Max-isms.

This is my first Max-ism post. He's always been a chatter box, but lately he's hit an all time high. Most of it is just random cuteness that he does/says. And probably not really that funny.


- Whenever I ask "Who wants XYZ (raisins, apple sticks, juice box, etc)"? Mason always says "I do!" and Max's response? "Maximo William does". Thanks for the formality Maximo. Which by the way, WE NEVER CALL HIM.

- Along the way we've acquired a ton of stuffed animals (seriously, I hate most toys, but I LOATHE stuffed animals). One of which is Smurf. I don't even think it's a real Smurf.  Who makes knock off stuff animals?? The boys take turns sleeping with it and it's not really that funny, but I love that Max calls it "a smartie'' instead of a Smurf. I don't have the heart to correct him and I hope he ALWAYS calls it that.

- He refuses to sleep with a shirt on. I thought this was something teenage boys did, but not two year olds?? It is hilarious and precious.

- He is obsessed with superheroes. And legos. And army guys. Which you would know even if you didn't know him by just seeing him out  and about. EVER. Most days he insists on wearing his cape, even if we aren't leaving the house. He carries this little man purse (I think it's to a play doctor kit) with all his army guys in it, and a few random legos, and a sippy cup. Random right? You never know when your are going to need a GI JOE and a drink. I'm with you Max. Cheers baby!

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.
Yup.
That is a fist pump.
And a crotch grab all in one picture.
He's pretty awesome.

Reappear. Redo. Recommit.

I'm reappearing in to the blog world. I'm working on redoing the blog. I'm recommitting to this. I miss writing, sharing, storytelling.

I'm not going to give the whole "I started this blog for memories.." speech. Again. But yeah. That.

I'm going to do two catch uppers. Then, just let it go and move on. Christmas and Spring Break in Miami coming soon.

COMMITTED. READY, SET, WRITE.

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.