Smoke and Ashes

The Girls: 4 1/2 years

Hi guys –

I really feel like we recently had a 24 hour window that really summed up your personalities, as well as the inter-relationships within our family quite well. Let me explain -

The other night, I got stuck at work a little later than usual. Because I was going to miss your bedtime anyway, I texted Ely that I was going to head to the gym, but I’d be back before Mason’s bedtime. Well, through a combination of strong tailwinds on the boat and my own laziness, the boat got in early and I decided to skip the gym and head straight home in time to put you guys down. Here's how the rest of the night went:

7:00 pm: I walk in the door. Mason says, “mommy, YOU’RE HOME! Ely said you weren’t going to be home until after the girls’ bedtime.” I explained that was the plan, but I got home early. “You did? You mean you left work early so you could spend time with us?”

Because that was the easiest explanation, I just said answered “yes”. Mason, you replied, “OH THANK YOU MOMMY! Thank you for missing work so you could hang out with us. You’re the best mommy ever!

7:01 – 7:09 pm: I silently contemplate what Mason wants and wonder why he’s buttering me up. Hmmmm. 

7:10 pm: There’s an envelope addressed to Quinn and Hayden that came home from school. God forbid you let me open it. Instead you argued over who was going to open it, and then decided to open it together. You each worked one side until a birthday invitation from one of your most favorite classmates was freed. You were elated. Then I noticed that the party is a fashion dress up party, and I thought to myself “uh oh, this is SO not Quinn’s jam”. Then I spotted a little handwritten note that said, “E. tells me Quinn really likes superheroes. Maybe she would like to bring some of her favorite costumes with her?”

I can’t tell you how much I love this mom right now. Quinn loves playing with girls her own age and E is one of her most favorite people in the whole world. She would have been devastated if she hadn’t been invited. And, although she gravitates toward "boy" stuff, she still loves playing with girls… she just doesn’t want to be forced to wear a dress while doing it. Of course, when I relayed to Quinn that she could bring superhero costumes, she had a huge meltdown, “BUT MOMMY, I NEED A SWORD AND A SHIELD?!?!?!” I had to explain that, generally speaking, swords were frowned upon at birthday parties.

7:11 pm: The following interaction takes place.

Quinn: Can Macey come to the party?

Mason: [in a super high pitched sweet sing-songy voice] No Quinnie, I'm sorry, this is a party for four year olds.

Q: [melting down] BUT I WANT MACEY TO COME TO THE PARTY! [Huuuuuuuuge sobs]

[the two of them entwine themselves in a hug. And Mase rubs Quinn’s back]

M: It’s ok Quinnie. [long pause. Thoughtful look. And yes, they’re still full-body hugging….]

Hey mommy, is this a party where the grownups stay and watch? If so, maybe I could go and stay with the grown-ups and watch Quinnie. Quinnie, would you like that?

It was so sweet and over-dramatic in a way that typing it doesn’t do justice, but Ely and I were beside ourselves laughing at the cuteness of it all and how obsessed you two are with one another.

7:30-8:00: Epic bedtime battles.

Q: Scratch my baaaaaaaack.

H: I need to tell you something!!! I need water!!!!

Me: Oh for the love of holy mother-effer, gd, a-holes, sh*T, F^ck grrrr….

(Ok, that last part was just my inner monologue. I don’t say holy mother-effer in front of my kids. At least, not often.)

8:00-8:30: Read The Absent Author, one of the A to Z Mystery books, to Mason. Two chapters left in the book. Mase read the first few pages. It took 20 minutes. I read the next 30 because a) I’m incredibly impatient, and b) I couldn’t wait to find out who kidnapped Wallace Wallis. That shit is suspenseful! 

Somewhere around 3:00 am: [Loud thud] Hayden yelled “Mommy!!! Quinn needs you!!!! She fell out of the bed!!!!”

I went into your room to check things out. I picked you back up and tucked you back into bed. As I laid down, I realized I would be asleep in about 2 minutes and quite frankly, your bed is really uncomfortable so I made a critical, critical error in judgment. I invited the two of you to come into my bed. D’oh, what in holy hell was I thinking?!? I had FINALLY gotten you out of the habit of coming in my bed every night. I know, I know. I am a weak, weak person with terrible judgment.

We went into my room. Quinn, you quickly got settled, rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. Hayden, you thrashed around like a wild caged monkey. I was laying in between you too – which is incredibly claustrophobic for me. Weird fact: I really can’t sleep unless my feet are out of the covers, preferably hanging over the side of the bed. Being trapped between the two brings on the kind of anxiety I’d experience trapped in an elevator with ten 300 lb men. I waited until I thought you were both sleeping and then tried to slink out of bed, with intentions of re-entering on my normal side. Even if I only had 2” on the very edge of the bed, it’s at least 2” where I feel like I can breathe.

Hayden, not surprisingly, you woke up immediately. I tried to say I was just going to that bathroom. You didn’t buy it, threw a fit, and insisted I get back in bed. You thrashed wildly, hitting me in the face, which considering you gave me a black eye a few days ago, really pissed me off. I stormed out of bed into the bathroom. I was mostly pissed at myself for bringing you in to bed. (Ok, I was a little pissed at you for being a wild animal with no concept of personal space and how not to injure someone during one of your tantrums.) You came after me crying and screaming because I left the bed.

I took a few deep breaths, collected myself, put you back in my bed, and then slid into bed in my normal spot. Quinn, you stared at me with wide open eyes and a blank stare. Your stare was so blank that for a brief second, I thought you weren’t breathing and maybe you hit your head or something when you fell out of bed. Parents think of weird shit at 3:00 am. When I reached out to touch your chest though, you just rolled over in a huff. A few seconds later all was quiet and I thought I was in the clear. I was wrong. Three or four minutes passed, and then heard the saddest, most pathetic sniffle.

Me: “Quinnie, what’s wrong baby?”
Q: “You’re only snuggling with Hayden, not me…”

That touched on the mom guilt nerve real quick, so I hopped over Hayden and re-took my spot in the middle of the bed with Hayden sprawled on top of me and within reach to scratch your back – not too hard, not too soft. Somewhere around 4:30 or 5 I think I fell back asleep.

7:00 am: Mason woke up and came into bed, and then somehow convinced you guys to go downstairs and get all the ipads.

7:02 am: Loud thud.

7:03 am: Back in my room, Quinn crying. “We can’t reach the ipads!!! The knives are in the way” (to be specific, the knife block was in the way – I don’t actually keep the kids toys guarded by dangerous household accessories. Though, I suppose if it was the knife block that fell over, there’s a good chance my Wustoff knives are now spread all over my kitchen counter/floor. I opted not to explore that possibility mentally)

7:04 am: Hayden: “I can get them, I’ll just use a stool!”

Before I have time to piece together what I’ve just been told – knife block, stool, ipads, 4 year old Hayden who climbs like a monkey -  Hayden had already returned – not bleeding, thankfully - happily toting an entire Apple store’s worth of electronics.

7:05 – 7:15 am: ten blissful minutes of you all playing Lego racer on your electronics, showing off the various prizes you collected on the way, and me desperately, desperately trying to convince myself to get out of bed.

At least once a day, I think to myself the following things:

• I’m so screwed.
• I’m so tired.
• I’m so lucky.

I love you guys. Xoxo, mommy

The girls: 4 years, 5 months. Mason: 7 years, 1 month

Hi guys-

I’ve been globetrotting for the past 6 weeks – First Mexico and then from there straight to Rome for work, home for a few days then New Hampshire to see you ski for a day. I went straight from NH to Aruba with Auntie Kristen and Uncle Dan. Then, home for a few days and of course we got pummeled with a storm complete with power outages. Then, I was off to Madrid for work. Next, home for less than 12 hours before flying off to Chicago for the weekend. I’m exhausted just typing it. I joke that I’m burning my passport and boycotting Logan Airport. I won’t actually burn it because that would be impractical, but I did seriously consider it.

I missed you guys so much during all my world travels. It’s really hard to be away from you. Then again, I walk in the door and ten minutes in, I’m already exhausted.

Hayden, you continue to be the fiercest challenge. You have a will and a temper the likes of which I have never seen. Scratch that - your cousin Jack had the same willpower. He’s the kid who refused to eat solid foods for months because he choked on a grape. He couldn’t even be bribed with McDonald’s French fries, toys, or birthday cake. He lived off of yogurt and smoothies. I could see you effectively executing a hunger strike for an infraction as small as not executing a perfect Elsa braid.

Given your willpower, discipline with you has always been tough. I put you in timeout, but you scream and pull at the door, which forces me to hold the door. This is problematic for two reasons: 1) you’re freakishly strong, so holding the door took considerable effort, and 2) I too would get bored, not to mention have to tend to Quinn and Mason. I solved the problem last weekend though by flipping your doorknob around so that it locks from the outside. Man, you were PISSED. To get out of time out, all you had to do was a) say you were sorry to Mason, and b) admit that the reason you were in timeout was that you hit him. Most kids would have buckled after 5 or 10 minutes. Not you. You screamed for an hour. You scoured your room for something to pick the lock. Where on earth you found a paper clip is beyond me. Thankfully, your hand-eye coordination still sucks. I went in every 10 minutes to see if you were ready to apologize or admit what you did, but you held strong. After an hour, I finally had to settle for a half-sobbed “I SAID IT!!” (even though I'm 99.99% sure you didn't) because Max had slipped out and I had to go chase him through the neighborhood and I wasn’t comfortable leaving you locked in your room when I wasn’t in the house. You are one willful little woman, and you will rule the world some day.

Quinn, you get funnier by the day. Yesterday, Scituate suffered our third Nor’easter/blizzard in just a few weeks. Despite being away so much, I've managed to be home for all of these dreadful storms. Anyway, we were all cooped up in the house. I couldn’t get into the office, but that didn’t mean I had the luxury of cancelling my 5 hours of conference calls. You guys were so good all day – either quietly coloring in my room while I was on the phone or playing with Ely. But, I’ve been traveling so much and by 4:30, you had had just about enough of me working. With one final conference call to go, your cabin fever finally won out. As I sat on the phone talking press releases and media strategies, you rooted through the pile of laundry, found a pair of my underwear, put them on over your clothes and started screaming “CAPTAIN UNDERWEAR!!!” Hayden quickly joined in, donning one of my sundresses, and running around while you chased her. I have to say, I loved seeing it though.... imagination play is way better than those weird, Asian-language videos you watch on YouTube.

Mason, my favorite part of this month is how much your reading has come along. When I was away, I would facetime and you would read me a chapter of your book. When the time difference got to be too much, Ely recorded a 15 minute video of you reading Captain Underpants (no coincidence that Quinn was playing Captain Underpants – there’s still no one on this planet she loves as much as she loves you). I’m really looking forward to when you can start to read books I actually like – like the Harry Potter series. I think we’re almost there.

Guys, I love you so much. There isn’t anyone or anything on this planet more important to me than the three of you. Being away from you so much these past few weeks, coupled with the ongoing trials and tribulations of life that just never seem to take a breather even when you’re sitting on a beach in Aruba or walking through the dimly lit streets of Madrid, was really, really hard. Coming home to faces that so clearly missed the heck out of me was one of the best feelings in the entire world.

I love you all to pieces. Xoxo,

mommy

Post-Aruba Breakfast Out

Madrid Accessories

Girls' First Ski Trip - King Pine (Yes, Hayden wore cowboy boots and a dress)

Happy 7th Birthday Mason!

Happy 7^th birthday buddy. It’s been quite a year for you. For all of us really. In typical fashion, you’ve responded to everything that the world has thrown your way with sensitivity and love and charisma. You bring sunshine to everyone you meet.

I was actually contemplating what to write and struggling to find a quiet moment to put some thoughts together when I happened to click on this article, published on another blog called Wonder Oak. Sure, it might be a little lazy of me, but since it articulated a lot of the things I’ve been thinking lately, I’m going to just repost it here:

Sometimes I wake up in the morning and I see that you’ve grown over night. Your face is more defined, your eyes look older. A part of me is excited and in awe; I know you have so much ahead of you. Another part is scared because time is racing and I can’t slow it down. I’m afraid that I haven’t always been awake and noticing, and that somehow I have slept through the magic of your growing. I wonder, have I enjoyed you enough? Have I given you what you needed? Is your heart still whole? Is your spirit unbroken?

I’m not always good at this. I’m not always as good as I want to be at being your mom. I want to be great; and sometimes I am, but sometimes I’m not.

Sometimes I get it, and sometimes I don’t.

Sometimes I do it right, and sometimes I completely miss it.

Everyday I make mistakes.

Sometimes I snap when I should be sensitive. Sometimes I lecture and give chores when what you needed was a hug. Sometimes I completely and utterly miss it. I know that I do. I mistake your pain for complaining or your sad heart for a bad attitude. I watch myself miss it, and later I grieve that I didn’t respond differently.

I miss it when I am tired, and you get my leftovers at the end of a long day. I wish that you didn’t, but sometimes you do.

I miss it when I am scared. I am scared of big things and little things. I really thought adults had it all figured out, but I am one now, and it turns out we don’t. Sometimes fear snatches my heart and I can’t seem to think of anything else. I forget to relax and to enjoy you. I forget to smile and to laugh. I’m working on that.

I miss it when I am lost. I’m struggling with my own demons and it has nothing to do with you. Sometimes it’s anxiety or it’s depression, but it’s never, ever your fault. I will keep striving for wholeness so that when you reach those obstacles I can help you do the same.

I know that it is easy to hang on to the negative things and forget all the positive, but I want to set the record straight. When I look at you I am SO. PROUD. When I look at you I see good. I see someone who is mighty. I wonder how I have been trusted with such a treasure. Your heart is pure and soft. You are gentle and kind, you are vivacious and fierce.

I am forever your biggest cheerleader and your greatest fan.

Please keep helping me to see you and to know you. Keep telling me when I hurt your feelings. Keep sharing with me your fears and your insecurities and we will figure it out together.

I’m okay with making mistakes, but I’m never okay with losing your heart. Your heart is what matters to me.

I hope that my weakness teaches you something. I hope that when you come upon your own brokenness, tiredness, fear, and confusion, that you will be okay with it. I pray that your imperfections won’t scare you as they have me. I pray that you won’t run from them, but that you’ll wrestle with them and you will keep showing up, saying sorry, and trying again.

We don’t always get it right and that’s okay.

We are all professional mistake makers, and you will make lots and lots of mistakes. You will make countless amounts of mistakes, just like I have, but not one could darken the light I see when I look at you. You are my treasure, you are my reason.

Even though life is racing by, sometimes we have a moment. Sometimes we can reach out, grab time, and hold it. The world stops, all is quiet, and we really see each other. In this moment when I glimpse the person you are and who you’re becoming, all I can think is…

Wow.

On this morning, where it seems you’ve grown overnight, I want to tell you that you are wonderful. You amaze me everyday – and as I watch you, you inspire me. You inspire me to pull out the greatness that’s inside me. In this family we will make mistakes, but we will keep doing it together and we will keep holding each other other tight.

It turns out I’m never, ever, going to be perfect, but I am always and forever yours, and I’m always and forever on your team. That I can promise you.

You’re such an amazing person. You make me laugh and warm my heart every day. Happy Birthday, and I love you to pieces.

The Girls – 4 years, 4 months - Just another day in the life...

Hi baby girls,

Happy 4 year, 4 months.

I have a confession – one which will probably sound familiar to many parents. I miss you guys so much when you’re not around. So, so, so very much. In fact, since I’m about to go on a week’s trip, I left work early yesterday just so I could come home and spend time with you. Here’s the confession part: about five minutes after I walked in the door, I started mentally begging for you to be asleep.

Here’s how last night went:

5:00 pm: walked in the door. Hugs and kisses all around. It was so glorious to be home early. I'm loved. You're loved. We're all one, big loving family. Isn't life grand?

5:15 pm: I said, “Hey guys – let’s have Ely give you guys tubbies while I jump in the shower real quick”. Hayden, you were amenable to this. Quinn, you didn’t want to go. Hayden and I made our way upstairs. Quinn, you screamed your head off because we went upstairs without you. I trekked back downstairs and carried you upstairs.

5:30 pm: I finished my shower, started a load of laundry, and went to check on you guys in the tub. Mason jumped in the shower, only to discover that there was no hot water because I had just showered, you were in the tub, and I had *just* started a load of laundry. He walked around the upstairs stark naked screaming at me. This is clearly all my fault. Why would I start a load of laundry right this minute??! Clearly, I'm an idiot. And an asshole. 

5:35 pm: You finished your baths. Quinn quickly and quietly got dressed and brushed her hair. Hayden, you screamed at me that you were freezing and that I wasn't drying you off properly. (Silly me, in my book, if you go from wet to dry that is, in fact, "properly" - but you had a different methodology. Some day, I might master it).  You then refused to get dressed because your hair was wet and you didn't want it to get on your nightgown. That's not entirely unreasonable. What was unreasonable was your insistence that you hair be BONE DRY. I stood there for 10 full minutes. By the end, I was sweating my ass off and my arm was tired. 

6:00 pm: Everyone was finally in pajamas. Ely had gotten started on dinner. Earlier this week we introduced a new practice at dinner where at least a couple times a week, we would try a new food. Everyone who tries a bite, gets a point. 20 points earns a trip to The Greatest Place On Earth (aka Target). Last night's “new food”: celery sticks with cream cheese. You would have thought I made you eat dog food. Mason ate a bite and spit it out. Quinn, you cried. Hayden, you actually took a few bites, but only after I removed every spec of cream cheese.

6:15 pm: (because dinner in our house never takes longer than 15 minutes), everyone retired to their separate part of the living room and eagerly grabbed various electronics, which aren’t allowed until after dinner, so basically by the time you have the last bite in your mouth, you're jonesing like heroin addicts. After 10 minutes, I cajoled everyone into putting down the electronics, and in line with last month’s post about “creating more”, encouraged everyone to engage in a project. Out came the glitter glue and we made a valentine for the Hunters. Mason grabbed his crystal set. After about 20 minutes, a formerly presentable house had deteriorated into a war zone, but hey, at least we didn't destroy more brain cells on the nefarious drug known as YouTube.

7:15 pm: Girls bedtime arrived at last! The process is always whirlwind – Teeth. Toothpaste everywhere. Songs. Back scratches (no, not like that, like THIIIIISS). More songs. Water. Whatever… I survived. All in all, last night was pretty damn smooth in fact. I thought to myself jubilantly, "the end is in sight!"

8:00 pm: Mason’s bedtime. That part was actually fairly easy. Now I was starting to get cocky. Girls went to bed easily. Mason went to bed easily. This parenting thing isn't all that bad. 

8:01 pm: My bedtime. Ok, I didn’t really go to bed at 8. I went to bed at 8:30. No lie. It was amazing. 

12:05 am: Quinn, you woke up to go to the bathroom and then cried because you didn’t want to go back to bed. The other points we dole out in our house are given based on whether or not you sleep in your own bed. You dutifully walked back to your bed, but I laid with you for a few minutes to rub your back. Ten minutes later, I climbed back into my own bed.

12:59 am: I finally fell back asleep. 

1:00 am: Hayden, you woke up and started calling for me. I went in and rubbed your back, but you weren’t settling down. Finally, I relented and brought you into my bed.

1:30 am: Hayden, you started yelling at me that my bed was weird (because sometimes, beds are just "weird" I guess) and that you wanted to go back into you bed. I complied, brought you back, and laid with you until we both ended up falling asleep.

2:00 am: I woke up and couldn’t feel my arm because you were asleep on it and I was precariously balanced on the edge of a twin bed. I did my best to sneak away, but you of course woke up immediately as soon as I broke physical contact with you. You don't just like to sleep in the same bed as me - you like to sleep physically pressed against me, and it's like when I move, a rush of arctic air awakens you like you've just participated in the ice bucket challenge. I let you cry it out for a little bit, yelling at you from my bed to go back to sleep, but ultimately, I gave in.

2:15 am: We went back in my bed and I dutifully took repeated kicks to the kidney. It was awesome.

3:00 am: I finally had fallen back to sleep when I saw Mason walk across the hall from his room to the laundry room. That means only one thing – the pull up didn’t do the trick and he had peed through his PJs. I swear, the kid doesn’t drink anything after dinner time and pees at least twice right before bed, but regardless, he can pee like a fire hydrant at night. He waddled naked down the hallway into my bed and, because he’s the consummate negotiator said, “Mommy, it’s morning time, so if I get into bed with you, I still get my point, right?” Knowing that his sheets were covered in pee and too tired to argue, I didn’t really see many alternatives. He crawled into bed with his pee-soaked naked butt smooshed up against me on one side. I had to be careful not to break physical contact with you, Hayden, because I didn't want to relive the whole "crazy maniac yelling at me that I'm weird" episode from earlier. It was fun. SUPER FUN.

3:30 am: Hayden and Mason, you were fast asleep and I was lying there, uncomfortable and wide awake. So I did what I usually do in this situation – I crawled down to the foot of the bed and laid across the bottom of it. Yes, kids, I’m a 38 year old woman who sleeps at the foot of the bed like a dog. You guys so own my ass.

6:20 am: Alarm went off. We battled over getting dressed in a timely manner. Quinn, you got dressed wearing the same shirt and tie you went to school in yesterday. Yes, shirt and tie. It’s  your favorite, and you rock it! I don't care if you wore it two days in a row. It looks (and smells) better the second day, right? Hayden, you yelled at me because I did your tights wrong. I didn’t even realize I could do tights wrong, but like many things, I was wrong about that too.

7:20 am: I kissed you all goodbye. Got in my car and headed to work. I won’t see you again until I’m back from Rome in a week, so I made sure to give you each an extra one.

7:21 am: I began missing you all so much it hurts.

 

Jan 2018 - The girls 4 years, 3 months; Mason 6 years, 11 months

Dear Kiddos –

2018 is off to a fast start, and I skipped the girls monthly post and am starting the year off with a two-fer. Oh well. We were too busy kayaking and fishing and watching movies down with Grandma and Grampy to be tied to a computer writing anyway.

Instead of reflecting on what happened over the past month (Christmas, toys, traveling to Florida, begging for sweet mercy, fun time with cousins, etc), I’ve decided to use the first post of 2018 to capture a few themes for the upcoming year.

Read more. It’s funny that I’m an avid reader, yet we don’t spend a lot of time reading as a family. You guys are much too squirmy and active. And frankly, I’m really tired. All. The. Time. Still, girls you’re starting to appreciate a bedtime story a bit more than usual, and Mason, you can read books aloud to me, so there are no more excuses. In 2018, we’ll read more.

Build/create more. We’re already pretty good on this one, but all of you love “doing projects”. Particularly in the colder months when we’re trapped inside, I want to spend more time covered in glitter or reading instructions I can’t understand trying to assemble things with you guys. You’re so proud of your creations and its fun when I get to be a part of them.

Be easier on ourselves: We all seem to have one thing in common – we’re all incredibly hard on ourselves (well, Hayden, maybe not you. You think the world should bend to you and when it doesn't, it's the world's fault, but the rest of us, we're pretty tough on ourrselves). Mason, when we were down in Florida, you played game after game of Sorry with your cousins. When you’d lose, you’d get so down on yourself. When I put you to bed that night, you started crying and said “I just keep hearing ‘loser, loser, loser’ in my head.” It was heartbreaking negative talk. Quinn, you share Mason’s sensitive streak. I don’t really know how to help you guys not be so hard on yourselves beyond what we already do, but maybe one way I can start is by not being so hard on myself (not that I ever verbalize it or let you guys see it, but maybe you’re more perceptive than I’m giving you credit for).

Be active: This one isn’t new. We’re a pretty active bunch as it is. I hate being trapped in the house on weekends. And whenever the weather is tolerable, it’s impossible to keep you guys inside anyway. I suppose this one is more for me. I’ve signed up for the Martha’s Vineyard half marathon again in May and I need to start ramping up the training. Running 3 miles once a week just isn’t going to cut it. It’s hard though – I’m not a morning person and when I get home, by the time I’ve put you guys to bed, it’s 8:30 or 9 at night. I’m traveling a ton the next few weeks too which makes it even harder.  This one is going to take some work, but you guys are great motivators. AND, you give the best post run massages :) 

Be balanced: 2017 was in so many ways just a tough, tough year, but it did teach me a few things. Mostly it taught me to stop being so hard on myself and to try to be a bit more balanced. Make time to run. Enjoy sleeping in late. Drink that extra glass of wine. Pass on that extra shot of fireball. Spend more time reading books than watching TV. These were all things I did in 2017 (well, except the Fireball. I drank waaaay too much Fireball. Did I mention it was a tough year?!?) and that balance was good for me.

You guys are young so in some ways it’s weird to think about “balance” but I can already see it with you guys. Quinn, you love “boy clothes”and super heroes, but that doesn’t mean that every t-shirt, toy, or movie has to be super hero themed. You surprised everyone when you lit up with delight over the pink jewelry box Great Memere gave you for Christmas. Hayden, you’re a princess through and through, but that doesn’t mean you’re not excited to go out and hike mountains (granted, you hike them in pink cowboy boots). As much as I want to embrace the "you" I see every day, I have to remind myself that the you you are today is a work in progress and not to pigeonhole you. Mason, you’re already a pretty balanced kid. You like building, sports, chess, being goofy, being serious... Your work around finding balance is more around developing measured reactions to what the world throws at you (that’s really just a more polite way to say toughen up. You’re kind of a wimp).

We’re doing pretty ok family. All things considered, we’re crushing life right now. I can’t wait for a wonderful year ahead of adventures. I love you to pieces.

Xoxo

mommy

Mason: 6 years, 10 months - the Magical Time of Year

Dear Mason,

It’s that most wonderful time of the year, when the presence of a felt elf is wielded like a parental magic wand, capable of making miracles happen - including you playing nicely with your sisters. Jebby the Elf arrived a few days ago – Mommy was slow to get a tree this year and Jebby doesn’t arrive until the tree is up and lights are hung. But now, every morning you and your sisters eagerly convene in my bed – sometimes as early as 5:30 – to animatedly discuss where the elf might have landed. It’s cute that on most days you wait to go downstairs as a collective unit so that nobody gets an unfair advantage of spotting him first. (Note, I say “him” but as it turns out, I think our elf is actually a girl – or at least in the gender normative sense, because she has earrings and lipstick. She probably also came with a skirt, but that and her hat are both long gone.)

Anyway… in other “magical creature” news, the tooth fairy made her first visit to our house (here I’m quite confident that the tooth fairy is a she, well, because the tooth fairy is either me or mama). I spun a nice tail about how I woke up because I heard a ruckus in the hallway and I couldn’t be sure, but I was almost positive that Jebby and the Tooth Fairy were flying around the hallway outside of your bedroom door. You and the girls were over the moon at the prospect of so much magic in our house. Mama took a picture of you missing tooth, but I have to be honest, the picture really kind of grosses me out, so I’m not going to re-post it here. You have the dried crusty boogers that you can’t seem to get rid of since fall set in and a giant bloody crater in your gum. G-r-o-s-s.

You love this time of year. It snowed the other day and with only a few flurries falling from the sky, you all rushed to get your snow pants on. I tried to reassure you that you were totally ok to go outside in regular pants, but you were having none of it. 

All of you guys love opening the Christmas cards people send. Yesterday, you got one from your best friend/band-mate Ben Murphy, and you immediately asked if I had any extra frames. I said no, but you brought the card up to your room and propped it up on the windowsill next to your bed, right next to your beloved framed picture of you with Auntie Joy. (Hint to family members: Mason is a real big fan of framed pictures if you’re stuck on last minute Christmas gift ideas, haha).

Auntie Kristen and I had this really nice idea to try to get a big family portrait when we’re all together down in Florida after Christmas, but as it turns out, we planned too late and everyone we reached out to is booked up. In some ways though, it’s a blessing because you’re kind of refusing to let me cut your hair. Don’t get me wrong – I love boys with long shaggy hair and if you were blessed with Quinn’s fine-textured hair, I would be all about long luscious locks. It is just that when your hair gets long, you kind of look like an electrified tennis ball. But, like we said to Quinnie though, it’s your hair so you can do with it what you like. I understand that as part of a rock band, you have a certain look you need to cultivate. It does kind of accentuates your McAuley-freakishly-large dome though, especially since the rest of you is still so scrawny.

I love you buddy. I love how excited you get this time of year. I love how you love and express joy so openly. 

xoxo,

Mommy

The Kids - Mason, 6 yrs, 9 months; the Girls, 4 yrs, 2 months

Hey guys –

It’s holiday time, so not surprising I blew right through the 11^th and the 29^th. And things aren't slowing down, so you get an abbreviated entry this month. 

Mason:

My budding rock star. Somehow, despite having my musical abilities, you convinced Mama to buy you a guitar. You and your buddy Ben Murphy have grand ambitions of starting a band. You even FaceTime so that you could “practice”. It was so cute my heart melted and of course I told anyone and everyone all about it. One problem though: apparently, this ambition of yours is top secret and whenever anyone asks you how your band is going, you get SUPER embarrassed and storm out of the room. It’s happened 4-5 times now, and each time, you look at me like I’ve betrayed your ultimate confidence. I’m sorry buddy – I swear I didn’t mean to. You’re just too damn cute for your own good.

I don't know if you'll stick with this. You don't really stick with much, but there is nothing in this world that lights up my heart quite like you singing, even in all your off-key glory, so I'm fully supportive of this grand endeavor. 

Hayden:

We have made some progress on the weather-appropriate dressing. First, you now wear tights. You’re the only kid I’ve ever met who LOVES tights but refuses to wear the far-more-comfortable cotton or spandex legging. I seriously have PTSD from my childhood memories of being forced into tights. In fact, one of the reasons it took me until my 30s to start wearing dresses again was my disdain for tights. You, however, love them. You have also discovered a love of tulle and fancy dresses. Thanks to the generosity of Sydney and Auntie Nic, you always have the nicest clothes, including very fancy dresses that Syndey wore to fancy functions like holiday parties. You, however, wear them just to hang around the house. Not worrying about you freezing to death had made the morning routine easier for a few weeks, but never one to let me get too comfortable, you’ve now grown incredibly particular about what underwear  you wear. Yes, underwear. You see – we own about 200 pairs of princess underwear. Some of them have princesses all around, and others (the minority, of course) just have one picture right on the front. Apparently, princesses all around is just a nonstarter for you. You ONLY like the ones where there is just ONE picture, right on the front. Have I mentioned that even in utero we nicknamed you “High Maintenance Hayden.” I’ve never been more prescient in my life.

Quinn:

Quinn, we have managed to expand your wardrobe to include a few more pairs of pants, but your favorites are still a pair of khaki colored boys Old Navy corduroys. They’re filthy dirty and covered with marker stains, but I let you wear them basically every day because I don’t have the strength to fight with Hayden about the appropriate amount of princess coverage on a pair of underwear AND fight with you about pants.

On the somewhat surprising development front, you’re now the most frequent offender of waking up and coming into my bed. For so long, you refused to ever get out of your bed. You did it once when Mason and Hayden had come into bed, but after five minutes of elbowing for room, you sat up, said “I’m going in my bed,” and marched out. Not sure why you’ve had a change of heart, but not only are you the most frequent 2:00 am visitor, you’re also the most stealth. This morning I woke up and didn’t even realize you had sneaked into bed with me, even though you were basically nestled under my arms. Of all the kids, you inflict the least damage in your sleep. I’m surprised my kidneys still function given how many times Mason and Hayden have kicked and punched me in the middle of the night. I love how snuggly you guys are in general though. It's like whenever I'm in the room, you can't physically be close enough to me. 

All three of you are pretty stoked for the holidays. This weekend we'll get a tree and Jebby the Elf will arrive, and I'll spend the next month threatening you a disapproving Santa. It will be good times. 

I love you bugs.

xoxo,

mommy

The Girls: 4 Years, 1 Month and still holy terrors

Dear girls,

We made it through the terrible twos. We survived you guys as threenagers. I thought four was the year where you turned into cuddly little love bugs who could be reasoned with and didn’t require quite as much energy. I was wrong. Oh I was so very wrong.

Your favorite new expression is “you are the worst Mommy!!”  The reasons I’m the worst are really too long to count: not letting you eat candy for breakfast… not letting you sit in the drivers seat of the car… making you go to bed… breathing...having prickles on my legs…  Really just about anything.

We’ve had some epic battles this month. EPIC. The biggest source of regular altercations is clothing.

To premise, I think I have proven that I really don't care what you wear. Stripes and polka dots? Rock it Hayden. Only "boy" clothes and super heroes? Have at it Quinn. My problem isn't the style or design of your clothes; my problem is that you fail to dress appropriately for the rapidly changing seasons. This is you guys when it's 45 degrees and raining:

 

Hayden, you only wear skirts with cowboy boots. You have ONE long sleeved shirt that you will wear but generally you prefer t-shirts or tank tops (although, you will wear exactly ONE sweater, and you will only wear it over a short sleeve shirt. God forbid you wear a sweater over a long sleeve shirt to stave off hypothermia). You refuse to wear leggings under your skirts. You never, ever complain about being cold, but I often get sideways glances when we're out in public by concerned moms, who I know are secretly contemplating whether or not to call the Department of Child Services.

Quinn, you have ONE pair of pants you will wear, but otherwise insist on wearing shorts. The was manageable right up until the point the pants ripped in half. For a long time, you also refused to wear socks. You didn't like how they bunched in your sneaker. Instead of fighting with you, we let you wear your shoes without socks for most of September and October. The end result, however, is that you smelled like the Bruins locker room. Enter more sideways glances. "Look at those McAuley girls," I imagined running through the heads of the ladies in the store. "Always underdressed and smelling like they're homeless.. I bet the mother has a drug problem." (Ok, in fairness, my town is actually really NOT that judgmental, unless you do something totally stupid like post to a Mom Facebook group that you're thinking of getting an au pair; then the claws come out and at least one crazy bitch will go on a rampage telling you to raise your own damn children). Mama solved the stinky feet problem by buying you new sneakers that are three sizes too big, but at least your socks don't bunch up and now you don't scream like we're subjecting you to Chinese water torture when we ask you to put your shoes on. 

Between the two of you, you have literally garbage bags full of clothes thanks to the generosity of Auntie Nic, so the fact that collectively the two of you have narrowed your wardrobe to a total of 4 articles of clothing is incredibly frustrating. I even enlisted the support of your teachers: they did a lesson about the changing seasons and the importance of dressing appropriately. It didn’t make much of a difference though, especially because for the three days after the aforementioned lesson, it was unseasonably warm and by the time temperatures dropped again, the lesson was long forgotten.

Your tempers are getting more forceful too. Quinn, you have the louder, scarier yell, but Hayden, you have the don’t-let-up relentlessness that can wear down even the most resolved. If I put you in time out for misbehaving or fail to give into your demands, you get so angry that you pee your pants. I have to judge how far I’m willing to push an issue based on how willing I am to clean up pee. Plus, then you get mad at me and scream at me “You made me pee my pants! You’re the worst mommy ever!” Quinn, your anger is just a bit more distraught, like you can’t handle the injustice in the world. Like the time our neighbors invited you over for dinner but we said “not tonight”, and you responded “BUT JOHNATHAN SAID I COULD COME FOR DINNER!!!” and wailed like the world was coming to an end.

But, it’s not all battles. You’re also two of the sweetest kids I know. You guys both love to brush my hair and snuggle in bed. You like to sit next to me or on my lap at dinner. You will tell me you love me without being prompted. You always give me kisses before running away to play with our neighbors. You're sweet to your brother when you're not absolutely tormenting him. You love Saturday morning dance parties in my bedroom. You're silly and smart and no matter how old you get, you're my babies.

I love you. xoxo

Mason: 6 years, 8 months - The scariest day

Dear My-Not-So-Baby-Boy,

It’s the 10^th – one day before I usually sit down to write a blog post for you. On my train ride to New York, I was kind of mulling over what I would write about – everything has been such a whirl, nothing has really stood out…

And then I got off the train and checked my email. There was an email from your school saying that you were in lockdown. Lockdown is a word that didn’t even really exist outside of the movies a decade ago, but now you guys have lockdown drills.

Today wasn’t a drill.

In a panic, I called a friend I lovingly refer to as the Mayor of Scituate. She knows everything. Only she hadn’t really heard anything because she was busy getting chemo. Damn her and her stupid cancer. Not the first time her cancer has been really inconvenient for me. 

Then I called our neighbor and she told me that there was a guy with a couple of guns in the woods near your school. She was crying and I was panicking. I felt my throat tighten up. I found myself walking down 42^nd St in a daze. Presumably I was heading towards the hotel where the conference I was supposed to attend was happening, but I was lost and not really paying attention. Instead I was walking somewhat aimlessly through throngs of tourists, rolling my suitcase behind me. It was surreal. 

I managed to collect myself pretty quickly. Even from the earliest accounts, you were never in any real danger. The guy wasn’t on school grounds, the police and SWAT teams seemed to have him surrounded (although those reports were mixed), and the school was in constant communication with email updates. Still. My baby was locked in his classroom because there was a man outside with a gun. Not all that far away, your sisters were under a “shelter in place” order. There was a man with a gun and I was far away from babies. After some internal debate, I left the hotel and headed back to Penn Station. I need to kiss all of my babies goodnight tonight. 

It appears the school and the teachers handled everything very well and that you guys did great throughout the day. Here’s the email we got when the lockdown was over and the man in the woods was in custody:

Hello Room 3 Families:

WELL!  What an exciting morning we had!  The children did an OUTSTANDING job following directions for an extended time of sitting quietly on the floor with the lights out.  We always tell children that a Lockdown is like a fire drill, but it focuses on how to stay safe inside rather than getting outside quickly.  Doing this may be necessary if there was something unusual or even dangerous around or in the building, such as a wild animal like a coyote.  Each year we tell them that an actual lockdown has never happened at Cushing, but we need to know what to do - just in case.  Today's lockdown went on far longer than any drill ever imagined.  We practiced Calm Classroom activities, whispered a chapter of Charlotte's Web, drew quietly on the rug, had snack (picnic style), and finally started to watch part of a video.  The class earned several Dojo points and links.  The children eventually did begin to ask me if something was actually wrong.  I emphasized that we were safe and following directions - and that is our true job - to do what we are asked by the adults in charge.  When helicopters became inescapably obvious overhead, I told the children that perhaps the police were practicing a drill too.  I did not (either in the moment or afterward) tell them the actual situation so as not to frighten them, but they will likely hear it from other children (or from you if you choose).  If I'm asked, my position will be that I didn't know at the time what was happening outside so that the children will believe me in the future.  You should be VERY proud of your child, as are we!!

I can’t imagine what that was like for you. Sitting quietly for a long time with helicopters circling overhead. I’m sure you were probably fine, mostly concerned with planning how you and Ben are going to be in a band when you’re older or giving out my cell phone number to your buddies so that you can arrange playdates.  Still baby, if you were scared, I’m so sorry you had to go through that.

The current rumor floating through town is that this man is an ex-Marine and was more suicidal than homicidal. There’s a lot of discussion in our country about gun laws and support for mental health services. Discussion is too nice of a word, actually. There are a lot of social media rants, and very little thoughtful discussion. Truth is, buddy, I think I’m now in the “I’m too thoroughly pissed off to thoughtfully listen to counter arguments.” My brother was killed with a gun. And today, you and your sisters spent the day locked in your school. My babies. Locked in a school. And I was several states a way and couldn’t do a damn thing about it. If anyone so much as mentions the Second Amendment to me, I might kick them in the balls (I’m just assuming it would be a dude who would mention it…)

Tonight, Mama and I are going to talk to you about what you experienced. I want you to know that even when the world is a very, very scary place, Mommy and Mama are always here looking out for you and doing everything in the world with our mommy super powers to take care of you. And today, the police and your teachers all did their jobs, exactly like they were trained to do.

The world is a big and scary place, and we can’t hide you from that, but we can wrap you tight with our love for you and your sisters and hope for the very best.

I love you buddy. I can't wait until this damn train gets me home...

 

Update: had a good chat with Mase. His first reaction was “yeah, yeah we had a lockdown” as he ran around the outside of the house in search of a scooter. We corralled him back in, he explained they had a lock down drill and we explained that it actually wasn’t a drill. During the drills, with the little kids, they explain it’s in case anything, like a wild wolf or a predator, gets into the school. So we explained that sometimes animals only hurt people if they’re scared and that sometimes it’s the same for humans. And in this case, there was sick man who was telling people that he wanted to hurt himself and just to be extra safe, the teachers kept everyone inside so that the man didn’t hurt anyone else by accident. We explained that the helicopters and police cars were full of people trying to help the man to make sure he didn’t hurt himself or anyone else. Mason had a thousand questions - what was his name, what color hair did he have, what color skin, what was he wearing, what kind of sick was he, what kind of medicine do you take for that kind of sick... he was really trying to understand who this guy was, not because he was afraid of him, but because he was just trying to get it. I’ll be curious how he reacts tomorrow when he hears the big kid version of a crazy man in the woods with a gun. Knowing Mase, tomorrow the whole school will know he was a sick man and his Mama is a doctor and helps people who are sick and that will be his version of events. But for tonight, I think Mama and I did a pretty good job telling him the truth in a true-but-not-terrifying way. Nice job Mama.

The Girls: Happy 4th Birthday

Happy Birthday baby girls! I can’t believe you’re four years old. The other day, Facebook popped this picture of me when you were still busy growing inside my freakishly large belly.

You’d come two days after this picture was taken. Hayden, you came barreling out first at 7 lb. 2 ounces. I remember they whisked you over to the clean-up station because you had swallowed some meconium and they needed to suction it out. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn’t move to look because there was a nurse literally straddling me, holding Quinn in place so she didn’t somersault into a breach position. Everyone said everything was fine and Mama did her best to keep me calm, but I’m not going to lie baby girl, you scared the shit out of me and until I heard you screaming, I couldn’t breathe. Since that stress induced moment, we’ve had about 2 million more. You are my barnacle. My appendage. My mommy’s girl. My princess. My warrior. My stubborn, pain in the ass toddler. You’re all of those things and more.

Quinn, you came into the world 15 minutes later, and from day one, you were just trying to make it easier for everyone else. Even at 7 lbs. 6 ounces, you flew right out, screamed, nursed, and then fell asleep. You are definitely the easiest going of the three, but that’s not to say you’re easy. I feel like this is the year that you really became you. One of our neighbors actually commented to me the other day how much he loves to watch you because you have such a strong sense of self. You just kind of do your thing. I see pictures of you from a year ago, and quite honestly, a lot of them don’t even look like you. I love who you are and who you continue to evolve into. You’re brave and kind and thoughtful. You’re a super hero and an adventurer, but you’re also really lazy, haha. You’re pliable but easily offended. You’re all of those things and more.

Speaking of old pictures, it was school picture day this week. We didn’t bother trying to argue with either of you about what you were going to wear. Hayden, you rocked an Elsa t-shirt and one of your favorite skirts. I am anticipating many battles coming up when the weather is too cold for skirts with bare legs. You’re not a fan of the “leggings-under-skirt” approach, and there have been many days when I’ve decided to let you just run with it. Hopefully school doesn’t send home a scathing note asking us to dress you appropriately. Quinn, for your picture, you were planning on wearing the Spider Man sweatshirt with mask/hood that Memere got you for your birthday, but you had a last minute change of heart. Instead, you sported your favorite t-rex shirt. I have to admit, I was a little disappointed. I think it would have been perfect if you were wearing the sweatshirt WITH the mask for your school picture. That's how I'll remember you at this age anyway. When mama picked you up and asked how pictures went, Quinn chimed in “Good. Hayden didn’t smile.” I don’t know if anything can top this school picture from a few years ago. One can only hope.

We had a blowout party for your 4^th birthday. The whole neighborhood, as well as the standard cast and crew came to help celebrate. With 22 kids on our street, that’s the equivalent of a full on rager. Our au pair also arrived just in time to celebrate your birthday. Mason is already in love. You guys seem a little indifferent at this point, but I’m confident you’ll warm up.

We've had so many adventures in your four short years. I really can't imagine what the world has in store for us next, but I can't wait to experience it all with you guys.

I love you. xoxo

Doubling Up: The Girls: 3 years, 11 Months; Mason 6 Years, 7 months

Hey guys-

You’re getting doubled up again because I blew right through the 29^th and the 11^th. This might become the new norm. Mommy is getting lazy. Or just overwhelmingly tired. Or busy. Or all of the above. Give mommy a break will ya? And while you're at it, pour me a glass of wine?

The past few weeks have marked the end of summer and the return to the rhythm of the school year. Although, truth be told, we’re struggling a bit to find the rhythm part. It's been more like a staccato shitshow. 

Kellie has moved on to start a job as a teacher, which has meant that our already hectic juggling of schedules has gotten infinitely more complicated. Through a patchwork of sitters, I thought I had locked in a plan to cover us the four weeks between Kellie’s departure and the arrival of our new au pair at the end of the month. Girls, I sent in a note to your school listing three more people that were authorized to pick you up, but the note also explained our situation and asked that if they saw lost 20-somethings wandering the halls of the daycare looking for the McAuley girls, they should just trust that the person is legit and not someone coming to kidnap you. Granted, I found the substitute sitters on Facebook, so maybe they should be a little skeptical. 

I thought armed with a google calendar and an immense capacity to juggle logistical details that I had mama-ninja’ed my way through this transition smoothly. But alas, Monday morning I woke up to an email from the girl that was supposed to be covering Mondays-Thursdays, which said that she found a long-term job and wouldn’t be coming in that day. She literally gave me notice 5 hours before she was supposed to pick all of you up from school. Who does that?? Quinn, you never liked her in the first place. I should have trusted you. You’re an excellent judge of character. We pulled through though. 

One of my best mommy tips that I offer up specifically for circumstances like this one: I save the contacts for everyone who ever babysat for us in my phone, and under company name, I write “babysitter”. That way, in a pinch, I can search my contacts for “babysitter” and then start dialing for dollars. I have about 20. My babysitter rolodex is the envy of many.

Mason buddy, for you, September didn’t just bring a slew of new babysitters. It brought you to the first grade at a new elementary school. It’s your fifth new school in your short little life, but if everything goes according to plan, you’ll be at this one for the rest of elementary school. As expected, you have weathered the transition like a champ. We'd expect nothing less from our future Mayor. You're most excited about first grade because it means you can ride the bus with your buddy. It also means that this is your first year of homework. I’m viscerally opposed to homework for 1^st graders, and although you’re pretty excited by the prospect of it now, I foresee many battles in our future. It seems cruel to start that parent/kid homework battle dynamic so young.

Girls, the one good thing about this month’s crazy schedule is that out of sheer necessity, I’ve been dropping you off at school more. Logistically it means I roll into work at 9:30 or 10, which isn’t ideal professionally, but I have an understanding team. On the plus side, at your old school in Hanover I dropped you off every day, so I knew your teachers, your friends, your friends’ parents. Since we moved to Scituate though, drop off responsibilities were squarely in Mama and Kellie’s domain. Although I don’t miss the epic “pleeeease get your shoes on” and “pleeeeeeeease brush your teeth” battles required before getting out of the house every day, I do enjoy being a part of your school life in a more hands-on way. Maybe even when the au pair arrives, I can preserve a morning a week to do drop offs so that the last thing I see before heading into work for the day is your smooshed up little faces against the window waving goodbye.

We didn’t just jump into September without savoring every last bit of summer though. We went to Nantucket, and girls, you caught your first fish from Uncle Dan’s boat. Mason, you got a chance to celebrate the end of summer with your first camping trip with Mama. She had been looking forward to that adventure pretty much since the day you were born, so in the end, I’m not sure who had more fun. From the pictures, it looked like an all-around raging success.

I love you guys. Sorry I’ve doubled up posts again. You each deserve novels about your rapidly evolving personalities, but please rest assured I’m spending as much time as possible soaking up every second, even if that means I have fewer minutes to write it all down.

Love you. xox

Fishin' with Uncle Dan

Family pic for first day of school.

Mason's first bus ride.

Mason 6 1/2: The best part of my day

Dear Mason,

Happy 6 ½ bud. A few nights ago you asked me why you weren’t allowed to do whatever you want because, after all “I only have 7 more years until I’m a teenager.” I have to hand it to you bud, you already think like one.

The other day I got a text: “By the end of the night, text me the most rewarding part of your day.” I wrote back, “I can say with 99% certainty what it will be, even though it hasn’t happened yet.” There’s a lot going on in my life, and the past few days have been some of the most taxing of all. The day I got the text was probably one of the hardest, so it was well timed because it made me refocus not on the things that weren’t working the way I imagined, but on things that make me feel full and complete and happy.

Normally, the most rewarding part of my day is when I pull into the driveway and all three of you come barreling out of the house yelling “mommmmmyyyy!!”  It’s the absolute best. You usually have wet hair and are already in your pajamas. You all hug me at once and fight and jockey for the best hugging position. Then you start begging me to open mail, and then you start fighting over who gets to open what piece of mail, and then the special moment is over. From start to finish, it lasts about 45 seconds, but man, it’s a great 45 seconds.

That night, however, I knew I wouldn’t get home until after you guys were in bed, but when I get home, I knew I’d do what I always do before I crash into bed: I walk upstairs and into the girls room. First I go to Hayden’s bed. She sleeps not under her covers, but under your old Ninja Turtle fleece blanket. She’s always twisted up and knotted, and I kiss her on the head and then she sighs and readjusts. She’s a light sleeper so I have to be pretty delicate. Quinn sleeps like a 22 year old dude passed out after a bender. She sleeps hard with gangly limbs everywhere, usually in just a pair of shorts, further reinforcing the drunken frat boy look. I usually give her two or three kisses because she’s not a light sleeper and doesn’t stir at all. Then I go into your room. You are always covered in head to toe sweat. It doesn’t matter what time of year it is, the temperature in the room, or what you are wearing. You are the world’s absolute sweatiest sleeper. It literally beads off your forehead and back and leaves wet marks on your pillow. Not going to lie, dude, it’s kind of gross. You’re the hardest sleeper of them all. Once you fell asleep in my bed and when I was carrying you to your room, I literally dropped you. Another time, I misjudged the width of the hallway and banged your head against the wall. Neither time you even flinched. Your hard sleeping came in extra handy the other night when I surgically removed a splinter from your foot without you even noticing.

Anyway, that’s the part of the day I look forward to the most, especially on the hard days. The kiss goodnight when you’re already sleeping doesn’t end in fighting or crying. It just ends with me going into my own bed carrying a sense of gratefulness, love, and even accomplishment. Sometimes that feeling fades too fast. I pick up my phone and start reading about horrible things going on in the world. Or I start to stress over everything that needs to get done the next day. Or I replay the things that were worrying me earlier in the day over and over. I wish I knew how to hold onto the feeling longer.

I love you buddy.

Oh, and ps, thank you for the birthday card. It was my favorite. I love your smile and your eyes too.

 

The Girls: 3 Years, 10 months

Dear girls,

It’s hard to believe that it’s already August. The summer is going by way too fast, as they always do.

The past weeks have been a mixed bag for us. On the plus side, after months of passing like two ships in the night, we have finally met and bonded with our neighbors. They have twins that are Mason’s age and a little girl that is your age. This threesome is the perfect match for the McAuley threesome. Mason and Quinn, you love the rough and tumble play of their 6 year old boy. Water guns, basketball, dirt. You can’t get enough. Hayden, you adore the 6 year old girl. She’s like the big sister you secretly want. The kids’ mom recently sent me a picture of the two of you playing school. C was the teacher, and Hayden you were the dutiful student. Anything that involves you being dutiful is a minor miracle, so I’m in love with them too. Every morning you wake up and rush to the window to see if they're outside playing. Every time they're not, you ask me if you can go over there and knock on their door, and you're always disappointed when I explain that knocking on someone's door at 6:00 am is kind of rude. The other day I was doing the dishes, and you guys said you were going outside to play. When I popped my head out a few minutes later, you were nowhere to be found. Then I saw a ball roll out of the neighbor's garage and I figured it out.

I am so grateful that we live in a neighborhood where there are so many kids and everyone gets along so well. There's a steady stream of kids that run in and out of our house. Even the older kids on the street are kind and patient with the younger ones. Every time I come home from work and turn the corner onto our street and see 10 kids riding their bikes and scooters or playing tag and a few moms drinking wine on a porch or a lawn, I fall in love with our neighborhood all over again. 

We also welcomed a new family member. Mr. Max has joined the McAuley clan, and I think he might be the most beloved puppy in all the land. The three of you fight over who gets to hold him and feed him. You show him off to whomever walks in the door. Quinn, you especially have a strong bond with Max already. You can’t understand why we would go anywhere and not bring him. Getting you out the door without him is a huge undertaking that requires begging, bribing, and cajoling.

The past few weeks have also been about loss. Sadly, Keela had finally reached her breaking point. The old lady has been in a lot of pain for over a year, and her legs just continued to weaken. It was a hard day for Mama and me, but when she could no longer stand up on her own, we knew that the kind thing to do was give her some peace. When it was over, I had to leave the room and get air because even though I knew the decision was the right one, I felt like I was drowning in the sadness of having to make it. I bawled in the parking lot of the vet, and as you’ll probably discover eventually, mommy is not so much of a crier. It was a pretty terrible day. You guys didn't seem too phased by the news, but by the evening, it started to settle in that Keela wasn't coming home. Quinn, this realization made you pretty upset. Hayden, to be honest, you didn't really seem to notice or care. 

We also have another loss to get used to, but I haven’t shared it with you yet. Our beloved super nanny is moving on. She’s been such an integral part of our family for so long, it’s hard to imagine what life will be like with someone else. And we’re not just picking a new nanny – we’ve decided to get an au pair, which means someone will be living with us. I think that’s going to be a huge adjustment for all of us, but hopefully a positive one. I’m not going to lie – I’m a little nervous.

We tackled the ups and downs of the month the way we've tackled everything else: as a family, there to pick each other up when the going got rough. I love you guys.

xox, mommy

Three in One: All three kids’ monthly post, rolled into one

Hayden & Quinn 3 Years, 9 Months

Mason 6 Years, 5 months

Hey kids,

Mommy is a hot mess this month and let so much time roll past the 29^th, that I’m now bundling you all together. You teach me so much about myself, about my ideals as a parent, and about how big the gap is between how I want to parent and how ready I am to deliver on those ideals. So that’s my theme this month.

Hayden:

You’re a tough nut. You’re demanding, fierce, and unrelenting. A few weeks ago I had what for a brief moment I considered one of my worst parenting moments, but upon further reflection, I’ve decided to cast it as one of my best. You were in the car, refusing to get into your car seat. You’re big enough and strong enough now that I can’t force you into it, so instead I reason, I threaten, I beg, I bribe, I cajole… I really pull out all the stops. But on this particular day, you were having none of it. You sat on the center console basically daring me to lose my shit. I said, “Hayden, if you don’t get in your seat, I’m just going to start the car without you, and then you’ll get arrested by the police officer for not being in your seat.” You replied defiantly “no start the car!” I said, “I’m going to start it.” Again, you said “NO START THE CAR!” I started it, and what did you do? You hauled back and punched me squarely in the nose. Like a full on, Mike Tyson right cross right in the nose. I went blind with rage, jumped out of the car super-fast, flew around to the passenger side in a blink, yanked you out of the car, and then carried you upstairs football style and into time out while yelling “YOU DON’T HIT MOMMY! YOU’RE GOING INTO TIME OUT.” The entire way up the stairs you pleaded, “I sorry mommy!!! I sorrrrrrrrry!” I put you down on your bed, walked out, and took a few deep breaths. I was so very angry. When the moment had passed, I picked you back up, calmly told you how wrong it is to hurt people, and we got into the car without any further drama. I pride myself on being pretty even keeled and for my tendency to rely on rational thinking and communication vs. white hot emotion. During the drive, I felt pretty bad that I was filled with so much rage – hence the “low point” parenting moment. On further reflection though, I’ve decided that it will rise to the top of my parenting moments because although I was steaming from the ears, I didn’t spank you or say mean things, and ultimately, you deserved to be a little shaken up by my reaction – just enough to get the message, but not enough to be really afraid. All three of you guys have the ability to push my buttons, but Hayden, there’s something unique about the way you do it. Your will is just so strong, and you rarely back down. I hope as you get older you use these super powers for good instead of evil. I hope that I continue to parent in a way that brings calmness and rational thinking to even the most intense situations, but I also hope I recognize those moments when you need to be knocked down a peg. We love you Hayden. We love you when you’re headstrong and apologetic, when you’re fierce and when you’re vulnerable. We love you… even when we want to strangle you.

Quinn:

Quinn, baby, this month, you definitely pushed me and mama to think of what is best for you over what’s most expedient for us. Here’s the thing: you tell us quite often that you’re a boy. You only wear “boy clothes” and you like “boy things.” We explain to you that there’s no such thing as “boy things” and “girl things” and that there’s just “stuff you like” and “stuff you don’t like”, but the concept really baffles your little three year old brain. I’m not sure whether or not you *actually* think you’re a boy – maybe you do. Maybe you just don’t understand that girls are allowed to like everything boys like. You don’t get mad when people call you a girl, you know what your private parts are called and don’t seem too confused about that, and in general, you don’t really exhibit any other early signs of being gender confused. Maybe it’s a phase. Maybe it’s not. Who knows? Whichever the case, Mama and I only want you to be happy.

That’s what we’ve always said, and that’s what I genuinely think we mean, but this month was the first time we had a chance to put our money where our mouths were. For weeks, you’d get out of the shower and comb your own hair (if later in life you don’t remember this, watch the movie Home Alone and watch the way Macauley Culkin combs his hair – that’s exactly what you do). Neither Mama or me gave this much thought. Then one day you said to mama, “Is my hair perfect? Does it look like a boy’s haircut?” Mama said, “do you want it to?” and you said “yes.” The next day, you couldn’t get it *just perfect* and that made you very upset and you started crying. Mama and I decided right then and there – we were taking you to get your haircut.

I’m not going to lie – I stressed about it. You already dress in all of Mason’s old clothes and with short hair, I knew the whole world would constantly be calling you a little boy. We went to the haircut place as a whole family, and you got your short haircut (granted, I'm not that evolved... you really wanted a buzz cut like Mason's but we compromised a little bit. I googled "surfer boy" haircuts, and you picked the one you liked best, though I did promise you that if you still wanted a haircut like Mason's, when you were 6 , you could get a buzz. This seemed perfectly acceptable to you, and I admit, I was relieved.). Here’s the thing, though: you look more like you with short hair. You love it. It’s been a few weeks and you still ask people, “do you like my haircut?”  You smile when you get out of the shower and comb your hair. You told grandma and grampy several times during our trip to Nantucket, “my hair doesn’t get in my face anymore because I have a boy haircut,” and then you flashed them your million dollar smile. In retrospect, I can’t believe I spent even a second worrying about a haircut. Thank you baby. Thank you for reminding me about my commitment to love you for you, regardless of any stupid hang-ups that I or the world may try to impose. If you still want a buzz cut next summer, I'll buzz your head myself. We love you, and we will have your back through every phase, life decision, or challenge.

Mason:

Buddy, you’re getting to be so old and mature, which is why it’s so hard for me when you act… well, when you act like a 6 year old. Sometimes, I just need you to be more put together for my own sanity. When the girls are pushing me to the edge, I look to you with pleading eyes, begging you to be easy. To brush your teeth without being asked 500 times. To find your shoes. To put the iPad away. And overall, you’re pretty good about delivering. You’re so sweet and sensitive that you have a pretty good sense for when mommy is going to lose her proverbial shit. But sometimes you don’t. You miss the cues, or you simply don’t care. Your 6-year-old needs trump mommy’s desperate attempts to smooth our way through whatever trial or tribulation is facing us at a given moment. You’re instructed to go away and entertain yourself while I focus on [insert calamity here]. In short, you get the shaft or get yelled at. You don’t deserve it buddy (well, sometimes you do). All the stereotypes about birth order are alive and well in our household. More is expected of you simply because you came along first. We love you because you take that responsibility in stride more often than you don’t.

This is the picture you made last night when I asked you to go to bed while I dealt with a Hayden tantrum. Instead of going to sleep, you made me a picture that says "Mason to Mommy!" and explained that that's a picture of a crab crawling on the sand, under the ocean... that's why it's white on top. Granted I was a bit annoyed you didn't just go to sleep and came back downstairs at 9:00 pm, but with a face like that, who can stay upset? You knew just what to do at the end of an epic long bedtime battle to put a smile back on my face.

To all of you, you teach Mama and me every day about the types of parents we want to be, and we couldn’t be more grateful. We love all of you for the strong, unique individuals you are and for the people you help us become every day. When you're grown up, I hope you continue to be kind, strong, brave, and fiercely loyal to one another. 

Xoxo,

mommy

Mason 6 Years, 4 months: Ready for Summer

Dear Mason,

The fact that we’re in the middle of a 90 degree heat wave really hit home that summer is fast approaching. In fact, you only have 9 school days left of kindergarten. Nine. Single digits. It just can’t be so.

You rocked kindergarten buddy. At the beginning of the year, you couldn’t read at all. Now, everywhere we turn you’re sounding out words of increasing complexity. You’re so curious, which is one of the things I love most about you. You are a math whiz. You get into these little Rain Man like fits where you count and add everything around you, simply because you can.

You’ve made dear friends at kindergarten. You had plenty of friends in preschool, but this is definitely the year of real thick-as-thieves buddies. Christopher is your very best friend and the two of you couldn’t be any cuter together. To celebrate the end of school, the kindergartners hosted a Teddy Bear picnic, which ranked pretty high on the cuteness scale. Of course you and Christopher were next to each other.

Sadly, next year we’re moving on to a different school. We moved to Scituate a full year ahead of schedule because you were starting kindergarten and we figured it would be best if you didn’t have to switch schools. As it turned out, though, we couldn’t register until we had a signed purchase and sale. By the time that happened, regular registration had closed, so we were put into the “overflow” classroom at Hatherly, which is not our “neighborhood school” (despite the fact that it’s ¾ of a mile from our house). So next year, we’re off to a new school (¾ of a mile in the other direction). Given your exceptional social skills, I’m sure it’s not going to be a problem. I probably have more anxiety over it than you do; I finally just learned all of the moms’ names in your class, and most of my closest Scituate friends are Hatherly moms.

I’m excited for this summer and am hopeful that I’ll be able to take lots of time off to spend with you guys. Your sisters are just a bit easier now, so I feel more empowered to do fun things. Going to the beach, even if I’m the only grownup, is now totally manageable. Yesterday we went for a few hours – you immediately found boys you knew from summer camp last year and were off and playing, and the girls did a good job entertaining themselves. I actually got to sit in a beach chair and mostly relax. When the other boys left, you taught your sisters made up games to play.

Like all siblings, you guys do come to blows quite often, usually when the girls touch your stuff, but in general, you get along so well. They totally adore you as well.

I mean, what’s not to love? In addition to your funny sense of humor, big brains, and total sweet streak, you’re an amazing dresser with a clear fondness for headbands:

Thank you for making me laugh and being my little love bug.

I love you to pieces. 

xoxox,

mommy

The Girls: 3 Years, 8 months

Dear Girls,

This month, I scratched a big “to do” off my bucket list – I ran a half marathon. I feel like having twins is kind of like training for a marathon: it’s time consuming, exhausting, and at many points along the way, you feel like you’re going to fall down and not be able to get back up, but I did it. There was a moment around mile 12.5 when a woman smiled at me with a look of encouragement that made me choke up. Literally. I was running with bronchitis and when she smiled at me, I got super emotional because I could physically see the finish line, and my chest just seized and I started wheezing. I thought to myself, “If I pass out within eye-sight of the finish line, I’m going to kill someone.” And then I remembered all those times I thought I was going to pass out from exhaustion over the past almost-four years trying to keep up with you and your brother. I thought of the commitment I made to myself to finish the race. And then I thought, I’ve got this. I didn’t run a great race. I walked more than I had planned. I didn’t break 2 hr 20 minutes like I had hoped (though I did come in under 2 1/2 hrs). But I made a commitment to do something, and despite the fact that it was hard, I finished. Despite the fact that I wasn’t feeling well, I finished. Despite the fact that it was something I have never done before, I finished. And you know what, girls? I’m pretty damn proud of myself.

I chose to write about the marathon this month for several reasons. First, I want you guys to know that you were part of the reason I decided to take on this challenge. When I was training, I used this app that would tell me what to do, give me prompts on good form, and shout words of encouragement or motivation, all set to a nice upbeat playlist. One of the things the trainer kept saying throughout the different weeks of training was “remember why you signed up to do this. Remember your motivation.” And more times than not, you guys popped into my head.

Secondly, I hope this is just one example of how I will teach you to go after big things, even if they seem daunting or hard. I want you to go after things that take time, patience, hard work, and dedication. I think we live in an instant gratification world and that it’s easy to give up on things where the rewards don’t manifest right away. I want to teach you guys how to have grit and determination. There were certainly many times during the weeks leading up to the race where the last thing I wanted to do was go for a run, but I knew that if I wanted to complete the race, I had to put in the time.

Lastly, I want to teach you how to celebrate and be proud of your successes. What I did was a big deal to me. It wasn’t superhuman. It wasn’t curing cancer (or even fighting cancer like Mommy’s friend Rachael who walked the entire 13.1 miles a few weeks after a double mastectomy), but it was a big goal for me personally, and I did it. I want you to feel OK being proud of yourself. Now – don’t get me wrong. Don’t be a jerk or a braggart, but you should learn from a very early age how to celebrate success and how to say thank you when someone says congratulations vs. dismissing an achievement as no big deal. I think this point is especially applicable for girls to learn early.

I love you girls. I’m so proud of the little people you are and the bigger people you become every day. I love how you're so different from each other but still the best of friends. I love how you live like your purpose in life is to make the other one laugh. 

Xoxo,

mommy

Mason: 6 years, 3 months

Not surprisingly, I’m a week behind again. I sort of feel like that’s the story of my life these days, but oh well.

This month, we enjoyed our very first Mommy-and-Mason vacation. Just you and me buddy. We took off to Florida to visit Grandma and Gramps. I love your sisters to death, but traveling with just you was an absolute dream. The plane ride was totally uneventful. I never thought I would appreciate the word “uneventful” until we suffered through your sisters on a plane. You watched your iPad. You had snacks. You didn’t kick the chair in front of you (too often). You smiled and said thank you to the flight attendants. It was nothing like the previous year where Mama, Kellie and I tag teamed your sisters and offered Xanax to all the fellow the passengers just to survive.

When we got to Florida, you immediately hit the pool. This was the first time you’ve been to Florida since you learned to swim. You being able to swim also meant that I didn’t need to be in the water with you. I could sit on the deck chair and relax. Those are words I haven’t associated with a trip to Florida in three years. You spent so much time in the pool, you asked that we change your name to “Swimmer”, which you explained was reasonable because you have a friend named Walker, and he’s good at walking, so since you’re good at swimming, you should be called Swimmer. You did not, however, like being called a fish, because that would be silly. You learned to float and dive and do somersaults and backflips underwater. You jumped into the deep end and I’d rate your cannonballs. You made up a game kind of like water polo. I couldn’t quite follow the rules, but it usually netted out to you getting all the points and me and Grampy losing pretty consistently.

I spent all week trying to catch a gecko for you. I finally came through on the last day. You really just wanted me to catch one so it would shed its tail and you could bring it back to Mr. Tarpey’s class, which you did. You put it in a little glass bottle along with a real shark’s tooth that came with your dessert from the Ocean Grille.

We went on an airboat tour with Captain Bob and saw dozens of alligators and birds. You demanded I take a picture of everything (I deleted most of them because I’m notorious for not liking nature photos. I mean, I appreciate nature photos if they’re beautiful professional pictures or whatever, but iPhone snapshots of nature kind of bore me. I like to see smiling faces in my pictures). We also spent a day at the Brevard Zoo, and we went out to dinner every night. These are all things that we probably couldn’t have done if the girls had come, so it was extra special. Next year we’re going to go to the Kennedy Space Center. I’ve promised the girls that they can come next year though. They were very sad and missed you terribly. It did mean a lot to Grandma and Gramps that you could spend some time down there with them though, especially since it was Gramps’ birthday.

The other highlight of the month for me was when you ran your first race, the Run4Scituate Fun Run. You were so excited. It turns out, you run just like Forrest Gump, which is perhaps a reference that you won’t understand by the time you’re old enough to read this. Here’s a quick video of the madness.

 

Right around the 9 second mark, you come storming by in your easy-to-spot neon yellow shorts and gray t-shirt. And here’s my favorite picture of you just about crossing the finish line with your feet not even touching the ground.

Since the fun run, you’ve decided that you want to run longer races “just like mommy”. You beg me to let you run on the treadmill and practice, or if you see me put my running clothes on, you beg to come with me. Hopefully one day, buddy.

The Girls: 3 years, 7 Months

The Girls: 3 Years, 8 Months

[Drafted while on a plane back from Florida a few days ago]

Dear Girls,

Sorry I’m late. I am on vacation… without you. Mason and I went to visit Grandma and Gramps in Florida for his birthday. I missed you *so* much. I think six days is the longest I’ve ever been away from you guys. Mama and Kellie said the last two days have been especially hard for you Quinnie Bear (though I think that's more because you miss Mason than miss me). I can’t wait to get home and squeeze you. It’s going to take all my willpower not to wake you up when I get home (but I’m not dummy – never wake a sleeping kind unless it’s an emergency). I do have to admit, Florida was a lot more relaxing with just Mason and the flights were a breeze. I promise next year though we’ll all make it down. Grandma and Gramps really missed you guys too.

Hayden, for you, this month has been memorable for one very distinct pink reason:

Auntie Nic gave you this dress and you refused to take it off basically for two straight weeks. We’d sneak in the occasional cleaning, but you wore it day and night, rain or shine.

Quinn, princess dresses aren’t really your thing, but you scored a Captain America and Iron Man costume, not to mention new PJs that you wore just about every night this month. With the warmer weather coming, I admit I was a little curious to see how your very strong opinions about clothes would evolve. As it turns out, I’m just glad I haven’t given away all of Mason’s summer clothes from last year.

Quinn, you also hit a McAuley-kid first this month. You are officially the first McAuley child completely out of diapers. That's right, you beat your brother on this front -- a fact that I'm happy to memorialize here so that you can torture him for years to come. Mason still wears a pull up at night because he sleeps like the dead. I have literally dropped him, banged his head into a wall, and carried him basically upside down while sleeping and he doesn't budget. I have tried to get him to use the bathroom before I go to bed, but he sleeps so soundly he just slumps down onto the floor. You're a great sleeper, but if you have to pee in the middle of the night, you'll wake up an go. Hayden, you're still a crappy sleeper and you wear a pull up every night. You wake up most nights at some point crying. Most times you'll go back to sleep on your own, but I always hear you and always wake up. 

You guys had an art show at your school, which was super nice because I finally got to meet all of the friends you talk about. It’s weird for me – at our house in Hanover, I’d bring you to school most mornings, but now with Mason in kindergarten and not being able to be dropped off until 8:15, mama and Kellie get drop off duty most days. As a result, I don’t really know any of your teachers or your friends. On the few occasions I have brought you in, I feel like that hapless goof who doesn’t know the rules – like where lunches go and what door to use. We get by, though, right babes?

I really did miss you guys so much when we were in Florida. As demanding as you guys are, I love having your smiley faces, silly dance parties, and even your potty buttcrack mouths as one of the most treasured parts of my day. I am grateful that at least through the wonders of FaceTime I’d get to see those faces every day, but it doesn’t really hold a candle to the live and in person version. Can’t wait to see you my loves.

Xoxo,

Mommy

Mason: 6 years, 2 months

Dear Mason,

You're now about 3/4 of the way through Kindergarten. It's amazing to see how much you've grown and how eagerly you've embraced school. One of my favorite parts of my day is coming home and thumbing through your folder with all of your school work. This gem from St. Patrick's day really cracked me up...

You are smurt buddy. Smart too. Mama and I both chuckled when we read your report card. In case the picture is too small, it basically says you're brilliant (I might be slightly exaggerating, but I'm sure that's what your teacher meant). It was the one area to work on that I've highlighted in red that really made us laugh: "One area that he continues to work on is controlling his impulse to speak whenever he wants." I have absolutely zero difficulty picturing you in this regard. You have so many words in your head they're always rushing to get out all the time. Big words, complicated thoughts, detailed descriptions... it all comes pouring out of you at an uncontrollable pace.

One area where you're especially descriptive and imaginative is recapping our "dream dates." You pick where we go and the next morning we talk about our adventures. The other night, you wanted to go "into the TV and into the Minecraft world." The next morning, you told me all about the places we visited, the buildings we blew up with TNT, going all the way to the edge of the world to see the ocean, seeing Mama working at the Minecraft hospital and going up to the window and making her laugh and spying on her. I could listen to you describe our dream dates for hours. We've been to Saturn, a space jungle, the beach, Africa... I love when I get to say things like, "remember when we turned the corner and saw the big jungle snake...?" and you just take it and run with it. I love how excited you get and the words get all caught up in your mouth because your brain is going 100x times than you can speak. 

One new word we may have taught you this month is "shart." I know, I know - we're terrible people. Here's the backstory - we got an email from your teacher saying that you had a bathroom accident, dirty clothes were coming home in your backpack, and that we needed to send in an extra set of clothes. I immediately wrote back "Context?? Mason hasn't had an accident in years. Was it in front of people?" And in the following 20 or so minutes that it took your teacher to respond, I died a thousand deaths thinking of the humiliation you must have experienced from peeing or pooping yourself on the playground or in gym or something. Then the response came: "I don't know. He was in the bathroom by himself when it happened. He wasn't running to the bathroom or anything, and he didn't seem upset or anything by it." This put my mind at ease. I texted Mama, "He probably just took a huge poop and didn't wipe himself well enough so they had to change his pants." I wasn't exactly right. When you got home from school, Mama asked what happened and you said, very nonchalantly, "Oh, I thought it was going to be a bubble but when I pushed, poop came out." So yeah, buddy, you had your first (and hopefully last) experience of gambling on a fart and losing. Congrats, my son. 

In slightly more serious news, you gave us a bit of a scare this month. You complained of a headache and double vision. We took you to the primary and you passed your eye test correctly identifying each letter but saying "I see two E's but they're touching and I know there's only 1", so we made an appointment with a pediatric eye doctor who came highly recommended and his diagnosis was basically that you're faking it. More accurately, he explained that kids can't actually have double vision - that there's something with brain development that actually stops the signal from getting from your eye to your brain and that kids sometimes describe blurriness as double vision, but that you didn't seem to have any blurriness. He also suggested that right around this age, kids learn that they can purposefully make themselves go cross-eyed and start experimenting with it. Mama and I aren't 100% convinced because you were so consistent and detailed in your description, but you did say "sometimes I can control it and... sometimes I can't," so we're a in a "wait and see" place right now. I thought for sure we were going to be leaving the Dr's office with new glasses, as if you could get any cuter. 

I love you buddy. You and the girls are our everything.

xo,

mom

The Girls: 3 1/2

Dear girls -

The good news: we're halfway through the three-nager year, and so far, we've survived.

The bad news: we still have six months to go, and surviving is still definitely a big question mark. 

Hayden, you're particularly feisty. Your have a swear word that you made up... when you get mad at someone, you yell "You MUGGER" or "You're a MUGGER!" At first I thought, Harry Potter? But since we haven't started reading those yet and you've never seen the movie, and the word is actually "Muggle", I ruled that out. Mugger has also evolved to "Nugger" -- which you can imagine is a little problematic when you yell it in public. As such, we've decided to not let you out of the house. Ever.

You've also stopped sleeping through the night. Not that you were ever particularly good at sleeping through the night, but now, pretty much without fail, you wake up SCREAMING every single night. I, of course, made the mistake of bringing you into bed, which I justified by a) my total and complete exhaustion and b) fear that you would wake Quinn up, but it was really a huge mistake. First, when you do sleep in bed with me, you insist on lying on my head. Literally on my head. Preferably with you knee wedged in between my shoulder blades or in the small of my back. It is absolute torture. Second, we have now established the habit that you scream (and scream and scream and scream) until I come into your room and get you. I'm hoping to have a turn-around soon. For one, I've resolved to stop bringing you into bed. For another, the weather is getting warmer. This is a critical success factor because you insist on not sleeping under the covers and instead using these tiny little baby blankets that get twisted up pretty easily leaving you exposed. Most the time you wake up and if I don't come running, you start yelling "I'm COLD! I'M COLD!!!" Now of course, the rational person would say that you're fully capable of fixing your own blanket. You can, after all, cook scrambled eggs and operate an iPhone. But, at 11, 1, or 3 in the morning, I'm rarely a rational person. Plus, you are simply relentless. You will scream for what feels like an ever-loving eternity. 

Quinn, you're a great sleeper but you're equally relentless when it comes to certain things. Mostly two things: blue pants and my iphone. A few weeks ago, you discovered a pair of blue fleece pants, which you paired with a blue South Carolina shirt. You are obsessed with them. You would wear that outfit every single day if we let you. Here you are wearing it on a hike with our buddy Maddie during a rainstorm:

You are so obsessed with this outfit that literally every other night, I have to warn you "tomorrow is a jeans day, ok? Blue pants are in the wash." (Incidentally, Hayden is almost as obsessed with the outfit featured in this photo as well, though you can't see the skirt that she's also wearing). 

Your other obsession is electronics in general, but my iphone in particular. I've come to hate the words "I WANT YOUR PHONE!!!" A stronger parent would institute a "no phone for toddlers" rule and significantly limit your screen time given your clear obsession, but what can I say? I'm weak. And tired. And Hayden keeps me up all night. You watch the dumbest videos on YouTube - there's the whole series of the 20-something year old female actresses dressed up as Disney Princesses but in modern day settings and situations. (I almost wrote "adult female actresses" but that sounded kind of pervy and as weird and inappropriate as the stuff you watch is, it doesn't get into the whole porn genre... Have to draw a line somewhere, right?) 

On the easier side of the spectrum, you guys are increasingly into imagination play. You can have tea parties that last more than 5 minutes. With the weather getting nicer, you play outside more. You'll both follow Mason just about anywhere, but especially you Quinn. You idolize him. 

All in all, I'd say we're doing a-ok girls. I love you to the moon. I love you so much that Hayden, when you were sick a few weeks ago and coughed so hard you started puking,  I  just put my hand out and caught it. *THAT* is how much I love you both. 

xoxo, 

mommy

Mason: 6 Years, 1 Month

Dear Mason –

Earlier this month, I wrote about your sisters’ strength and how you have a zillion great qualities, but they’re definitely tougher than you. We had your 6-year-old well visit this month – you’re in the 40-something percentile for height and 30-something percentile for weight. We have a terrible time buying you pants because you hate when things are too big, so you wear 4T, even though they come up mid-calf on you. You have just recently started to wear and like jeans though, which I must say, I love – especially when you sport hipster straight leg jeans. Don’t kill me – but sometimes I put you in Quinn’s jeans because of course, they design girls’ clothes to be form-fitting whereas most boys’ jeans are cut to fit more loosely. You also have a sweater that you call your “handsome sweater”. It’s a blue cable knit and it brings out your eyes. It’s super preppy and kind of dressy, but you often wear it with gray athletic pants, so the fact that you now like to wear it with jeans make you pretty much ready for Gap Kids’ ads, in my book anyway.

You’re not super strong, but you are hardworking and sweet. You’ve asked Mama for a skateboard, so she made you a chore-chart, and when you complete 20 chores you can buy a skateboard. Every day you ask if I have any chores for you to do, like doing the dishes, feeding Keela or cleaning your room. I gave you an extra check mark this weekend because when I picked you and your sisters up at the Y’s playroom, you were playing with a little girl and her mom was right there watching. She started gushing about how sweet you were, how her daughter was scared to be left in the playroom, but you went over and showed her a toy and made her feel better. That’s your special gift buddy. The girls might be able to kick your butt in a wrestling match, but there isn't a sweeter kid on the planet, and I couldn’t love you anymore because of it.

In other news, your cousins got you your first chapter books for your 6^th birthday, and you devoured them, which of course, I love. You continue to develop an exceptional vocabulary. The other day you told me “I need to take a shower. I fell at school and the dirt looks like savage little germs.” You’ve also started to take karate, though I think you’re more interested in the uniform and t-shirt than you are the finer points of martial arts. We also went bowling for the first time. You liked it a lot more than your sisters, who were more interested in the arcade than in candle pin.

Mostly, though, regardless of what we're doing, you’re my silly best bud, and I can always count on you to make me smile.

Love you to pieces. xoxox,

mommy

The Girls: 3 years, 5 months

Dear Girls,

One of my favorite things about both of you is your strength and your toughness. You both exhibit these qualities in spades, albeit in different ways.

Hayden, you have this agility and confidence that’s so fun to watch. You scale counters using the knobs as a ladder and with swift upper body moves, you can propel yourself just about anywhere. You have balance and grace, but you also have a fierce, relentless determination – frankly, when you want something, you’re a little scary, even though you are kind of a peanut.

Quinn, you have a sterner strength. I picture you as some future CEO or President yelling “I want it on my desk, NOW!” You don’t have Hayden’s agility, but you have more brute force strength. You fall down 1000 times a day and 999 times you get right back up without batting an eye. You are covered in head to toe bruises, but it takes a really bad fall to slow you down. Mason has a lot of wonderful qualities – way too many to count – but he doesn’t have the same strength and toughness that you guys have. I think you’re actually doing him a good service by keeping him on his toes and toughening him up a bit.

Raising strong, resilient, and confident kids – especially girls – is really important to me right now. I hope you're always so self-assured and comfortable in your skin as you are right now at age 3. 

Generally speaking, I don’t question my parenting. I mean, I know I spoil you and I give in too easily, and I enable some poor behaviors like sitting on the counters and too much ipad time, but overall, I think I do right by you and your brother. What scares the bejeezus out of me as a parent is that despite my best efforts and intentions, I can’t control every outcome. It probably sounds pretty arrogant to even *wish* to control every outcome, but something happens when you have kids, or at least it did for me: you want not so much to live in this world but to construct it, to make it conform to a comfortable, safe place. But, obviously, that’s a pipe dream, which is why I’m so proud of and grateful for your strength.

Watching you guys play and interact actually makes me feel stronger – physically, mentally, and emotionally.  On the physical side, a few years ago, I shared a meme on Facebook that said “If I’m running, you should too because it means something is chasing me.” Now, I’m in the middle of training for a half marathon. This feels like a big deal because it’s so far out of my physical (and mental) capabilities today, and it requires finding the time to put in the training which in and of itself is a daunting task and a big commitment. On the mental and emotional side, there are so many days when I just want to come home and retreat inside myself, but there you are, begging to have a dance party to Fitz & The Tantrum's "Dance Party" or do the McAuley-Girl Original Song and Dance "Booty Booty Butt Crack." Your giggles are contagious and fuel me through the next few hours until it's time to collapse into bed. 

I always want you to know that being strong like you guys is part of my motivation. You are my superheros. 

Xoxo,

Mommy

Happy 6th Birthday, Mason

Dear Mason,

Happy 6^th Birthday buddy. I can’t believe how fast that went by.

Facebook has this “memory” feature, so just about every day I get to look back on when you were a baby. The other day, it was a video of you saying in a sing-songy way “shake your booty, shake your booooo-teeeee, share your boooooo-teeee.” For the rest of the day, I walked the halls of my office singing it in my head. I get sad in a sappy kind of way that you’re no longer the little toddler with a mop of curls, and instead you’re this lean, wiry little boy, but I am also grateful. We have real talks – about friendship and love and kindness. We play games with complicated rules. We shoot hoops at the gym and read National Geographic Reader books at night, and you interrupt 1000 times to ask questions. Sometimes we have “fall asleep overs” when I go to bed super early too and I'll watch an episode of West Wing on my phone or read a book, and you fall asleep holding my hand.  You’re getting so big though it’s actually kind of hard to scoop you up and put you back in your bed.

You mostly take showers now instead of baths. This is a small but very specific way you’re no longer my little baby. You love “relaxin’ time” in the shower, and I’m praying we don’t have another water ban this summer because I think you could single-handedly drain the Scituate reservoir with your love for long, steaming hot showers (maybe you get that from me).

You’re not what I would call a stellar, natural athlete, but you looked pretty comfortable when you took your first ski lesson a few weeks ago. By the end of the first day, you were legit skiing (stopping, not so much, but that’s just a detail). You’ve also really enjoyed playing on a basketball team, though I’m pretty sure your favorite part is chatting with the coaches and other players. Sometimes, your defensive position looks a little more like jazz hands than defense, and during warm ups when the coach has all the kids shuffle along the sidelines, I hold my breath because I’m almost certain you’re going to trip and face plant. You love dribbling and shooting baskets though. Mama and I got you a real hoop for your birthday. I can’t wait til you see it. 

Happy birthday, buddy. Right now, just about everywhere I look, there’s a lot of chaos and uncertainty, but when I look at you and your sisters, I see joy and happiness. I love you to pieces.

Xo,

mommy

The Girls: 3 years, 4 months

Dear Girls,

I don’t mean to give you the short shrift, but I think this month’s post is going to be rather brief. I have a head cold that makes it hard to concentrate, and everything around me feels like it’s spinning slightly off its axis. Amidst all the fog and craziness though is you, and you couldn’t be any sweeter (punctuated by periods of total a-hole’ness, of course).

Last night I had a work dinner so I didn’t get to put you guys to bed, which is something I hate missing.  Quinn, you woke up at 2:30 am, which is weird for you. You’re definitely the best sleeper of the three of you – even when invited into our bed, you choose to go into your own bed, unless you’re trying to convince us it’s “wake up time” and we somehow convince you that 5:30 am really isn’t wake up time and you should come cuddle for at least a little bit longer. But last night you woke up at 2:30 am, and when I asked you what was wrong, you just said “you didn’t do songs.” So I scooped you up, brought you back to bed, sang “you are my sunshine”, “itsy bitsy spider”, and “twinkle, twinkle” and off to sleep you went.

In other funny twist of events, Quinn, your obsession with super heroes and boys’ clothes went as fast as it came. The past few days, you’ve dressed yourself in pink sweaters and shirts with hearts and flowers. I offered you Darth Vader and Super Man and you just looked at me like I was crazy. You’re definitely your own person, and I love that about you.

Hayden, you have a unique style all your own too. We went up skiing this weekend, and for three days straight you wore the same out: your “pretty dress”, spandex leggings, fluffy skirt, and black fashion boots. Even when we made you put snow boots on to play in the snow, the second you got in the car, you demanded that we change you back into your black boots. Every morning convincing you to wear clean underwear was considered the win of the day and we simply ignored the fact that every picture from the weekend, you’re wearing the same clothes. In 10 years, no one will notice, right?

The three of you loved being up north. Mason took his first ski lesson, but the classes for 3 year olds were full, and you were none too pleased about it. Next year, babies, we promise. Instead, we rode the snow-mobile-pulled-wagon back and forth between the main lodge and ski school over and over again. Mama was so happy to see you guys fall in love with being up in the mountains.

I love you munchkins. Xo

mommy

Mason: 5 Years, 11 months

Dear Mason,

I can't believe you're just one short month away from being six. Ok, I'm a week late, so really you're about three weeks away. Details, details.

A few days ago, we went to Target to buy a birthday present for your friend Alex and a "prize" for Hayden since she was brave and let me and Mama take her stitches out. Wandering the toy aisles of Target alone with three kids is a special kind of hell. There are many types of parents out there - free range, helicopter, whatever. Target is a place where those parenting styles tend to come out, and as I've noted in previous posts, I tend towards the free range.

With that in mind, it didn't bother me that you weren't exactly in my line of sight for every single second. Hayden was in the throes of indecision in the princess aisle, heavily debating the merits of a Frozen Elsa Dress-Up Gown or the Sleeping Beauty Dress-Up Gown, so I let you go to the next aisle to scope out a potential gift. Now, don't get me wrong, every few minutes I called over to you or popped my head around, but I definitely wasn't hovering. A few minutes went by though, and a woman popped around the corner and said "there she is!" Apparently, you had wandered one or two aisles further and then panicked a bit because you didn't know where I was.  

The plus side of this interaction is that you did everything exactly right -- a few weeks ago, we taught you that if you're lost, first you look for a policeman. If you can't find a policeman, you look for a person that works at the store or wherever we are. If you can't find an employee, you look for a mom. Moms are nice and want to help kids, so they're a good choice if policemen and employees are unavailable. When you find that person, you tell them your name and you give them my phone number. You did it perfectly, buddy. (Bad luck on your part though, you picked a woman whose cell phone was dead. Nonetheless, she was a mom who happily helped you.)

There was a time this fall when Quinn wandered off at a fair and I panicked a little bit, but if I'm being honest, this Target incident wasn't anything like that. At the time, it barely even registered. Maybe I'm naive, but I don't live like there are bad people around every corner looking to do harm to our family. As it marinaded over the next couple of days though, it has shaken me a bit more. I mean, Hanover's Target isn't exactly a hotbed of criminal activity, but there are crazy people everywhere and I should have kept you a bit closer. 

On the school front, you continue to do amazingly well. I love how they send home your daily assignments. We don't save any of them, so I'm thinking I should make my favorites a more regular part of these posts for posterity.

You had an assignment after the Christmas break to "draw and write about something you did over vacation." You didn't write about family or getting a visit from Santa or going to Nantucket. You wrote about your real highlight. "I got pensils" (sic)

You did, in fact, get pencils, along with an electric pencil sharpener and orange ear muffs which were the top two items on your Christmas wish list. I don't know of another five year old whose biggest Christmas dreams include sharpening pencils, but I'm not complaining. You're obviously putting all of those sharp pencils to work.

Yesterday, you brought this home:

There are a few letters missing, but it says "I like to learn about the moon." And you do. You love space. You've asked for a space themed birthday party next month and you love to read and learn about the moon and planets. You also love to learn about dinosaurs, sharks, rocks, volcanoes, and science in general. We were lucky enough to nab a spot for you in the free science camp your school offers after school. So far, you've built a battery and a robot. Maybe we have a future engineer on our hands, who knows? 

You also care deeply about your appearance, which I find hilarious. You love to "look handsome" and whenever you pick out an outfit you think I'll like, you'll proudly march downstairs and ask, "mommy, do I look handsome??" You could be wearing a tattered t-shirt and no pants, and I'd answer yes. Most of the time, however, you're wearing a striped shirt and pants that are two inches too short because you hate when clothes are too big, and because you have the tiniest little waist and no bum, you wear 4T pants, even though you should be in 5T. For perspective, you and Quinn now wear the same size pants and you get hand-me-downs from Jack Valliere, who is a full year younger than you.

You do look very handsome in stripes though, my love. 

The picture on the bottom left also reflects  your newest passion - clean dishes. You LOVE washing dishes. You very nearly succeed at getting them clean too. I just love that you like to help, even if it means our water bill will be in the thousands and I have to wash all the dishes again after you go to bed. 

I love you to pieces, bug. 

xoxo

Mommy

The Girls: 3 Years, 3 months

Dear Girls –

I’m sorry I’m late, but with the holidays, I deliberately did my best to stay away from my computer. The results were amazing – with the exception of the fact that Mama was really sick or working the whole time, we had a great week and a half off.

We celebrated Christmas on Nantucket. Our first day there, I noticed something different about the two of you. Normally, in all situations that involve anyone other than our immediate family (and sometimes, even when it is just the five of us), you’re superglued to my side. Hayden, you in particular are so attached to me that when I’m not around, our friends comment that you’re like a different kid. But this trip to Grandma and Grampy’s house was different… with absolutely no prompting from me whatsoever, you eagerly followed Grampy on his errands or sought out Grandma to do your hair or paint your nails. There were times for whole stretches that I assumed you were in the house somewhere, but to be honest, I didn’t really know where. I sat on the couch and drank coffee. By myself. Without someone on my lap. Or asking for water or a snack. I almost didn’t know what to do with myself.

Same thing went at Auntie Kristen’s house. It took a few minutes because her dogs scare the ever-loving-bejeezus out of you (even though they’re the nicest, sweetest, yellow labs on the planet), but after the initial shock factor, you guys were off and running and doing your own thing. Auntie and I were free to catch up, and by “catch up”, I mean drink champagne.

I’ve noticed something else in the past month: you’re both a lot more into “pretend play” – giving voices to your animals, making fake phone calls to the doctor to report a belly ache, etc.  I think this is a fun milestone with any one kid, but because there are two of you, it’s even more entertaining. The worlds you construct together make my heart melt.

Christmas this year was extra fun because you guys finally “get it”. On Christmas Eve, Santa came for an in-person visit. You both hugged him. HUGGED. A total stranger. Seriously, your new independent streak is really freaking me out. Santa underscored how key it was to go to bed early and get a good night sleep. Hayden, you took him pretty literally and tried to go to bed as soon as he left. It was 5:30. We convinced you that it was ok to stay up just a little bit longer.

Leading up to Christmas, I did what I’m pretty sure is a McAuley-family trait. I bought a bunch of presents, laid them all out to wrap them, and then worried that I hadn’t really bought enough stuff. I then went to Amazon and bought more stuff. This is a stupid, stupid thing to do because any sane person a) realizes that you guys already have more “stuff” than any kids could possibly hope for, and b) I should know that even if we don’t spoil you rotten over the holidays, the rest of the family will. I need to re-read this post next year so that I don’t succumb to the same instinct. But, I have to admit, your enthusiasm over each and every present did make it pretty special. Whether it was the presents I knew you’d be excited about (“TROLLS!!!!!!) or the less flashy presents (“PAPER!!!!!! I GOT PAPER!!!!!!), every present you opened you gushed over with excitement.

After Nantucket, we headed out to CT to see Memere, Grandpa, and your aunt and uncles. There, we relived the whole present excitement over again. By this point, it was setting in that Christmas is pretty much the greatest time of the year and that nothing would really match it again for another 11 months. Toddler tragedy struck when we got back to Scituate though. We realized that Lamby and Brown Bear had decided to hide at Grandpa’s and didn’t make it back with us. For the first night, it wasn’t too much of an issue for you Hayden. You were so tired that you really just passed out. The second night though, the cries for Lamby broke my heart. By then, Lamby and Bear were already en route back via US Postal Service, but we knew we needed to muscle through a couple of nights. We did so by calling in a surrogate… in an elaborate play act, I dubbed Llama in charge of Hayden’s night time ritual, spoke at length about how Lamby and Bear were going to be put into time out for sneaking under Grandpa’s covers so that they could spend an extra few nights in CT, and that all the animals had to rally to make you feel warm and snuggly. The “you’re in charge” line really stuck, and per the previous paragraph, you then proceeded to play-act with all of your animals, the Llama proudly boasting to the stuffed Nemo that he was in charge. We replayed this elaborate scene every night until Lamby finally made his way home.

Our bedtime routine also saw the introduction of a new act. Somehow, Mason’s desk chairs ended up in your room, so now instead of me reading you a book, you each take a turn sitting in the chair playing teacher and reading me a book, while I sit crisscross-apple-sauce on the ground and listen attentively. You mostly read “Llama, Llama, Red Pajama” (which, Hayden, you just mumble “llama, drama, llama, drama” in a sing-songy way through the whole book), or “Toot”, which includes lots of fake fart noises. Quinn, you’ve really embraced this little game and it is super fun to watch because you hold the book out towards me, just like the teachers at school would do reading to the students, and if we pick a book other than Llama, Llama or Toot, you do a really good job making up a story to go along with the pictures. For example, we have a book about a bird building a nest, but in your story, the bird is flying to the North Pole to visit Santa at his workshop.

Speaking of Santa, it’s funny, but he has more leverage after Christmas than either he or Jebby the Elf had leading up to it. Pre-Christmas, I often reminded you that Santa and Jebby were watching. This was usually good for maybe a moment’s pause on whatever behavior you were undertaking that you probably shouldn’t have, but it didn’t really have any of the transformative effects every parent hopes for. Post-Christmas though, our Santa turned from a benevolent gift giver to a tyrant who threatened to come back and take away all the new toys and give them to boys and girls who are better behaved. I think that because Santa is perhaps a less abstract concept now than he was before Christmas, this threat carries a lot of weight and has been used frequently in the subsequent week after Christmas. (If I’m being honest, there’s a high probability I’ll still be using this threat in August).

Quinn, one area where you have gotten older, but in a way that makes me sad, is in how you express your hurt feelings. When Hayden is sad or angry, she has a typical three-year-old screaming, yelling fit – rolling around on the ground, hitting, biting... It’s very toddler-esque. You, however, have a streak that is more “broody teenager” than it is “enraged toddler”. You bellow a low guttural “NO!” or “ARGGGGGHHHH” when you’re mad with a look of fire in your eyes that quite frankly scares me with its intensity. Even worse, you might quietly sulk away and sit on the bottom stair with your hands in your head. If I approach you to see what’s wrong, you turn your back to me and grunt at me to go away. It’s very depressing. I think you’re a bit more of an old soul than other three years olds.

On a more upbeat note, I wrote last month about your very particular fashion sense. We’ve embraced it wholeheartedly and this Christmas, you were the lucky recipient of a windfall of new t-shirts: Darth Vader, Captain America, trains, R2D2, etc. We’ve even take the step of giving you your own shirt drawer so that you don’t have to weed through the dozens of flowery pink shirts that Hayden prefers in order to get to your choice superhero.

Hayden, while you still throw toddler tantrums, one other way you got a lot older this month was physically, due in large part to the fact that we took you to get your first haircut. Your whole life you have had the most adorable curls, but like we learned with Mason, once you cut them off, they don’t necessarily come back. We fought getting your haircut for as long as we could, but nightly torturing of detangling seemed like a cruel price to have to pay for our inability to let go, so we took you to get them cut. You’re still cute as ever, but the curls are mostly gone.

Girls, I love you to pieces.

Love,

Mommy

Mason 5 Years, 10 Months: Helping points and good decisions

Dear Mason –

It’s been a busy time of year with Christmas coming up, so I’m a little late.

A few weeks ago, I started doling out “helping points” – arbitrary points awarded when you do something particularly kind or helpful. I was shocked at what a motivator it was for you – it convinced you to clean your room, let your sister wear one of your shirts, and various other good deeds. I didn’t really track the points anywhere – but you would studiously add them up in your head and know how many points you had. After a week or so, when you had 13 helping points, I told you that if you got to 20 helping points you could have $5 and you could use that $5 in one of two ways: a) you could buy the earmuffs you’ve been asking me for since September when you saw them in Target, or b) you could use the $5 to buy a Christmas tree for a family that couldn’t afford one. (We did something similar last year, though we didn’t actually buy a Christmas tree; we ended up buying two little girls Christmas presents instead).

This choice was a really big moral dilemma. You *pleaded* with me to do both. I was really careful not to push you too hard one way or another. I did point out that Christmas was coming and that since you had been such a good boy, I was pretty confident someone would get you the earmuffs for Christmas, and I also pointed out that some boy or girl might be pretty sad not having a Christmas tree, but I also said it was your decision, that you worked hard for your helping points and that ultimately, you got to decide what to do with the $5. You were seriously tortured. There was a good 30 minutes where I almost relented and just told you I’d get you the earmuffs. After a while, we did compromise… you could work extra hard to earn 40 helping points and then do both. (Side note: what 5-year-old gets that emotional over earmuffs? You’re a truly unique little dude.)

A few days later, we went to see your cousin Jack play football on Martha’s Vineyard (He won, by the way, bringing the Island Cup back to Nantucket for the first time since 2002). Your cousin Mackenzie came back with us since she was flying back to college the next day. On the boat ride home, helping points came up in conversation, and you told me, “Mommy, I’ve decided to use the helping points to buy a Christmas tree.” I was so proud of you I almost cried.

Once again, we ended up not buying a tree and ended up instead sponsoring a family and outfitting two little girls with a bunch of Barbie gear – but the sentiment was the same. The only thing I don’t love about anonymously sponsoring a family for Christmas is that you don’t get to see the fruits of your hard work. I think when you get a little bit older, we’ll start doing stuff that’s a little bit more hands on so that you can see the impact of your big heart directly. You already have such a wonderful sense of empathy, but it’s something I want to actively nurture as you get older.

In other news, we had our first official parent-teacher conference this month. Mr. Tarpey didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know: you are kind, smart, and excelling academically and socially. You’re very sensitive and he called you an “old soul”. You’re a rule follower for the most part, but if other kids start something, you’ll tiptoe your way in to check it out. You get along with everybody. Sometimes you have a little difficulty listening, and you get really upset if you don’t have time to finish whatever you’re working on.

School has been great for you. We can literally see the progression in your reading and math every day. There is one thing that bothers me and Mama: you’re very hard on yourself. You have a reading and language development game on your iPad that school encourages you to play. When you complete a certain level, school gives you a certificate. You love playing it, but when you get something wrong, you freak out and say things like “I’m a failure!” or “I’m so useless!” and start crying. I don’t even know where you learned these expressions. Mama and I have had lots of conversations with you about how it’s ok to make mistakes, and explained that’s how you learn. But still – you take making mistakes very hard. We’ve tried hard over the years not to tell you how smart you are, and instead we focus on praising hard work and grit. (Angela Lee Duckworth’s TED talk on grit and its role in becoming a successful adult was very inspiring). You *are* hardworking; you don’t give up, but the emotional lashing you give yourself every time you mess up is painful to watch, and I hope it’s something you grow out of because you are really so special and I never, ever, ever want you to feel like a failure or that you’re useless.

We love you buddy.

Xoxo

Mom

(ps – you NEVER call me “mommy” anymore, sniff)

 

 

The Girls - 3 years, 2 Months - Battle Wounds

Dear Girls –

November has been rough, my little angels - and I'm not talking about politics (though that has been rough on a different scale). I mean, physically rough. For example, I was buckling you into your carseats in grandma’s cars while we were on Nantucket, and the wind caught the door and slammed shut on the back of my knees. I crumpled to the ground and lay there helpless for a few minutes before mustering the strength to stand back up. The next day, I had a softball sized bruise on the back of my knee.

On the Friday after Thanksgiving, we were facetiming Auntie Joy, and Hayden, you were sitting on my lap. When we were done, Mason wanted to show me something so I moved to lean over, right as you decided to literally jump off my lap. Your concrete noggin’ smashed my face and I immediately started bawling. This outburst of emotion scared the bejeezus out of you because, despite the many bruises that proceeded this one, you’ve never actually seen me cry. And I *SOBBED*. The gasping-for-air-checking-to-see-if-you-knocked-a-tooth-out sobbed. The three of you were so scared. Mason ran to get me a blanket and tuck me in. Quinnie, you just petted my head and assured me “it’s ok mommy.” Hayden, you mostly just stood frozen, scared out of your mind that you broke mommy. I tried my best to stop crying so that you would know I was OK, but the tears just wouldn’t stop. For days, my face throbbed though the only physical evidence was a giant bruise on the inside of my lip that nobody could see, and a little bit of a bruise on the outside of my lip that kind of just made it look like I had half of a mustache. So yeah, that look was hot. 

Meanwhile, I haven’t been the only one having a rough go. Hayden, after three straight nights of crying, multiple potty accidents even though you haven’t had any in months, and being off your game, I finally took you to the doctor to see if you had a UTI. When you were little you had one that we didn’t catch right away, so since then, Mama and I have been extremely gun-shy. The doctor we saw was pretty dismissive and kind of annoying, treating me like I was one of those moms that rushes to the doctor with every little ailment. I hate to admit it, but at that point, I was hoping you did in fact have a UTI just to shove it in her smug face, but alas, your tests came back clear and you have been basically fine since then.

The night after that doctor’s appointment, I was sound asleep when I hear you, Quinn, yelling from the bathroom “Mommy, come wiiiiiiiiiipe my butttttttt.” It’s a little odd that you would get up in the middle of the night to poop, but I got right up and took care of business. Ten minutes later you were back in the bathroom screaming bloody murder saying it hurt, and that started the next FOUR HOURS, from midnight til 4 am, when you got up every 15-20 minutes screaming like you were being tortured. The next day, Sunday, you were mostly fine but you kept running to the bathroom and then not going and screaming that it hurt. I bought you laxatives and stool softener. We then got into the car to go visit Auntie Trish and Auntie Caryn. Both of you fell asleep in the car and about 15 minutes from their house, Quinn, you shot awake anxiously saying that you had to go to the bathroom. Since I had pumped you full of laxatives, water, and stool softener, I wasn’t going to gamble on making it another 15 minutes. I stopped at a slightly upscale Mexican restaurant that hadn’t even opened for business. Hayden, you were still asleep, so I woke you up only to discover that you had peed while sleeping. No time to worry about that though… I just grabbed you, hoisted you on my hip, and pretended like I couldn’t feel the urine soaking through my coat, sweatshirt and shirt onto my skin. So, with one of you on each hip, I burst into the Mexican restaurant and asked if I could use the bathroom. The hostess somewhat reluctantly agreed (seriously?!?! Who would really have the gall to say no or make me feel bad about bringing you guys in to use the bathroom when the restaurant wasn’t even open… it wasn’t like I was dragging one pee soaked kid and another shit-filled kid through the middle of someone’s dinner?!?!). Anyway, we got to the bathroom, and Quinn, you once again refused to go, just screaming that it hurt. We left defeated, and on the way out the door, I ignored the dirty looks from the hostess who must have assumed based on the volume of your screams that I was prodding you with a red hot branding iron in the bathroom. We got to the car, and I dug out the pair of pajamas I had packed since we were going to be at Auntie Trish’s for the Patriots game, which wouldn’t end until around bedtime and I wanted you all suited up for the hour drive home. Hayden, I stripped your pee soaked clothes off of you while you were standing on the running board of the Suburban (It’s not like I was going to go back in and ask to use the bathroom again). Right then, a family walked by and looked at me like I should be locked up for stripping a kid down naked in 40-degree weather. So yeah, it was a good drive. We got to Auntie Trish’s and had a great time, complete with plenty of bathroom runs and screaming (and a bath). Finally, right as the Patriots were about to score their game winning drive, Quinnie, you pooped. I was so relieved; it was worth missing the touchdown. Except…. You still kept complaining it hurt.

The next morning, you told me “mommy, I have to go to the bathroom, but it’s OK, it’s won’t hurt because I have to poop, not pee.” I was confused by this… the whole time I thought you were in pain because you had an adult-sized poop stuck in your toddler-sized butt. But nope. Ultimately, Mama ended up taking you to the doctor (our regular doctor, not the condescending lady who saw Hayden a few days prior), and it turns out that you have a UTI. WTF? Maybe you psychosomatically induced a UTI because you were jealous Hayden got to pee in a cup a few days earlier? I’m totally chalking it up to some weird twin voodoo thing. Oh, and sorry for jacking you full of laxatives when really you didn’t need to go poop. Oops.

Anyway, bathroom woes and bruises aside, we’re having a pretty good run. You continue to get a little bit more independent (Hayden, for you this is a relative term, since your baseline starting point includes being suction cupped to me at all times). At Auntie Nic’s for Thanksgiving you played with the other kids and let me and Mama have a good ole time playing ridiculous games and drinking wine with the grown-ups.

You continue to develop your own style. For Thanksgiving, Quinn, you insisted on wearing your superman t-shirt for the second day in a row and a pair of jeans. To dress is up, we picked the jeans with flowers on them – which really made the blue in your dirty, hand-me-down batman light up sneakers pop. Hayden, you wore leopard print pants that were both inside out and backwards because you refused to let me help you put them on. We showed up looking like the hot mess family we are. The day after Thanksgiving, since superman was in the wash, Quinn, you had a terrible meltdown. Thankfully, Auntie Nic had given us a bag of Jackson’s old hand-me-downs at dinner, and we found a kick-ass Star Wars shirt (I thought it was Darth Vader, but our friends on social media corrected me. I forget the guy’s real name, so in our house, it will always be “Darf Vader”). You wore that for two days in a row and then switched back to Spider Man. Getting you dressed for school in something other than these two shirts this week has been a Herculean task.

For the record, I don’t care what you guys want to wear. I do prefer that your clothes are semi-clean, but Quinn, if you want to rock super heroes and star wars, and Hayden, you want to flash pink glitter and animal prints, I’m on board. No guilt or gender-typing boy clothes and girl clothes in our house. You’re both your own people and I love it.

We love you to pieces.

Xoxo

 

Mason: Five years, 9 months - Reflections Post Election

Dear Mason,

I’m writing a day early – on Thursday, November 10^th, two days after the United States elected Donald Trump as President. Our little universe of friends is pretty shaken up by this shocking result, along with the 59.9 million people who voted for her (which notably is higher than the 59.7 million people that voted for Trump, but this isn’t the forum to explain the absurdity of the electoral college). Most of the pundits had Hillary Clinton winning this election fairly comfortably, so as I watched the returns, it was with a mix of dread and disbelief. We’re shaken up because the rhetoric that surrounded the election was awful, and at the end of the day, a big, mean bully insulted his way into the White House by stoking people's fears and anger. I’m shaken up because while much of what he might do in the next four years can be considered temporary, there is currently an opening on the Supreme Court and three more justices are over the ages of 78, and his impact there could last well into your and your sisters' adulthood. 

You’re a sweet boy with a kind heart. I was upset when I woke up the morning after the election. You asked what was wrong, and I explained that Donald Trump won the election. And you responded, “it’s ok mommy, she can have her turn next year.” If there’s one upside to this, it’s that we’ll never have to sit through another Clinton election (Don’t get me wrong, I supported her and think she’s overwhelmingly qualified. I think a lot of the opposition to her was the result of a highly cultivated negative branding effort; but I said from the beginning that she was unelectable. I convinced myself that the only reason she had a shot was because the Republicans nominated someone I considered even less electable). Two days later, I’m still sad. And a little scared. And very disappointed.

But I’m moving on.

I’m moving on because at the end of the day, the President of the United States doesn’t teach you how to be a good man; that job belongs to me and mama. The President doesn’t teach you what words are ok and not ok to use; we do. The President isn’t responsible for teaching you that when you see people in need you should act with compassion or that when you see an injustice you don’t take it sitting down; that’s on us. Would I like to be able to point to the President and confidently say, “look – here’s a person to model yourself after, to look up to, and to emulate?” Of course. But he’s not the only option and there are plenty of amazing people in your life to choose from. Some of those people even voted for Trump.

I’m sad for sure. Election night, you fell asleep in our bed and instead of moving you, I just snuggled up next to you since Mama was at work. I soaked in your sweetness, and even as you snored and kicked (I wasn’t really sleeping anyway), I thought about how lucky I was to have such a wonderful family, that I get to go to a job that I like and that I’m good at (and they did just promote me to VP and put me on the executive committee – making me the only woman and youngest member of the EC, so hey, there’s one win for a glass ceiling not being impenetrable), that mama goes to work doing something she’s worked very hard to be able to do and loves very much, that I have three happy, healthy kids, and that I live in a liberal bastion that regardless of who lives in the White House, will almost assuredly always recognize and support our family. I feel like America got this one wrong, and there’s a lot of people who got the really short end of the stick with this election – but in the scheme of things, I wasn’t one of them. So instead of moping, we’re going to focus our efforts on the ways that we can have a positive impact on this world and look to help those who might have a tougher battle ahead. I know you’ll be right there beside me doing your very best on that front, because you’re a sweet boy with a kind heart, and I’m going to make sure that everything we do as a family is dedicated to fostering that.

I love you buddy.

#MasonForPresident2046!

The Girls: Three Years, One Month

Dear Girls,

We’re one month into the threenager year. One down, 11 to go…. Not that we’re counting. (Except yeah, we’re totally counting because threenagers are a-holes).

Hayden, you threw the most epic tantrum I’ve ever witnessed the other day leaving the gym. We stopped at the little café for a snack. Mason ordered a fruit cup that was definitely big enough to share. The nice young woman behind the counter gave me two extra cups so I could divide it up amongst the three of you. As I started to dole it out, you unleashed a fury the likes of which I’ve never seen. You backhanded the cup across the room. I very calmly picked you up and started to walk out. You bit. You pulled my hair. You kicked. The other people in the café started out with looks of sympathy, but after a minute or two (I couldn’t move very fast since I was being physically assaulted), the looks turned into “is that kid deranged?? What goes on in your house??!?” I finally got you outside and into the car, but I admit, I was feeling a little defeated. Just as quickly, you turned into your normal sweet and funny self.

Quinn, you’re no peach either. You insist on being carried everywhere. You’re really kind of lazy in that regard. Earlier this month, I literally carried you up a mountain. Ok, so that mountain was Blue Hills not Mt. Washington, but still, at 40 lbs, that was quite the feat and my arms definitely felt it the next morning. Mama and I have grown to hate the words “I CAN’T WALK!!!!” We’ve left you screaming on sidewalks and in various rooms around our house. More times than not, I cave and just pick you up. Mama is a lot more disciplined.

Other areas of our lives are getting a little easier. Bed times don’t feel like as much of a battle. We have a routine and as long as I don’t try to deviate or short shrift the routine, you guys are pretty accommodating. We end the bed time routine with “one more hug and one more kiss” – hayden, you like “nice one” (a sweet little kiss and gentle hug), but Quinn, you like “silly one” (aka tickles and me yelling smooochie smoochie smoochie!) There are only two things that slow us down regularly: 1) I don’t do “swishy blanket” the right way like Mama does, and Quinn, you will not stand for it. I try but you just yell “NOT LIKE THAAAAAT” over and over until I miraculously do it *just right*. I can’t even explain what swishy blanket is and how one does it right or wrong. It’s basically a move where me or mama elaborately waves the comforter over your whole body, including your head, and then pull it back yelling in a high pitched voice “swishy blanket” to reveal your face. It looks so simple when mama does it, I’m not sure how I regularly f*ck it up to the point where you scream at me like I’m a failure at life. The other roadblock to a successful bedtime is the outrageous stuffed menagerie that goes along with it. It used to just be Pooh and Lamby, but now Hayden, you go to bed with Lamby, little bear, big bear, fish, giraffe (which you regularly call zebra), and lamb (which is really a llama). Quinn, you don’t have quite as many: pooh, other pooh, dinosaur, and lamb (which is actually a lamb).

Halloween was technically after the 3 year, one month mark this year, but since I’m a few days late, I’ll note for posterity that it was a huge success and it just might be your favorite holiday. You love candy anyway, so a holiday dedicated to collecting vast amounts of candy was really tailor made for you little goblins. And unlike last year, where you screamed like you were being tortured, you loved wearing your costumes. You were adorable little red power rangers, the perfect sidekick to Mason’s black power ranger costume. Overall, I would say we pretty much rocked October. 

I love you bugs.