A quick tribute to sugar man and the queen

 Dear Sam & Lucy,

I owe you both a long, lingering, loving post on the momentous occassions of your 7th and 2nd birthdays respectively. But it just isn't going to happen this year. Not because I don't adore you. Not because I can imagine life without my little February miracles. But for the sheer fact of logistics--to wit, not only am I 8 months pregnant (read: exhausted) and trying to manage an overwhelming new full time job, 4 kids, and a crazy, bustling household. But this week, in addition to your two separate birthdays (for which you each got a cake) and 2 different birthday parties (one family, one friend--for which we also had 2 separate cakes; I never thought I'd say this, but I'm a little sick of cake), but we also had a round of the flu smash through the house with all its incumbent drama and mess (yours truly having the messiest reaction--lovely) and then yesterday we discovered that our basement had flooded in the spring thaw. I adore you both with every fiber of my being. Unfortunately, every ounce of energy and attention I have right now must go to the necessities (please don't ask me when the last time was that you all had proper baths)--like nutrition, permission slips, and rescuing as many possible stuffed animals and Barbie dresses from the damps below.

So, in one quick paragraph each, here is what I love about you. Sam, I love that you are a boy who maintains his essential boyness in the midst of princess central. I love your perfect, curly hair--the stuff of legend for grandmas and little girl classmates. I love that your skin is like cream when I press my own, dry, wrinkling cheek to yours. I love that you never go to sleep without insisting that I pray your three prayers with you and that every night you pray "For everybody on the whole planet and that the baby is a boy". I love that when you are tired, you go to bed. No fuss. No whining. No incessant demands. You ask for your kiss and your prayers, and you're off to dreamland. I love that the toughest part about getting you out the door for any event is helping you tie your shoes (and not even that so much anymore). I love that you will wear clothes long after they fit you just because they are comfortable and familiar and you never seem to notice how you look. I love that you have the only sweet tooth I've ever encountered that makes mine look like a mere preference. I love your bull-headed tenacity, even though it drives me crazy. I hope you hold on with that kind of unquenchable determination to everything you want in life. You will be utterly unstoppable if you someday pursue your professional goals with the same persistence you display in demanding one more serving of dessert. I love that you still climb unselfconsciously onto my lap, on the rare opportunity that you find it open, and nestle your curly little head into my shoulder. You remind me of the cuddly little boy baby whose whole body would relax against mine with a shudder of sheer relief at our closeness. I used to say you melted into me like butter. I love you little man. You fill me right up.

Your highness, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways. I love that you are the tiniest of my babies in size and in age, and you are the boss of us all. I love that you are a bully because I will never be afraid to send you into the world. I know well how utterly capable of taking care of yourself you are. I love that you adore books and babies because those are two of my very favorite things as well. I love that you are the first of my little ducks to carry the Giese brown hair and eyes into the next generation. You recently saw a picture of me at about your age with Grandma Sue Sue and insisted that it was "Lulee." I love that you call yourself "Lulee" and always with a wrinkle nosed smile. I love that you are a daddy's girl and think your Papa hung the moon. I am and think those things, too. After 3 straight "only Mama" siblings, you are a welcome relief for your tired mama and a heart-melting little charmer for your crusty dad. I love that you are always in the middle of everything, that you never slow down, that you are as much a "Taz" as your big sister Claire, but that your big bossy personality makes us forget just how busy you really are. I love seeing you sign and snuggle your big sisters. It is a singular joy to see you melt into Gracie's arms when I am at my wit's end with you. I love that you, too, are the first of my babies to really warrant the description "a good sleeper." Having a child sleep so soundly through the night all alone in the royal crib was quite a change for me--and welcome after nearly 7 years of interrupted nights. I love that you are powering through big sister boot camp with all your typical sass and spunk. You don't go easily, but we get there--binky free, big girl bed and all. Lucy-girl, you'll always be queen of my heart.

But now, my beloved, I must go finish the dishes. You little ducks swear the work is finished and I hear the Wii chirping and chiming in the background, though I can hardly believe the kitchen work is complete. Daddy is downstairs pulling up carpet, so it falls to me to finish the clean up and herd you all off to baths and bed.

I love you, little February ducks. This month used to be so dreary and dull--full of dirty, melting snow and slushy, fickle weather. Now, instead of just longing for sunshine and summer, we have reason to pause and celebrate YOU. And we get to eat cake all month long. What could be better than that?

Blessed

Tonight, we celebrated the birthdays of our only son (6 on the 14th) and the queen (1 on the 18th).  Both sets of grandparents, 3 uncles, 3 aunts (one recently adopted), 4 cousins (one not quite born yet--but soon) filled our guest list and our home.  Having lived away from my hometown for nearly a decade, there are times, even now having been back for 5 years, when such an informal,uneventful event fills me with happiness.

I grew up this way--surrounded by a large, loving network of aunties and uncles and grandparents and cousins. The kind of growing up where it was no surprise to look out at a school play or game and see a smattering of random family members, to run into a relative at the grocery store, to attend family events where it takes 3-6 grown women 3 days to prepare enough food for. When our first two little ducks were born, we lived 3 hours away and birthdays were a quiet affair (at least until we could get home on the weekend to celebrate properly). This morning, I cooked 5 pounds of sloppy joes, made 4 dips, made a Sam's Club run and stocked up on chips, beer and wine.

Tonight, our carefully swept and vacuumed floor is littered with crushed potato chips, shreds of wrapping paper, and nerf bullets. The queen's hair is crusted with frosting. My kitchen table is covered with 2 new lego creations, a baby book, and darling homemade hairbows. I'm sipping one last glass of wine while the kids watch Disney channel in their jammies.

I'm exactly where I've always wanted to be. I'm not sophisticated or rich, famous or important. But, thanks to the good Lord, a good man, and a lot of good luck, I'm surrounded by love. Happy Birthday little ducks. My cup overflows.

Shoot for the moon

Tonight's supper conversation:

Chad: I hope one of our kids is a dentist. That seems like a good job. Sam, what do you want to be when you grow up?
Sam: I want to be a builder. You know, because I really like legos and building stuff.
Chad: Ok, that's good. You can be a contractor. Grace, what do you want to be?
Grace: A veterinarian.
Chad: You really like animals, don't you? Claire, what do you want to be when you grow up?
Claire: Four