She Likes Purple

Five is...

(Four is...)

Five is argumentative. If you say the sky is blue, five says somewhat matter-of-factly, "Actually, I think the sky is light blue." You may gnash your teeth and pull out your hair and attempt to define blue for age five, but age five doesn't care, sorry five's not sorry, it's definitely light blue.

Five knows everything, no really all of it. You may ask five a question it doesn't know the answer to, but that's simply because something is obviously wrong with the question. 

Five has lost the ability to process any information that isn't information about football or Beyblades or Legos or dessert. If you ask five to feed the dog, five will say, "Sure!" and then you will remind five to feed the dog, and five will say, "Yes, mommy!" and the dog will not be fed until 15 minutes later when you yell, "SERIOUSLY, FEED MOLLY OR SHE GETS YOUR DINNER."

"Don't YELL Mommy!"

Five is just starting to really define its actual independence and where age two or three proudly declared, "I CAN DO IT" when age two or three most definitely could not do it, age five is willing to try a ton of new things that age five can actually do. Maybe not well or tidy but age five sort of thinks it can take on the world, and age five is sort of right.

Age five's manners are starting to click, and you hear "thank you" sweetly shouted at waitresses and teachers and grandparents after years of reminding it to say thank you. Age five speaks loudly enough for others to hear, and answers questions in complete sentences, not shy one-word whispers. When someone asks five how school is, five says, "We went on a field trip and I played with Alejandro at recess and we have dance parties!" animatedly, with confidence.

While age five literally never stops talking it's still an age of few words when I'm the one asking the questions. (I have to get ridiculously creative when I'm peppering him with questions at the end of the school day.) Age five has ironically  said, "I AM DONE WITH THESE QUESTIONS" because oh really, age five? I had to answer 74 questions the other day about where babies come from, I promise asking who you sat next to at lunch is less uncomfortable. 

Age five is better at math than I am. 

Age five is honest and can sometimes deeply hurt a fragile mom's feelings. Age five doesn't mean to, but age five speaks the truth. Oh yes.

Age five turns to wave when it gets out of the car, in the school pick-up line in the morning, drowning beneath its big-kid backpack. Age five grins with its whole self and laughs even deeper. Age five is so, so, so big but when you put it up against all those other grades in elementary school, age five is so, so, so tiny. Too tiny. Are we sure its legal, to let age five walk into that school building each day, all on its own?

Age five is resilient. When a kid says "I don't like you" on the playground, while our hearts fracture into one million pieces, age five says, "I walked away and played with Jack instead." Oh age five. I think I'm learning from you more than I'm teaching you.

Age five still runs to hug you at the end of the day, and while its harder than ever before to pick up five and hug it close to you, you still can. Not for much longer. But for now. You hug and hug and hug. Age five hugs better than anyone you know.

Age five holds the door open for you, and says, "You go first mommy." 

Age five still has the tiniest, smallest hint of baby in its cheeks and elbows and belly when age five is fast asleep. 

Age five says "Seriously?" when it witnesses an injustice, like a car not using its turn signal or a motorcyclist not wearing his/her helmet. 

Age five is probably arguing RIGHT THIS SECOND.

Sometimes when you glance at age five from across the soccer field or parking lot or backyard or dinner table, your breath catches because you can see what age ten or age fifteen will look like. Age five feels closer to that than it feels to those early ages. Weren't you just looking at age one or two? Time feels so strange most days. I remember willing time to speed up, so I could sleep more, be alone more, read more. Age five is at a starting line and the gun's gone off, and you've been waiting five entire years for it to do exactly that but now that it has...wait. Don't turn that corner quite so quickly. Alright, if you must, look back just once, would you?

Age five looks back, but far too quickly.

Age five is hard and beautiful and hilarious (seriously, hilarious) and cool and smart and running away from you a little more each and every day. 

Age five runs a lot. (And trips a lot too.) 

When we were trying, hoping, praying to get pregnant, I used to drive around and talk to my future baby. I'd say things like "I don't care what books you like or even if you like books at all. I don't care what you look like or sound like. I don't care if you like boys or girls or baseball or badminton or want to live with us forever or away from us for most of your days. I don't care about any of that. I just care about you."

Age five reminds me of those weepy promises. Because age five is starting to fill in those blanks. Age five is beginning to draw its place in this world, forming hobbies, making real friends, dealing with its first disappointments and obstacles and talents and victories. And I realize that what I meant then and what I mean now, each and every day, is that as five's place gets drawn, all I really know is that I want a front-row seat in its corner. 

Age five is something else. 

I'm cheering for it every single day.

 

Kyle Quotes: Three

(Kyle Quotes One and Two)

Kyle calls my mom (whose name is Peggy), Nana.
Me: I need to text Nana, and ask her a question.
Kyle: You should really call her Peggy.

Kyle, showing me his artwork: This is a spider monkey, this is a sea lion, and this is a macaroni cheese penguin.

We spotted a bug on the floor. I scooped it up and dropped it into the toilet. 
Kyle: Why are you doing that?
Me: Oh, well, I'm letting the bug go for a swim.
Kyle: Does it like to swim?
Me: Sure. 
Kyle: Maybe we should put Molly in there sometime.

At dinner, all three of us, when I ask Mike about our upcoming date night.
Me: What should we do? We could go camping. Or we could go to that bar we tried to go to a few months ago.
Kyle: Don't go camping without me!
Me: So should we go to a bar instead, buds?
Kyle: What's a bar?
Mike: It's where you listen to music and drink beer. 
Kyle: Go to a bar. I don't like beer.

A couple months ago Kyle and I drove to Tulsa for the night, and we drove through the worst thunderstorm I've ever experienced. It was terrifying, for us both. Later that night, once we arrived safe and sound, we were talking about it.
Kyle: How did you get us through that bad storm, mommy?
Me: I don't know, buds. Maybe angels helped us.
Kyle: No, angels aren't real! I can't even see them.
Me: Sure they are! There are lots of things that are real that you can't see. Like love. You can feel love but can't see it. What else is real that you can't see?
Kyle: Pirate ships.

That same roadtrip to Tulsa.
Me: We're crossing the border! We're officially in Oklahoma now, buds.
Kyle: Oklahoma looks a lot like Texas.

At dinner, Mike said he was going to finish his entire baked potato. 
Kyle: Once, I ate all my dinner.
Mike: Oh yeah, what was it?
Kyle: I really don't know.

I sing this ridiculous state song from time to time, that I learend in the fifth grade, mostly to annoy Mike but also because it's kind of a fun song. (Or so I think.) I sang it to Kyle for the first time recently. When I finished...
Me: Did you like that?
Kyle: You did great Mommy!
Me: Want me to sing it again?
Kyle: No thank you.

I tried to explain to Kyle about the cafeteria at his new school, and how he could eat there once a week (whatever day he wants) and the rest of the time, I'd make him a lunch. After I finished explaining...
Kyle: Mommy, I didn't understand any of that.

Kindergarten

Kyle starts Kindergarten on Tuesday.

I'm kind of a wreck about Kyle starting Kindergarten on Tuesday.

I know, this is the biggest parenting cliche there is. The weepy mom saying goodbye to her baby on his/her first day of Kindergarten. Forget that he's been in daycare since he was nine weeks old. Forget that we're absolutely privileged for the education he'll be getting, at a great school close to home. Forget that this is a universal parenting milestone. Kindergarten! I'm certainly not the first parent. (See all those Facebook photos of kids holding up adorable signs for proof.) (Of course Kyle will be holding up his own adorable sign on Tuesday.) (Even if they stopped being adorable years ago.) Even forget all that daycare tuition we'll be saving. 

Forget all that because I'm a mess. How are we here? How is he old enough? How can I be sure he'll enjoy school or that his teacher will turn out to be the best person who has ever existed in the history of the entire world? 

I've been obsessively searching for awesome lunch ideas and first day outfits and weekend activities for our very last pre-Kindergarten weekend because these are the things I can control. I'm even having the house cleaned on Monday--the day before school starts--so we can start the year, his first year, on a fresh, new foot. 

Made even fresher by all those tears I'll have cried.

I cried at his Kindergarten Round-up this past April, crying on his first day of school is the surest thing that's ever been. 

The other day Kyle said to me in the car that he was a little nervous because he didn't know any of the other kids' names (he's not going to school with a ton of kids he knows because his daycare--and most of his other friends--are in neighboring towns), and I told him that he'd definitely learn their names and that there was actually a time he didn't know any of his current best buddies' names.

He wasn't convinced.

So I told him the story of how I met Natalie, on the first day of school (even though it was the first day of sixth grade, and even though it might have been the second or third day of sixth grade, no one tell Kyle I stretched some details, alright?), and how I didn't know her name when I first met her.

"You didn't know Natty's name?!"

"I didn't! I rode the bus home and I asked if I could sit next to her, and then I asked her name."

"And she told you?"

"She did! And we've been friends ever since."

"Oh good, because now you know her name."

"I do, I do know her name, buds. All because of school."

He seemed a little better after that.

(I'm still a mess.)

(Wine on Monday night, yes?)

(And then again on Tuesday, 'round lunch?)

Hello, Goodbye

The break-neck speed that time seems to tumble by the first few years of having a child can fool us (certainly fooled me) into forgetting there's also so much routine to our crazy lives. 

Kyle's been at the same daycare since he was five months old. We've been in the same house since about then, as well. We take the same drive to school, and we take the same drive home. He's had the same best buddy since around then, and we see him at soccer practice and swim lessons and at parks when it's not a million degrees outside. 

He's hit so many milestones--crawling, walking, talking, sleeping through the night, moving out of his crib, writing his full name, riding a bike, and way back in the day my personal favorite, putting his pacifier back in his mouth himself--that life feels like it's always changing. Yet he's up at 7am every morning, still napping all these years later. He has loved Legos for years. He has loved motorcycles forever. 

He watches sports and plays soccer and though my memory is stellar, it gets fuzzy when I try to reach back into it to remember a time when he didn't watch sports or play soccer. 

We say goodbye to his daycare teachers and 7am wakeups and naps next month. He starts Kindergarten and, not to sound too dramatic, he starts his entire life. I remember my first day of Kindergarten. What I wore, where I sat, how long I wanted my parents to stay in the room with me (longer than they were able to). I bet he remembers all that too.

I'm thrilled for this new chapter, and I'm so thrilled for him. Kindergarten! School! He's going to have a blast, even when he doesn't. Even when days suck, he's going to be starting his beautiful life. I can't wait to witness it. I can't wait to watch him read and learn and add and subtract and throw Kindergarten-level fits when he's too exhausted to speak clearly at the end of the day. To make friendships and break friendships. To eventually fall in love, with people and hobbies and moments.

But it's a new chapter and with it the end of, truly, a five-year-long one that came before. That came first. His first chapter, closing.

Hello and goodbye. 

Hello.

Goodbye.

Kyle Quotes, Two

(Previous Kyle Quotes)

I'm sure you've got some Johnny Manziel opinions, but my boy thinks he's the most awesome football player there is. After finding out the Cleveland Browns drafted Johnny Manziel, Kyle kept saying: I can't wait to root for the Cleaning Browns!

Mike was taking Kyle to dinner, and he asked if Kyle wanted to eat at the restaurant or take it home. When they were nearly there, Mike said, "I can't remember, Kyle, did you want to eat there or take it home?
Kyle: Seriosuly, daddy? Did you forget to put it in your head?

Upon spotting a vintage Mustang pulling out of the gas station: Look at that fancy car! I wonder if it's Fancy Car Day.

Kyle, catching a glimpse of a boxing match on TV: Those best friends look like they may be arguing. 

Kyle was finishing watching a Curious George episode before bed.
Me: Bedtime after this.
Kyle: Do you think you might change your mind?
Me: No, sorry, buds.
Kyle: I had to try.

Our fridge went on the outs right about the time Mike left town. As I put Kyle to bed, I told him the ice maker wasn't working (he usually gets a glass of ice water at bedtime), but that we'd fix it soon.
Kyle: How will we fix it without Daddy?
Me: Hey, I could fix it.
Kyle: I don't think that's true, Mommy.

I took Kyle to Panera for dinner, and he held the door open for me. 
Me: Buds, you're the sweetest!
(After dinner)
Kyle: Can I stay up late and watch George tonight?
Me: No, not tonight.
Kyle: But I held the door open for you.

Mike and I spent our anniversary apart. I told Kyle I was sad about it.
Kyle: Mommy, you can just kiss Daddy when he gets home.

(Photo credit: Natalie Seeboth Photography) 

Two Hikes to Tell You About

Hiking has become our favorite weekend activity of choice. In Texas?, you might ask, but Texas has a seriously bad reputation for being nothing but tumbleweeds and flat landscape as far as the eye can see when we actually have plenty of hills! And plenty of trees! And lakes too! (We also have places like Lubbock, hence the reputation.) (Kidding, Lubbock fans!) (Except not kidding at all.)

So, anyway, we're determined to spend as much of our downtime--especially in the magical months we call April, May, October, and November, when we can actually stand to be outside for prolonged periods of time--exploring the different trails in driving distance from us. (See Possum Kingdom, Mineral Wells.) 

In the last month or so, we've been to two new places.

Lake Ray Roberts

This is just a thirty-minute drive from us, and we can stop for lunch on the way there or back in Denton (which has some great restaurants). Mike grew up camping at this lake, and we hope to get back to do just that soon, but the trails were fantastic for a day trip. And we've heard great things about the fishing too. 

Those gigantic sunglasses inspired by Elizabeth

Bob Jones Nature Preserve* 

This is a whopping ten-minute drive from our front door, and I literally had never heard of it until a few weeks ago. Seriously, my own home is a surprise five years later. This was nearly deserted on Mother's Day, and it was wondreful weather, and just an all-around perfect hiking day.

After hiking for about an hour, we were treated to a lovely beach, and though I saw a few too many beer cans for my particular beach liking, the breeze and the water nearly made up for that. 

Kyle also slept 2.5 hours after this hike (so *I* slept 2.5 hours after this hike), so let's stamp it the best hike there ever was. 

*There are some seriously awesome-looking programs, classes, and workshops offered through the nature center, if you're local!

Where should we head next? 

The Best Day(s) of His Life

I don't know if there's anything I've loved as much as Kyle loves motorcycle racing. Specifically MotoGP. (Okay, I do know, but they're all fictional characters from CW shows, and it's better I stop talking about it in public now that I'm 32.)

Anyway, I can't quite remember when his love first began. When he first started watching races, talking about the riders, reciting stats and numbers and exact reasons why so-and-so crashed. "He didn't lean enough to the right, Mommy. The corner got him." 

He began popping out of bed on Sunday mornings, asking if there was a new race on. If there wasn't (sometimes a few weeks pass between races), he'd just ask to watch another race over again. There are certain races I've seen a dozen times. Maybe more.

Mike races, and I first thought Kyle picked up this love because he wanted to be more like his Dad. Who could blame him? But as Mike reminds me, this kid knows way more than he does at this point. 

His love grew so strong that he got a Cycle World magazine subscription for Christmas and when a new issue arrives, he takes it to bed with him and "reads" it cover to cover. 

We watched the first race of the season a few weeks ago at my in-laws house and a few days later, as we drove home from school, he said completely out of the blue: "I'm just really proud of Scott Redding for coming in seventh place in his first MotoGP race."

Uh, me too, kid. Really proud of Scott Redding.

MotoGP is an international motorcycle racing circuit. It's a seriously big deal, though most people have no idea what I'm talking about when I talk about it. (But, one of the racers is on the Forbes list of the top-100 most-paid athletes in the world. Big deal!) They only race twice in the United States this season, and once is the new Circuit of the Americas track in Austin. One of two tracks in the entire country and it's in driving distance! Meant to be, I'd say. This is my son's DisneyWorld and Christmas and about 100 other awesome things all rolled into one. 

So, yeah, I bought three tickets like they were shoes, like they were bottles of champagne. I bought them with pure glee. Being a mother has changed me in really strange, beautiful ways.

The race was this past weekend.

It was one of the best weekends I can remember, and I like to think it was one of the best weekends Kyle can remember either. 

Funny story about his red Marc Marquez (Kyle's favorite rider and the winner in Austin!) t-shirt. We bought it for him Sunday morning, in a vendor tent at the track. We handed it to him to hold as we paid, and before we knew it, he began taking his other shirt off to change right there in the middle of everything. My shy kid is sometimes the absolute opposite of shy, kind of like how his shy mother sometimes loves to sing karaoke. 

I mentioned to someone recently just how much he loves motorcycles and racing and MotoGP, and they kind of sucked in air and said, "But doesn't that make you nervous?"

Well, sure, if he wants to ride one day, that'll probably give me a fresh set of things to worry about on top of the million things I already do. It's safe compared to riding a bike in traffic but a lot less safe than, say, writing or reading or some dozen other things I think would make for fine hobbies. Why not read a few blogs, Kyle! 

But I want him to be happy and full more than I want him to ease my worry. I want him to love something one day as much as he loves MotoGP now. If it keeps on being the same thing, I'll be thrilled. 

I really will.

Kyle Quotes

Kyle, spotting a spider in the living room, and then sighing: We should call him an outsect, not an insect, because he doesn't belong in here. (I'll let the insect vs arachnid lesson slide here, because it was so cute.)

Mike: Brush your teeth, Buds.
Kyle: Why do I have to brush my teeth?
Mike: Because...
Kyle: Because doesn't make any sense. 

Kyle: Can we fly my rocket this weekend?
Me: Sure, if the weather is nice.
Kyle: Well, I heard it was going to be 70 degrees on Sunday.

Me: What habitat did you learn about today?
Kyle: The rainforest
Me: Cool! What animals live there?
Kyle: Lions.
Me: I don't think they do, buds.
Kyle: Oh! Right. Elephants.

Me (talking to Kyle on his birthday): You're five! Do you feel different?
Kyle: Yes.
Me: What's different?
Kyle: Well, I know everything now.

Kyle, looking at the grocery list I was writing: Wow, that's quite the list you have there.

Kyle, saying goodnight to Mike when Mike asked if he wanted to stay up an extra few minutes to watch the Olympics: Hold on, let me just ask my mom if that's okay first.

I usually tell Kyle he hustled really good at soccer practice, and have been for at least a year. The other day, after practice:
Kyle: Did I hustle?
Me: You did! You hustled great.
Kyle: I don't really know what hustle means.

Kyle, after I helped him with something: You're a genius! Let's not tell Daddy, though, okay?

Kyle wrote a story at school and was pretty proud of it. He couldn't find it when we got home. 
Kyle: Hey! Where's my word picture?
Me: Your what, buds?
Kyle: You know, my word picture? That I wrote about you and Daddy?
(He thinks stories are called word pictures! Adorable.)

February 5th

Five is my favorite number. It has been for as long as I can remember.

Kyle was born on February 5th. Five years ago today.

I actually wanted him to be born on February 3rd because I was born on January 3rd and Mike was born on October 3rd, and I loved the idea of a family of three with those particular birthdays. I was induced (let's just go ahead and talk about that over drinks isntead of over the internet, okay?) and his birthday just wasn't meant to be February 3rd.

He was meant to be born when he was born. I believe that. As Mat Kearny has reminded me, February 5th, a moment like a poem.

This kid is undeniable.

I have always wanted to be a mom. I was naming my kids on the playground in elementary school. I've been dreaming about a little kid ever since I was a little kid. But my dreams were never big enough for Kyle. 

He outgrew my dreams the moment they handed him to me. That perfect, calm, cold February evening. Hours of labor, minutes of pushing, they put him on my chest, 6:32pm on February 5, 2009 and my very first thought was: 

"He's more beautiful than I ever dreamed he could be."

I could chalk that moment up to hormones or biology and I'd probably be right, but every time I've looked at Kyle since I've thought "He's more beautiful than I ever dreamed he could be."

I wish I could go back to myself at 10 or 15 or the broken age of 18 or the fuzzy age of 21 and see what I was doing on February 5th. That day meant nothing to me then, and it's my favorite day of all days now.

February 5th.

When I was in high school, I got to visit New York City as part of a drill team dance trip. I danced in the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade (NSync was headlinging!) and I felt so lucky. 

When I was in college, each and every time I walked across our unique and special campus, I felt so lucky.

Mike told me he loved me for the first time atop the Empire State Building, and I felt indescribably lucky.

After marrying him and getting knocked up with his kid, we went to our anatomy-scan appointment and the technician pointed to the very boy parts of Kyle and I thought, how how how am I so lucky?

He wakes up so damn early every single morning, pads into our bedroom, taps me on the forehead and whisper-yells, "MOMMY, I'M HUNGRY AND THIRSTY." 

And I feel so lucky.

(Might feel even luckier an hour or so later but you know what I mean.)

(Though, really, when do kids start to sleep in?)

He's sunny and bright and beautiful and warm and funny and sweet and kind and hilarious and mine. 

That last one, it gets me every time.

Five has always been my favorite number. It's as if the me of long ago just knew. 

February 5th.

My perfect five-year-old boy.

All mine.

January Highlights

1. Mike and I went to New Orleans to celebrate my 32nd birthday, and it's going to be a tough birthday to top. It was a wonderful little weekend away. We ate unbelievably good food (August and Johnny's Po Boys, FTW!) We also enjoyed both a swamp tour and a cocktail tour. (I love this cocktail tour so much, I've now been on it three times.) More than all those things, though, we enjoyed naps and sleeping in.

2. Hosted a baby shower for Kristie! 

3. Spent some time with Mike's sister and her family. Kyle was spoiled with so much cousin time, he sulked around for days after they left. 

4. After a very fitness-light 2013, I started to regularly work-out again this month. I got back to yoga, tried a few at-home vidoes, and tested out my very first FlyWheel class. (I was offered a free month of classes to the two local FlyWheel studios, and I hope to write up a full review (+ a giveaway!) soon.) Let's just say during my first Barre class at the studio, I actually thought I might have broken a muscle. I don't think that's physically possible, but it was unfamiliar pain. I felt like an absolute rockstar after the class, but all broken muscly during.  

5. In addition to working out, I started the 21-Day Sugar Detox this month. I am only five days in as of today, but I'm a fan so far. I feel great, I've already lost a little weight, and it's kick-started a healthier year for me. (I just bought the cookbook, by the way, since it's got most of the information I thought I'd need.) 

Unpictured highlights: a happy hour with a friend who gets me, a movie and dinner date with my mom to belatedly celebrate my birthday, and our mini-Cowboy's Stadium field-goal kicker!

The Kicker

Kyle got very into football this past year (say what you want about Johnny Manziel, but he sure knows how to make a four year old think football is the most exciting thing ever), and he's asked if he can play football himself about a hundred times since September.

Didn't think that sports-introduction through, did you, self?

"You can be the kicker!" I said once, somewhat jokingly, and now he's obsessed with that. 

So far, we've kept his "join a team" requests at bay by playing ball with him in our own backyard. I might try to convince him we're our own official team if some friends wouldn't mind coming over once a week to cheer us on. He'd be a lock for team MVP!

The love for the game is still there, though, so we were all pretty stoked to bring him to Cowbow's Stadium this past Sunday, where Mike's company had a sponsored family day planned. We got to hang out on the field and kids got to try out different football-related stations. One station was kicking field goals. 

Kyle beelined for that particular station and was first in line. He waited patiently for things to get started. Seriously, the kid didn't move for 15 minutes, and that's quite possibly a first in all of his waking hours. 

Just waiting

Setting it up

Kick! 

So his two dreams include playing football and being a MotoGP racer. Nice, safe dreams that won't do a thing to his mother's blood pressure levels, oh no.

I'm in trouble.

Upstairs Memories

We have an upstairs loft that we don't use often. It's basically a dumping ground for boxes we still haven't unpacked (four years after moving in!), storage for holiday things, where overnight guests stay, etc. We have an office nook off the main space where Mike's computer is and he's up there a couple times a week, tinkering around or playing Call of Duty. Once every few months or so, I'll escape to our oversized reading chair with a glass of wine and a book and listen to the boys wrestle down below.

For the most part, though, it's a great space with a lot of potential, just waiting for us to find the time and money to invest in making it what it could be and, until that free time or new bank account arrives, it stays mostly unused. 

***

Mike and I have always had designated sleep-in days, and that works for us. I get Saturdays, he gets Sundays and I imagine we both look forward to our respective days with insane excitement all week long. Mike and I are not morning people but our jobs and our child sure are, so six out of seven days, we're up at 7am on the dot, sometimes earlier but never later, making that one day feel like a lottery jackpot. 

Kyle's been pretty easy to quietly entertain those early weekend mornings, from about age two on. We watch TV, build Legos, color, play outside, go for donuts, and whoever is sleeping in gets to, well, sleep in. But when he was little, between 6-24 months or so, he didn't quite grasp the concept of "Daddy needs to sleep because he has literally been tired since the day you were born." So, I'd take him upstairs those Sunday mornings. He could be much louder up there, playing with his ball popper or pushing cars across the floor for hours. Every Sunday, I'd make breakfast and carry him up. We'd play, I'd yawn, and the day would begin up there.

***

We have a bathroom upstairs and it's also where we keep important papers and other things I need from time to time. Whenever I go up there, I reach the top step and instantly think of baby Kyle. Almost nothing brings me back to his crawling, screechy, soft baby days faster than the top step of our top floor. 

He's becoming such a person these days and most of the time I talk myself down quite well from missing those baby days because, come on, life moves on, oldest truth in the oldest book and it's moving on to Kyle being such a cool kid. Also he can get his own snacks and go to the bathroom alone and, yeah, having a kid is just > to having a baby (in my opinion). 

Still, sometimes I go upstairs and stand on the landing when I don't need anything at all. 

Well, he can't very well be Superman next year

It wasn't until I looked at Kyle's last three Halloween costumes all together like this that I realized we've sort of projected some very cool careers onto him. No pressure, buds!

I'm thinking doctor next year.

Halloween was a lot of fun. We stuck to our neighborhood, which is one place we actually haven't trick-or-treated before. It was nice to finally say hello to neighbors we haven't met in the four years we've been here.

At one house, Kyle walked up to say "Trick or treat" and the man said, "Well, do you want a trick or a treat?" Without pause, Kyle said, "I just want candy."

You heard the boy! 

He got so much candy, in fact, that if he has a piece a day, we should be through our stash just in time for next year's trick-or-treating. I better help him with some of that, I think. 

Thank everything for people with good cameras and the ability to use them

Kyle's soccer coach's wife took this picture at his first game of the season. He had just scored a goal, turned and pointed right at Mike. She thought we'd want to have it.

She was right.

Seven Quick Takes: Mice, Pre-K, Ninjas, Etc.

1. We've needed a new blender for a while. In fact we needed a new blender, bought a new blender, and then almost immediately needed a new blender again. 

So, I came home Friday and there was a new blender on my kitchen counter. Unfortunately, when you're married and you share a joint bank account and you know the status of that joint bank account, surprise splurges make you first go "Wow, THANK YOU!" and then immediately go "But I literally know we can't afford that." 

Enter Costco and their Costco-sized sales. Turns out, we could afford it, and now we can make smoothies for everyone in something like 10 seconds.

Oh, we got a Ninja, in case you need a new blender too.

2. So, hey, we also caught a mouse in our kitchen this past weekend. I know, so gross, but it was the most adorable rodent I've ever seen. (Maybe he heard about the smoothies?)

Kyle and I would have preferred to domesticate the cute thing, but Mike ushered us into the car, drove us to a nearby (but not too nearby) creek, and forced us to let him loose. Then I deep-cleaned the kitchen.

Also, whoa, does wildlife really like our house. In the last year, we've had a bird fly into our living room (and then up our stairs!), a squirrel camp out on our back porch, another bird make a nest on our front porch, multiple bunnies declare home to be under our backyard shed, a rat scurried around in our garage, and let's not forget Fred. Now this.

3. I have a new blog banner! Thanks to Ashley from Little Leaf Design, for making the process so stress-free and easy. I updated a few sidebar things to match. 

4. I've been contracted to use The Prowl (a new social media site) for a few weeks, but I'm under no obligation to talk, write, tweet, or otherwise promote it. Just use! Except...it's great. I love the Ask & Answer section of the site. You can pose fashion, beauty, home, and kid-related "help me find it" questions and your followers can make useful suggestion and comments. (For instance, I really need a new face cleanser. Care to help?)

5. I have so many books on my to-read list, I could read for years and never run out of material (not to mention, I have a handful of books left on Elizabeth's best of 2012 list to get through this year), but I'm always interested in what others are reading (and loving). So, do tell, what's your favorite book of the moment?

You can see what I've read so far this year on my 2013 to-do list.

6. Every September I get blue. It happens each year. What the entire world feels mid-February, I feel all of September. I wish I knew why, but at least I can now anticipate the dip in emotions, and I hope to treat it with healthy eating, yoga, and some fun plans on the calendar. 

If I'm guessing, I'd say it's because while I love fall, September in Texas is just more summer. It's supposed to be fall but it never is, and actual fall is two weeks long, mid-November, and I'm sad for it to end before it begins. I want pumpkins and football and prepping for Halloween but I don't want to do any of those things WHILE STILL SWEATING. 

Is it just me, am I alone in getting the September Blues?

7. Kyle started Pre-K this week. He just moved from one building at his school to another, and he's with most of the same kids he's been with since he was six months old, so the transition wasn't too big of a deal. But, he has to wear a uniform and he has his own locker and desk, and it's the absolute last stop between daycare and Officially Going to School. While it seems a little weird to be proud of someone for just naturally progressing, I'm still so proud of him. Of who he's becoming, more than anything. He's a beautiful, bright, sunny kid who I feel so fortunate to know, let alone get to be the mother of.

I dropped him off Monday and he was absolutely fine and he waved me away with practically an eye-roll as if to say, "You can go now, mom." I walked back to my car, weepy, because he has become one of the "big kids" (what all the other kids in his school call the Pre-K kids), and everyone says it because it's true, that time just goes so damn fast.

I don't know how we even handle the speed of it sometimes.

Breathtaking

Sometimes my breath catches and it's not that it's perfect or that I don't yell about Legos all over my living room floor (why all over my living room floor KYLE?) or that I don't wish Mike would bring home flowers more often than he does for no greater reason than I just like flowers and I like when Mike walks through the door with them. My breath catches not because it's perfect but because it's good. 

My breath cathches because I know what not good love feels like and it's heavy and it wears you down and it's exhausting and on my worst day with Mike and on my worst day as a mom, it's just never felt like that, even when it's hard, it's never been bad.

It's actually been a rather tough year for me, normally tough (life is so very LIFE sometimes, isn't it?), but even when days, weeks, or months are tough, life is still good.

Life will always be good with them.

Things to Do in Texas: Camp/Stay in an Air-Conditioned Cabin at Possum Kingdom Lake

I've been wanting to visit Big Bend for years. It's in Texas, but it's something like nine hours away from us. (Texas is just too big, my goodness.) Anyway, that's...a lot of hours in the car. That also makes it tough to get away for a weekend without taking time off work. Hey! We're here for three hours! Time to go now. When I was lamenting how unfair geography is, Mike told me to pick a place (much) closer to home for a weekend away, so I picked Possum Kingdom. 

Possum Kingdom is a glorious two hours away instead of nine, but it's also a place I'd never been, and I really love adding new pins to our wall map.

We originally planned to camp, but then we laughed at ourselves because camping in July in Texas is a really stupid decision. We instead stayed at the Hideaway Cabins, and it was a great, centrally located place. The cabins were clean and spacious and the staff could not have been nicer. I can't imagine ever going back and not staying there again. Really recommend.

We hiked nearby trails both mornings. Oh boy, the trails were awesome. If you like hiking, I'd recommend Possum Kingdom for the trails alone. Kyle was a freaking champ for both hikes and the one Saturday morning was long and hot. I don't know if I've ever been more proud of him, quite honestly. 

Oh, and we all enjoyed a three-hour nap after our Saturday morning hike. Hikes, you're my favorite.

We also made s'mores, swam at the lake, grilled dinner, introduced Kyle to Friends in our cabin's living room, drove around to explore and spotted ELEVEN deer (Kyle kept count), and just had a really wonderful weekend. And we brought Molly. It helped her forgive us for at least some of the trips we've taken in the last few years without her. 

Some pictures of our weekend:

Kyle cried when we had to leave, it was that nice of a weekend. The kind of weekend you hope to have when you plan for it.

Four Is

Four is very, very loud.

Four is always negotiating one more story or one more episode of Curious George or one more cookie, and it negotiaties with just a hint of chub still left in its cheeks, so you cave as often as you don't because you assume five or six or seven negotiaties with all the chub gone, poof, only to be seen in pictures and blurry memories. 

Four is doing a lot on its own. Four is pouring juice and working the remote and packing its own backpack for sleepovers at Nana's yet four still needs you as often as it doesn't. Four asks if you can button a certain pair of shorts and reach the tall shelf.

Four still holds your hand.

Four is starting to spell and read a tiny bit and ask the big questions ("Will Molly always be ours?") and watching the mind of four work is like getting to see a part of yourself you've never gotten to see before. We don't remember our own versions of four, not really, so we look into the only face we know as well as we know our own and think, I bet I asked that same crazy, wild question. Man, life is a trip.

Four can also be frustrating and, let's be honest, kind of irritating. Four asks the same questions over and over and over, and I know that's because four's brain is working at rapid-fire speeds and is just trying to process all this information we throw at it but still OMG YES WE'RE GOING TO THE PARK TOMORROW. Tomorrow! That's when we're going to the park. 

"Mommy, are we going to the park today or tomorrow."

"I love you with everything I have, but if you ask me that one more time, Mommy is going to need a serious time-out."

Oh, four.

Four is so damn sweet. Four is concerned about others, four frets when a police car drives by because four "hopes everyone is okay!", four hates when you accidentally step on Molly's foot ("IS SHE HURT?"), four tells you that you are "beauty" and pretty and "the super best" every single day. Four passes a dead bug and says, "I bet that bug's just sleeping." Four holds the hands of babies so gently that you just die, on the spot, because four is sweeter than anything you've ever witnessed before. Man, if we could bottle four and shove it down the throats of politicians, the world would be incredible, wouldn't it?

Four always notices when you're wearing a new dress. 

Four just barely fits on your lap but will still try to. You will let four try to fit on your lap every single day of the 365 days that four is four.

Four whines. Oh god, four whines so much you are convinced your ears are literally bleeding at the end of some days, but just as often as four whines, four engages in interesting, funny conversations. Four asks about outer space and what actually happened to dinosaurs and where our family is when we aren't with them. Four says things like, "I love all my family the best because they're mine."

Four laughs completely. What age do we stop laughing with our whole bodies? It's not age four, not yet, thank everything.

More than any other age before four, four enjoys things. Vacations! The beach! Extra dessert! Riding bikes! Pool time with friends! Baseball games! Everything is something to look forward to, and something to talk about, and something to shriek over. I want to plan a million things just to see the light on Kyle's face as he anticipates each one.

I used to think my dad took us for donuts because my dad loves donuts. And maybe that's true, that's actually probably what it was, but I now enjoy the thought that he just really loved the moment he got to tell us that's where we were going. It's so fun, to create fun for four. 

You can still pick four up (oh just barely) and four's skinny legs bounce against your knees when you walk and you (oh just barely) remember when those legs were so chubby and instead rested on your stomach and while you really don't know how you got from chubby legs against your stomach to skinny legs bouncing on your knees, you just hope hope hope you can pick four up tomorrow. 

You miss the baby, the toddler, the two-year-old, the three-year-old. How could you not? They were all special, they were all unique, they were all so damn fleeting, you cursed time like never before. And, come on, they were all so insanely cute. So cute. The cute I can conjur up just thinking of toddling, 18-month-old Kyle is unreal. And two will always be this for me. 

But four. Oh four. Four is...something else. 

Four might be the first glimpse of the person who will call home in twenty years. The first glimpse of the friend you hope to have when you're gray. The glimpse of the boy who will become a kid who will become a teenager who will become everything. Four is the person you're raising, not just the baby you're surviving. 

Four is the sweetest, funniest, best, most frustrating, coolest person you've ever met and you've met a lot of people in your day.

Four is this boy.

Four just may be my favorite. 

(My four needs a haircut, I know, and he's getting one this week.)

Things to Do in Texas: Go to a Fort Worth Cats game

After we went to the Rangers game, we knew a couple things: 1) Kyle had a lot of fun and (unfortunately) 2) The cost of professional baseball tickets if you want to be anywhere near the field are stupid expensive. 

But, Fort Worth has the Cats (I don't think it's minor league, but I know that it's baseball with reasonably priced tickets, so that's good enough for me) and that's actually much closer to home, so I bought us three tickets for this past Friday's game and crossed my fingers.

It worked. It was so much fun. 

For $14/ticket, we sat in the first row behind home plate and Kyle actually got to experience baseball without saying every three minutes, "I DON'T EVEN SEE THE BALL."

What was most fun about this kind of game though, besides the cheap seats, is how fun they made it for the fans. They had fans on the field between many innings, playing games and winning prizes. They had "spotlight" players that, if struck out, could get fans two-for-one beers. The mascot danced in the stands and it was just...fun. Especially for kids, my goodness. Kyle had the time of his life. He is SO a Cats fan now. 

So, you know, buy a few tickets and enjoy a baseball game next time you're in Fort Worth. They also have funnel cakes so enough said, right?

Four years later, and we finally win at fireworks

We moved into our house four years ago, right around July Fourth, and that first year I vaguely remember watching a few fireworks from our porch, where I didn't enjoy them as much I prayed my way through that they wouldn't wake up then-five-months-old Kyle.

I don't remember being able to see the fireworks too clearly, or at least I assume that I couldn't see them too clearly, because the next year we piled into the car and headed to the big, open field and festival our town throws in honor of the holiday and where we could (or so we thought) better see the fireworks show. 

The year after that, we drove a couple blocks and watched them from a big, open parking lot because we got a late start.

Last year, we headed back to the festival. 

This year, Kyle was a little timid about the whole thing, though. He doesn't particularly like loud noises (who can blame him? I find loud noises rather annoying), and he didn't seem all that excited about going to the festival just to listen to loud noises, no matter how many bounce houses we promised him. We invited my mom and Mike's parents and some friends over and told everyone we'd just play it by ear, either pile in the car and head to the festival or try to see some of the higher fireworks from our backyard. In the meantime, I made festive sangria (possibly the best sangria I've ever had; make this TODAY) and Mike bought sparklers and poppers to keep everyone entertained. (Kyle doesn't like loud noises, but he absolutely loved those poppers. So much so that Mike had to go out and buy more the next day. I don't understand four year olds either.)

Sangria. Seriously, so good.

For whatever reason -- those vagueish memories from 2009? our own unimpressive intelligence? -- we just assumed our backyard wasn't the best place to see them, and that we'd certainly make DO, if we had to, but it wasn't ideal or anything.

But we did end up staying home and BOY were we wrong about our backyard. We're idiots, basically.

We can see our town's fireworks show PERFECTLY. PER. FECT. LY. We had fold-up chairs and blankets and drinks and it was the best July Fourth holiday I can honestly remember. The festival is fun, but walking into our backyard without any of the crowds or parking hassles is WAY more fun. Like so much more fun we're never going to the festival again, sorry town festival! 

After the show, we even lit and released some lanterns we'd purchased a few months ago, inspired by our trip to Puerto Rico (minus the almost-burning-buildings-down part, that wasn't very inspiring). My particular lantern ripped pre-flight, but I will not read too much into THAT or what it might mean for my wishes. 

It was a wonderful night, and Kyle did great with the noise. He kept saying, "It's not THAT loud!" It was such a perfect holiday, and the rest of the weekend was great too. 

I hope yours was equally wonderful. 

Also, next year, fireworks watching in our yard. You're invited.