easy e turns one!

sugar and spice and everything nice!

i remember growing up watching some of my friend's mothers become overly emotional at our events and thinking to myself "what in the hell are they crying about?" i have the kind of mother that rarely shows those type of emotions; she is more the cheerleader/clown type of mom. in fact, there are probably only a handful of times i have ever even seen my mother cry.

i, however, am not that type of a mom.

sweet little eleanor (rigby) christine turned one year old last week and i found myself choking back tears the day before, the day of and the day after her birthday. i've found motherhood to be a most bittersweet ride; my heart lies torn between joy of the foreword movement and a bit heartbroken for the things we leave behind. i am so happy that she is a year old, she is happy, she is perfect and healthy. but a big part of me can't believe this little baby is turning into a toddler! every day she becomes more independent, more sure of herself, slimmer and looks less and less like a smooshy infant. and i find myself crying at nearly every change!

there are a few things i can tell you about the biggest and best surprise of my entire life:

one year old eleanor is 26 1/4 inches tall and weighs 18 pounds. she giggles all of the time, which reveals a toothy grin, including a perfect gap between her two front teeth. she has two darling dimples she got from grandma. she curious and dramatic. she is easy and content. she makes the funniest faces! not unlike her siblings at this age, she is infatuated with the dog. she spends most of her day following jack or neko around. she likes to pull hair and throw things from her highchair. she says two words- "uh oh" and "hi." she can wave and tell you no by shaking her hand at you. also like her siblings, she is far too independent to cuddle, is constantly moving and loves to explore. she is the perfect hybrid between jack and vivian and i see so much of both of them in our bonus baby.

she is the apple of my eye and has brought our family immeasurable joy!

i love you so much that i want to squeeze you constantly and i think my heart my burst with happiness some times when i think about what a blessing you are!

happy first birthday sweet, sweet baby eleanor!

in honor of your birthday we had a backyard birthday bash, complete with family and a few friends. we did a circus party complete with clown suits and a popcorn machine! you loved your birthday "smash" cake and sucked the icing off your fingers. it was a fantastic night and a perfect way to celebrate you! the lovely miss allison spent an entire week crafting pom poms for your party. we had all circus foods, hot dogs, nachos, cotton candy and of course, pop corn! everyone swam, rode the cars and played on the swingset. you were all filthy and exhausted by the end of the night!

soak up the sun

i'm starting to feel guilty about the condition of this house. it seems in the midst of all this summer fun, i have forgotten how to do laundry or dust. well, "forgotten" would be a nice term for it, when in actuality, i just don't care. we've been up to our eyeballs in summer time fun and i wouldn't have it any other way.

occassionally on a monday, i will throw in a load of towels. after a long weekend of swimming, its next to impossible to find a dry, let alone fresh towel around here. i do try to make a nice pile of flip flops and tennis shoes by the back door and put the sunscreen away from time to time. and every once and a while i will collect the popsicle sticks from the planters by the front door. i've moved to us exclusively eating off of paper plates, this creates less loading and unloading of the dishwasher and more time spent running through the sprinkler.

jack has figured out how to do a cannon ball and its his most favorite thing ever. vivian got reluctantly pushed into swimming last week, and now she doesn't want anyone to touch her, she just motors on. ah, my fair haired, fiercely independent, little water bug! eleanor, obviously the baby of the bunch, is a bit of a water diva and not too thrilled when she gets stuck in her little boat. she likes to be held and right in on all the action. for all the bitching and moaning your dad likes to do about the pool, it is our summer time sanctuary.

of all the times i can recall from childhood, most of them revolve around summer time fun. (and how it always snowed and ruined my birthday parties, but that will be reserved for another posting!) every day we would go to aunt vicky's house and swim until we were sunburned, exhausted and famished. my mother was definitely on to something there. i remember fresh limeaids, dilly bars, the scent and sting of paba sunscreen and practicing diving incessantly. those were the best, lazy days of summer. 

we have been so busy this summer with all of these activities! jack has already had safety town and you big two just finished an exhausting week of bible school. we've been singing a lot of "deep and wide" and "head shoulders knees and toes" - although vivian doesn't quite have all the hand motions down and sometimes your ears end up where your toes should be. 

and cars. oh, the cars. its been all about the cars this summer. 

and loads and loads of lightnin' bug catching. and sometimes killin'. sometimes vivian gets a little lenny on us and squishes them from time to time. your dad and i can hardly believe this skill set you have, its uncanny how many you can catch, how quickly, how gently. like a moth to the flame, those little glowing creatures love you. it has to be something to do with your amazing, youthful vision, because i can hardly see them to catch them! 

these are the days! the dog days of summer! and the roths are going to suck up every single last minute of it! 

"I'm gonna soak up the sun
Gonna tell everyone 
To lighten up (I'm gonna tell 'em that)
I've got no one to blame
For every time I feel lame
I'm looking up o I'm gonna soak up the sun
I'm gonna soak up the sun"

soak up the sun, by sheryl crow

no more dinosaur pajamas

last december, during my best writing spree ever, i was churning out a nightly blog post. i mean, i was really rocking it consistently. one of grandma's friends was amused by all of my "thoughts and things" and gave me the very flattering comment of calling me a "modern day erma bombeck." by the time you get around to reading these books, erma will be right up there with the dinosaurs.

erma bombeck was an american humorist, a stay at home mom, a house wife, a jack of all trades. she wrote a weekly newspaper column filled with the trials and tribulations of raising a family. she was so relatable, so honest and so, so funny. i have a few compilations of her columns and its the kinda writing you read and laugh out loud about, all the while nodding your head because you get exactly what she is talking about. been there, done that.

of all erma's columns, "no more oatmeal kisses" is my favorite. its a response to one of her readers, who complains about the in and outs of life, how she's not enjoying "the ride." it ends up being about the day that you wake up with an empty nest and all those daily nuisances are gone. i get goose bumps and a huge lump in my throat every time i read it and it always makes me pause for thought. the ride is so rough and bumpy some days, that there appears to never be a light at the end of the tunnel. some times i long for the days that you are independent and self-sufficient, especially when meal time comes. i insisted on having the beautifully large oven range, that now only cooks chicken nuggets. i eat cold meals, i snack on goldfish and fruit snacks and you one drink me to death until i totally give up on eating all together. then you're off about your play time business and i am left with a kitchen full of dirty dishes and a hungry (albeit flabby) stomach.

its easy in those moments to wish the days away. and then something always happens that snaps me back into my current life; last week it happened to be pajamas. i hadn't noticed how tall jack was getting until grandma and grandpa were here and my father told me i needed to by jack new pajamas. my father thinks my kids have too many clothes, so i had to inspect. sure enough all of the tops were working pretty hard across his belly and the pants came above his ankles. i love the opportunity to buy new pjs, i love the cute, coordinated sets but when i went to look for a size 6 there were none to be found. i spent a good week in pure devastation as i scoured the internet and made a special trip to kansas city looking for them. apparently, when you reach a size 6, the gap throws you into a pair of athletic shorts and a t-shirt.

this is what it has come to?

from here on out, you're going to look like a big boy when you go to bed.

well, that is IF i were to have purchased said kid "pajamas." but i didn't.

instead, i am going to let you keep stretching those until they become capri pants and a crop top. . . or until you complain and force me to buy something else.

no more oatmeal kisses and no more dinosaur pajamas.

heavy sigh

i took this one just this morning, i always love the way you look when you are sleeping

No More Oatmeal Kisses

by Erma Bombeck

One of these days you’ll explode and shout to all the kids,
“Why don’t you just grow up and act your age!”
And they will…

Or, “You guys get outside and find something to do –
without hurting each other. And don’t slam the door!”
And they don’t.

You’ll straighten their bedrooms
until it’s all neat and tidy,
toys displayed on the shelf,
hangers in the closet, animals caged.
You’ll yell, “Now I want it to stay this way!”
And it will…

You will prepare a perfect dinner
with a salad that hasn’t had all the olives picked out
and a cake with no finger traces in the icing
and you’ll say, “Now this is a meal for company.”
And you will eat it alone…

You’ll yell, “I want complete privacy on the phone.
No screaming, Do you hear me?”
And no one will answer.

No more plastic tablecloths stained
No more dandelion bouquets.
No more iron-on patches.
No more wet, knotted shoelaces,
muddy boots or rubber bands for ponytails.

Imagine…. a lipstick with a point,
no babysitters for New Years Eve,
washing clothes only once a week,
no PTA meetings or silly school plays where your child is a tree,
no car pools, blaring stereos or forgotten lunch money.

No more Christmas presents made of library paste and toothpicks,
no wet oatmeal kisses,
no more tooth fairy,
no more giggles in the dark,
scraped knees to kiss or sticky fingers to clean
Only a voice asking, “Why don’t you grow up?”
And the silence echoes: “I did.”