Monthly Newsletter — Month 17

Corn on the cob, originally uploaded by JenSig.

Dear Isla,

A few days ago you hit the 17-month mark, and it's a sign of how busy and chaotic we are these days that I am only just now getting around to posting about that milestone.

It's hard to believe you're almost one and a half... Just this morning I was changing your diaper and thinking to myself how big you've gotten, and how amazing that only a year or so ago you were this tiny little peanut baby who cooed and gurgled at me with the cutest little dimples.

Now, though, as one of the two older ones happened to mention (can't remember which one it was now, Owen or Edie) — it's like you're a "real" person! You talk and run and play and laugh and do things you're not supposed to and give kisses and hugs and climb stairs and oh, so many other things!

You LOVE Dora the Explorer (much like your older sister did at around your same age) and her super cute cousin, Diego. In fact, those are two of the words you now say regularly. Here is a list of the words currently in your vocabulary repertoire:

"Doh" (Dora)
GoGo (Diego
BellBell (Tinkerbell)
Mo (more)
Hi! (or "Hewo!")
Mommy
Daddy
Isla (which you pronounce Ay-ya)
Owee (Owen)
DeeDee (Edie)
Night night
Bobby (bottle)
Mimmy (your satin blankie)
Nack (snack)
Baby
Bah (bath)

Can't think of any others at the moment... but you are definitely beginning to become more vocal — and even when you aren't using actual words, you grunt and point until we finally figure out what you want.

You have also recently learned how to climb up onto both Owen's and Edie's beds, as well as the couch — I don't mind this ALL that much, since you have also figured out how to get down — but sometimes you think it's a great idea to get up there and walk around, and I'm terrified you're going to stumble and fall head over heels over the side. So now I have to know where you are at all times (not that I didn't need to know this before, but it's a little more critical at the moment).

You have also learned how to come back down Jacquie's staircase, on your bottom scooting down one step at a time, which is a great relief, although, again — sometimes you think standing up seems like a great idea, so we still have to watch you like a hawk.

And you are just so delightful and sweet, giving sweet little kisses and hugs that make me want to squeeze you to pieces.

The picture above was taken on Mother's Day, and we had given you your own little pile of corn (already remove from the cob), which you ate quickly and heartily — and then proceeded to point at Jacquie's as-yet-untouched corn cob — so she handed it to you and we watched in amazement as you at the ENTIRE COB, slowly turning it this way and that so you could make sure you got every piece of corn off of it. It certainly kept you busily entertained while the rest of us ate our dinners.

Thank you for blessing my life so much, little one — my sweet little imp.

Love, Mama

S I X

S I X, originally uploaded by JenSig.

Dear Edie...

Six years ago today you came into the world and changed our lives completely: our first daughter, Owen's first little sister, you have blessed us with your sparkling personality and exuberance for life.

You, my dear one, are the quintessential middle child, sweet and affectionate yet secretly possessing your own brand of star quality. You love to sing and dance and play and crack jokes and make the GOOFIEST faces ever — such silly faces that my friends all can't wait to see any pictures any of us might snap of you and your friends, because you nearly always have some hilarious expression on your face. I can honestly say your completely bubbling personality is not one that many people get to meet every day, and I truly hope that it stays with you throughout your life. It will take you far, THAT I can promise you.

The picture above was taken of you this very morning, before heading off to school. When I asked you to pose for a picture wearing your fabulous knitted crown (the one I made for your third birthday), the first pose you gave me was the Mona Lisa one, where you tilt your head and give me this tight-lipped half smile, with one shoulder pressed upwards towards your cheek. It's a very stilted pose, and it's one of your favorites, so it makes it difficult for me to get a truly great candid shot of you, but I managed... I told you to yell out "Stinky socks!," which you did with great gusto. I think that's the thing I just love the most about you — your total exuberance at embracing any task. You are, in a word, delightful.

The other day we were driving around, you and I, and you were back there in the seat behind me, chattering away, waving your hands out the open window and asking me random questions. At one point you said, "Mommy, is magic real?" And I knew the question was stemming from the idea of magic as presented in the Harry Potter books (by the way, we are two chapters from the end of the fourth book), so I said no, magic wasn't real, at least in the idea of a person waving a magic wand around and casting spells.

But what I didn't say — what I couldn't really explain to a very literal 6-year-old — was that magic IS real, and is all around us. There is magic in watching a little girl show me the tooth that just fell out, her eyes wide as she contemplates the tooth fairy's imminent arrival. There is magic in watching a toddler giggling as she swipes at bubbles being blown into her face. The thrill of a twirly skirt. The way the setting sun shines through a child's golden hair. The times when three siblings play together without bickering. When an older brother takes his sister by the hand with sincere and genuine affection. In the kisses given so sweetly at bedtime... all of this: MAGIC.

Thanks for making my world so very magical, sweet sweet girl. You have truly cast a spell on me.

Love, Mama

Sorry

I hate it when we fight. I hate when I become so frustrated with your actions (or inaction) that I develop what is far beyond an acceptable level of "inside voice." I hate the way we both get red in the face when we are angry with each other. I hate that you were mad at me when I dropped you off at school, hate that you felt the need to brush aside my goodbye hug with a shrug and a frown, hate that I walked away from you knowing you were scowling at my retreating form. Hate that I didn't turn around once more to look at you before I left.

You can be so proud, so determined, so STUBBORN. You have always been that way. Even as a little tyke, when you'd get in trouble, you always got angry at me getting angry at you. It's so true that each child needs to be dealt with in different ways, depending on temperament. Your sister is one to get so very sad and remorseful when she's in trouble, but not you — you simmer with anger and injustice, letting it brew inside you like a pressure cooker, and the only way I know how to deal with that is to walk away, to let you come back down to earth on your own. Because you always do. Once the heat of the moment passes and you've been left on your own to think and contemplate and consider, you emerge, fresh-faced and placid and apologetic, willing to listen and talk and discuss.

You have no idea how fiercely I love you, how much I WANT for you, how strongly I would fight to protect you. The older you become, the greater my fears grow about all the things I can't shield you from, all those outside influences that will only grow in number and magnitude as the years go on, as you come under the influence of other kids, other sources. I can only hope and pray that I have taught you, when the time comes, to make good choices, to do what is right and true.

So I am sorry our morning got off to such a bad start. Mommys aren't perfect — I am far from it, I know. But I am doing the best that I can... and I will always strive to do better by you. I love you, sweet baby boy. I hope as I write this that the moment is already past for you, forgotten, that it hasn't ruined your day. And I hope when I see you later on that you'll give me one of those great hugs like only you give.

Monthly Newsletter — Month 16

Spaghetti!, originally uploaded by JenSig.

Dear Isla,

Yesterday you hit the 16-month mark, and you are growing and changing in such leaps and bounds, it's hard to keep up!

You are so similar to Owen and Edie at this same age, in so many ways — namely that you are friendly and outgoing, quick to laugh and eager to cuddle and give hugs and kisses — and yet, you are entirely your own, too. In what I believe is typical for many younger siblings, you really don't talk much, but you sure can communicate! I can tell a lot from your funny little grunts and gestures, fist clenches and expressions. You aren't limited by your lack of speech in any way, little lady!

But you DO have a few words that you'll say with regularity, and these include "mommy," "daddy," "jacquie," "isla," "ball," "night night" and a smattering few others. You will increasingly (and accurately) answer yes or no with little nods or shakes of the head, too, so that if I ask you a question about something you are wanting, you are able to answer with a sweet little grin on your face.

You also now give REAL kisses, meaning an actual little pucker and a smacking sound with your lips, as opposed to the big, open-mouthed wet kisses you used to plant on us. You are still somewhat stingy with your kisses, and won't often give them when asked, but then you'll just surprise us by coming over to us, smacking your lips in little kissing noises, kissing us sweetly and then running off again to continue whatever you were doing before. It's enough to make my heart melt.

I've been noticing more and more the distinct part that birth order plays in the personalities of all three of you kids. Owen, as the oldest, is definitely a nurturer and is also something of a worry-wart, always fussing about things that could go wrong and worrying about the "what ifs," and always wanting to make sure everyone is taken care of.

Edie is displaying a crazy amount of awesome middle child tendencies, being the "star performer" in our midst. A recent trip to the dressing rooms in Old Navy provided her very own runway down the center aisle, from which she had to strut wearing every outfit we were trying on and then, upon reaching the end nearest the mirror, suddenly striking a fabulous pose with a flip of her hair and a sassy expression.

As for you, we are all agreed that we think you are the good time charlie of the bunch, and it won't surprise us a bit if you turn out to be the one who just wants to get a good laugh out of a crowd. You are so laid-back and easy going, charming and sweet, and quick to giggle with a gutteral depth that is awesome to listen to.

I know I've said this before... but you are the best little bonus baby I could ever have asked for.

Love, Mama

Monthly Newsletter — Month 15

munchkin cheeks, originally uploaded by JenSig.

Dear Isla,

You recently passed the 15 month mark, and I am a few days late getting this posted because our lives are such an amazing whirlwind these days, it's amazing I have time to get anything done.

You are an absolute delight in all of our lives, little girl. You are all sweetness and light, at once impish and mischievous and affectionate and charming. One of the sweetest things you do is "give loves"; I'll crouch down and say, "Isla, can you give me loves?" And, when you are feeling up to it (because sometimes you just shake your head with a cheeky grin when you don't feel particularly like "giving loves") you will come to me, your arms outstretched, mouth open for a big wet kiss and hug me close. And sometimes... the BEST times... you will just spontaneously come over to me and wrap your arms around my legs, looking up at me with a sweet smile, and then you'll toddle off again, the urge to "give loves" satisfied.

One of your WORST habits these days is screeching at the top of your lungs. I mean, it is literally ear-piercing, and you mostly do it when you are in your high chair and we are all sitting down to eat. I think you like the fact that Owen and Edie laugh at you when you do it, which makes you do it all the more. But it is so bad that you have actually been given time outs in your crib because of it. so that the rest of us can eat dinner WITHOUT our ears ringing painfully, thank you very much — and then you cry woefully at the indignity of being sent to your room when you had been having so much FUN!

You are also now quite good at taking directions. I can point to something on the floor and ask you to pick it up, and you usually will do it, or I can hand you something and say, "Take this to Daddy (or Owen or Edie)" and you will do so, big grin plastered on your face because you are such a great helper! Sometimes, however, you are a little TOO eager to "help," and your help is often a hindrance... but I delight in watching you, so pleased with yourself to be engaging in such big girl activities.

Owen and Edie have begun spring sports, baseball and softball, respectively, and as a result, our lives are a constant refrain of shuttling to and from practices or games, amid other things like Daisy meetings for Edie and CCD classes for Owen, plus homework and life and, oh yeah, that crazy project I just decided to embark upon that involves swapping yours and Edie's room with Owen's — an undertaking that has created such havoc in our home that I currently look like one of those people on those hoarding TV shows, so much stuff is piled haphazardly throughout the house. But you and Edie nowhave a new room, a butter-yellow confection that is all airy and light, and you slept there last night for the first time, the two of you, both of you thrilled with the new arrangement.

By far, the thing I notice the most about you these days is how much you just want to be WITH people. Last night as I was reassembling your crib in the new room (since no, of course it can't just fit through the door, that would be too EASY — I had to disassemble and reassemble instead), you were bobbing around me, alternately picking up allen wrenches and crawling amid the myriad crib parts, and you kept attempting to sit on my knee, which made my job just that much more difficult... but I loved it all the same.

I hope that you always want to spend time with me, my sweet, sweet girl. Thank you for blessing my life.

Love, Mama

Monthly Newsletter — Month 14

Imp, originally uploaded by JenSig.

Dear Isla,

This post is just a few days late, as our lives have gotten into the full swing of post-holiday, back-to-school and spring sports madness. With Owen and Edie both in sports (baseball and softball), our days and weeks are exceedingly full and busy. And you — you are just along for the ride.

You seem to think everything is a new adventure, and you happily tag along to wherever we need to be, fairly content to squawk and babble and take it all in.

Your newest adventure is that, at last, you are completely and truly WALKING. You're still just the tiniest bit unsteady, particularly on an uneven surface, like the bare grass, so it's definitely an adventure, but each day you get a little faster on those little feet of yours, and you follow me wherever I go throughout the house. And I think with the freedom of walking has come a new sense of mischievous discovery, and I often find you searching through the drawers and cupboards in my bathroom or dropping things into the toilet with glee. And when you are heading somewhere that you know you aren't supposed to be, and I follow you and say, "I'm gonna get you!" you squeal and giggle with delight and try to walk a little faster, which inevitably makes you stumble and fall.

We have decided that, of all three kids, you are the most independent-minded. Where Owen and Edie would parrot us and repeat things we would say or ask them to do on cue, you instead smile a cheeky grin and manage to look cuter than ever. If we ask you for hugs and kisses, you RARELY give them — you'd rather wait until you haven't been asked, and then spontaneously come over to me and lay your head on my knees and wrap your arms around my legs, preferring instead to give them to us on your own terms... which makes those spontaneous little hugs all the sweeter.

I know I say often how I feel so blessed to have gotten my little bonus baby, and I thank God every day for the miracle of you.

Love, Mama

Harry, Revisited

So followers of my old blog (before its untimely death from file corruption last year) may remember that when Owen was a kindergartener he and I spent several long months reading through all the Harry Potter novels. He has since become an avid reader with a vivid imagination, a fact that pleases me no end.

Well, now that Edie is in kindergarten, I decided to do the same thing with her— so most every evening we plop down on my king-sized bed, the three of us — Owen, Edie and I — to read a chapter and discuss what has been happening so far. You'd think Owen wouldn't want to sit through them again, but he's having as good a time listening to them again as I am having reading them, and it's interesting to see him listening and absorbing the information in a new way — being two whole years older than his first go-round.

And miss Edie, well... she seems to be enjoying them quite as much as Owen did, though I am very careful to review the previous night's chapter before beginning the next, asking her questions to make sure she's been paying attention.

The best part about it, though, is that Edie — who has always been fantastic at "imaginative play" when playing on her own — has begun to introduce new characters in her play. The other day I heard her speaking with quite a good version of a British accent (since, when I read the books, I try to read all the dialogue in character, accents, voices and all), saying things like, "Oh, hello, Neville. We were just talking about Transfiguration." I'm supremely happy that she's quite enjoying the books, too.

And, like before, the deal I made with her was that she could watch the movies after having read the books. She's seen bits and pieces of most of the movies before, on DVD, when Owen has been watching them, but has never had such a keen interest in the as she does now. We plan to watch the second movie this weekend. And the best part is that Terry — who has never read the books (blasphemy!) and only seen the first movie (heresy!) — has agreed to watch the movies with us as we go along, so that by the time the final installment is released in theaters this summer, he can be caught up and actually see it with us.

I know that I am blessed to have such smart kids — and when I get excellent feedback from both their teachers about how well-spoken and well-read they both are for their ages, I can't help but feel a huge burst of pride that I have had something to do with that.