Last Friday we spent the evening with our former next-door neighbors.
Even though Jordan is four years younger than her, Margaret and Jordan has a great time spending their weekends playing chase or trucks and Legos and whatever Jordan wanted. Those two were very close.
I'd go outside on the weekends only to hear a little voice coming from the porch next door, "Hey! Can Mar play? Hey Mar! Hey, can you play?"
I'd say, "Hi Jordan."
"Oh hi Robin, can Mar play?"
Now, Mar is 11 and wears mascara and has crushes on boys and giggles with her girl friends and wants to wear high-heeled shoes. Jordan is 7 and he still wants to play with Mar.
And Mar still loves to play with Jordan and his little brother, too. They played all evening last Friday.
When it was time to go, Jordan had just broke out his new Star Wars Lego set. The two of them were blind to the world. Building Legos was their only interest.
Mar has never shown much interest in Legos before. At all.
So I was surprised when she made me promise that after skiing on Saturday that I'd take her to the store so she could spent the rest of her Christmas money on a giant Star Wars Lego set with 815 pieces.
She spent hours Saturday and Sunday putting that set together.
Now two Star Wars Episode 1 Lego pod racers sit on a shelf upstairs.
She loved the challenge and fun of building that complicated set. She never would have known she liked Legos if it weren't for her dear pal Jordan.
It doesn't seem that long ago that Kelley and I were spending hours each day teaching Elliott how to roll over. We started teaching him that at about four months and was surprised how quickly he took to it. Was it graceful? No. But he was starting to do it more and more and realized quickly that being on his tummy was more fun than on his back. Eventually he was the roll-over king. The days of us leaving him on his play mat, looking up at his gazillion toys hanging down from that mat while we did our own thing were long, long gone. It was then we realized he was a quick learner and was an "on-the-go-baby."
At about six months, Elliott was already sitting up on his own. I remember the first time he sat upright by himself for about two minutes and how amazed and so very proud I was of my son. And of course, the learning curve of sitting up didn't take long at all. Soon, he was able to roll over, sit up on his own and thought he was hot stuff. It soon turned into a little game with him. He would roll over, sit up, fall down and repeat. He did this over and over and over again.
Early in the seventh month, Elliott started to slowly crawl. We were shocked. Prior to him taking his first "crawl" I would hover over him, teaching him how to crawl by moving his arms and legs in the proper crawling motion. And one day, he rolled over, sat up and crawled across the living room. He fell often at first, but he was able to pick it up rather quickly. When he finally got his balance under his arms and legs, his crawling was certainly a sight to see. At one point, in the middle of a crawl, he was stick one of his legs out and instead of using his foot, he used his knee to help him scamper across the room.
Today, Elliott is a crawling machine. He's super fast, and loves it. And now that he is on the move, Kelley and I are always taking Elliott places. We don't ever want to keep him couped up in the house. One of the things Kelley and I used to do pre-Elliott was walk around the mall. I know, it sounds cheesy, but for us, it was something we could to relax, especially during the holidays. When Kelley was pregnant, each time we passed the children's play area in the mall, she would often say how fun it will be to bring Elliott here and let him run wild. Way back then, it seemed like an eternity away.
Now 10 months old, we started bringing Elliott to the play area last month, and just as he has with every new challenge in his young life, he took to it right away. Scurrying from the frog, the ladybug, the boat and the tree log you can crawl through, which is his favorite, as evident by the video below. So now, each Saturday morning, Kelley and I take Elliott to the mall to let him run wild in the play area before the stores in the mall open. We found that other parents are doing the same thing, and we realized it gives Elliott interaction with other children his age and older. He loves following other kids from one end to the other. Always smiling, laughing and making his "da-da-da" sounds, Kelley and I just sit back and realize just how lucky we are to have such an active and happy baby.
So, as Elliott has mastered the roll-over, sit up and crawl, we realized that now it's only a matter of time before Elliott is walking and on the run.
Did I mention that he has already started taking steps on his own ...
Just the three of us: Bill, Mar and myself. We skied together (well, Bill snowboarded — but I still feel weird using Warren Miller's "snow riding" term, so bear with me) all day Saturday. I can say without a shred of exaggeration that it was my best day sking EVER!
And not only that, but I snapped with my cold, trembling, please-don't-let-me-drop-my-phone hands some really nice pictures on my smartphone.
While it was cold Saturday, there was no wind and the sky was gorgeous.
Bill's smiling because I can finally keep up with him.
That's Mar on the lift behind me. She's not a big fan of the west-end lift at Powderhorn and prefers to ride it alone, but she doesn't let that stop her.
I call Mar the "plaid bomber" — she's like a plaid streak flying down the hill. She even said it was fun to ski with me because she didn't have to wait that long for me to catch up anymore. The chances of me keeping up with her are slim to none at this point.
We've been touched with a lot of sadness lately. Our little family needed a day like this.
I can hardly believe it. I had no idea that No. 6 would be such a big deal. I find myself getting teary-eyed everytime I think about it — because he's just such a big kid!
It's also his golden birthday, which means he turns six on the sixth, and that only happens once in a lifetime. And, because of the leap year, this weekend was a repeat of the exact weekend when he was born. We watched the Super Bowl, went to the hospital, and had a baby at exactly 1 p.m. on Monday. It was the Monday morning that changed my life.
I wanted to start planning this very special day months ago. Soren, however, didn't want any planning. He didn't want any balloons, he didn't want special plates or streamers, he DIDN'T want any birthday games. I tried to convince him, but he's such a KID now that he couldn't be embarrassed in front of his friends with any pin the tail on the donkey. He just wanted his friends to come over and play foosball and pool in the basement. (Thanks again Laurena!) He wanted pizza and he wanted to be sure that all his friends could skip the salad if they wanted to.
At first his friends found this unorganization odd too, looking a little lost when I said they could go do whatever they wanted. But, Soren made the right call. He and his friends had a blast checking out his toys, switching to sword fighting, then ninjas, and saying things like "I'm kicking your ass" while playing pool. They got reprimanded for that one and instead said things like "I'm kicking your A." (sssss - whisper giggle giggle.)
Soren also got to show his friends his brand-new room. Last weekend he finally got a new bedroom set. He immediately went into the "little kid" room and moved all his stuff out. Jonas was particularly bothered by this. Now, he climbs into his own bed, reads for awhile, and shuts off his own light. He'll let me tuck him in if I insist, but really he can take it or leave it.
This morning, he asked me to tell him about the day he was born. I told him everything, the Super Bowl, the chili, the middle of the night walking in the snow, and how much he cried when I finally got to hold him. I told him it was the best Monday morning of my life. He climbed up into my lap, draping his giant body with its bony arms and thrashing legs, nearly headbutted me as he nestled his head under my neck. For a second, we were both transported to that very first day six years ago. A little bit of baby-talk escaped him and he whispered quietly so nobody else would hear, "I luv you mommeee."
Right at the moment I realized that what all the other mothers before me have said is absolutely true. No matter how big he gets he's always going to be my baby.
Margaret and her school chums are dressing up like nerds today. For fun. Because they wanted to.
I don't think she's nerdy looking at all. Check out her super cute self:
I covet that polka dotted tie. If she nevers wears it again, I'm totally snatching that from her.
Also, her t-shirt says "smart chicks rule." True dat.
I've mentioned many times Margaret's love of reading. Here's an illustration:
That's Mar brushing out her hair while reading one of her brother's Cirque du Freak books.
When Sean was in middle school, he devoured Darren Shan's series of vampire books, Cirque du Freak. Shan had about six written when Sean starting reading them. Then he's have to wait months for each new book to come out which he'd read in one day.
Like brother, like sister.
We still have most of the series, except we're missing numbers 1 and 8. Mar wanted to try them out. Instead of re-buying number 1, we checked it out from the Mesa County Public Library on her Kindle Fire. So awesome.
She read the first book in about four days. Now she's on the fourth book. And — as you can tell from the picture above — she can't put them down.
In the 10 months since Elliott was born, Kelley and I have clearly discovered the likes, loves and hates our son has.
Only a few of his hates — and by hates, I mean "spit-in-your-face-if-I-could" hate — are chart toppers. He hates having his face wiped, when we take his BaBa (our word for bottle) away from him to burp or occasionally getting into his car seat. His hatred for wearing socks, however, takes the cake. Elliott will not wear socks. No matter how many times we put them on him, they're off before we know it.
He likes — by likes I mean the lowest level of the word possible — the homemade food I make him. He truly was not a fan of the pork chop-applesauce-carrot-banana-oatmeal concoction I created, but he "liked" it.
His loves are off the charts.
Elliott loves toys and my God does this kid have toys. Toys "R" Us would be envious of Elliott's sea of toys. And, of course, he can't just play with one, two or three at a time. Instead every room of our house is like forcing your way through a maze of cars, trucks, motorcycles, building blocks, books, balls, stuffed animals and countless machines that make every loud noise possible and plays every children's song ever wrote.
Elliott's fav right now, it seems, is wearing hats. My kid has more hats than I have shirts. When we put a hat on him, it's permagrin time. He has a hat for each season and every single holiday. He has hats that resemble frogs, bears, lions and giraffes. He has hats that are fuzzy, non-fuzzy and hats that match every color ever made by the fine people at the Crayola crayon factory. He has sailor hats, pirate hats and safari hats. He even hats that resemble fruits (apple) and veggies (tomato.)
I own one hat — my beloved Kansas University Jayhawk hat — that I've had for nearly five years now and it's on it's last leg.
This is a conversation we recently had while clothes shopping for Elliott:
Kelley: "Elliott needs new PJs."
Me: "What's wrong with the one's he has?"
Kelley: "You mean the one's that haven't fit him in two months and the one's that you need to grease up just to get them on him?"
Me: "Yeah. What's wrong with those?"
Kelley: "You're right. Let's just get him another hat."
As I write this, I have become painfully aware that Elliott does not have a Kansas Jayhawk hat in his collection.
I've felt so much guilt over the years for my many shortcomings with regard to my role as mother. I worry and feel guilt for everything from being a working mom to being too hard on my kid. But despite my failings — or maybe because I'm so open with her about my deficits — my daughter is a super neat kid. So super neat, I'm overwhelmed by it on so many occasions.
Friday night was another night where I was so proud and happy and on the verge of sobbing because my kid is a person that I'm happy to know. Plus she's certifiably cool.
Here is Margaret, playing guitar and singing with her band, Possum Pants:
She's 11 and in a band. A band that she fronts and even named (don't ask where Possum Pants came from — it's just something born of her creative brain). And she's fearless on stage.
Here she and her bass player are before they played, standing at the back of the stage laughing and chatting:
As she was getting ready to play, I was a nervous wreck. Mar was cool as a cucumber.
Possum Pants played three songs. All of which Mar sang and played guitar on. This is the first time she's played live with her awesome bass player. The two girls (along with their instructor Warren Jones on drums) didn't miss a beat and never messed up.
Mar still has things to learn. She's still developing her head voice, but she rocks my socks off with her chest voice all full of attitude and swagger. She doesn't make a lot of eye contact with the crowd or move around much. But considering she's only been playing guitar and singing for less than a year, she's a total rock star.
Look at her face:
That's a kid who is happy with herself, happy on stage, happy to be singing and playing for a crowd full of people.
As for me, I was happy, too. Happy to see her do something she loves, happy she can overcome her stomach issues to do whatever she wants and happy I didn't start bawling. Seeing her succeed at things hits me in that spot of my heart that starts the water works. I have to remember to breath and bring tissues. Being the mom of a rock star is tough ... and awesome.
Santa brought Jonas an electric toy guitar for Christmas. It's what his passionate little 4-year-old heart desired most in the whole world.
I thought it might just be a passing fad, like airplanes, loved one minute and discarded in the toybox the next. That's why Santa didn't fork over 300 bucks for a real guitar.
But, he carries his guitar everywhere he goes. We lock it in the trunk when we go to the store. He sets it lovingly on the fireplace hearth before he goes to bed. Sometimes he just uses it as a lovey. Often, it is next to him on the couch, where no brothers can touch it, and he uses it as a weapon against them threateningly if they get out of line.
He wrote his name on it in crayon.
Sometimes he even plays it. We've tried to teach him a couple of chords. He's figuring out how to hold it and where to put his fingers.
The last 10 months have been the absolute greatest and most rewarding time of my life. I never thought happiness could continue to mount the way it has, but it has and it continues to get better.
This past Monday (Jan. 23), my son, Elliott Andrew, turned 10 months old. I woke up Monday morning realizing just how fortunate I am to be a father to such a wonderful bundle of joy who makes my life much better with his simple smile and the way he scampers across our house like a crab in the sand. His contagious warm and glowing personality puts everything into perspective and makes me realize that all the things I once valued as important in my life are nothing compared to how important it is that I be the best father I can be.
I entered fatherhood incredibly fearful and apprehensive. I had little or no idea what to expect, although I did anticipate a world where nothing made sense — up was down, left was right and sleep was a thing of the past. I knew I wanted so badly to be the best father I could be, but how do you prepare for such a feat that carries a great deal of responsibility and, of course, the possibility of regrets? I knew there would and will always be those moments of regret, but that doesn't mean I can't try to avoid them — I'm a person who hates to disappoint anyone and my son tops that list.
Fatherhood, although obviously challenging at times, has been fairly simple thus far and I owe all the credit to my wonderful son. As it turned out, Kelley and I got lucky — very lucky. In fact, we often say we won the "baby lottery." Elliott has been almost hassle free since we brought him home. Elliott has been about as perfect as perfect can be. It began with sleeping. This kid can sleep the hell out of the night. Even when he made the transition to his crib, he took to it immediately with no problems. He loves sleeping in his own room so much that he often will stay awake and play in his crib ... in the dark of night or early morning. Listening to him on the baby monitor talking to himself or playing with his stuffed animals is rewarding beyond words for us. It lets us know he's happy and independent. Elliott hardly ever cries. If and when he does have a meltdown, it's gone as quickly as it arrives. He's easily, and quickly, consolable. Maybe one of the best qualities I love most about Elliott is the fact he loves to stay busy and is always on the go. He loves being out and about, always taking in as many sights as he can. My late brother, Drew, always encouraged me to live for the day and never let a moment pass me by. Since his passing, I have tried to live my life by that motto and it seems Elliott is doing the same.
When Elliott had his first horrible cold or started teething, we were sure the days would be long and the nights would be longer, yet, it almost seems he has the ability to shrug off the pain and suffering as long as he can. When it seems he's had enough and throws in the towel, we step in and he lets us take over — he truly seems to be that kind of a tough-spirited kiddo. One of our dear friends often refers to Elliott as the "unicorn baby" because, as she jokes, "babies like this don't exist." That in itself is not only a tremendous compliment from a fantastic mother herself, but in a strange way it builds my confidence as a father.
Although we fully anticipated parenthood to turn us upside down and inside out, Elliott has made it super easy for us, and that is something we are so very grateful for. Don't get me wrong, there are times when it does get trying, and when it does, we deal with the best way we can, which makes Kelley and I appreciate being parents even more.
The last 10 months have been so rewarding and so wonderful because of Elliott. He has not only made our lives better, but he has made Kelley and I better people and brought us even closer together. We can't imagine our lives without him and are truly blessed to have such a wonderful son. Each day with him is better than the one before and we are now well aware that time, indeed, does go by fast. Before we know it, he'll be asking us for the keys to the car, or worse yet, money.
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