Hey buddy, 

When did you get so big? 

Sometimes I catch sight of you and see it. It's right in front of me. The longer legs. The bigger feet. The growing up. 

My breath is quiet as it comes back. You are suddenly so much bigger. It's no wonder you ate hand over fist for a week. It takes food to grow. And it's clear now that you were growing. A lot. 

You are so long and lean. And dude, your hands and feet are enormous. Does that mean you will sprout taller than daddy? You know, like a puppy with giant paws? 

Bud, you are so strong. Sometimes we call you the pit bull because of your superhuman muscles. You can even take down your dad if you want. He loves that. 

You need to know that the sun shines on you wherever you go. You are sandy and dirty and scraped up every day. You are my big boy. And my baby. You will always be my baby. Don't forget that while your busy growing big, ok?  

You're turning four years-old tomorrow and I just can't believe it. It feels like yesterday that you were snuggled to my chest sleeping. Our heartbeats in sync. You would sigh really big when you were comfortable. I loved that. 

It was on this night four years ago that I was so close to meeting you and I was a little anxious. I was worried about being your mama. Because I wanted to be the mama that you deserved. I lay in my bed that night thinking about what you would be like. Your voice. Your face. Your personality. I was so excited to meet you. That was the last night I felt you moving in my belly. The next day you were in my arms and you made my dreams come true. You are perfect, little dude. You are just perfect. 

Thank you for choosing me to be your mama. It's an honor that I don't take lightly. I never will, bud. You have made me a better person. You really have. You have shown me what unconditional love is. You have shown me that we can do this big job of raising you. And you have shown me that there is nothing more powerful than my child's love.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Pants. You are the shining light of my heart. I can't believe you are mine. 

Love, Mama

So my best friend Jessica does a little interview with her daughter on her birthdays. I think it's the best tradition ever and decided to steal it. Pants wasn't big on sitting down and answering my questions. He was fidgety by my third question and then absolutely bored to tears by the fifth. I was astounded that I got ten questions out before he decided my "fun game" was not as fun I told him it would be and refused to talk to me anymore. Below you will find his answers. A little peek into his world...

The winter is ending. The spring is new and breaking through. Today was Easter Sunday. The entire day showed me that life is as the seasons are. Always moving. Always changing. Life, youth, age and endings. I was reminded that spring will blossom in honor of the winter's sleep. The flowers will bloom in homage to the ice and snow. That Winter will eventually give way to April. That life goes on. And that life's end is a beautiful time despite the sadness it brings.

We spent Easter with my grandparents.

When I walked into the house my grandma asked to see me in her bedroom. She had something she wanted to give to me. Plum and I followed her in. "I have something for you. Reach in the drawer. Pull it out." I reached in and felt a round cold metal ball and knew immediately what my grandmother had gifted me. 


When I was a little girl we searched desperately for it in the Christmas tree. It was the bird. But it didn't look like a bird. It was a silver ball ornament that when switched on sang like a cardinal. The child who found it first received the first  Christmas present. I almost always found it first. The memories flooded me. All of us throwing our coats and boots off into a pile and running to the Christmas tree. Frantic. Excited. Our arms getting little scratches from the tree. The smells of a real pine tree. My Aunt Candy, who is no longer with us,  laughing and playing Hot and Cold with us until someone found it.

In my hand I held my childhood. And the tears began to flow. From both of us. As she sobbed into my arms,  I promised her that my children would inherit this tradition. This memory. That the search for the bird will live on and someday I would pass this piece of our life onto one of my children. 

From winter to spring. 

Our tears flowed easy. My grandmother's weakened lungs produced coughs and wheezing. We sat together on her bed and regained our composure. She was frail. She was remembering a time when she was younger. So was I. 

Plum ate dinner with them. Right between them actually. Great-grandma cut her meat for her. Plum even conveniently forgot how to feed herself so that great-grandma had to help her. It was as though she knew this would warm her grammy's heart. Because it really did.  Mine too. 

I remember sitting between my grandparents and celebrating. I remember. I remember it as though it was just last week. They were younger. They were strong. But today they are not as strong. I watch my grandfather's hand shake because his brain has begun to misfire. I see him struggle to maintain his balance. I hear my grandmother short of breath. I watch her eyes determined to soak in every memory available to her.  I am overcome with the reality that life is moving forward. That the blessing of this life is that it is limited. That time will never stand still. That my children are the legacy. That life is so very precious. We don't get to keep it. We get no do-overs. But we do get this time. We are given the gift of this time. This here. This now. This chapter of our life. This seemingly simple meal with great-grandparents.

I have no picture of what moved me to cry the entire drive home. Because you don't run to grab the camera when a moment like this comes. Instead you try desperately to  remember. And as soon as you get home, you write it down so that it is never lost under the piles of memories that life gives to us.  So that they know. 


He leaned in for a hug goodbye. My grandfather, his great-grandfather, cradles one cheek in his hand. His other hand drew my baby's back to his chest. My grandfathers head rests gently cheek to cheek with my son. "Lord, bless and keep this child. This beautiful child", he whispered into my son's ear. My boy looked up to listen to his great-grandfather. He looked right into his eyes and he smiled.  My heart wept.  I cried for love. The deep and untouchable and enormous love of my grandfather. I cried for the knowledge that he is in the winter of his life. And I cried for the beauty of this moment between my beloved son and my beloved grandfather. My baby stepped back. "I wuv you, grampy", he whispered. "Oh child, I love you.", my grandfather said. 


Plum piped up, "uv oo, ammpy" she said as she moved in for her hug. 

It's a wonder I had my wits about me by this point as my grandfather with tears of love in his eyes for my babies, held her and whispered, "Lord, bless and keep this beautiful child". She was calm and stayed in his warm embrace. I remember how that embrace enveloped me as a child. I remember how safe I felt. How loved.  I kissed my grandpa. And while my heart sobbed, I smiled as I met his eyes. "I love you. I love you, grandpa." and he held me in those arms.  I knew them. I remembered them.  For a moment he didn't shake. He looked into my eyes and said, "Bless you, my girl. May the Lord bless you and keep you." And for a moment I was 10 years old. 

 

I love the snow. I love it as long as I am looking at it through my window with a glass of wine, wrapped up in a chunky sweater, a fireplace roaring, and some Barry White playing as I bounce walk  around the house singing to myself. I don't own snow pants or durable gloves. I'd have to look but I'm 90% sure that I don't own a hat that actually covers my ears. It's because I'm not cool with reindeer games. 

You know how when you are out in the cold and your nose starts to run? I hate that, dudes. Or how when a bit of snow finds its way between your sleeve and your glove? That makes me crazy. Or how no matter how hard you try, you will get slush on your thighs just walking to the car? That's been known to bring out my rage face.  So in the winter, I am an indoor kid doing my indoor things. It's where I am happy. And not wet. But I didn't always feel this way.

I remember loving the snow as a kid. How I felt invincible flying into a soft mound of snow without bracing myself. I remember the feeling of wet clothes and icy caked mud and the musty smelling closet that kept all the winter gear. I remember snow forts and snowmen and thick snow-packed gloves. I remember pink noses and the hot-wet part of my scarf that sat in front of my mouth. I remember snow angels and hot cocoa. And moon boots. I loved my moon boots. The child me loved the snow.

So now both of our kids are snow babies and I am not. Luckily for them, they have their dad. You see, there is a little boy that lives inside of their dad. We call him Timmy and he loves the snow. Yes, I am well aware that what I just typed is a bit creepy. Ok, it's a lot creepy. Forget I mentioned it.  

Moving on...

These two are lucky to have an adventurous dad. He doesn't just sit back and watch. He plays too. And watching these three through the window was just awesome. This has been a crud-acious winter filled with nose sludge and barfing and fevers. Every time it snowed, someone was sick. In fact, Plum had never played in the snow before because of it. Until yesterday. Yesterday, these lucky kids got to go outside and tear up the joint with their dad. And they had a blast.

And I stayed inside and made the hot cocoa. As it should be.

Recipe: Cocoa ala Plum (dairy-free)
almond milk, cocoa powder, honey and marshmallows

Did you love playing in the snow as a kid? What about now?

I didn't have a chance to write a post about our year. We were in the thick of germ warfare in this house as the ball dropped in Times Square. But I can't not recap. This blog is nothing if not a chronicle of our life together. Had I not been washing puke towels and bleaching my house, my year end post would have gone something like this...

---------------------------------

My Dearest Husband, Pants and Plum,

2012. Oh, it was a year. It was all at once brutal, beautiful, hard and amazing. It taught us that we can weather anything. But we already knew that, didn't we? As I went through the pictures of what 2012 brought us, I sat and stared and cried.  In awe of us. Remembering. Photographs can do that. They take us right back to a feeling. A thought. A memory.

We've made so many memories.

Relaxing on Thanksgiving morning. Bellies so very full. Or the day that the two of you brought your mama comfort because I was so so sad. Sad that my friend had died.

There was the day that we played in the mud and the day that Plum turned One. The day that broke our hearts when Pants had his tonsils out and the day that we rode on a real train for the first time.

So many days. So many moments. But if I had to choose just one, it would be that this was the year you two became inseparable. This was the year you found each other.

I remember every single moment in each of these pictures. The second it occurred to me, Mr. Pants,  that you would be ok because you spoke a sentence to me for the first time in your life.

Plum, you started walking and talking this year, baby girl. And you were such a champ when we went camping. I can't believe that you know all of your alphabet and shapes and numbers. You are so crazy (and almost scary) smart.  

Pants, you started pre-school and you are r.u.l.i.n.g. it. And Mama cried when I gave you your first short haircut. You loved it but I hope you will choose to grow it out again. You always tell me, "I got you, Mama" as you hug me tight. It melts me.

Daddy, remember when we sat in the driveway and watched our babies play? Do you remember that moment we realized that we were becoming parents to bigger kids?

We've played in the hay, sandboxes and on swing-sets. We snuggled so close every single night. We played dress-up, got fat lips, shared all of our viruses and jumped on beds. We turned 36, 37, 3 and 1.

Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall. Life moved forward. Life happened. Life was so beautiful.

And it still is, my loves. I cannot wait to spend 2013 (and all the years to come) loving you. You have made my life full. You bring me a joy that I had no idea existed. You are my heart. All three of you.

You mean everything.

Everything.

Love, Me
________________________

                                        Here's what The Family Pants was up to last year...

I don't do New Year's resolutions. Because I never keep them. So why set myself up for failure, right? But it seems I already made two and it's not even 10 am yet. I'm not in trouble though. I'm not wishing for the moon. I just whispered a few small promises into the air this morning. No life altering stuff. Just life stuff.

New Year's Eve didn't start out well. In fact it started out downright sucky sucktastic. Double ear infection was the word on the street and Mr. Pants wasn't feeling a celebration. On the way to the doctor he asked me, "Mama? I go a doctor? I go asleep? I scared, Mama" My heart broke into a million pieces as he began to cry a very throat punching cry. You know the one. Silent. Wide eyes. Fearful. "Mama, I scared." he said again. All my wishing for him to forget his surgery didn't seem to do the trick. He remembers. And the memory is scary. So as I drove my boy to the doctor on New Year's Eve, I began to quietly cry for him. "No one is going to hurt you today, bud. You don't have to go to sleep at the doctor today, baby. Mama will stay with you and it won't hurt. I promise."  "Ok, mama. I go to sleep?" "No bud, no sleep at the doctor today. She is gonna look at your ouchies in your ears so we can get medicine to make them feel better. Just like we looked in Buzz's ears at home, remember?" "Ok, Mama. I scared" as his lip and chin began to quiver again.

Being a mom is just heart ripping sometimes, isn't it?

It didn't go well at the doctor. Mr. Pants began to panic almost immediately. It was brutal and I won't describe it because he and I don't need a play by play. Instead I have made my first New Year's Resolution in years and years.

Resolution number one is for you, Mr. Pants. I promise that starting right now, I will work with you in safe and stress-free ways to help you become less afraid of the doctor. I promise. You and me, buddy. Let's do this.

So by the time we got home, Mr. Pants was whooped. I tried to coax some dinner of frozen pizzas and chips into him. I mean it's New Year's Eve! Junk food is the rule for sickies on a holiday, right? But he wasn't into it and was in bed for the night at five. FIVE. You know a 3 year old is sick when he puts himself to bed at five. 

That left Plum and I to celebrate alone since Daddy was at work making fancy food for the masses. Here at home we had our own fancy feast. Side note: when your allergies are milk, eggs and peanuts, good desserts can be hard to come by. But I was prepared. There isn't a lot of junk food that passes the "safe for Plum" test but there is one we can always count on. The classic Oreo. Throw in some So Delicious chocolate ice cream and we had a straight up party. Just the two of us.  

We played dress-up and danced to our favorite tunes. We ate our junk food and sang some songs. Basically we partied pretty hard by toddler standards. So hard that we needed to make some costume changes half way through. By the time seven-thirty rolled around, Plum was plum tuckered. She told me it was time to go to bed and have some nucks  (milks). She was out cold by 7:40 pm on New Year's Eve.

Resolution number two is for you, Plum. I promise to play dress-up with you more often than not. We are gonna get super crazy fancy up in this house this year, baby girl. Oh, yes. Yes we are.

The house was quiet. Too quiet for New Year's Eve. I mean there was a day when this night brought all kinds of mayhem and tomfoolery. Even hijinks. Lots and lots of shenanigans and, well, you get the point. Drunk and stumble-y, I kissed many many strangers and not strangers at midnight, you guys. I wore sparkling sequins and danced for hours in shoes that tortured my feet at parties where the liquor flowed like water. Sparklers and fireworks. Sweaty glittery skin. Foil covered walls. Velvet pants. Wigs and tiaras. People passed out in the yard. All very glamorous, really. And I had so much fun. Too much fun, maybe. But SO much fun. For years.

But it doesn't hold a candle to coconut milk ice cream and old dance costumes. It doesn't touch the awesomeness of digging into a bag of Oreos and watching YouTube videos of Yo Gabba Gabba tunes and miscelleneous other bits of awesome (What what, Whitney Houston! I knew you would blow Plum's mind. OOOOH! I wanna dance with some-bod-ay!!) while your baby dances and sings along. It doesn't compare to getting the medicine your sick kid needs to get better finally and knowing that he is sleeping peacefully in the next room.

Because my dream all along was to have a family. And sometimes that means sick kids and husbands working on a holiday. I'll take it anyway. So this year I rang in the New Year with this. It happens to be Pants and Plum's favorite song right now. And I think it's pretty rad. 

And then I rang it in proper with this. Like I always do.  And a grin sat knowingly on my face in my quiet quiet house of sleeping kids and I remembered (or had foggy ideas of blurry possabilities of) my younger days. Because they were great, too. They were really freaking great. And I danced by myself. And I laughed. I just cracked up. Remembering. Damn, we had some fun.

                 Mommy's alright. Daddy's alright. They just seem a little weird.... Surrender...Surrender...

I am the first to admit that I need to stop and relax. I get...excitable. This serves me well most of the time but there are days, like today when it serves me quite poorly. By noon I had made my apology phone calls to all of the people that had the displeasure of speaking to me this morning as I was, in fact, a rage monster.

In my defense, I'm sick. And there was no coffee. Obviously this sent me into a state of hysteria. I cried. I sure did. I'm only a little ashamed about that (I meeeean, there was no coffee).  But I've recovered. My body aches are beginning to subside and I can feel small amounts of energy creeping back in. I am bucking up. And apologizing to the world. I have learned some valuable lessons in the trenches dealing with the avalanche of viruses (Yerp. More than one) that attacked my family over Christmas.

And I am confident that I am bringing up the rear. All of this sickness ends with me. I am book-ending this shit. So help me Santa Claus.

There were a bugabillion craptastic things about our Christmas week but in there we found some good. Some straight up lessons to learn. Christmas miracles and all that. The Universe aligned for one spectacular day and gave all of us a beautiful reprieve on Christmas morning. No one barfed or had a fever. No one. All bets were off the day after but that's ok, man. The reprieve was enough to remind that there will come a day when no one is sick. That it will happen.

Right? 

I never respond to chain mail. Mostly because I'm lazy. And I never share those Facebook posts that tell you that you suck if you don't share them. You know the ones that say that only one percent of people will share them because they are the only decent human beings in existance? Well except for this one. I totally did share this one...

Anyhoo, it would seem I have been caught.

See, Lillian over at It's A Dome Life tagged me in a chain blog. Dun dun duuuun. I love her. She's an amazing painter and a mama and an all-around awesome person. We've become bloggy friends.  So when she tagged me in her recent post listing her five wishes for Christmas, I knew I'd do it. It's kind of right up my alley. My sappy, dreamy spread-the-love alley. I cannot help who I am, friends. It is what it is. So I'm "it" and  Lillian wants to know what my five wishes are for this holiday season.

Truth be told I have more than five but for the sake of time I will pare it down.

But instead of tagging five other blogs, if you are so moved to do a five wishes blog of your own, consider yourself tagged. I would love to know what your wishes are too. I really would. Because I believe that when you speak your heart aloud, you create the possability.

So with that, here are my wishes...

I wish for a maid. Just a maid, you guys. Someone who will come once a week and clean the ever loving hell out of my house. What good are wishes if you can't shoot for the moon, right? And speaking of shooting for the moon...

I wish for health. I want Daddy and I to live long long lives. I want to be with my family for as long as I can see straight and think coherently. I never want to leave these these crazy people but when I do, I wish for it to be when we are all old old old and peeing ourselves and ready to clock out. Until then, I wish for our health. All of us.

I wish for slippers, underwear and bras. Because if my feet are cold, and my parts are all willy-nilly freestyle, the day is a loss before it begins. Also I just need undergarments with a badness and Daddy Pants reads this blog (Hi baby!) and might need ideas for me for Christmas. So there's that.

I wish for snow. A white Christmas. Because I am a romantic and it is supposed to snow for Christmas Day. Lights are supposed to reflect off the snow and the night moon is supposed to make the ground sparkle like a million diamonds. And I am supposed to stay warmly inside making my new vegan hot chocolate recipe (safe for Plum) while watching Daddy play with our babies in the powder. Then, when they all come in, we will wrap ourselves in blankets and I will kiss their chilled cheeks and wipe their drippy pink noses as they sip the their hot chocolate and we watch a Christmas movie.

Ok, maybe I have planned this out a bit too much...

And finally, I wish for healing. Not for me but for you. So many of those that I love are hurting right now. And if only one of my wishes could come true, it would be this one. I wish that all the pain in the hearts of those I love would disappear and be replaced by calm, strength, laughter and joy. I wish for you to find solace. I wish for peace for you. I wish for your heart to be healed of its wounds. I wish above all else that you are ok. That you will find rest. That life will treat you kindly and that love will shine up through you and keep you well.

Those are mine. What about you? What are your wishes?

Listen up, parents of nudist children! There is a light at the end of this nudely-nude tunnel. While I will not presume that we, as a family, are anywhere near that light yet, I will say that the possibility of full -time clothing for Mr. Pants feels possible because I can see the light. I Seeeeee it. OMG.

It would seem the combination of four very big things are making this happen.

1. It's ass cold outside
2. It's the Christmas season
3. He's old enough to understand some straight-up give and take.
4. His sister wears his clothes and he would rather die than allow her to wear his beloved Cars pajamas.

Basically there are so many exciting and cold things to do and my lead in to all of them is, "Sure, bud! We can____, but first we have to put some clothes on"

And he does. OH my sweet Christmas, he does!  Thank you, Santa!

All of this comes just in time for Plum to realize that being as naked as she came, is super fun.

So yeah, you can't win them all. Shazbot.

It's that wonderful time of year, when we all reflect on the things that we are grateful for. Of course I think this is awesome. I am a hippie, you know. And a Unitarian Universalist. So I am basically in a constant state of gratefulness. Unless I'm really tired. Or on my period.

I'm all about spreading the love, the Karma, the gratitude. I love it. I love love love it.

Of course I am grateful for all the usual suspects. A loving family, amazing friends. These plump and gorgeous babies that I live with. A dashing husband.  I am grateful for the food we eat and for the roof over our heads. I am grateful to have the support of awesome people and this list could go on for ever and ever and ever because I try and make it a daily practice to be grateful for every blessing in my life.

So because of that I need to pare this down and pick a category. How about I  tell you about the some of the people and things I am grateful for that do not make everyone's top ten list? Ok.  

I am grateful for drive-thru banking. While I am sure this was more of a self-protection move for the bank industry it has made my life easier and less sweaty.

I am grateful for the person that designed the grocery cart car thingy. In fact I would kiss that person if I could. I would kiss them forever. And so hard. In the rain.

I am grateful for Dawn dish soap. It cleans everything. It is a miracle. 

I am grateful for Tater Tots. Tots are a staple in this house. They will always be eaten. They will always be loved. They are delicious little compact pieces of shredded potato heaven.

I am grateful for the lessons I've learned from my children. Like how it's fun to add the words "scratch your butt" to every song we sing. You know, Twinkle Twinkle Scratch Your Butt? It's a great song about a star in the sky. Precious really. The star needs to scratch his butt. And then there's also the song The Itsy-Bisty Spider. Wouldn't you know that that spider just wants to scratch her butt? Well she does, poor thing. The itsy-bity spider needs to scratch her butt. And that's funny.


To anybody in my life who has ever offered to take the kids off my hands for a few hours. I am so grateful for you.

Cereal bars. That's right. I am eternally grateful for cereal bars. They are the answer to Mr. Pants' war with breakfast. They are sent from heaven and made of magic. They are to be respected for the peace that they bring in this house. I love you cereal bars.

And this. I am so grateful for this...

And finally, I am so very grateful for all of you. It makes me feel all warm and gooey inside that you are reading along. I wish that I could plant a kiss on all of you. An awkward and sloppy kiss. You have opened doors for my family just by coming here to read our stories. Every time you read, share a post or comment, you help me to establish a readership and that helps me find writing jobs. It's because of you that maybe just maybe I can really make this writing thing stick. So please do me a favor and lean into your computer. Don't be scared. Since I cannot kiss you all individually, I shall kiss you collectively.  So go on. Lean in. Even close your eyes if you want.  


Because Mama wants to give you a kiss....