I complain a lot about the trip to the dance studio twice a week. It’s not so far, maybe 15 minutes, but it’s all backroads and trafficky. Parking is sometimes a nightmare. The kids that aren’t dancing always want snacks and screens and it’s takes quite a bit of my patience out of me.
But then there’s this…
And of course there is how much they love it.
They really do. My guy doesn’t look forward to anything as much or work harder at anything other than hip hop. Maybe drama. Or legos. Or making up games that nobody else wants to play because the rules are too complictaed and always changing. Other than those, nothing else makes him happier than Miss Twyla’s dance class.
My daughter just comes alive when she’s in her class. It’s like she suddenly realizes she has a beautiful body and takes delight in all the wonderful ways it moves. From an elegant arabesque to a booty shaking shimmy. She loves it. I watch her just smile and move.
They are happy, moving their bodies, and learning. And I get in a good cry at the recital because my heart is BURSTING with pride and love and ALL THE FEELS. It’s a win all around. I need to stop complaining already :-)
It makes them like this for goodness sake…
The boy doesn’t look as happy in this photo as I describe because he has undiagnosed strep in this pic. He felt awful, but still danced. Because, well, he rocks!
Are you a dance mom? Do you love it or tolerate it?
It’s not that I think my mom loved my brother more. And it’s not that because he’s gone I see their bond romanticized in some way. It’s not because he needed her a bit more because of his asthma. It’s not because I think he was her favorite. Moms don’t have favorites.
“You’re all my favorite.”
But now that I have three kids, just like my mom had. And now that I have them in a birth order that has a boy as the baby, just like my mom had. I get it.
I totally get it.
This boy, this baby boy of mine, is…something special. To be clear, my big boy is very special. He made me a mother. He challenges me every day to be the best mom I can be ;-) My girl, my princess in the middle, also special beyond her gorgeous face and lovely smile. Smart as a whip and kind as can be. I love them all with a fierceness that sometimes takes my breath away.
Happy 4th Birthday my sweetest baby boy!
There is something about the last one. Your last baby. There will be no more snuggles in bed at 2 am when he stops coming in. There will be no more “mama, I wuv you” in that cute little boy voice when he starts to pronounce the words right. (And don’t we stop correcting the last one. We don’t even care when they mispronounce it. We let them keep doing it because IT”S SO CUTE). When they learn it right, it’s gone forever.
It’s the last of everything with the last one. So we hold them a little tighter. Watch them a little more intensely. Hope they stay little just a leeeeetle bit longer.
So I get it Mom, I know why you loved him a little differently than me and that’s ok. I get it.
Dad’s my favorite parent anyway, so there. I’m kidding, I love you both the same. You’re both my favorite :-)
Yep, we have a birthday season here. My kids were all born within three weeks of each other.
Over four years people, not all at once. They are two years apart.
This year we will have a newly minted 8 year old, then a 4 year old, then a 6 year old. So you all know, she is miffed that her birthday is ALWAYS LAST. Oy. I can’t fix that. I just can’t sweet pea.
This year we’re having all at home birthday parties, of the no muss no fuss variety. We may decorate cupcakes or something, but that’s it.
Last year we had a 3fer at one of those jumpy places. They all said this year they want their own parties. That’s all well and good but they have to be at home I said. There have been some efforts at renegotiating that, but otherwise they are fine with it. They’re FINE.
Yesterday marked the beginning of birthday week for my oldest. A trip to the Lego store and out to dinner. Today is his actual birthday – there will be cake. He will also get presents from his siblings. We got him a new desk and organizing bins for his room from IKEA (which means I have to finish this post and get to puttin’ together a whole bunch of boxes that are sitting in the middle of his room. ACK!)
He’ll get to yell at everyone all week that it’s his birthday week (That’s a present right?!)
Then on Friday night a few friends are coming over for dinner and a movie and cake. (And by that I mean- Holy Hell there will be 8 8 year old boys in my tiny house!!)
The very next day is the next birthday, and a family party for all of them.
It’a season people, a full blown birthday SEASON :-)
And we love it.
Happy Birthday Sweet Boy!
This kid is smart, funny, creative, stubborn, mischievous, kind, playful, intense, and EIGHT. Yep today the baby that made me a mom for the first time has a birthday. I love every bit of you!
I have some friends that haven’t known me for very long. I have some friends that have known me for what seems like forever.
Everyone that knows me should know this one thing. I have a brother and 19 years ago today he died. But more importantly, he lived. He lived and he was loved. He was loved by me and so many more. He lived and he was loved.
I want my kids to know him the way I did, but it’s been so long that I’m starting to forget.
I was snuggling with my girl the other night making funny faces and I showed her Uncle Danny’s favorite funny face. I wish so much that he was here to show her. This is the best I can do. Funny faces, funny sayings, and stories. But the memories, they fade.
My brother Dan as a baby and his nephew Theo. A slight resemblance there, huh?
I have a friend who very recently lost her own brother. We were in Vermont watching the Olympics together as Bode Miller broke down on TV about the loss of his brother. And there we were, the three of us, crying for our brothers. She and I talked for a while about our brothers. It was sad, but also nice. I think we both appreciated the space to talk about them without fear that we would upset someone or say the wrong thing. I understand her. I have been where she is.
I don’t get to talk about him much with new friends. It’s an odd thing to bring up and most just quickly move the conversation along. Fair enough.
But he is a part of the person I am today. His death is a part of the person I am today. If he had not died I would not be same person that I am right now. Had he not lived I would be no where near the person I am today. He was and is my brother.
I’m writing this not for a chorus of “I’m sorry” or “Hugs” (not that I won’t take them), but just so that you know he lived and he was loved. If you don’t know me that well maybe you didn’t know I had a brother.
Well I’m here to tell you I have a brother. His name is Daniel, Dan, Danny, Bean. He lived and he was loved.