It has been, in a word, INSANE around these parts.  Summer is in full swing and somehow we have not managed to slow down. 
Addie finished up kindergarten the week before Memorial Day and promptly started a camp marathon. For the first two weeks after school was out Addie attended two different Vacation Bible Schools.
I am sure plenty of you are scratching your heads and thinking Um, What?.  Yes, Vacation Bible School.  The first week was at a non-denominational Christian Church and the second week was at our Catholic parish.  Addie loved both "camps" but found ours to be a little less exciting.  Needless to say two weeks talking about Jesus, God and church raised quite a few question with our little inquisitive lady. She is now the very proud owner of her own bible and yesterday we attended Mass together as a family for the first time, well, ever.  I guess if we are going to be investing in parochial education we might as well start rediscovering the hibernating Catholics that dwell with in us.  I spent most of Mass in the cry room with Brenna, who was more interested in touching the heads of the people in the pew in front of us as opposed to quietly listening to the word of the Lord.  Addie enjoyed church except for all the "standing, kneeling, and sitting". 
Last week little Miss Holy participated in soccer camp through the local high school.  Camp was all week from 12-2 p.m.  I was a bit nervous about how Addie would do in a middle of the day, hot as hades, sport camp - but she hung in there.  Each day when I picked her up, her little cheeks were as red as can be and her hair was soaked with sweat.  The coaches at camp were high school girls - many of whom wore sports bras under their tee shirts that had the sides cut out.  Addie asked if she could cut the sides out of her soccer tee shirt and wear it like her coaches - um, no.  At the end of camp Addie informed me that she really had fun playing soccer, except for the running and sweating.

Brenna is chatting up a storm these days - making sense and speaking English about 40 percent of the time.  She continues to be an absolute menace in the best kind of way and is a very busy, busy body.

Two weeks ago today my mom took ownership of her new house in Cincinnati - in true Kathy fashion it already looks and feels like home.  Having her move here has been such a gift and is deserving of its own post, someday in my extra time. 
My few minutes of solitude have ended, as I hear Brenna calling my name over the monitor.  Hopefully someday soon I will spend a few more moments here - until then a few pictures from our Father's Day photo shoot ought to bring you a smile...
Happy first week of summer, friends!

Somehow, a little less than a week ago, kindergarten ended.  ENDED.  Kindergarten.  I swear she was just getting on the bus for the first time an hour ago.

Addie grew so much this school year, but it is hard to pinpoint all the changes.  She grew more confident, more self-assured.  She, amazingly, became even more inquisitive and imaginative.  Some days she was more sensitive.  She may have learned to talk back a bit, be a little sassy, show her bossy side too.  She learned how to navigate girl drama, which oddly occurred frequently on her school bus (what in the world is there to be dramatic about in kindergarten, you ask...so much).  She definitely picked up new phrases  and words and discovered music beyond what we spoon fed her (don't worry, she's not a Belieber).
Her teacher consistently told us what a wonderful part of the class Addie was and each time I worked in the classroom I witnessed what a diligent student she had become.  Addie counted all 22 of her classmates as a friend, even the ones that weren't always so nice.
There were mornings that were excruciatingly painful, often filled with frustration, as we tried to make it out to the bus on time being fed, clean and awake.  Still, most days we succeeded.
Addison still loves being fancy, and shows that a lot when she draws or colors.  She loves using all different colors and adds her own details to coloring pages.  If I saved every picture she drew or colored for us, I could wallpaper our entire house, twice.
Her math and reading skills are great.  She is a fabulous writer too, but tends to go a bit fast or tries to be to fancy, both of which result in sloppy. She is excited to practice all of them, even now during her summer break. 
I find her sitting with Brenna and reading her book after book; Brenna is a great listener.  She is constantly counting things and asks Andy and I to quiz her with math questions.  She loves to write - sentences, little stories, people's names and her favorite phrase I love you.  Her last writing assignment in her Kindergarten portfolio is about soccer and it makes me smile every time I look at it.

It's been less than a week of summer and already when we play school we play first grade...as if kindergarten is a distant memory.  I don't know if I am ready for my baby to be so big.

Dance

Our Wednesday night dance classes ended last month with the long awaited "big show".  Once again, Addie shined on stage - smiled from ear to ear and danced with pizazz.  The difference in her dancing from this year to last was incredible. 
Last year she often had to look to her teacher and classmates to know what to do next, this year her class mates were looking to her.  Her legs and arms seemed unbelievably long spotlit on stage, yet, somehow, she managed to move them with grace. 

Wednesday night dance class forged some good friendships not only for Addie but for me.  While the girls danced and giggles, the moms compared war stories, learned how to french braid, discussed kindergarten drama and giggled a little bit too.  More often than not we commented about the fact that anyone who volunteers to teach kindergartners to dance should get a free pass into heaven.

Addie's ballet routine was choreographed to Amy Winehouse's Our Day Will Come.  Honestly, it was a sweet routine, and Addie really nailed it, but all I could think about was my baby was dancing to Amy Winehouse.  Her tap number was to I Want to be a Rockette, which, as it turns out, is a horrendously catchy tune that that I find myself humming and singing even now a month later.  And by catchy I mean annoyingly awful.

Addie did get live out my (and Gramma Kathy's and Aunt Ruthie's) dream of being a Rockette on stage.  Without a doubt, out of the four of us she is the only one who has the legs for chorus line kick.  And for pure entertainment - try getting eight kindergartners together and have them coordinate a kick line - hil.ar.ious.

Almost as good as the Rockette kick, was when this little ladies shimmied off stage.  And when I say shimmied, I mean they shimmied. I am pretty sure I heard Andy inwardly groan as their dance number ended.

Then again, that groan could have been for the much anticipated Father Daughter Dance.  Yet again, Andy and Addie spent a half dozen Sundays rehearsing their routine and they nailed it this year.  Andy made sure that they were front and center and to say that my heart got a little gooey watching them would be a massive understatement.  There is nothing more endearing than a daddy and a daughter shaking it on stage.

 

They were front and center for their shared number, but interestingly enough when it was just the Dads on stage somehow Andy disappeared into the back of the stage, which is why don't have an awesome picture of his impressive one-handed side plank.

 

For now Addison's tap shoes and tutu are hung up and we're on to cleats and shin guards - of course instead of kicking the soccer ball down the field, she is often found pirouetting midfield.



Sick

Mama, I wish I had an extra eyelash right now.  If I did I'd wish that no one would ever be sick.
I'm sorry I threw up in the car.

I should have known on Saturday when Addie took a two hour nap on the couch that it was  a bad omen.  Instead I decided to enjoy a few hours of relative quiet more or less to myself (someone else was chattering away in her crib not sleeping). I should have know that my little ball of energy doesn't nap in the middle of a Saturday.


As I tucked Miss Addie in Sunday night she said Mommy, my tummy really hurts.  I brushed it off, sang her a song and headed downstairs.  A few hours later I popped my head in her room before turning in for the night.  She was serenely snuggled up with Doggie, Rose and a half dozen of her other friends. 
I drifted to sleep making a mental list of the things I wanted to accomplish this week:  workout, grocery shop, finish a few sewing projects, clean my closet, scrub the bathrooms, pack for Pittsburgh. 

Jess!  I need you to wake up!  I need you!

Andy already had Addie in the bathroom, holding a trash can, her soiled jammies discarded.  Her bedroom emanated the sickening smell of vomit, sheets all in a tangle, a bright red splash of throw up in the middle of her bed.
Without words we divided and conquered our midnight crisis.  Andy brought the soiled bedclothes and stuffed animals down to the laundry.  I started scrubbing the mattress, fumigating the room.  He got her in a warm shower; I found and cleaned up more vomit.  Doggie was gently scrubbed by hand.
By one o'clock Addie was tucked back in, Andy was back in bed, and I was making camp on a five year old's bedroom floor. 
At five a.m. we were back up sick with tears and confusion.  My camp became a bedroll for two with snuggles and a softly read princess story.  The rest of the day was similar - lots of sleep interrupted to be sick. 
Sick in the car on the way to Brenna's check up. 
Sick in the doctor's office. 
Sick after the Popsicle suggested by our beloved doctor.

Mama, I'm sorry I threw up on carpet.  I couldn't hear what my body was telling me.  I'm so sorry Mommy; you're the best Mama I know.

My usually very spunky animated kindergartner spent the day next to a bucket, sucking on ice cubes, snuggled into the corner of the couch, mostly sleeping.  At bedtime she insisted on sleeping on the floor because she was afraid of getting sick in bed. As I read one of her new favorites Every Cowgirl Needs Dancing Boots she drifted back off to sleep, snuggled up with a few of her friends who were unblemished from the night before.
By 9:45 she was in our room burning up.
By 2:15 I was snuggled next to her moaning little self on our floor bedroll.  She woke up a few times still feverish and sweaty.


 This morning she slept in - her usual sparkle is missing.  She is all long limbs and feverish skin, stretched out on the couch dozing and zoning out to Disney.  Tiny sips of water and a few bites of toast are all she wants.  My poor, sweet,  girl.


Mom, I just don't feel very much like me.  I feel like someone I don't even know at all.

Another day is planned on the couch, her resting while I disinfect everywhere else.

I voted yesterday. 
When I pulled into our polling place there was a very long line snaking out the door that made me want to keep on driving, but instead I parked the car, put Brenna in the stroller, grabbed Addie's hand and went off to exercise my right to vote.
I warned Addie that the line could be long and that voting was not a fast or easy process, but a very important one.  She very seriously said to me "I know Mom.  I can be very patient and good".   Turns out that the long line we spied wasn't for my precinct, for my precinct there was only one person in front of me.
As I sat down to fill in my scan-tron ballot Addie said to me, not so quietly, "I sure hope you are voting for President Obama".  I smiled and told her I was, letting her look over my shoulder as I cast my votes - I managed to get distracted by her questions and vote for a candidate for Senate that I didn't support.  Yes, I was that person at the polling place holding up the process by having to get a new ballot to correct my mistake - had to make sure my vote counted!
As we left, Addie held my hand with one hand while she fingered her I voted sticker gently with her other.  When we got to the car she told me that was fun, Mom. When do we know who won?.  I tried to explain to her, in five year old speak, the democratic process - her take away was it's a long, long process.  After a few minutes she told me that she wanted to send President Obama a letter and a picture when we got home.  I told her I thought that was a great idea.
We went on with our day, driving to a play date an hour away, getting lunch, working on homework.  But yesterday evening, as we were waiting for Andy to come home for dinner, Addie pulled out her pencil and crayons and construction paper and got to work on her letter to the President.  I let her do it on her own, helping her only with her spelling. 

This morning when she tumbled out of bed, her first question was Who won Mom?  Was it President Obama?.  When I assured her it was, she smiled from ear to ear and said I bet he'll love my letter Mom.  I bet he'll just love it.
After breakfast she worked very precisely on addressing, sealing and stamping her envelope.  As we waited for the bus she slipped her masterpiece into the mailbox and smiled, Yeah, Mom, he's going to love it.  Our President is just going to love it and I am so happy for him.

My little budding liberal.  At five years old she was more invested in the election than many of the adults I know.  Regardless of your political views, or how you feel about the election results, there is no way to not celebrate a five year old who cares about the presidential election and found her own way for her voice to be heard.

Brave

There are moments, brief moments, where my heart swells with so much love and so much pride that I am completely overwhelmed, speechless, teary eyed.  The day you started walking; watching you wave to the hospital staff from your princess wagon; seeing you pirouette across the stage; waving to you each day as the bus pulls away.  These moments happen and blindside and remind that you are my Achilles heel - well, you and that sweet little sister of yours.  You have become such little person and your tenacity and braveness are amazing.

Last month we traveled to Navy Pier.  We played with the remote control boats, we walked from one end of the pier to the other, we ooohed and ahhhed at the skyline.  We rode the Ferris Wheel.  Your father and sister were a bit apprehensive - you had your face pressed to the window, asking questions.  You saw buildings and boats and cars.  You asked question after question and you smiled, reveling in the sights.  And as we floated back down toward the pier you spied the Old Fashioned Wave Swinger ride.  That, you said, that is what I want to do next. 

And you meant it.  You meant it when we watched how high and how fast it went.  You meant it when we waited in line.  You meant it when you proudly got measured to climb aboard, and you meant it when you were told that you were just a fraction too short to ride.  You held it together while we walked away, but you were crestfallen, heartbroken, horrifically disappointed.

Luckily the ride operator had a change of heart and let you on. 

You beamed.  And then the ride started and we soared and swung and spun - you shrieked and plastered yourself to my side, choked by tears.  I promised you you were okay and made you take a deep breath - the next thing I knew you had your hands in the air and were whooping with laughter.

I always knew that you were full of spunk, but I was so proud, so totally overwhelmed, with your determination, your heart, your five year old gutsiness.  You were scared, startled, unsure,  but you dug deep and you took a breath and you once again reminded me of how truly amazing you are.

Brave.  Determined.  Tenacious. Daring.  Amazing.  Addie.

 

Waterbug

We decided to enroll Addie in swim lessons again this fall.  Over the summer we found that she was becoming quite the adventurous lady in the water. 
When we went to the pool she would challenge herself to dive to the bottom and touch the floor.  She would play with her dive sticks, tossing them further and further away from the pool's edge.  By summer's end she was swimming underwater several yards at a time. 
Similarly, while we were at the ocean she was more fearless than ever.  She played daily in breaking waves, begged her Dad to go out deeper with her, and jumped happily on a boogie board.

I am not a swimmer.  I can swim, I am just no good at swimming.  It is no secret that I rarely go out in the ocean past my knees, let alone my waist.  I prefer pools, where I can see the bottom, but don't expect me to swim a lap, let alone a lap with any form or finesse.  My mother used to laugh at me because in high school I joined the dive team (not that I was a very good diver either) which she found ironic since I didn't enjoy swimming at all.  In fact, I had to participate in the diver's relay at several of meets - each time I was sure someone was going to have to fish my limp body out of the pool. 

This session of swim lessons has been wonderful for Miss Addison.  She takes lessons once a week with Rylan - they encourage each other and compete with each other and have made great progress in the pool.  Addie knows that Tuesday is swim day - she gladly gets her homework done, eats her dinner and dons her suit for class.  She listens so intently to the teacher and wants badly to do exactly what is being taught.  She loves using kick boards, floating on her back, gliding under water and is finally starting to coordinate those long limbs of hers.  She is working so hard at learning and is so excited when she figures something new out in the pool - with any luck she won't take after me at all when it come to water!

Finally Five

Dear Addie,
You've been five for almost a week and I am just now finding a few moments to sit down and digest that fact. Five years old seems, to me, monumental. It is a milestone birthday in my mind. You officially are no longer a baby and both your feet are planted firmly in the world of a big girl.
This past year has been a pretty huge one for you and for us. In the year leading up to your fifth birthday a lot happened - our family grew and you became an amazing big sister, you finished your last year of preschool, and, I swear, you grew two feet taller.

When you first met Brenna, the tiny person who bestowed you with the title of big sister, you did so with excitement, a bit of trepidation, and a ton of sweetness.

You have embraced your role of big sister with an amazing amount of grace, tenderness and enthusiasm. Brenna giggles and giggles for you, she is constantly looking for you and listening for your voice. Your version of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star is by and far her favorite. Occasionally you struggled sharing the spotlight, or my lap, but generally you've shown us what an amazingly kind and thoughtful little girl you've become - you love to soothe your sister, make her laugh and play with her on the floor.

This was your last year at preschool - how is that possible? You went to school three days a week, were part of the Frogs class and loved every second of school. On the days that you didn't have school you asked when you would be going back and you diligently did your "homework". You formed wonderful friendships at school and learned so much. At dinner you often told Dad and I about all the things you learned: fire safety, presidents, hibernation. We were also treated to dozens of new songs, that were sung frequently and loudly, often with your own spins to them. You loved learning, adored your teacher, Miss Cathy, and constantly had stories to share about your friends. On your graduation day you were so proud of yourself - and so were we.

It seemed like this year you endlessly grew - you got taller, smarter, older. Your vocabulary is astounding and you use words that are well beyond your years. You continue to love to be read to and try to read by yourself all the time. Right before you turned five you insisted that we start reading chapter books at night, the first two you chose were The Wizard of Oz and Charlie and the Charlie Factory. While your vocabulary is amazing, you remind us that you are still growing by often confusing words and misspeaking - saying you did an "octopus course" instead of an obstacle course or that you had your "pace fainted" instead of face painted. There are occasional sounds that you still struggle with, mostly the -th sound, which also reminds us that you are not as old as you pretend to be. And no matter how many times you are corrected, the -eds are a part of the way you talk: knowed, sawed, goed. I don't work that hard to correct your misspeaks, as I find them adorable and know that they are fleeting.
In the year that you turned five you tried all sorts of new things - you took dance all year long and gave us a performance of a lifetime in April. You loved everything about dance : the music, the movement, your teacher, new friends, ballet slippers, and most of all, tutus. But while dance highlighted your girly, fancy side, t-ball brought out your inner athlete. You played on a team of all boys and quickly embraced the mantra There is no crying in baseball. You were just as tough as any of the boys on your team and by the end of the season your throwing, hitting and catching improved significantly. You also fell in love with bowling and proved to us that bowing and skirts go hand in hand.

This year you seemed to endlessly grow - taller, smarter, bigger.  You developed distinct opinions about everything from books you liked, to food you disliked.  I often joke that silence is not something I ever experience.  You constantly sang silly songs, insisted on playing games, told stories.  Your inquisitive side came out in full force:  Where does wind come from?  How do cats meow? When will I loose a tooth? Why do I dream?  What's in a marshmallow?  Every day was full, FULL, of questions, to many of which I had no good answers.  You became a bit more stubborn and showed us your temper more frequently than we would have liked.  You stomped your feet, screamed and pouted a bit more than necessary, but you still were generous with snuggles and hugs.

There is nothing about you that is a baby anymore.  Your legs are long and lanky, your knees are verging on knobby.  The chub that I could see in your cheeks just last year has melted away.  You insist on long hair, painted toes and twirly dresses. 
You have grown so much, so big, so fast that I am left a bit breathless when I see you, my itty-bitty baby, swinging high into the air, running around the yard with reckless abandon, swimming underwater, curled up on the couch with a book.You love your family and friends and continue to tell most of your secrets to the cat. 
 
You amaze me, frustrate me, make me laugh.  I am so proud to be your mom and cannot believe that in just a few short weeks you will be climbing on to the school bus to head off to kindergarten.  While I often beg you to stop growing, I know you won't and I cannot wait to see the adventures you continue to bring us on.


I love you, sweet girl.

Sisters

I have talked a dozen times about how much Brenna idolizes her.  But make no mistake, she loves Brenna.  She sings her songs and tells her stories.  She can make her laugh, calm her down, entertain her to no end.    I am trying to capture as many tender and sweet moments as possible between them - one day when they are 12 and 16, and at each other's throats, I will remind them that when push comes to shove, the adore each other...and I have proof.

Backlogged

Right before we left on vacation, Addie graduated from preschool.  Maybe it's because I am not pregnant like last year, maybe because it's I have realized that she is a big girl, maybe it's because the person running the graduation was completely void of emotion, but this year I did not get choked up.  Not when they played Pomp and Circumstance, not when she proudly marched down the aisle, not when she sang her song about Moms and Dads, and not when she proudly got her diploma.

Addie requested to wear her fanciest dress, the yellow one with the white polka dots.  She was excited to wear her yellow flats and begged to have her hair curled.  

She was up early, dressed and ready to go.  With the extra time we headed to Servatii's for a celebratory zebra donut to mark the occasion.

Now, a few weeks removed, I can't help but get a little misty.  At the end of this summer it's kindergarten and the yellow school bus and new friends.  And then after that....well, I can't quite think about all that yet.