What a ride. The last few weeks have been a complete roller coaster! As always, the role of family historian has phrases and things to record rattling around in my head like nuts in a bucket. I'm posting this in complete, unorganized, chaotic stream-of-conscious writing . . . because that's how I feel. I'll rest well tonight with my brain lighter from this purge.
Big. Boy, she's getting big. I think she's grown several inches. She's stinkin' tall, all of the sudden. She's not much shorter than I am now -- probably less than a head. She's wearing women's shoes. Women's shoes, incidentally, come with a woman size price tag. I'll never complain about spending $29.99 for a pair of kids' tenny runners again. She likes Asics. Kayano. Cha-ching. She's playing volleyball on a 5th and 6th grade team coached by her old coach, "Coach Mike" and her daddy-o. He's having a good time with the girls. I love that he has some time with Big. Of all the kids, he's not bonded in an athletic way with her. Until now. Big has spelling homework every weekend that includes writing an introspective reflection on a famous quote. That's where I'm getting all of these single line posts. Big's spelling homework. Writing makes her feel pressure, and there has already been tears of frustration shed over these assignments. Damn. It sucks to grow up.
Middle is still on the gymnastics path. She had a rocky month last month. It's alot. ALOT. A-L-O-T. I know. "But she loves it," I hear myself saying. Now, with more staying power. Last month, the notion of quitting came across my tongue and she slapped it out of the air like a fly. "I can't quit. I won't quit." She was adamant. So, she's staying. And doing well. She's doing solo back walk overs on the high beam now and has a fluid bar set that sometimes takes my breath away. She's one of the only girls running fast and hard on vault. This week, she learned to do a punch front over the vault. It was pretty amazing. She's doing well in third grade. She really likes her teacher. He's funny. He sings and he named his pointer Charlie.
Little is rocking first grade. Thank goodness. He seems to be doing pretty well. Except for lunch. I can't seem to find a good mix of stuff he likes to take and likes to eat. I'm forever battling the brown bag blues. He loves his daddy. He loves legos. He loves it when his daddy builds legos with him. He's getting to the rotten little brother stage and loves to bug the hell out of the girls. He bugs them for the sake of bugging. Bugs them when he doesn't have anything better to do. Doesn't listen when he should -- just to get them to holler at him. Bugs for the sake of bugging. Sheesh.
Mimi watched her first movie. All the way through. Princess and the Frog. And, now she says, "Hey everybody, I made gumbo." Don't get me wrong. She's been in front of the TV, but she has no staying power. She gets bored and wiggly and lasts for about 25 minutes before she's gone again. She made it though almost all of Marmaduke at the theatre, and brought home, "Wait for it, wait for it . . . ". She's out of diapers. Out of pull-ups. Done. Yippee. (Personal song of joy: I'm done with diapers, I'm done with diapers.) I can totally find something else to spend that $40 per month!! She's also just about done with a paci. She's talking up a storm, has a couple of good friends and is a pretender. She's into babies right now. And Barbies and Pollies. She's obsessed with tutus and self-dresses in one nearly every day.
Ah, I was right . . . much lighter.