I come here so often to pour my words onto this page, and so often I stop before I’ve even begun. The truth is that I’m stuffed to the brim; overflowing with all of these “feels” that have nowhere to go… and when I come here to un-stuff it all, I constantly let fear stop me.
I want to write about my kids. Not motherhood. Not parenting. Just my children: who they are at this very moment in time; and who I want to remember in 50 years when these days are all but a memory. I stop because this voice in my head says “Nobody wants to read about your kids” or “Write about something more valuable to other people.”
But I just can’t do that anymore… This blog was never intended for a captive audience. It was intended for me to continue on as the writer I have been since my childhood and archive my journey; share it with others only for leisure and not because I felt like my words held any extraordinary value. If I want to write about my kids, I’m going to write about my kids.
I’m not sure why that voice stopped me for so long; but it has succeeded in stealing my joy long enough. It allowed me to let time pass as my children have grown and now my words will surely be different than they were months before this… but we are coming up on a big curve in our little world and I’m finding myself looking for that ever-elusive freeze button. This blog is my freeze button. These words will always be here: my memories, my feelings, my heart.
Claire turns 4 tomorrow (February 10th) and I’ve been bombarded by a single memory lately: I’m holding her as a baby, in our White Lake home; she is wearing fuzzy purple footies with white polkadots, and I’m rocking her to sleep as I nurse her for (what I think) is the last time I will ever nurse a baby. The light from the night sky is coming through the curtains and my face is wet with tears as she peacefully rests in my arms. I remember every detail about her tiny porcelain face; her fresh baby smell, her squeaky sounds…
Oh, my pudgy little one. I miss this squish.
I etched this moment in my brain on purpose; knowing it would be there when I needed it. Here we are now, three years later (with another sister in the mix) and it’s come back to keep me humble; to remind me that babies don’t keep. She’s on to being a kid now… and a super interesting and hilarious one at that. Claire as taught me the power and importance of individuality. She reminds me that words matter and hugs heal. She has challenged me in ways I never knew I could be challenged and forgives me with an honest heart when I mess up. But who is Claire today – at still three years old?
My Tiny Girl is unicorn-obsessed. She believes her daddy goes to work and gets magic that makes jelly beans come out of her ears. She gets emotional and downright devastated when she flaps her arms with all of her might and still can’t fly. Claire needs physical touch when the world is too much; she needs hugs and back rubs, and tight squeezes. She is wholly offended by the smell of yogurt and isn’t afraid to tell you. Claire loves animals; especially Odin, who I knew would be “her” dog all along. She is loyal to Liam and believes she will marry him one day, but is vocal about his “head being stuck in the trains” and wishes he would just give unicorns a chance. Claire has always been my messy kid. Dirt and slime feel good to her. Tidiness is absurd. She is a mud splashing, dirt-digging, sleeve-to-mouth wiping, crumb dropper with zero understanding of her mother’s need for order. She mixes up “her/she and him/he” and it makes the cutest sentences you’ve ever heard. Claire is sensitive and stubborn, and her laughter is downright contagious. She wants her hair cut as short as I will let her wear it and prefers that every outfit has pockets. Her need to get completely naked every time she goes to the bathroom is highly aggravating, but I admire her commitment to it. Sometimes it’s easy for her to get lost in the mix and we often find ourselves speaking up on her behalf, but she handles it with grace and understanding. Claire has come so far in her four short years; and she’s taught us so much about thinking outside the box. For a long time we worried her sensory issues would define her, and that there was no light at the end of a very confusing tunnel… but instead she’s grown into this incredibly resilient kid who only complains if her big sister does it first. She has a passion for life and adventure and seeing all of the things this world has to offer. The best part? She LOVES being the middle girl. She’s adopted the role willingly and takes pride in being both one of the bigs AND one of the littles at any given time. I can never leave – even for a second – without “HUG AND A KISS!” and it’s the best feeling in the world. I really thought she was our last baby, but even so, she’ll still always be my baby. My Tiny Girl.
Beauty.
Soon after Claire turns four, Vaida will celebrate her 6th birthday (March 5).
S-I-X.
It doesn’t even look right. Six is like, a KID-kid. There’s nothing baby about a six-year-old (even if she does still sleep with her blanket & Mr. Monk). She’s closer to being ten than she is a newborn baby. It’s like this rollercoaster just keeps picking up speed. Vaida is remarkable. She is Brandon’s very best friend and has been since the day she was born. She is like no other five-year-old I’ve ever met; yet reminds me of myself so much it’s terrifying. Vaida is an old soul; inquisitive and brilliant; thoughtful and aware. She is shy in new situations and wild when she’s comfortable. Vaida, like me, likes order and quiet. She gets overwhelmed when her voice isn’t heard above our noisy house, and understands the power & weight of intentionally placed words. I know that she often feels misunderstood because she is brutally honest and not-so-easily amused. Vaida thrives off of over-explanation; her “whys” are never quite satiated. The time I get to spend one-on-one with her literally leaves me speechless. I learn so much about the world through her eyes; and fear that I won’t be able to keep up with her sharp growing mind. She loves music and dancing, and is so proud to call herself an artist. She loves putting outfits together and all things labeled “girly” in this society. When she learns a new word, she will use it over and over again until she gets it right. (She’s currently playing with “aggressive” and “literally” on an every-other-word basis).
Vaida wants to be a teacher and a momma when she grows up. She loves one-on-one time with us and all of her grandmas, and of course her best friend, Mila. This kid. She has blown my mind since the day she was born and I know she’s only just getting started. I cherish every single hug, kiss, or sign of affection because I know they won’t always be so readily available from her. She is fiercely independent and brave. Not long ago, I reposted a video of her (at barely three-years-old), enjoying her dinner with me in the kitchen. Just her and I, talking about the iPad and colors and pizza. I cherish that video and the simplicity of those days; where I could sit with her and just be there… undistracted, unneeded by anyone else, and wholly engulfed in her world. Those times were so precious and so fleeting.
“Vaida Rose, I’ll kiss your toes. I’ll stick them up your little nose… and that’s the way the story goes, when you’re Vaida Rose.”
So we’ve come to this point where the baby in the house is on her way to being three-years-old and is wise beyond measure. Quinn keeps me on my toes like the other two never have. She is a wild insomniac, an age-appropriate picky eater, and the most affectionate child. Her flare for mischief goes totally unmatched. Quinn was speaking in paragraphs shortly after her first birthday and has worked diligently to keep up with everything big-kid. Her silence is ALWAYS an indication of her curiosity… nail polish, make up, chapstick… she’ll have it slathered head-to-toe before you find her and then say “What? It’s fine” when she’s been discovered.
At night, when I crawl into her bed to get her to sleep, she holds my face in her little hands. She will kiss me over and over telling me “I love you, mommy. I love you so much” and then hold my hand until she falls asleep for a twenty-minute power nap. The only thing that saves me from her insomnia is her affection; it renews my patience and combats my exhaustion as I lay in the dark and commit her tiny voice to my memory. She is awesome. Quinn was the biggest game-changer for us, the most challenging mountain in our marriage journey and the most rewarding accomplishment all at once. I hold her the tightest because she is the last, but also remain grateful for each day older that she grows. I have a clarity with her that I didn’t have with the others; the tantrums will end, the nights will soon quiet, her arms won’t always reach for me, and that it’s perfectly okay. The passage of time is such a confusing thing that way.
So tomorrow when I wake up, I’ll be the mom of a 2, 4, and 5 year old. One day closer to a diaper-free and quiet home… and one day further removed from (what I’m told are) the best years of my life. The throes of motherhood have all but consumed me in these last six years. While there are days when I think I’ll never get “myself” back and I feel overwhelmed by this title I hold, I realize that the “me” I’m searching for is all but a shell of a human anymore; as the pure love these days have radiated have transformed me into a woman I would never want to part with.
So, Happy Fourth Birthday, my Claire Valentine. Happy Sixth Birthday, my Vaida Rose. And just another Happy Day, to you, Quinn Emery. Thank you girls for each being so beautifully who you are and for being a huge part of what makes me who I am today.
TheTinyTaterQuinn 