last Thursdays, your two, three and four year old feats. And I will be proud of your tomorrow. For always.

I asked you what you thought about turning five. You didn't seem really enthusiastic, but you reminded me that once you were five (umm, hello you already are...as in today is your BIRTHDAY and that's when you turn a year old...) you'd have to go to kindergarten. And you wanna know what that means Mom? Umm, well first of all I hope it doesn't mean you are going to start calling me MOM. Not ready for that jelly. Mmmmkay? It means that I have to be good. After much discussion of the fact that I already thought you were pretty good, you reassured me you'd have to be good-er.

Oh okay. Awesome. On that note...I think I'm going to like five. So long as being gooder means less whining than accompanied the sweet age of four. I also hope that your kindergarten teacher is ready for some grammar lessons and such. Perhaps we missed that lesson amongst the painting and Pixar movies? Gooder? Seriously?

When you blew out your candles this morning I hope you wished big. Today is YOUR DAY. We are celebrating you. The bigger, older, sweet you. The gooder you, Mase. 


Happy birthday to our baby boy.

Loving you more then the day we met,
Mommy (IWILLNEVERBEMOM).

You were my high.

Twenty twelve.

It's here!! As most people, I tend to reflect on the year that just passed by (in a hurry as usual). People sometimes do a look back through the year. You can reflect on the dark days you had, the best moments, the vacations, the sleepless nights, all the belly laughs. Your high, your low. I've tried to remember the sweetest moments from our year. Sweet, sugary, candy-coated moments frozen in our minds for safe keeping.

I debated writing a post of a little yearly recap, it's been quite a year. I considered looking back at each month and reminiscing, perhaps even breaking it down in to our high and our low.  I decided against that. I am sure there were many highs. And lots of lows. All worthy of being mentioned and remembered. I am not forgetting them, but I'm choosing to relish in the high. Treasuring the how rich our life was this year.

It's probably obvious to anyone who knows our family or has been apart of our lives the past year, but he was my high.

I vividly remember New Year's Eve of 2010. Really, the last few months of 2010. I was hoping and wishing it was 2011. Because I knew he was coming. I could cradle his floppy newborn body and swoop him up to smell his forehead. As always, it would be surreal. Yet, awesome. This time it'd exactly the same, but it would be different. Now we'd be complete (FOR SURE...probably...maybe...for now).

Oh Alexander. You were my high. The highest high of 2011.

You came to us early in the year and nothing has been the same since.

There is more love. I'm not sure if you brought joy with you. But this year there was more. More joy. And the giggles, not sure either, but we all laughed lots this year. More laughter. Among other awesome things you brought with you serenity, sleepless nights, chubby rolls that conceal your wrists, chocolate eyes, and happiness. You're the high. The happy.  My happy.

More dimples to admire, more toes to nibble. Another baby to the mix. Lots of babies in our house. MORE BABIES.

In a weird twist there was more patience and yet none at all. We learned to be a team. A unit.

One could argue that we are getting pretty good at this whole zone defense technique with you and your brothers. Some days. And some days we should probably just go to bed and start over.

It's pretty amazing that someone so little (who are we kidding, you are HUGE) could teach so much (to those of us who already know EVERYTHING ;) Ha!). IN JUST ONE YEAR.

It's obvious.
Clear as day.
Undeniable, unmistakeable.

You were the high.
My high. Our high.
Our happy. My happy.

Thursday 10.

I originally planned to write this post on Tuesday. But really, I typed most of it on Wednesday. I ended up having to change the post title three times - you get the drift right? Dang. I am bad with deadlines. I am busy. Okay, TRUTH. I am a huge procrastinator. There I said it. At least I had good intentions. Right? That's what really matters. Those intentions were to blog blissful nothings about my Tuesday Thursday.

1.  I really didn't want to "overdo" Christmas for the boys this year. I had plans to stick to minimal gifts; I even tossed around the idea of the 'a want', 'a need' & 'a read' type of gifts. It's not that I don't love gifts. I really do. I actually prefer GIVING gifts then getting them also. Especially for my kids. Except you see, my kids don't even play with toys. They would rather play with an old flashlight, vintage harmonica and a random measuring tape. Not real toys. We actually have bins full, they overflow. It's sickening. And most of them aren't ever touched. So when I walk up and down the aisles of Toys R Us aimlessly (Man is that place a cluster f*$# or WHAT?), I think a lot of toys are cute. And probably really neat. And I admit, I know my kids would love opening/receiving them. But then in less then a week, we'd be missing half the pieces and in two weeks, I'd be bagging them up to donate. Well, my plan went haywire. I'm afraid we overdid Christmas. Again.

2. I got an hour massage today. It was awesome. Apparently, I'm stressed and I didn't even know it. So says, my shoulders. I've decided that I am going to make a huge jug of cucumber water for my house, so that I can pretend I'm always at the spa. Even amongst the unruliness.

3. It's been raining so much lately. It's also really cold. Wet, freezing weather is the brewing of the perfect storm when you have children full of energy. Memo to self: you live in the age of technology. GOOGLE IS YOUR FRIEND. YOUR VERY BEST FRIEND INDEED.

INDOOR ACTIVITIES FOR KIDS....they really do exist.

4. Alexander is at this really adorable stage lately. I love mostly everything he is doing these days (except waking up throughout the night like a newborn still, umm yeah). BUT MY FAVORITE....after bath, I take him upstairs all lotioned and jammied up (my euphoria). Smelling delicious I snuggle him in his rocker. We rock, I sometimes hum a little lullaby. He nurses and pats my collarbone, he looks at me and coyly grins. Then it happens. We begin to hear pitter patter of little feet the stampede of his older brothers coming up for bedtime stories. He knows it's them, to be sure. But, he has to double check. He quickly unlatches, squirms his warm little body to sit upward on my lap, tilts his little head and peers over his shoulder. Both boys barge through his door, giggling, breathing loudly and he lights up. The minute they leave he's back to nursing peacefully. He's so nosy. It's the cutest thing EVER.

5. I should really buy a highchair. We got rid of it after Max outgrew it. Highchairs are my very least favorite piece of baby equipment. They are bulky and obnoxious and oh, the crevices where food can be lodged. *gag* Most of our meals, look at little like this.

6. I burned a batch of bacon the other night, attempting this awesome new recipe we are calling eggy-toast-cups. I swear I can still smell it. I love all things bacon, allegedly. Minus the stench of a burnt batch.

7. I successfully wrapped all of the boys' (or is it boy's?) Christmas presents. *sigh of relief* I cannot wait for the excitement that will erupt in my living room on Christmas morning!!!


8. I'm still randomly finding stacks of Christmas cards. Already sealed in envelopes and addressed. They were just hidden or perhaps misplaced on their way out the door. Oops. So, here is it for the world to see.

Christmas Card 2011 front

Christmas card 2011 back

If I forgot you, I'm sorry. If your card is in the stack still hiding, I'm really sorry. But we hope your Christmas is awesome all the same. ;)

9. The piles of laundry are slowly dwindling. I think I only have 12 9 4 loads to go. It's a true Christmas miracle.

10. If there was any question who AQ looked like. The mystery has been solved.

SEND IN THE CLONE!!! I shall call him....Mini Me.

Happy Thursday!!

Christmas program.

Mason had his Christmas program last week. (Can you believe I'm already blogging it? I know me neither.)

It was well orchestrated. It was quick. It was one of the most adorable things I've ever seen. And it was the last preschool holiday program he'll ever be in.

Bittersweet.

Sometimes I think I cannot believe he is about to turn FIVE. That's a whole hand. That is SO old. Especially when I a picture like this.

Then I see pictures like this.

And I die.

A thousand deaths of holy cuteness. The preciousness oozing from that little face. Ohmygod.

He is so little still. Really, just a little peanut. He's well over three feet, but oddly enough he is nowhere close to four feet yet.

He rocked out to Rudolph. He practiced diligently the entire week before. He did it while (he thought) no one was watching. He did it on the way to school in the car. He did it right before bed. He wanted to be ready for the crowds, to sing it just perfectly. And oh, he did.

I love the way he glanced proudly in to the church pews. Smiling though his bright little eyes. And then he waved. Not just to anyone, but to me. And he flashed his smile, dimples and all. Slid his tongue across his teeth. A Mason-trademark of excitement.

 And I was reminded once again, just what a small little guy he is. He has come a long way since this time last year. He isn't painfully shy, but he occasionally tugged at the bottom of his shirt, like a little flashback to the coyness he's possessed all along.

That sweet, shy smile, that off beat performance, that little holiday carol. It's going down with Rudolph, in history.

Seriously?

I can't believe the things I find myself saying lately.

Seriously.

"We do not put our wenis on the dinner table." In case you thought that wasn't an obvious fact of life/rule/common sense, well in our house it is not. At least when your are two ("annna haveeeeeeeee") Seriously.

"Your undies do not belong on your head."

"Stop touching (insert anybody's name) nipples."

"Get the toothbrush out of your pants."

"Glow sticks do not belong in your ears. Or your nose."

"I will give you chocolate and donuts for breakfast -  if you stay in your bed." Usually quickly followed up by..."Seriously, I swear if you get out of this bed again you will not get to go to school tomorrow." Memo to self: you are punishing but NOBODY. But maybe yourself.

"No weapons allowed at nap time."

"No licking the elf."

"Cookie monster is pretend sweetie. He doesn't really want to eat your cookie."

"I know you really want to take a bath, but it's past bedtime. You can take a bath on Friday." My 4 year old actually replied very in super whine "Buuuuuttttttaaaaa we neverrrrr take bathssss". LIE. No one even wants a bath unless it's bedtime!

"Do not bite your brother."

"Take Batman out of your cereal."

Things have been super exciting and chaotic around our house lately. Most days I find myself thinking is this for real, like is this really happening?

And it is.  

Seriously.

Halloween 2011

The boys dressed up as Alvin & the Chipmunks this year for Halloween. Actually, they all had multiple costumes, but this was the real deal, for the real event.

Let's just be really clear too - getting that photo was no easy feat. Also, not the easiest task, stuffing plump baby feet in to high tops. After 500 snaps and a lollipop bribery though. Success! AQ, baby, you need to get those thighs under control. Or not, because I love how the chub rolls over your knees. Cankles were so 2010. The whole thigh-swallowing-your-knee thing...now THAT IS WHAT IT IS ALL ABOUT. You are obviously very fashion forward.

In some delusion I believed Max would be our best candidate for Simon and wearing those adorable little glasses. Delusion indeed. Daddy to the resuce though; Michael had the genius idea of drawing the glasses on him with makeup or a marker (I already forgot what we used) truly genius! Well, genius until 8:15 the next morning when rushing out the door for preschool, realizing "Oh snap, that marker may or may not have been so washable". CRAYOLA LIES!

Mason as usual loved Halloween. He bossed us all around about which house we needed to go to next and which side of the road we should be walking on. He threw around some stranger danger rules, insisted on carrying the flashlight, and in all his four year old glory he refused to carry his candy bag about three houses in to the night.

Anyone that has met Max knows this kid has a sweet tooth that would put Willy Wonka to shame. Seriously. He's been known to eat THROUGH a wrapper to get to the candy. That really happened last Halloween. Twice. Needless to say he was ENTHRALLED at the idea of people just giving him candy, without even throwing a fit? At a few houses, people sat there with an entire cauldron filled with sugary goodness. At those house, Max kind of camped out on their doorstep, plunging his hand in to the bucket repeatedly. He'd look up with his big ole black eyes, flash his dimples and load his bag up a little fuller. His bag was double the weight of Mason's by the end of the night. That kid knows how to work it.

I said this last year too, but I'm pretty sure this was the last year I'll get to convince them to coordinate costumes. Or have any say whatsoever for Mason (well maybe) and Max (definitely not). I have visions of next Halloween including crazy one piece Transformer costumes. Oh, wait. That totally happened this year against every wish I'd ever had, I let my kid wear one of those costumes. Never say never right? I've totally got this whole "pick your battles" thing down these days.

We need to work on the "thank you's" for next year. And probably teaching Max that you can't just walk in some strangers house, especially if they are offering you candy.

And you better believe I had my fair share of those candy bags (that still need to be thrown away).

Oh, remember.

I once again have totally dropped the ball with this blogging business. I suppose that is because it isn't really a business. Just something I promised myself to try and keep up with to remember all the sweet little things about this time in our lives. So much sweetness. Accompanied by so much chaos.

I try to sit down during my free time and write. And remember. And cherish the stories. But free time, what is that anyway? A twisted notion created by someone who surely isn't a parent. Okay, that was dramatic.

It's time (once again I know) to recommit. To stop making excuses, that's what I've been doing. Sometimes I'll sit down and log in the blog, and I'll just stare at the screen. My last post was in August, back to school, I mean seriously? Seriously. Then I think of all the things that have transpired from then until now. It's about to be Thanksgiving for crying out loud. How can I possibly backtrack? How will I ever catch up? I can't. It becomes a daunting task, then I get frustrated and so I move the cursor to that friendly "x" way up in the right hand corner and I quit. Aha! Problem SOLVED. Except for this doesn't solve anything. In fact, it compounds the problem, because then another day goes by, and everyday there is something ridiculously hilarious and cute happening, and probably somewhat insane. I want to remember the everydays, not just big things. The everyday typical madness that I'm submerged in. 

And with the blink of an eye, that one day has turned in to two months. So I'm not going to try and relive those moments. I'm just going to start over, from here, from today. I'm promising to just...well, write. And remember.

I want nothing more than to be able to look back and remember the way this guy still tiptoes down stairs every single morning and snuggles. He nuzzles right beside me, his head falls under directly under my chin. I don't even have to crack open an eyelid. I know it's him - this one.

Will he always fit so perfectly against my chest? He has unquestionably more then doubled his height from his newborn days, yet he still fits nestled alongside me the exact same. My ribs and his spine interlock. And it's dreamy and it's real and it's mine. I remember it vividly, but can't help and wonder - does he? Hopefully I can help him remember with stories like these. Stories full of my memories. And then it ends, sometimes mere minutes later, this peaceful morning ritual. It is quickly interrupted by restlessness and giggles, cartoon request and crushed cheerios. I want to remember that too, equally as vivid.

And please let me remember the way this little guy's hands feel when he presses them against my cheeks to make sure my eyes are focused on his. Contact. And then the adorableness just oozes straight from his soft cherub-like cheeks. I love you's abound. Melting me. Rarely in any volume but EXTRA LOUD. I want to remember the way he sings Twinkle Twinkle, and throws in various lullaby's to fill the missing gaps. The way he squints his eyes when he smiles this smile.

And though he is easily ten inches shorter than his brother, he fits my chest all the same. We too, have chemistry, we too are perfectly intertwined. His skin so delicate and soft, his hands still hanging on to baby fat. Oh those chubby little fingers! His thumb often propped in his mouth while his eyes drift silently. Yes, please let me  I will remember.

Of course, there is more. Memories yes, they've already been made with this peanut as well. Eight months really flies by, but all along the way, I am storing the treasures of this little person.  And oh the treasures he was blessed with. The way his face appears swollen and his eyes a tad puffy after a sweet slumber. I want to remember way he plays with his tongue. Tongue in cheek, tongue peeks out, surrounds his lips, blow raspberries all while looking ridiculously adorable, excited, proud, and mischievous. Repeat. This tongue, this baby. Swoon.

I want to remember the way his small arms and body fall lifeless after he has fallen fast asleep, clutched under my arms. The way his hand feels against my chest when he nurses, speechlessly claiming me, while I claim him. His breathing mimics mine. I want to forget the dinner dishes waiting in the sink downstairs, slip away in to the safe haven of the nursery glider and cradle my bitty until his sparkling brown eyes drift off. How long will he allow being rocked? Assuredly, not quite long enough. The way he tucks his lower lip in to his mouth, concealing it's plumpness. The way he coyly tilts his head, resting it on his own shoulder. And I need to remember the soft sigh of relief, of comfort and security. That simple exhale when his chest discovers mine. Our very own secret retreat.

Because these little things are what is worth writing down. And remembering. Because these little things, well, they are the big things.