I haven't been able to edit or post to blogger for several weeks now. And this is serious, because I'm thinking this is it? My random and sporadic efforts to document life around here are effectively over? That will be my final post? Ever??? Lame.
And then I went away for a while, more or less unplugged in the Rocky Mountains, and came back to open blogger and find that, yes! I can resume my ramblings. Which is awesome if only because Bubs has declared the hard copies I've had printed of my blog, sitting on the shelf, 'The Funniest Books Ever". Those kids giggle themselves silly reading about...themselves. And that's pretty fantastic in my opinion.
So. Wonderboy hit double digits. And wow, what can I say to describe this amazing kid...he's witty, sensitive, a voracious reader, master Lego builder, hilarious, a little bit mischievous, a lot kind, a great soccer player, and a dedicated pianist. We planned a quiet celebration at home, but Bubs had a panic attack when he realized we hadn't made a birthday crown. He frantically gathered the necessary pom poms and sparkles and crafted a pretty festive crown for the birthday boy. Wonderboy's birthday request? A long board. When they say it goes by so fast, they aren't kidding. Boy, they aren't kidding.
Miss Fia has officially become accountable. Eight, that is. Her baptism will be in a few weeks. (And she would like you to know you're all invited, by the way.) She's SUPER excited. She was counting down the days and minutes until her meeting with the Bishop.
We celebrated a little early, before heading out for vacation, so she could have a little time to adjust to her new bigger bike. At eight, she's our sweet little nurturer, serious animal lover and prolific artist.
Ants freak her out. She loves swimming, tennis, soccer, and shopping. And she's a helper. You need help, she's your gal.
And then Bubs. Oh Bubs. His transformation into a little boy is kind of hard for me. We celebrated the final days of preschool by releasing the butterflies they had been watching and learning about. He is always so sweet and proud when I can join him in class. I sat in the pick-up line on the last day of school and found myself hit so hard by the realization that he's not my baby anymore. I don't know why I didn't realize it before that moment.
He's got a bit of a neat-freak instinct, of which I'm so proud. At least one of my offspring shares my fondness for vacuuming. And he's got interesting passions. Like the giant pickle jar he keeps his pennies in. And he loves that jar because it smells like pickles and he can sniff it whenever he wants to smell pickles. Or his obsession with tires. If he finds he can remove the tires from a toy car, he does and then he lines the tires up on his book shelf in collections. When I check his pants pockets before starting laundry, it's a 'tire check' I'm doing.
He's also very good at reminding me not to wear ponytails. He tells me "You might want to take that out mommy, you don't look very good like that." Oh well. One day I'll chop it all off and really freak him out. Just you wait little man.
