Five

She's the girl who puts on a dress, paints her nails, and goes outside with a shovel to dig for worms.



She's the girl with the naturally curly hair (that she says makes her look like a lion) who begs to have it straightened daily.



She's the girl that will tell you that her brother is allergic to not just milk, eggs and nuts, but also ice cream and butter and yogurt and cookies and peanut butter and everything else on the PLANET that contains milk, eggs and nuts.



She's the girl who shows up on the side of her mom and dad's bed at 3am for no other reason than to be taken back to bed.



She's the girl who shows up in the kitchen at every meal time, asking to be allowed to sit on the counter and "help".



She's the girl who stares woefully at the food on her own plate, but will gladly eat all of the food on yours.



She's the girl who will steal your hat or your skirt or your glasses, and totally rock them.



She's the girl who insists that she can do everything her older siblings can, and usually CAN.



She's the girl who wants a dog, a cat or a BABY for her birthday this year.

 

She's the girl who turns five today.



You can read all about her birth and her fourth birthday here. (Click the link!)

 Alayna is so full of life.  She is thoughtful and considerate and unique and downright funny.  Her laugh is the best sound in the world, and her hair?  Well, it speaks for itself.  She might come off as a little shy when you first meet her, but once she's warmed up to you, you've got a friend for life.




Alayna seems to be growing up in a hurry, and I'm not sure I like it.  So what if I let her fall asleep in my bed and carry her up to her own bed late at night, or if I let her have little sneaks of my pop when no one is looking, or if I give her extra "licks" of the cookie dough I'm making?  I know that soon enough she'll be on her way and those precious moments will be gone.



 Right now, though?  Right now, we are celebrating FIVE.
 

A Funny Thing

A funny thing happens to kids when they hit third grade: They finally get it.  They've finally had enough life experiences to have a few things figured out.  They have a firm grasp on what's right and what's wrong.  They don't just laugh at jokes, but actually understand humor.  They're finally coordinated enough to be good at sports, rather than just being on the team. They are aware of their environment and the people around them.  They just get it.  My girl is no exception.  I'm not sure when it happened, but somewhere between the end of second grade and the start of third grade, Emerson changed.  She went from little girl to big girl.  If you think I'm exaggerating, take a look at the two photos below.  A mere three months separate the two.

A year ago, I wrote about Emerson transitioning from seven to eight.  You can read that story here.  Last year was all about friends,, both new and old.  This year, it's all about doing things.  We are finishing up our second year here in Ohio, and while this state hasn't exactly grown on me, I can't complain about the school district we've chosen and the wide variety of activities that are offered. I don't think Emerson would complain, either.  Since the spring of last year, she has participated in six different sports.

Gymnastics, with Alayna:

Swimming with Owen and Greyson:

Cheerleading:

Basketball:

Softball:

And a track program called Girls on the Run, which is all about empowering young girls and keeping them active.


 In addition to all of her team sports, she also enjoyed various other activities:

Playing at the park:

Fishing:

 Swimming, both at the lake and in the ocean:

Nature walks:

Picking pumpkins:

And snowmobiling:

You'd think that would completely occupy all of her time, right?  Of course she was able to squeeze a little bit of silliness in anywhere she could:

Even at her birthday party:

 Academically speaking, she's still a straight-A student.  Her teacher stated that if she had 25 Emersons in her class, she'd be the luckiest teacher in the school!  There is one thing that needs to be straightened out: When asked what she'd like to be when she grows up, Emerson cannot decide if she'd like to be a teacher or one of those awesome roller skating waitresses at Sonic!

  Today is Emerson's ninth birthday.  NINE.  These past nine years have flown by.  Do you know what will happen in nine more years?  She'll turn 18 and she'll be graduating from high school. My time with her here, as a child, is already half over.  That's some scary stuff right there. I've had glimpses of her teen years already.  This girl has attitude.

 

But right now, she is nine.  She's not too cool to kiss her baby brother.

She's not too grown up that she doesn't crawl into bed next to me from time to time.

She waits for me to kiss her goodnight every night, and she misses me terribly when I'm gone for too long.  She's at that age where she needs  little more freedom, but at the end of the day, she still needs her mama, too.  She gets it.

These Shoes

 

 

See these shoes?  In August, 2013, they became mine.  If they could talk, oh, the stories they would tell...

 

These shoes have carried me over 530 miles.  They've run races ranging from 5K's to Half-Marathons.  They've run in rain and snow and sleet and wind.  They've run on 90 degree days and 19 degree days.  They've run through forests, mud and streams.  They've run on sandy beaches and through rough terrain. 

 

These shoes have helped push strollers and have pedaled bicycles.  They've traveled from Ohio to Michigan and even Nevada. 

 

These shoes have helped me burn over 57,000 calories.  They've been sweat on, cried on and puked on.  They've carried me even when I wanted to be doing anything but wearing them.



These shoes have spent over 87 hours helping to make me a better person.  They've helped me reach goals I had never even dreamed of before. 

These shoes have taken wrong turns, and these shoes have carried me home. 

Ten Years

Someone asked me today what I was feeling ten years ago...

Ten years ago, I was 27 years old.  I was living in Davison, Michigan, substitute teaching, and driving a Pontiac Aztek. 

Ten years ago, it was 2003.  I had spent the first part of that year moving into a new home.  A brand new house. I chose furniture to fill the rooms and curtains for the windows and artwork for the walls. And then, in August, I got to paint one room BLUE.  Baby blue. 

I remember the day I found out I was having a boy.  Up until that point, I had just been happy to have something growing inside me.  In an instant, my outlook changed.  My life would soon be filled with cars and trucks and trains and dinosaurs and dirt and bugs.  A boy.  A big brother to any more children I might have. 

A few short months later, he was here.  Owen.

After the birth, which you can read about here, I remember sitting alone in my hospital room with him.  Aside from the disbelief that I had just birthed another human, I couldn't get over the fact that they were going to let ME, someone who had no experience with babies, just take that tiny little bundle home and figure everything out.  No rules, just go.  I was someone's mother now.

If there ever was a textbook baby, Owen was that.  He slept well, he ate well, he sat up on schedule, crawled on schedule, walked on schedule.  He was a good baby.

Then, all of a sudden, he wasn't a baby anymore.  He was a little boy.  A little boy who loved cars and trucks and trains and dinosaurs and dirt and bugs. 

And while some kids might outgrow these things, Owen has not.  If he's not outside digging up worms or collecting insects or catching minnows in the creek, he's inside reading about sharks and tornadoes and volcanoes.

 

 

 

Is he still my little fisherman?  Yes.

Is he still playing basketball?  Yes.

He's also added a new sport: Swimming.

If you're a parent, I'm sure you've taken your kids to endless practices for extra-curricular activities, and your number one thought is, "WHEN IS THIS PRACTICE GOING TO END?!"  That's not the case when it comes to Owen and swimming.  When he is in the water, he transforms.  His awkwardness is gone, his shyness is gone and he is amazing.  I don't know very much about swimming or strokes or diving, but I'll tell you this: Owen makes it look effortless.  I look forward to his practices every week.  I love watching him, eager to see his progress. 

He's in fourth grade.  He wants to be an entomologist when he grows up.  He is soft-spoken, until he has something he wants you to hear.  He has a great sense of humor.  He loves Star Wars.  He loves guns, knives and swords.  He drinks a half cup of milk in the kitchen before bed every night.  He'll eat his weight in steak if you'll let him.  His mind is filled with endless trivia.  He is the best big brother I could've ever imagined having for my children. 

 

 

Today, Owen is ten.