Five and {very} ALIVE

If you would've told me that in 2017 I'd have a five-year-old almost kindergartner when I was drowning in my own tears circa 2010, I wouldn't have believed you. Okay, I would have wanted to believe you.

I truly cannot believe we've made it to five years with our rainbow. Some days (okay, months), I wanted time to speed forward because my rainbow wasn't always so cheerful. He's a bit of a handful if I'm being honest. As time progressed, he definitely developed and thankfully progressed beyond only challenging. He's actually quite fun most days. He's my adventure buddy to the fullest.

He's learning a ton, swimming like a fish, skiing very well and showing me who's boss with his early reading skills. He is totally digging U.S. state geography and can tell you the five border states of Nevada (and a few other states-- thanks for the puzzle that spurred his interest, Gramie & Grandpa!). He's a junkie for travel and we sure hope he keeps that spark for adventure.

He's an introvert. Perhaps even a loner, he wants to please and is challenged by his own emotions sometimes. Anxiety can get the best of him and the unknown and uncertain and new both excites him and makes him nervous. He truly does want to please, but expresses this in a much more subtle way than his sister, who will flat out ask you about your emotions and if you're pleased with her.

His own person for sure, he's a pink-loving, princess-adoring, hotel-exploring, movie and Disney-obsessed kiddo. Life is going to throw this one some curveballs because of his tough exterior and difficulty expressing himself sometimes, but I sure hope it's kind to him. After all, this one saved us. I tell him all the time, but I will love him, forever and always. He saved us, literally speaking, from our emotional turmoil after his big brother died.

We've made it five years with a living child. With hope. Because before he was born, the hope was looking pretty bleak in the family growing department. This day five years ago gave us that second chance at parenthood. It started off rough but was worth it all. In some ways, this is also a grief birthday. Even five years and one day ago, we were fearful, anxious and unhappy. Then all of a sudden, our worlds were brightened.

He picked out his own fabulous cake-- round with chocolate in the middle and pink flowers on top with sprinkles, to be exact. We really couldn't be more different, this boy and I. But man do I love him. And here he is. All five and glorious (and sometimes exhausting) years of rainbow love.

Interactive Play + Preschooler Talk

I was sitting there enjoying my new hilarious library book, You'll Grow Out of It by Jessi Klein, relishing in the fact that both of my children were engaging in interactive play with an another kid during our stay-and-play time at the library. Just after storytime ends, the librarian lets the kids loose with coloring sheets relating to the book theme and pulls out some LEGO and STEM toys for kids to play with for the next hour, if interested.

A nanny and the two kids she brings each week were sticking around along with a bunch of other kids. My kids colored pictures of unicorns as the theme from one of the books we read, Not Quite Narwhal (which is adorable, by the way). We laced boards and they moved onto building a DUPLO fortress with another boy Benjamin's age. That's when I grabbed my new book from our book bag and started in.

I kept reading, finishing up the first chapter, feeling grateful for the free reading time and the break from all the education books I've checked out lately. And then I heard something that caught my attention. Having no idea how this conversation was spurred, I just kept listening...

Friend: "...and then we will die and not go to heaven." (maybe he was talking about their fortress and someone capturing and killing them? Death is a hot topic with my kids, so I wasn't the least bit alarmed.)
Benjamin: "My brother is there. He is in heaven."
Friend: "Your brother died? When?"
Benjamin: "When he was a baby."
Friend: "He killed his self?"
Benjamin: "I think so."
Friend: "What age was he?"
Benjamin: "I think like 5." (because everyone is 5 when you're turning 5 this week.)
Friend: {yells to nanny} "My friend's brother died when he was a kid."
Nanny: "Sometimes that happens."
Friend: "Why does that happen?"
Benjamin: "I don't know."
Friend: "I don't know why your brother died. You tell me."

{Librarian enters to end our stay-and-play time, thus ending their engagement and my free reading time.}

Just a little light conversation between preschoolers to cap off the storytime about unicorns, penguins, narwhals and pigs. None of this made me uncomfortable. If anything, it made me delighted to hear Benjamin talking about Andrew and connecting his understanding of death and heaven to his brother, who we talk about regularly. I didn't interject, even when the nanny was involved.

Grateful Weekend

We had one of those weekends that really couldn't have gone better.

Elliot is commuting for work regularly now, so we only see him on the weekends, which honestly isn't much different than with the last job he held, since the kids were almost always in bed before he arrived home for the evening. It's temporary, but different.

I'm not sure if the weekend was that much sweeter because we missed Daddy, but starting it off with both kids climbing into our bed and Claire laying her head on Daddy's chest and showering him with kisses couldn't really have kicked it off any better.

We went to the park to celebrate togetherness and warmer weather, visited the NOMA, enjoyed meals together and spent the warm and sunny Sunday up at our ski co-op where both Benjamin and Claire shined and beamed with pride at their ski accomplishments.

Benjamin is getting easier to understand. For awhile, he was so angry and difficult that we were merely tolerating our parenting with him and not enjoying him for who he was born to be. It's becoming more evident that he's just an introvert who still really strives to please us but often gets anxious and fears failure. At the end of one of his mini ski runs yesterday, he asked Elliot, "Dad, what do you think of my skills?" in a subdued, almost solemn manner. We praise him often, but it's becoming ever more clear as he ages that his frustrating behavior often stems from his fear of disappointment.

He occasionally asks to ski on weekdays and we can't. But come weekend ski days, he clams up and almost builds a wall of defense, stating he will not be partaking. But when he's out there, he truly loves every minute.

I'm dreaming of ski vacations where we're all on skis and gliding down mountains a mile long and then warming up in the lodge with hot cocoa. I think we'll be there before we know it.

Just before bed, we placed those sticky glow-in-the-dark stars all over their rooms that were sent as a gift from their Aunt Mansa. The kids took flashlights and shined them on each star to cause the stars to shine brighter, taught to them by their dad.

Benjamin's birthday is approaching in almost two weeks. Our rainbow baby, the baby who saved us, as we tell Benjamin often, will be turning five. We're grateful beyond measure.

Another Year Around the Sun. Six.

Each year Thanksgiving comes around and then it ends and then it's December 5th. It's almost like the days in between aren't even there, because they are a rush of time.

This morning I spent my time running six miles for my firstborn on his birthday. At each mile, I wrote one of these wherever my feet landed. In six different places around my neighborhood, I left a mark for him.

I also spent the morning registering my rainbow baby for Kindergarten. Irony sure does enjoy smacking me right in the face. My would-be Kindergartner and my upcoming Kindergartner with worlds colliding. It's rare this happens, so I guess it's a sweet wink. (It would be even sweeter if the school wasn't going to a year-round calendar. Which likely means we're moving to another school zone.)

Tonight we will enjoy dinner out and quite a bit of dessert-eating and present opening, all to remember that boy who first made us parents. I miss him with everything in me. To think of how he would've shaped who is younger brother is and how happy it would make his little sister to have a great big brother to love and play with.

What I miss most, though, is knowing who he would be. How our lives would be different with him here and what he would grow to become. I really miss everything.

Kids Are Mean

A couple weeks ago, Benjamin mentioned to me that some of his friends at school weren't playing with him and even went so far to say that he didn't want to go to school one day because he had no one to play with.

I didn't believe it. Until I saw it.

I assumed he was exaggerating and placing all of these remarks on one isolated incident he didn't fully understand, like the allowance of only two kids in a center area or one kid really intent on his creation that he didn't react well when Benjamin went grabbing for that special project. Or that the one kid he wanted to play with at that exact time was unavailable.

Benjamin isn't an easy kid to understand and I think he struggles to understand others. He's not very social. He clams up and holds his emotions inside until he bursts. He gets hurt feelings, despite his tough exterior or appearance to disregard anyone and everything. But if you touch on something sensitive, he goes into defense mode and says and does things that he can't control because he lacks that full ability to express himself well.

But, like any mom, I felt horrible that he felt underappreciated and devalued. I want the kids to love him, but he's an introvert loner who doesn't seem to have the whole social awareness thing down. And it does bother him. So I wanted him to know that it does bother me, too. I want him to know I take his concerns seriously because I want him to love school and I love him. This whole social confusion is most of what preschool is about, right?

We were at storytime yesterday and in walks a girl from his class. He sits beside her, smitten that someone from his class was at our storytime. He's met other classmates there before and they've always been nice. This girl, wasn't. When the story ended or the librarian read a funny joke, he'd turn to look and see her reaction, as to connect with her. She turned her whole body against him and at one point actually moved herself away from him. Of course her mom was either oblivious (or a jerk) and didn't react.

I grabbed him up and told him she wasn't interested in being friendly and immediately he welled up with tears and started saying unkind things ("I don't love you", etc.). This is how he reacts when he feels threatened. I felt terrible and honestly had some ugly words in my head rolling around about that little brat of a four-year-old.

He has to know that life isn't fair. It's not. People are going to disappoint you. They will. Friends will come and go. Also true. It's just... really hard being Mama and seeing your little bird take flight, only to fall and gain those bruises. This is only the beginning.

Dusting Off the Credential

Every time we move, I update my teaching credential and transfer it to the new state. I earned my BA, credential and MA in California where I then taught. Then moved to Illinois where I had to pay the man more money to test out of their silly state history, math and Science and also prove my knowledge of best teaching practices. Not to boast, but I received nearly a perfect score in every single category (which means either it is really easy to pass Illinois teaching tests or I was a lucky guess on the state history and state capitol stuff because I seriously know nothing about Springfield. I've never even been to Springfield other than driving through to get to St. Louis.)

Now moving to Nevada, I've quickly learned that the state is hurting for teachers. They hold teacher hiring fairs, which is something I've never heard of in my professional life. Other than being approached by a teaching recruiter (those exist?!) in the Denver airport once and being asked if I would ever consider working in Dallas because positions were flying from schools, I'd never imagined the possibility of acquiring a teaching job so easily. I visited the Nevada DOE site to see just how many hundreds of available jobs there really are for the taking.

In Illinois, teaching jobs were hard to come by, just as difficult as they are were California. I was super lucky to be hired just off the boat of earning my credential at the ripe age of 23. But now, I've been a stay-at-home-mom with some teaching experience at college level and some specialist teaching assignments in random schools of Illinois, but mostly I've just taught my own kids about life.

Which doesn't exactly translate into updating resume experience.

With both kids in preschool (part time) this year, I'm using that time to get my credential and resumes updated and in good working order for a potential entrance back into classroom life next fall. If the jobs are to be had and we are staying put in Reno for the time being, it would be the perfect opportunity to jump back in where they actually could use me. And, it would be an easy way to bump that resume back up to working order. There's something appealing about not having to fight out the newbie college grads and knowing that because of their desperation for teachers, they might be willing to look past my advanced degree (translation: must be paid more) so they can fill the job.

There are real logistics to work out, like how we'd manage Benjamin's care before and after kindergarten (!) during the transition time and what full-day preschool/daycare combo we would work out for Claire. That would likely start in the winter when preschools begin to accept students for the following year. With a potential extra income coming in, we might even consider the super expensive college tuition type montessori school for Claire, because I'd like to know that if I'm headed back into the classroom that I'm giving her the best alternative to mom, at least according to their tuition cost. One would hope they are striving for the highest heights with the quote I received over the phone that sent my jaw dropping. And the crazy part is, their student capacity is maxed out this year. South Reno can be kinda fancy.

Chatting with two of my CA teacher friends today, it putting teaching back on my mind. With the house (hopefully) closing next month and therefore providing us with closure on our exit from Illinois, it just seems natural to start looking ahead to our next steps. It's a bit sooner than I pictured going back, but one I think might actually work well for us as a family in the upcoming year. Exciting things have already happened and exciting things are yet to come.

I'm just happy I'm not headed back this year, as the possibility of teaching kindergarten would just about knock the wind out of me. Andrew, this would be your year, buddy. I hate that it's not.

Claire at 24 Months

...er, 26 months. How's that for being prompt?

You know those kids (ME), who always received the classic, "pleasure to have in class" on their report card? Well she's that kid (too). Her dad was also that kid, so we're at least relieved to have one of our kids following our lead.

She and Benjamin just may be polar opposites, but they love each other and I'm not just saying that. Really, they kinda have some deep attachment I'm not sure I expected from kids who couldn't be more different. Naptime just doesn't happen unless she has brother to sing her a few songs and give her and hug and kiss first.

Her first words when she wakes up in the morning usually revolve around other people or caring for them. "Buh Buh sleeping?" "Babies over dare." "Mommy happy?" "I kiss-uh you."

Kind of an emotional basketcase sometimes because she is so concerned about the happiness of her people, but such an unexpected and needed balance for our family. She has more love in her body than most people. It's her God gift.

She can count to 12 and say her HIJ's (not ABC's, hah) and sings a multitude of songs. She has vocabulary for days and is ridiculously articulate, but she can't tell one color from the next to save her life. Really, either she's colorblind (plausible but doubtful), or she simply doesn't care. Animals are also either bunnies or dogs, no matter what. Though, I did hear her mention a bear recently. Am I failing my children by not placing more emphasis on learning animal sounds? Because being in storytime tells me she should definitely know useless things like cows going "moo" and chickens going "cluck" (which is not what they sound like to me).

She repeats what you say and studies your every move. Thank goodness she's still rear facing (B wasn't at her age but she's my baby........) because she'd know the moment I popped a chocolate bar into my mouth since she is perceptive as can be.

She has no real desire to watch TV and only entertains books but she's turning a corner on her intrigue, it seems. She's just starting to take interest, but we're not sure if she's bringing us books because she thinks we like them, or because she has genuine interest in reading the contents. Losing interest in a story is pretty quick, except if it's a potty book. Lest you assume we have some potty training savant on our hands, she happily still poops in her diaper and replies "I do not" when we ask if she has a diaper that needs changing.

See that photobomber on the right? Coincidentally walking out of TJ's when we were (and I was being a mamarazzi) was the nurse who I saw during all of my pregnancies. She has talked me down from some tough stuff, that woman. Kinda special because Claire was a tough pregnancy and now she's two and dang. We are so happy we have her.

She's the ultimate helper. She wants to carry bags at the grocery store for me, help me brush my teeth and manage going down stairs on her own. She wants to be competitive and go first and copies brother's language of teasing and competition. "I want to talk!" "It's my castle, my castle!" "My help you." "No, my first!" She has her own style and is particular about selecting out clothes and pajamas, but is easier swayed than her brother, at least at this age. She's learned a bit quicker by studying his wise guy moves.

Claire is the kind of kid you know is just going to handle life well. The hardest thing about being her parent is worrying about how the world is going to disappoint her. She's just an all-in kind of kid who wants to be valued and loved and involved. She makes friends wherever she goes but is quick to make sure Mom or Dad (or Buh Buh) are close by for a quick check-in.

Favorites List (at 2 Years):

Food: Yogurt, Cream Cheese, Meatballs, Fruit

Treat: Marshmallows, Lollipops

Breakfast: Waffles, Yogurt with Cheerios inside (easier to eat with a spoon and less runny)

Lunch/Dinner: Peanut butter sandwich, mac n' cheese, meatballs, chicken nuggets

Songs: Row Your Boat, How I Wonder What You Are (Twinkle Star)

Colors: Colors? Yeah, she doesn't know those yet

Clothes: Anything with Hearts. "Zips with pockets" (hoodies). Cupcake pants.

Game: Hide and Seek, Chase
Activities: Whatever her brother is doing, people involved games/play, mothering her babies, puzzles

Obsessions: Talking (really, nonstop!), Eating, Stickers, Baby Dolls

Books: Ham (Green Eggs and Ham), any color book, any potty book, train books

Movies: Not much into the screen, but does know who Elmo is and also Elsa and Anna. She also knows "Poppins" and other characters and songs from shows her brother likes.
TV Shows: (see movies)
Toys: Those $3.50 baby dolls from Target (best!), Melissa & Doug Puzzles, Magnatiles, Target baby stroller, Scuttlebug Ride-On Toy 

Restaurant: Happy to eat anywhere. :)
Dessert Place: Dunkin' Donuts (which she can spot and call "donuts" when driving by)
Words/Sayings: "I do not like the ham!" (mimicing Dr. Seuss), "Mommy Happy?" Repeating all things and giving a play-by-play of what is happening: "Buh Buh School", "Mama brush teeth?" "Daddy sleeping?"
Dislikes: Doctors, strangers, animals attempting to approach her, people dressed in animal costumes, disappointing her people, being told no (tears ensue), baby wipes

Claire's a petite little chicken (my nickname for her, among others) that is growing her hair ever-so-slowly but won't entertain a bow on her head like ever. My feminist roots kinda celebrate that. She's 30th percentile-ish, just continuing the trend of my lightweight little ones and still a wee bit short to reach those pedals perfectly on that Radio Flyer tricycle we scored free from our neighborhood friends. I presume she'll be riding a bike before her brother at this rate, which is kind of great because he needs that boost of jealousy to get him into gear. They offer a great balance for each other and for us as parents.

She's the cautious kid and will shriek at the top of her little lungs if a moving creature approaches her (even a turtle). Dogs both intrigue her and scare the daylights out of her. She tolerates the pool while her brother will jump in the deep end just to see if you're paying attention.

The way she's nurturing and caring for her people makes us believe she might make a perfect nurse. She might be a lefty and her utter disregard for colors is comical as she can tell me details about how to do laundry using correct vocabulary, but the blue shirts from the red shirts are totally lost on her.

We're enrolling her in 2yo preschool just two days a week starting in August. It's the same program Benjamin attended and I think she'll just love it. From there, she's really the kid you can throw in any educational environment and she'll adapt and thrive based on her interest to please and keeping the standards she has set for herself intrinsically. She's Type-A for sure, a pleaser and a rule follower. Benjamin is a Type-B rebel who follows no rules. But somehow, she's softening him up and bringing a little healthy competition to the table.

I remember vividly telling the OB 26 months + 1 week ago to just get her here alive. I didn't care how, but I needed her here and alive. We're pretty dang lucky to have her to complete our family of five. <3 p="">

Benjamin at 48 Months

This kid has been anything but easy since he was about 13 months old when he stopped eating food. And so here we are at 48 months and still wondering how he eats enough to sustain life.

The insanity tantrums that were hours upon hours each day have sort of become a thing of the past, in part due to his nonstop talking. Not only can he communicate well, but he has the best vocabulary and is so expressive. If this kid isn't in theater, I'm going to be super surprised. 

His very favorite movies are Mary Poppins and Cinderella but he's kind of all talk (literally, all day long) because he very rarely actually watches either movie, especially in entirety. He prefers just watching Step in Time and talking at length about the mean stepsisters and how they "tored Cinderella's dress and that's STOP behavior." (His preschool follows a social emotional curriculum that refers to behaviors as Stop or Go. He's very quick to point out when others are having Stop behavior, natch.) 

He's still very involved in the swimming pool and we're all about keeping it that way. We visit the YMCA pool probably 2-3 times each week just to get our hour of swim followed by a 15 minute warm shower. They're so spoiled. Don't tell the drought ridden Californians. 

Preschool is actually one of his favorite places to be, when last year it was a fight to get him there. He's obviously quite engaged, despite his complete and utter disinterest to write letters on paper. 

He's definitely does his own thing, but I wouldn't necessarily consider him a leader. He has no interest in following other kids in play, but is still very quick to interrupt and steal toys out of jealousy. He always has his eye on what others are doing (so you know, he can take what he thinks belongs to him). He's a legit negotiator that keeps me on my toes with sharpening my own negotiating skills.

He loves his sister something fierce and really does engage and play with her at home. He's bold and daring and really funny.

Favorites List (at 4 Years):

Food: Peanut Butter

Treat: Chocolate, Candy

Breakfast: Cinnamon rolls or Waffles (staple)

Lunch/Dinner: Peanut Butter and some carb

Songs: Step in Time, Let it Go, Frere Jacques

Colors: Pink, Red (or whatever you have that he wants also becomes "but that's my favorite color!")

Clothes: Mickey Mouse Superhero Cape Shirt (I bought size 5 for backup because, obsessed), Crocs, Specific Pair of Mickey Pajamas (despite having 3 kinds, only likes 1)

Game: Hi Ho Cherry-O Disney Edition, Hide-and-Seek (if only he'd hide somewhere different each time!)
Activities: Science experiments, cooking with Mom in the kitchen, playing superheroes with Dad complete with capes, swimming, playing with the iPad, reading books with us, building forts

Obsessions: Castles, Princesses, Superheroes, Magic, The "Horn" (Matterhorn at Disneyland that he's 2 inches too short to ride), Airplanes

Books: Disney Anthologies, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse Super Mousekefriends, Cinderella, Little Red Hen (love that Classic!), The Day the Crayons Quit (finds peach crayon hilarious)

Movies: Mary Poppins, Cinderella, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Minnie-rella, Dr. Seuss, Peep and The Big Wide World (big laughs)
TV Shows: Super Why, The Cat in the Hat Knows a Lot About That
Toys: Building Towers, Random kitchen utensil, special rock, Melissa & Doug Pattern Blocks

Restaurant: Chipotle (by name), Noodles & Co.
Dessert Place: Forever Yogurt, Dunkin' Donuts
Words/Sayings: "Well...", "Eventually...", "I'm big enough because I'm four.", "I'll be two inches and then I'll go on the Horn", "Well then I'll get it myself", "I need to talk!"

He's definitely his own person and always has been. He doesn't fit the typical niche of young kids, so it makes me wonder what life will be like as he grows older. As a mom, I'm actually surprised how much time I spend worrying about his future. Will kids give him a chance? Will he make friends well? Will he fit in or struggle with finding his place? Will he find a career that suits him and makes him happy? Will he meet someone who loves him unconditionally forever? While I struggle to embrace his interests sometimes, I love him big and know these fears are really because this rainbow baby saved our lives in the time we needed him most, and I just want him to have a world that loves and accepts him. 

*He's literally wearing the Mickey Superhero shirt and Mickey PJ's in every picture. 

(I'm planning to get one of these up for Claire, but I'm already a month late and figured it made sense to just post his since his birthday just passed last week.)

The Dreaded Spring Conference

It's the conference that comes after they really get to know your kid. Not like that sweet fall conference where your kid is new and still on their good side.

I really, really never thought about what it would be like to be a parent in those chairs. Ever. Out of the hundreds of conferences I held pre-kids, it never once occurred to me what it would feel like knowing the teacher would analyze your child's behavior and development in front of you.

It's like opening that report card or getting your test handed back to you, unsure which way it could go. And it could definitely go either way.

This morning was Benjamin's conference. His teacher is wonderful and lovely and the speech pathologist that works in his class with other kiddos was out and around and is always so wonderful. His teacher personally has 2 daughters herself and is younger than me (because you know I stalked her teacher profile and found her on all the social media outlets). Which also makes me wonder what exactly the parents of my former students knew about me! Oh, that young and naive (touche) woman who doesn't even have kids yet. She won't know what's coming to her when she finally does.

The teacher seems to genuinely like Benjamin and thinks he is "so sweet" and "so funny", so at least we had positive marks there (or maybe being a preschool teacher means you find these little sociopaths to be cute). She's seeing progress in areas of counting objects (that dang #15!) and cutting along straight lines and retelling story sequence for comprehension.

He mostly plays by the rules (and not so much with peers), but recounted an incident when he wanted to be at another center instead of the one he was at, so he calmly grabbed his velcro face and walked to the desired center and swapped it out with another kid's face. Clever. Except she was quick to correct and he took position on the floor, uncooperative. But as far as behavior goes, he hasn't had a tantrum to speak of in her presence. So he doesn't share well. And he doesn't always want to cooperate. But we've come a long way from the kicking, spitting, biting and throwing that ruled his everyday just 6 months ago.

His fine motor is lacking and we discussed the possibility of him seeing an OT if it doesn't improve soon. He can trace his name (with bribery), but writing it freehand just isn't happening well. I can't tell if he just doesn't care to please (true on other accounts) or just can't. He can draw a picture of a person, but only with prompting on what to draw next, and there's no guaranteeing your ears will not be positioned on your legs. He holds the pencil/pen/crayon limp and uncertain. We're working with playdough to strengthen hand muscles and practicing more, but the kid simply has negative desire to be drawing or coloring or writing a thing. Gross motor and dramatic play all the way. He doesn't even like stickers and even has trouble peeling them off while 25mo Claire peels them easily and loves them abundantly.

And so, the bell sounded and the principal came on the loud speaker to announce the conference had ended and I breathed a sigh of relief as I exited the door. And then went home and immediately printed out more storytelling sequences and busted out that playdough and had him draw a picture of himself and write his name.

Being a mom on the other side of the table is way harder than holding that conference. Pass the wine.

He said it.

We had friends over this morning for a water table and outdoor flour paint playdate. My friend has a daughter Claire's age and her second daughter passed away nearly three weeks ago, an hour after she was born premature. We were on the deck and the kids were playing away.

There was a conversation about friends who continued to be pregnant at a similar gestation after our children died and how it's still hard seeing them, and for me, seeing their living child growing and learning. I said something along the lines of "When Andrew died..." because that's what happened and that's often the segway into a story about emotions and grief.

A minute or so later, Benjamin turns from what he was playing with and said, "Did Andrew die, Mommy?"

"Yes, Benjamin, Andrew died."

A couple hours later, Elliot came home for lunch with us (rare treat!). About 10 minutes into our casual lunch and lots of cuddles, Benjamin told Elliot, "Andrew died." It was totally out of the blue, but it's true and Benjamin now knows it.

We hadn't withheld this information before. I'm sure we've explained to him that he died, but we didn't explain what dying actually means, because that's too abstract for a child so young who hasn't personally experienced it with a close family member. He knows he has a brother and that his brother was born before him. He sees his pictures in our home regularly and even picked up his ashes the other day (cue the anxiety). He knows that he is in heaven, but what does that even mean for a child of three-and-a-half years old?

Well. He said it. I wonder what that really means to him and I wonder when more questions will come. Regardless, I'm proud to be a mom who shares love and heartbreak with her kids. After all, it's because of love that heartbreak exists and that itself is beautiful.

The New School Park Experience

Benjamin starts at a brand new preschool on Tuesday. Four days a week this time. I'm stoked. He's stoked. He's mostly stoked because he gets chocolate milk every day (and he'll tell you that). It's probably his favorite drink ever and when I noticed about three-quarters of the kids in his class also signed up for chocolate milk, I knew there was no chance I was getting away with signing him up for the white milk. He wouldn't drink it anyway. It's going to be great leverage for those rough mornings.

We went to preview day last week. After, the kids played at the park in front of his preschool. People slowly trickled out until there were about 4 kids left. I was nearby when a kid asked his mom to get on the other side of the see-saw. It was one of those newfangled ones that is on springs and didn't require leg work. Super chill. When she replied that she couldn't, I explained that I go on it frequently with my kids and it's so much nicer than most. She replied, "No, I just had a baby."

I rescinded my comment. Of course I wouldn't be getting on that thing either (and probably shouldn't have said anything). Through further conversation with the mom, I learned that she was a surrogate for a (stranger) family an hour away. She has two biological children and then carried another baby to term, all vaginally. She plans to have more kids of her own.

I found myself instantly uncomfortable. Jealous even. It was entirely directed at her innocence in birthing babies and understanding that there is an absolute living birth at the end. Maybe she doesn't entirely believe that, but I'm sure birthing a full term deceased baby wasn't in the forefront of her mind when she considered surrogacy. I told her about Andrew because I felt like leveling the playing field when she told me she birthed three babies. ME TOO. That, and I just talk about him because he's mine.

One thing we had in common: We both had breastmilk arrive a few days after birth. I asked her how that went. She told me it wasn't a big deal and just went away after a few days. She did mention that it felt weird because she breastfed her two boys, but was otherwise fine. That milk devastated me. In common, but NOT same-same.

I'm so grateful for surrogates and have friends who have used them to bring children into their families. I just never actually spent time talking with one. I didn't realize my emotions would be so involved and my grief would play any sort of role.

School is going to be an eye opener for the both of us, I presume. Kleenex ready.

Birth Order Baby Drama

We had friends staying at our house a couple weeks ago for about 5 days. They have two kids, 7 and 4 (...and they're going on a crazy road trip from California > Florida and back with those kids!).

They're pretty skilled at just about everything. They both swim proficiently and ride bikes and the older can read and is partially fluent in Spanish. They're awesome.

The oldest is also very cooperative and listens the first time. He's well-mannered and behaves and is typical of a firstborn.

Their youngest is a little wilder, tends to be more mischievous, must be asked many times to complete a task and often will answer with the naughty "no" instead of being agreeable. Typical second born.

We have local friends whose kids are identical and identical in ages, too. Sure wish they were in town to meet! Their family dynamics and similarities are off the charts (Marriotts!).

My friend (the mom) commented about Benjamin not being typical of a firstborn and more of a second born. And while he isn't a firstborn (and she knows), what does that say about birth order family dynamic when the firstborn died at birth? While Benjamin is not the firstborn, he very well should be assuming the role, right? He's never lived with an older sibling and it hasn't changed his daily dynamic. Is it in the gene makeup of the kid? Was he born with second-born traits because he actually is the second born?

The speculations and what-ifs of life with Andrew continue always. It makes me angry knowing that I'll never know what the family dynamic would be like if Andrew were here. What I do know is that if my second born had his firstborn brother here, things would be a whole lot sweeter (and the second born might be more mellow). Parenting after loss is all kinds of loaded. Among the many things I wish I had after losing Andrew, I wish I just knew what he would've been like and how he would have shaped our family. The ever gaping hole will always be present.

Can you guess their wild card? You easily know mine. ;)

Loving the Child You've Got

At this exact minute, I'm listening to our friends' kids playing on the deck with the water hose and water table (drought-ridden Californians see this as gold!). Claire is giggling and getting soaked right beside them.

Benjamin is sitting on the couch singing songs to himself as he flips through a book.

He's such a loner.

He's the only kid of the like 13 kids at soccer last week who spent almost no time listening to his coach and more time complaining and acting as though soccer with other kids was complete torture. I wasn't asking him to be great at soccer; I just wanted him to listen to the coach. For 30 minutes. He wanted to be at the park instead.

I played soccer with our friend's kid this afternoon on our deck (and had a blast!) as my kid blew bubbles about 15 feet away. I'm trying to get him interested by playing myself and showing him how much fun it is to play soccer (or insert thing here).

You can't change a person. It's not that I'm trying to, it's just that I desperately want him to put himself out there and try new things and be that kid who plays happily with others and enjoys the heck out of life. And if I'm being totally honest, I wish he just liked everything I did (thought every parent ever). He won't.

He'll find his thing. He will. And when he does, I will be there with pom poms and streamers on the bleachers yelling obnoxiously (as proud and embarrassing parents do) or have front row tickets to his play on opening night (and probably every night thereafter). And GOODNESS GRACIOUS, I love him. I love that he's the kid who saved me after Andrew died. He's the snuggle bug who really does love fiercely. He's the kid who doesn't go by the book or follow the rules, but he's also mine.

I didn't design him. He was designed for me. I never thought I'd learn so much parenting this one, but I totally am.

Mother's Day Necklaces

I like celebrating the grandmas. It takes some of the pressure off how I'm feeling about the whole loaded day. I like to channel my energy into celebrating the grandmas. Yes, I feel very grateful I have two extremely needy children to hug. I also appreciate what most moms appreciate on that day; peace and quiet. The irony. But oh man. Will it ever feel right knowing Andrew will never be involved in the whole celebratory bit? Meh.

Ever since Benjamin's first year, I've made photobooks for each month of the previous year, including places we've gone and family we've seen. They also have a book from Andrew's pregnancy and birth. The grandmas love these, so I use them as a gift (which is totally the best gift I can think of!). Considering Mother's Day always takes place in May, it also lights a fire under me to get the photobook made. It takes me a solid 1.5 months to complete these books, averaging about an hour each day. It takes forever!

With that said, I love creating them because I get to review all the great times we had that year and knock out three birds with one stone. The two grandmas receive them as gifts and I have two additional printed for Benjamin and Claire. They'll have one for each year of their childhood.

The photobook is great, but it's the same gift each year. I also like to think up something creative and kid-friendly that the kids can do to celebrate their grandmas at this young age. This year, I used this tutorial to make heart fingerprint necklaces for the grandmas.

Other than my perfectionist nature not liking how my kids were not perfectly paying attention and cooperative with the exact angle of their prints (ha!), I think they turned out quite cute.

We had enough clay to make quite a few. Benjamin made his own and painted it... what else... pink.

Wheels, Wheels, Wheels

For as long as Benjamin could walk, he's been obsessed with bikes. When we'd visit parks, he'd spend the majority of the time checking out the other vehicles the kids brought to the park.

For Benjamin's 2nd birthday, he received a Strider balance bike. I totally thought we were hooking the kid up because then he'd totally be riding a regular bike without training wheels the next year and for his third birthday, real bike!

He left the thing for dead. Little sister won't so much get a hand-me-down but a brand new, cobweb covered balance bike if she wants it.

So about six months later and after I noticed an expressed interest in scooters, I bought him one of those. He shows marginal interest in it. He'll occasionally ride it to the park, but most of the time it's only about 1/2 block and then he wants to hop in the stroller or begs me to carry him. It does at least get honorable mention.

After seeing a video of my friend's son riding a two-wheeler who is two months younger than Benjamin, I felt terrible for giving him no pedal option. He's never owned a tricycle. He doesn't understand the concept of pedals. Did I totally miss the boat by forcing him into a balance bike option over a tricycle or training wheel bike? And now he's over it all completely?

I researched used bikes online because I'm tired of buying all these things he doesn't even use. One guy highly encouraged me to get him a balance bike. Thanks, dude. Solid advice. Hmph.

One of our neighbors has a kid a year older than Benjamin who has literally been riding a bike since he was two. Like, with two wheels. When he saw Benjamin half-effort riding his scooter on the trails behind our houses last fall, he commented how he needs to be on a bike by now because he can do it. Can and want are two entirely different things, neighbor.

I bought two bikes from a lady off OfferUp for $30 last Saturday. One bike was $20 but both were $30. I figured we could have friends over to ride bikes with him for that extra $10. They came with bells and training wheels and were perfect. I got them home and Benjamin mostly wanted to sit on them for a minute, have us push him and ring the bell. He doesn't appear to remotely care about driving the thing forward.

He's three. And like a quarter. I kind of thought he would be into these sorts of things by now. We own a balance bike, a scooter and two bikes with training wheels. We have two living kids and no rider. Claire sure wants to ride, but sister is still mastering walking at this point. Instead of my vision of Benjamin riding his bike to the park and me following along with little sister in the single stroller, I push both kids in the double stroller to the park every afternoon to play. It kind of makes me want to get a tricycle, too. Just so I don't miss the boat with Claire, too.

It's times like these where I know I need to let him be who he is, but also wonder where the line of parenting should be heavier encouragement or more hands-off. It's also times like these where I get all grief sad, thinking about Andrew and whether he'd be into riding a bike. And because he would be turning 5 in just 6 months, he'd probably be riding all over the place. Andrew is (would be) Andrew and Benjamin is Benjamin. It's impossible to compare him with his brother who should be older, but it's hard not to.

The Bridge to Active Parenting

I spent the entire drive home from preschool pickup on Thursday in tears. Both kids in the backseat and me sobbing.

Benjamin was TERRIBLE last week. He was sleeping until like 11 and refusing to allow us in his room when we tried to wake him. He broke his Dropcam in a fit of rage. Locking him in his room doesn't work. It does give me a break, but it doesn't work in giving him time to show remorse. He just doesn't. He's angry and even angrier when I end it. Can go on for hours. 

I chalked last week's crazy sleep up to (mostly) him still recovering from this terrible sickness when he didn't sleep well for an entire week and was on PST zone, but I feel like other kids transition easier regardless. Transition better.

So, I told his preschool teacher at pickup the other day after two days of screaming at dropoff that I didn't know anymore. That things are getting out of hand and we've nearly considered a child psychologist because all of my understandings of parenting and tantrums and sleep habits and all the reading I've done seems to be aiding me nil in the process of parenting this one.

She told me she didn't think that would be a bad idea and that maybe they would provide more insight into what is going on (seeing a child psych). 

I cried. BIG FAT CROCODILE TEARS. I was thinking, but then she validated that my kid has issues. If you've never been told by someone that your child is anything but awesome, you may not understand this feeling. And really, it's not so much he has issues (we all do, really, especially his bereaved parents!), but needs his parents to understand how he needs parenting applied to him. 

I went home and called Elliot after another meltdown (that broke the Dropcam). We decided that for now, the problem with a child psych is that while B has good verbal skills, he's not verbal enough to fully understand the breadth of his problems enough to communicate them aloud. We figured they would send us to literature, so we're seeking that out first. We actually went on the website for the child psych my pediatrician recommended (because her advice made me laugh-- sit by his door during tantrum-- what for two hours?, ignore them-- what and risk my entire house being completely mutilated?). 

The child psych website recommended this book: The Explosive Child 

We had that in our hands hours later via Barnes and Noble.

Elliot's almost done and I'm still reading. It basically sums up that when he starts to shut down (you can literally see his eyes close and his mind go elsewhere), that he doesn't interest being "bad", but simply doesn't have the necessary problem solving skills that most kids have innately driving their decisions. That we need to help him process through this. Essentially, this is a learning disability because he has not learned and does not possess the skills of flexibility, adaptability, frustration tolerance and problem solving. So, me rushing him to get moving each morning for preschool at a reasonable 7:30-8:15 to get dressed and eat a granola bar is sometimes too much for him. He isn't the rush-able kid. But really, he has to be ready sooner or later because kindergarten isn't far down the road. We're learning and trying new ways to smooth transitions with him.

The biggest trick is that with a kid like him, just shutting down and telling him no for things he desires or views as the correct solution isn't the answer. It's all about trying to understand his brain and help him process through the why of how the world works. I hate that he isn't the type of kid that can just be read the law. That would be too easy. Instead, I fear we will be looked at by outsiders as a weak parents who allow our kid to "get what he wants", when in reality normal parenting tactics just don't work for him. I do believe he wants to be good. He can be the biggest sweetheart. The book is also helping us take his behavior less personally (i.e. What did I do wrong?) and see him as not as much of a punk 3yo, but someone who is lacking the ability to process through problem-solving.

It feels like we've left the soft parenting stage and entered the real deal here. Not that every age isn't impressionable and creating a foundation, but this stage being one that is crucial to really set things into motion. Healthy eating, literacy exposure, hugs and kisses aside. This is active parenting.

It's easier to see things in perspective after the fact, but during his fit where I insisted he get moving on picture day last Thursday? That he simply wake up and put on some freaking clothes (I had him pick out the night before sensing an issue might arise) and threatening that I was leaving which then resulted in him running outside and stripping all of his clothes off in the driveway on a 30-degree morning and ultimately was dragged into school unwillingly dressed in mismatched clothes he reluctantly allowed me to put on him?

Not so easy to gain perspective. These are going to be some interesting years ahead.

We probably won't be investing in those spring pictures.

Flash Before My Eyes

I think since Andrew died, I've been able to see possible, but unlikely scenarios flash before me that I would have never considered if he were alive today.

I was vacuuming recently and Benjamin was at a playdate at a preschool friend's house. I turned around and saw Claire chewing on the vacuum cord.

Right then, I immediately went there, planning the execution of how it would go down when I rushed her body to the emergency room and what I would say on my frantic call to his preschool friend's mom. I even envisioned pictures of the interior of that emergency room (we'd been to 4 months ago when Claire spiked a 104+ fever).

All of this was considered in a matter of 5 seconds. I hate that the worst-case scenario always turns into a neon flashing sign in my head.

Phew. It's been a heavy few months around here.

Letters to Andrew

Dear Andrew,

I cannot get the memory of sitting in our car after finding out you were a boy out of my head these days. It had nothing to do with gender, and still doesn't. It's all about the person you were that made your identity known to us in that moment. We fell in love, so in love. We're still in love.

I was writing an email to someone named Andrea the other day and could not prevent myself, even while being very conscious, from slipping and writing your name instead. One letter off and something I'm so familiar typing. Your name. Not so much in manuscript, but typing, often. I loved making that mistake. 

No matter the distance and no matter the amount of time we had with you those short 38.5 weeks, you are always missed. Every last inch of you is missed and even the (many more) inches you would be now. The words you would be speaking, the food you would be enjoying, the birthday party theme you'd choose and Halloween costume you would select. All missed.

Your brother saw a picture of your little feet this morning and immediately said, "Those feet are Andrew's." You may have never been introduced, but the missing is not an ounce less. In fact, it's grows with each sibling we've added to the family, one more person missing your daily presence.

Mom, Dad and your younger siblings, Benjamin & Claire miss you.

Love (Abundantly),

Mom

Naptime Scare

Claire's Friday nap brought me a big grief scare. These don't happen much with Claire, but we used to have daily scares with Benjamin. If he were to fall asleep in his carseat, he looked dead. I can't tell you how many times we pulled over the car to jerk him so we could see if he would flinch. If we had a false alarm from the AngelCare (hooray for the double sensor pad fix!), we were practically brainstorming his obituary. It was pretty horrible and quite neurotic. Sadly, we couldn't do anything to fix our fears. We were re-wired that way on December 5, 2010. 

I burst into her room at 4:00 p.m. on Friday afternoon after staring at her on the Dropcam and seeing no movement as her brother spent the better half of thirty minutes yelling loudly, slamming doors and playing around upstairs. Classifying my kids, Benjamin is the heavier sleeper and she's the lighter. She is almost always awake by 3:30 p.m. and nearly always because of the noises from her big brother. Friday, she wasn't even flinching and this noise-making session went on for 1/2 hour. I ran into my room to grab the AngelCare parent unit before I made the decision to storm her door, but it wasn't charged. I was convinced I had forgotten to turn it on or it had malfunctioned. 

Instead of heading downstairs for the second unit, I had to get in there. I ran in and immediately rolled her over. She was on her stomach in the same position she was when I left the room at 1:00 p.m. I knew that from the Dropcam. I immediately felt warmth, but didn't trust it. Finally, she moved. She was zonked. But alive. Of course she was alive. She is 13 months and the majority of babies who make it this far are alive. Then she cried the cry of a baby who was pretty pissed I'd just woken her up from a deep sleep.

But that PTSD? Came right back in like it had never left. 

I put the most recent story of SIDS I've been editing for Faces of Loss to blame for this one. Sometimes I just can't shake the fears that are clearly still harboring in my bones from losing Andrew. There's nothing I can change, and yet, I spent the greater part of an hour after that literally shaking. 

And smothering my kids with kisses. 

Sibling Jealousy

I thought we would've been at the peak of jealousy before now. Even somewhat over it. But as it turns out, the jealousy appears to just be at the beginning.

Benjamin spent roughly 25% of his waking hours this weekend throwing temper tantrums. Despite this, we still managed breakfast at the donut shop, a fun S.T.E.M. program for dads and their preschoolers at Benjamin's school, his first Spanish class and a dinner at our favorite restaurant.

Somehow. And really, he was good for all of these events. It was the before/after and transitions that made the weekend more hellish. Fighting for independence is at an all time high with the almost-three-year-old.

I wish I were exaggerating about the meltdowns. One of them even went so far that Benjamin opened both garage doors and ran out in the wet (snow melted) garage and started throwing things off the shelves, without shoes. If you know this kid, you know he hates getting anything on him that is messy. His socks were soaked with dirt and muck and he didn't care. Tantrums are out-of-body and completely irrational. To make matters even more fun, our neighbor saw him escapades, making us thoroughly embarrassed.

The majority of the tantrums happened at home. He's incredibly destructive, so he's now banished to his bedroom where all of his toys have been removed except for stuffed animals and some books on very high shelves. He's made dents in the walls, broken wall socket covers and nearly pulled pictures off the walls (thankfully they are slightly too high for reach).

It's exhausting. He's like Jekyll and Hyde. One minute he is hitting and kicking and flailing and the next minute, he is hugging you, giggling and telling you how much he loves you.

With Claire, he's intentionally mean the majority of the time. It's now to the point where I cannot be out of the room if they both are in it together. I must be present at all times, because even if she is by herself in the corner, he will manage to find something she has that he needs and lays the smack down. She whimpers in fear when he comes near her. It's really quite sad. He randomly walks over and hits her, quite often, and for no apparent reason. She then cries and we console her and then he gets jealous she is getting our attention and acts out again. It's a vicious cycle that pleases no one.

Literally seconds before/after

I know that he is learning that the world doesn't revolve around him, but it doesn't make it any less obnoxious. I know he's just two (three in two weeks!), but honestly. It's making some days really unpleasant.

And the big problem is, this is a two-way street. Claire is easily just as jealous of Benjamin. When she sees me reading him a book, she immediately crawls over and fights for front and center attention and screams like someone is wronging her in the worst way. The poor toddler never gets the quantity of books read to him that he was so accustomed to before she was so mobile and assertive.

In a short time, they will both be way more grown and (hopefully) use other forms of communication to express their interests than screaming (and hitting and biting and kicking) that is currently favored. I keep telling myself that. And even then, with all the unpleasantness that comes with having two small kiddos vying for your attention with overboard jealousy, there are far worse alternatives. Alternatives like, not having them here at all. That bit is never, ever lost to me.

I've personally published over 50 stories on Faces of Loss in the last two weeks. They are heart-wrenching. I have a story as well, but now I know the inner feelings of 50 more families who lost at least one child each after we lost Andrew. I bet they all wish their kids were screaming and biting and kicking. Anything is better than the silence.