Thursday, October 11, 2012
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
There She Goes
Rowan left for school Tuesday morning--all excited for her new teacher, new friends, new school supplies. I had this song by Sixpence None the Richer stuck in my head all morning:
There she goes
There she goes again
Racing through my brain
And I just can't contain
This feeling that remains
I remember when that band played a concert at Hope College--they were a young, one-hit wonder and I'm pretty sure they weren't singing about sending their daughter off to school. But the lyrics still kind of describe how I feel. She was "going" again--away, somewhere, without me. It's been happening more and more lately. I haven't been accompanying her on playdates in quite a while. She's had soccer practice and gymnastics and tennis camp all without me. She's gaining independence, forming her own opinions, making her own choices.
The feeling that remains, though, is a little harder to pinpoint. I definitely miss her during parts of the day. Yesterday Tate and I went to Holland to go to the farmer's market, visit Lance at work and go to my doctor's appointment (where the scale is now over 150, thanks to the yummy summer treats and this big baby who we'll meet in less than 4 weeks!!). She would have loved to go and I felt a twinge of guilt that Tate and I were out having fun without her. Tate misses her even more than I do. He's woken up each day excited to play with his sister and we have to explain that she's going to school and he says "Again? All day, every day? Really?" and he wants to wait by the front window for the bus to bring her home. But, of course, when she does come home, she's tired. She's already had a long day, she's hungry (because she chose to talk with friends instead of eating her lunch), she's not really in a mood to do much of anything other than have a snack and relax a bit. She's fighting going to soccer practice (which makes me really thankful I didn't let her sign up for anything else in the fall). But I'm still excited for her new adventure. I'm hopeful that she'll mature a bit, that she'll be challenged and rise to the occasion of a challenge, that she'll make some lasting friendships and make good choices even if I'm not there to encourage her.
In a little while, Tate and I will make our way to the sidewalk to wait for Rowan to get off the bus. We'll be all ready to hear about her day while we snack on watermelon on the front porch. And her almost 8 hours away from us will be condensed into 5 minutes, if we're lucky.
There she goes
There she goes again
Racing through my brain
And I just can't contain
This feeling that remains
I remember when that band played a concert at Hope College--they were a young, one-hit wonder and I'm pretty sure they weren't singing about sending their daughter off to school. But the lyrics still kind of describe how I feel. She was "going" again--away, somewhere, without me. It's been happening more and more lately. I haven't been accompanying her on playdates in quite a while. She's had soccer practice and gymnastics and tennis camp all without me. She's gaining independence, forming her own opinions, making her own choices.
The feeling that remains, though, is a little harder to pinpoint. I definitely miss her during parts of the day. Yesterday Tate and I went to Holland to go to the farmer's market, visit Lance at work and go to my doctor's appointment (where the scale is now over 150, thanks to the yummy summer treats and this big baby who we'll meet in less than 4 weeks!!). She would have loved to go and I felt a twinge of guilt that Tate and I were out having fun without her. Tate misses her even more than I do. He's woken up each day excited to play with his sister and we have to explain that she's going to school and he says "Again? All day, every day? Really?" and he wants to wait by the front window for the bus to bring her home. But, of course, when she does come home, she's tired. She's already had a long day, she's hungry (because she chose to talk with friends instead of eating her lunch), she's not really in a mood to do much of anything other than have a snack and relax a bit. She's fighting going to soccer practice (which makes me really thankful I didn't let her sign up for anything else in the fall). But I'm still excited for her new adventure. I'm hopeful that she'll mature a bit, that she'll be challenged and rise to the occasion of a challenge, that she'll make some lasting friendships and make good choices even if I'm not there to encourage her.
In a little while, Tate and I will make our way to the sidewalk to wait for Rowan to get off the bus. We'll be all ready to hear about her day while we snack on watermelon on the front porch. And her almost 8 hours away from us will be condensed into 5 minutes, if we're lucky.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
The Perfect Summer
Somehow summer is almost over. Tate had his preschool open house last night and Rowan had her first-grade open house tonight. Both saw their classrooms, met their teachers and got thoroughly excited about school starting. Both children have started their fall soccer leagues. We've gone back-to-school shopping and stocked up on clothes and school supplies. But I'm still trying to hold on to this summer.
Somehow, despite the extreme heat and ever-growing belly, we managed to have a perfectly fabulous summer. We spent a ridiculous amount of time at the pool (at which I took no pictures), played with neighborhood friends constantly (again, no pictures), went on a few short trips with the kids: one to the Detroit-ish area to see friends and stay in a hotel where my kids get to eat things like Fruit Loops for breakfast and think it's the best thing ever and one to Chicago for the zoo and Legoland. We had cousins stay with us for a week and went to the zoo and Meijer Gardens and to visit the McGowan's at their cottage. We saw fireworks, did sparklers, went to fun parties in the neighborhood, saw friends from school and even had a few lazy days at home. We had swim lessons and tennis camp. We picked lots of strawberries from our garden and made jam and strawberry shortcake and ate strawberries by the handful. Now we're picking tons of cherry tomatoes from our garden and Tate and I are devouring them "freshly washed", as he calls them. While I've been horrible about taking the time to right down all of our fun and memories of this summer, I have still been so grateful for this summer--our last as a family of four.
A few reasons I'm dreading the start of the school year: 1. The exhaustion that will surely come with first grade. And the attitude that will certainly go along with it. A certain little girl who somehow already has quite the pre-teen little attitude becomes less and less pleasant when tired. 2. A bored little buddy. With Tate at preschool all of 5 hours a week, he's going to be completely lost without his sister to entertain him, facilitate all kinds of imaginative play and come up with crazy ideas to fill the time. And I will be expected to fill that role. I can see it now. He'll want to play games, he'll want me to tell stories, he'll want to do puzzles and he'll want entertainment all day. I love spending time with this little man, but I have no idea how this will all work with another little guy demanding my attention. I predict a tough transition. 3. Missing my girl. With school all day, soccer practice once a week, soccer games once a week and Wednesday night church programs, it really will seem like I never get to see her.
A few reasons I'm looking forward to fall: 1. a schedule. We haven't really been following a schedule of any shape or form this summer. While I had plans of doing schoolwork with the kids, having more purposeful playtime and having concrete plans for each day, that really never happened. I think a good schedule and consistent bedtime will benefit all ofo us. 2. fall. Changing leaves, cooler weather, apple picking (if the crazy weather didn't destroy them all) 3. no longer being pregnant. 4. a new baby. Who will he look like? What will he be like? What will we name him???
I recently read a portion of the book One Thousand Gifts and started keeping a gratitude journal where I jot down a few great things that happened that day. Here are a few of my recent favorites: a perfectly roasted marshmallow; Rowan requesting to read the baby his very first book--and going through the bookshelves to pick the perfect one; stroking Tate's back when I tuck him in at night. And this one, which is more of a story: After describing different types of college degrees and different jobs people need different degrees for, Tate says "I want to know what one I need to become a knight." Love these kids.
Somehow, despite the extreme heat and ever-growing belly, we managed to have a perfectly fabulous summer. We spent a ridiculous amount of time at the pool (at which I took no pictures), played with neighborhood friends constantly (again, no pictures), went on a few short trips with the kids: one to the Detroit-ish area to see friends and stay in a hotel where my kids get to eat things like Fruit Loops for breakfast and think it's the best thing ever and one to Chicago for the zoo and Legoland. We had cousins stay with us for a week and went to the zoo and Meijer Gardens and to visit the McGowan's at their cottage. We saw fireworks, did sparklers, went to fun parties in the neighborhood, saw friends from school and even had a few lazy days at home. We had swim lessons and tennis camp. We picked lots of strawberries from our garden and made jam and strawberry shortcake and ate strawberries by the handful. Now we're picking tons of cherry tomatoes from our garden and Tate and I are devouring them "freshly washed", as he calls them. While I've been horrible about taking the time to right down all of our fun and memories of this summer, I have still been so grateful for this summer--our last as a family of four.
A few reasons I'm dreading the start of the school year: 1. The exhaustion that will surely come with first grade. And the attitude that will certainly go along with it. A certain little girl who somehow already has quite the pre-teen little attitude becomes less and less pleasant when tired. 2. A bored little buddy. With Tate at preschool all of 5 hours a week, he's going to be completely lost without his sister to entertain him, facilitate all kinds of imaginative play and come up with crazy ideas to fill the time. And I will be expected to fill that role. I can see it now. He'll want to play games, he'll want me to tell stories, he'll want to do puzzles and he'll want entertainment all day. I love spending time with this little man, but I have no idea how this will all work with another little guy demanding my attention. I predict a tough transition. 3. Missing my girl. With school all day, soccer practice once a week, soccer games once a week and Wednesday night church programs, it really will seem like I never get to see her.
A few reasons I'm looking forward to fall: 1. a schedule. We haven't really been following a schedule of any shape or form this summer. While I had plans of doing schoolwork with the kids, having more purposeful playtime and having concrete plans for each day, that really never happened. I think a good schedule and consistent bedtime will benefit all ofo us. 2. fall. Changing leaves, cooler weather, apple picking (if the crazy weather didn't destroy them all) 3. no longer being pregnant. 4. a new baby. Who will he look like? What will he be like? What will we name him???
I recently read a portion of the book One Thousand Gifts and started keeping a gratitude journal where I jot down a few great things that happened that day. Here are a few of my recent favorites: a perfectly roasted marshmallow; Rowan requesting to read the baby his very first book--and going through the bookshelves to pick the perfect one; stroking Tate's back when I tuck him in at night. And this one, which is more of a story: After describing different types of college degrees and different jobs people need different degrees for, Tate says "I want to know what one I need to become a knight." Love these kids.
Saturday, July 28, 2012
12 Years
Some days it seems like life is on fast forward. How can it possibly be that Lance and I have been married for 12 years already? Wasn't it way more recently that he first asked me on a date (at Parrot's, of course. Not the date. The ask. The actual date, which turned into two, was at JP's and then the comedy club at the BOB--fitting for us, I think).
It's funny how people can change over a 12-year span. I was once a completely carefree person who thought nothing of packing up and studying abroad alone, went skydiving and bungee jumping with friends and had virtually every night packed with some sort of social event. Lance pretty much lived in Adidas, played soccer constantly and never imagined himself working in an office. His favorite breakfast was Reese's Puffs cereal. Our earlier days of marriage were spent watching Seinfeld reruns, playing old school video games, going out to eat more often than not (or, quite often, eating in front of the television). We traveled, spent lots of time with friends, went to shows, got dressed up. I rarely made the bed, often had piles of laundry to do, never spent time researching the best vacuum cleaners.
As time passed, I have turned into more of a worrier, more of a planner, more of a "mom", I guess. Things require planning, there are schedules involved, my decisions are now family decisions. Lance sports a suit and tie way more often than his soccer clothes. We never eat meals in front of the television (unless you count the ice cream after the kids are in bed), we travel less, go to shows less frequently and still spend lots of time with friends. I make our bed every day, do laundry every day and use that well-researched vacuum constantly. Lance can't stand the thought of Reese's Puffs cereal.
In our marriage, we have lived in 2 apartments, 3 houses, 2 states, 3 cities. We have owned 8 cars, had 3 pets (though our sweet newt, Stanwell, wasn't around for too long). We have seen the highest highs (the birth of our two completely amazing children and the anticipation of another) and been through complete heartache at the loss of all of our surviving grandparents, my dad and Lance's mom. There are days when we adore each other and days when we kind of can't stand being around each other.
We spent the morning taking the kids to a parade and are spending the evening eating, playing and watching fireworks at a neighbor's house. And it seems kind of fitting that we'd spend the day like that. Generally our days pretty much revolve around the kids, whether we're celebrating something or not. We can't wait to have a more "official" celebration next weekend when we'll head to Traverse City and Glen Arbor--we'll eat lots of yummy food, maybe do some hiking and kayaking, stay out late, knowing that our kids are at my mom's house and we don't need to get home to the sitter. But, for today, our celebration is more of a celebration of our little family. Of where we started, where we are now, where we will be.
It's funny how people can change over a 12-year span. I was once a completely carefree person who thought nothing of packing up and studying abroad alone, went skydiving and bungee jumping with friends and had virtually every night packed with some sort of social event. Lance pretty much lived in Adidas, played soccer constantly and never imagined himself working in an office. His favorite breakfast was Reese's Puffs cereal. Our earlier days of marriage were spent watching Seinfeld reruns, playing old school video games, going out to eat more often than not (or, quite often, eating in front of the television). We traveled, spent lots of time with friends, went to shows, got dressed up. I rarely made the bed, often had piles of laundry to do, never spent time researching the best vacuum cleaners.
As time passed, I have turned into more of a worrier, more of a planner, more of a "mom", I guess. Things require planning, there are schedules involved, my decisions are now family decisions. Lance sports a suit and tie way more often than his soccer clothes. We never eat meals in front of the television (unless you count the ice cream after the kids are in bed), we travel less, go to shows less frequently and still spend lots of time with friends. I make our bed every day, do laundry every day and use that well-researched vacuum constantly. Lance can't stand the thought of Reese's Puffs cereal.
In our marriage, we have lived in 2 apartments, 3 houses, 2 states, 3 cities. We have owned 8 cars, had 3 pets (though our sweet newt, Stanwell, wasn't around for too long). We have seen the highest highs (the birth of our two completely amazing children and the anticipation of another) and been through complete heartache at the loss of all of our surviving grandparents, my dad and Lance's mom. There are days when we adore each other and days when we kind of can't stand being around each other.
We spent the morning taking the kids to a parade and are spending the evening eating, playing and watching fireworks at a neighbor's house. And it seems kind of fitting that we'd spend the day like that. Generally our days pretty much revolve around the kids, whether we're celebrating something or not. We can't wait to have a more "official" celebration next weekend when we'll head to Traverse City and Glen Arbor--we'll eat lots of yummy food, maybe do some hiking and kayaking, stay out late, knowing that our kids are at my mom's house and we don't need to get home to the sitter. But, for today, our celebration is more of a celebration of our little family. Of where we started, where we are now, where we will be.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
The Tooth Fairy
Rowan had been wiggling the tooth for a while, willing it to come out before the end of kindergarten, though it wasn't quite loose enough yet. I was also hoping it would come out soon, too, as long as I didn't have to pull it out. Lance literally got queasy at the thought of pulling out the tooth and, while I gave it a few half-hearted pulls, I was kind of hoping it would just fall out on its own.
And it did. In a way. Enter Luke, energetic cousin here for the week. A few good jumps on the trampoline, Luke's knee making contact with Rowan's mouth, and excited kids running in, Rowan holding her tooth.
Rowan's reaction was funny. She had been waiting and waiting to lose her very first tooth, but when it happened, she said "I wanted the tooth to come out, but not quite yet. I don't think I was quite ready yet." But then she got excited about the tooth fairy and what she might find under her pillow and she got over the fact that her mouth was bleeding a little.
She was even more excited when Trang sent a picture of Nathan, Rowan's best friend from Charlotte, who lost the same tooth (also his first one) on the same day as Rowan.
And it did. In a way. Enter Luke, energetic cousin here for the week. A few good jumps on the trampoline, Luke's knee making contact with Rowan's mouth, and excited kids running in, Rowan holding her tooth.
Rowan's reaction was funny. She had been waiting and waiting to lose her very first tooth, but when it happened, she said "I wanted the tooth to come out, but not quite yet. I don't think I was quite ready yet." But then she got excited about the tooth fairy and what she might find under her pillow and she got over the fact that her mouth was bleeding a little.
She was even more excited when Trang sent a picture of Nathan, Rowan's best friend from Charlotte, who lost the same tooth (also his first one) on the same day as Rowan.
Trying to show off her new gap!
Rowan with Luke and her Tooth Fairy earnings the next morning
Now, almost 2 weeks later, her new tooth is poking through. Last night Rowan said "Look, Mommy. I have an adult tooth coming in. That means I'm almost an adult." Don't rush things, Sweetie.
Friday, June 8, 2012
First-Grader
I remember the day kindergarten began. I made you a special breakfast, took pictures, wrote a special note for your snacks and lunch and drove you to school, excited to be able to stay with you for the first hour or so of the day. I watched you walk confidently in, despite not knowing a single soul in your class. I held back the tears as your teacher walked you outside for recess and the parents gathered in the library to ask questions.
When you rode the bus home that day, Tate and I were waiting for you with special pink cupcakes. We both could not wait for you to come home, to tell us all about what you did all day long. We heard about a new friend or two and the snacks you got at school. But most of the day was yours--not something you shared with us.
And that's kind of how the year was. You started becoming your own little person in kindergarten. You were gone from 8-4, two or three days a week--riding the bus, going to school, eating meals, making friends--all without me. You came home, telling me a few small tidbits about your day. Maybe later I'd overhear you singing a song you learned in music class or on the playground. You did come home singing Justin Beiber, as I imagined you would, as well as Miley Cyrus, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, but you still remained pretty innocent. You always came home with a smile on your face and, while you seemed to love school, you cannot wait for summer break.
I was lucky enough to help in your classroom a few hours every Thursday. You were always extra excited those mornings when you left for school, knowing that in just over an hour, I'd be in your room. I actually met all of the kids I had heard about, saw your teacher in action, watched you work in the classroom. You and your classmates all gave me hugs before I left. You gave me extra hugs and a kiss. I wonder how much longer you'll be excited for me to come see you at school. And how long I have until any hugs and kisses will be reserved for home--not something to be seen in front of your friends.
You just had your 6-year-checkup with Dr. D. You're now 43.5 inches tall and 39 pounds. Despite being "a lightweight", as he called you, you're right on track for a 6-year-old. Reading, riding a bike, having your very first "wiggly tooth".
I woke up in the middle of the night, awake for no reason as usual, and peeked in on you, sound asleep in your huge queen bed. Bethany had tucked you in for the night while we were on a date night and I checked on you before I went to sleep, but I wanted to see you once more. You kicked off your covers during the night and were tangled up in your pink sheets. You were wearing your pajama shirt backward--a mistake you probably won't make too many more times. Your room was littered with giant pieces of paper (many of which are written love notes to your baby brother), baby dolls and a few stuffed animals. Your nightstand was completely full--a stack of books, Polly Pockets, Kleenex and stickers piled on top. Your last night as a kindergartener.
Today you woke up to cinnamon roll pancakes, put on your already chosen graduation clothes, tolerated a few pictures and climbed onto the bus for the last time for quite a few months. You sang in front of a crowd at graduation, even though you later told me you were nervous. You were smiling the whole time. We stopped by the farmer's market afterward where you picked out a huge basket of sugar peas and helped choose some plants for the garden--mixed greens, tomatoes, peppers, cauliflower and brussels sprouts (which, along with the tomatoes, I'm certain you won't eat). We ate lunch and spent the rest of the day celebrating graduation with Lily and Alayna at Susan's cottage. We had a fabulous day.
You now enter the summer phase. When people ask what grade you're in and your not entirely sure what to say--"I just finished kindergarten" or "I'll be in first grade" or just a confident "first", knowing that you've left kindergarten behind and have moved on whether you are in school or not. I asked you some things you'd like to do over the summer and, like me, you pretty much plan on spending lots of time at the pool, seeing some friends and cousins, going to the beach and having some fun summer picnics. I cannot wait to spend the summer with you.
When you rode the bus home that day, Tate and I were waiting for you with special pink cupcakes. We both could not wait for you to come home, to tell us all about what you did all day long. We heard about a new friend or two and the snacks you got at school. But most of the day was yours--not something you shared with us.
And that's kind of how the year was. You started becoming your own little person in kindergarten. You were gone from 8-4, two or three days a week--riding the bus, going to school, eating meals, making friends--all without me. You came home, telling me a few small tidbits about your day. Maybe later I'd overhear you singing a song you learned in music class or on the playground. You did come home singing Justin Beiber, as I imagined you would, as well as Miley Cyrus, Katy Perry and Lady Gaga, but you still remained pretty innocent. You always came home with a smile on your face and, while you seemed to love school, you cannot wait for summer break.
I was lucky enough to help in your classroom a few hours every Thursday. You were always extra excited those mornings when you left for school, knowing that in just over an hour, I'd be in your room. I actually met all of the kids I had heard about, saw your teacher in action, watched you work in the classroom. You and your classmates all gave me hugs before I left. You gave me extra hugs and a kiss. I wonder how much longer you'll be excited for me to come see you at school. And how long I have until any hugs and kisses will be reserved for home--not something to be seen in front of your friends.
You just had your 6-year-checkup with Dr. D. You're now 43.5 inches tall and 39 pounds. Despite being "a lightweight", as he called you, you're right on track for a 6-year-old. Reading, riding a bike, having your very first "wiggly tooth".
I woke up in the middle of the night, awake for no reason as usual, and peeked in on you, sound asleep in your huge queen bed. Bethany had tucked you in for the night while we were on a date night and I checked on you before I went to sleep, but I wanted to see you once more. You kicked off your covers during the night and were tangled up in your pink sheets. You were wearing your pajama shirt backward--a mistake you probably won't make too many more times. Your room was littered with giant pieces of paper (many of which are written love notes to your baby brother), baby dolls and a few stuffed animals. Your nightstand was completely full--a stack of books, Polly Pockets, Kleenex and stickers piled on top. Your last night as a kindergartener.
Today you woke up to cinnamon roll pancakes, put on your already chosen graduation clothes, tolerated a few pictures and climbed onto the bus for the last time for quite a few months. You sang in front of a crowd at graduation, even though you later told me you were nervous. You were smiling the whole time. We stopped by the farmer's market afterward where you picked out a huge basket of sugar peas and helped choose some plants for the garden--mixed greens, tomatoes, peppers, cauliflower and brussels sprouts (which, along with the tomatoes, I'm certain you won't eat). We ate lunch and spent the rest of the day celebrating graduation with Lily and Alayna at Susan's cottage. We had a fabulous day.
You now enter the summer phase. When people ask what grade you're in and your not entirely sure what to say--"I just finished kindergarten" or "I'll be in first grade" or just a confident "first", knowing that you've left kindergarten behind and have moved on whether you are in school or not. I asked you some things you'd like to do over the summer and, like me, you pretty much plan on spending lots of time at the pool, seeing some friends and cousins, going to the beach and having some fun summer picnics. I cannot wait to spend the summer with you.
First Day of Kindergarten
Last Day of Kindergarten
Rowan with Mrs. Phillips
Rowan, Sydney and Emma having some graduation fun
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