We all love your boo-tay!

Just sung by Sophia in the living room in a call and response style (aka What the hell is happening here!?!?):

Do you love my boo-tay?
(Yes, we love your boo-tay!)
Do you love my boo-tay?
(We all love your boo-tay!)

The view from here

You were gazing out the window the other morning and said, "Mom, I want to see the world." I told you it was a good thing to want and that I will do as much as I can to help you see the world.

I meant it.

Frankly (and other memories from 8/6/17)

Sophia: Mom, I try to be quiet when you need peace and quiet but sometimes I just can't do it.

This is what you look like today:

This evening

"Mom, let's go upstairs and hang out with each other."

(Oh, please always ask me that!)

It all started with a conversation about Shark Week.

"Mom, I want to tell you something. You're very important to me and I love you and I don't want you to get stinged by a jellyfish or bited by a shark."

Sweeter words have never been uttered.

Now that you are 5

Dear Sophie,

A couple weeks ago you turned 5 years old and I can't believe where the time has gone. Each day feels like a marathon and I can barely keep up with my life (let alone keeping my letters to you reasonably up to date).  There are some things about you now at age 5 that I really want to remember.

You recently saw the remake of the Ghostbusters movie with an all-female cast and you have been hooked. You especially love Jillian Holtzman!  You got a Ghostbuster uniform from Emmett's family for your birthday and you regularly wear it around the house in addition to a squirt gun with a backpack attachment that serves as your "proton pack." You bust ghosts every chance you get.  The other night when I was making dinner you asked me how long it would be before it was time to eat. When I responded "5 minutes" you said you'd be busting ghosts until then.

You regularly change your mind about what foods you like and what foods you don't.  The type of cheese you'll agree to eat varies daily.  With the exception of cornbread, you've lost interest in most breads all together.

Alesiah and Elyssa are your best friends. You love to play outside and investigate every plant, bug, acorn, pinecone and rock you can find. Frequently you can hear thuds and rattling from the backseat of our car, and it's from the nature finds you have stashed in the nooks of your car seat and in the storage compartment in the door next to your seat.

You also love ghosts, taking your Trolls' heads off, wearing dresses EVERY SINGLE DAY, going on "nature walks" with your brother, holiday gel clings for the windows, anatomy books, making elaborate creations with paper and scotch tape, swimming, and being thrown on the couch by your father.

You love to sing and are very good at remembering song lyrics. You are also quite creative at ad libbing your own.

You think it's hilarious to randomly cry out, "I want a margarita!" in public places. And you have so much energy that you will jump in place for 30 minutes straight. 

Somewhere along the way in the last few months we have started a tradition of you sleeping in our bed on Friday nights. You love it dearly and remind me about it every week. Even though it makes sleeping more difficult, I confess that I love it, too. I gaze at you while you sleep, sniff your hair, gently rub your back, and nuzzle into you.

Even now, after 5 years of being your mama, I am still astounded that you are actually here. The little girl I desperately wanted. And you are my mini me in more ways than I can possibly describe.

I am very conscious of my own clear memories from ages 4 and 5, and I often wonder which memories of our day to day lives you will carry with you. Sometimes at particularly happy or tender moments, I telepathically will you: Remember this. Remember this moment right now and know how much your mother loved you.

I love you Sophia bug. You are my favorite--my favorite who is, was, and ever will be. I don't know where I'd be without you. I work hard to make each for you better than your last, and this new year of your life will be no different.

Love,
Mama

Spilled milk

On Friday evening, I was ecstatic.

Your father and I have both been feeling burned out at work and exhausted.  I looked forward to hanging out at home with the two of you, having barbecue chicken sandwiches for dinner, and sipping a glass of wine.  As the 3 of us sat down to watch a move together, you spilled your glass of milk.

I had warned you repeatedly about bumping against the table it was sitting on, and about waving your arms around in the vicinity of it.  When you realized what you'd done, you looked down with shame and my annoyance softened when I saw your face.  I put on my calmest voice and directed you in cleaning it up from the table and floor.

We soon discovered that the milk had also spread under the Lego house you'd built on the table. Your father was getting frustrated, and I could see your unhappiness at knowing that your spilled milk was the cause.  I used every bit of patience I had to overcome my fatigue and continue to talk you through cleaning it up.  You did a good job.

Afterward, I opened my arms to you and said, "Come here, baby."  You sagged against me and said in a small voice, "I'm sorry I ruined the evening, mama."

(Oh, my dearest heart!  Any bad evening with you is better than my best evening alone.)

I hugged you and kissed you and told you that you hadn't ruined anything--that it was an accident and you did a good job cleaning it up, and we were all here together.