DRY Ink

Jacob,

Today you turn 19 years old.

I know, that is my reaction too.

While I was able to get out of writing your birthday letter last year, by spending hours putting together a birthday video, I doubt that will work this year. But I am beginning to see where you get the ability to spend hours getting out of a task that would take minutes to complete if you only focused on it.

This year has been more of the same. I can’t really think of much that has changed over this past year. You continue to work full time and date Sam. I guess something new is that you have formally declared your intentions to marry Sam. That in fact, you would have already married her if you could find health insurance on your own. But the state of our country’s health insurance is not something that I am willing to go into just to avoid your birthday letter.

You continue to be a hard worker, sometimes working 12 or 14 hour days. This is nothing new, you have always been willing to put in a honest days work and then some.

You have grand plans of moving out into your own place and I have grand plans of what I will do with the largest room in this house once you’re gone. I want you to know, that I will always dream of what I can do with that room, but if it never happens, it’s okay. You will always have a place in this house as long as I own it. That doesn’t mean that you can’t go, just make sure you’re ready.

Last night we celebrated your birthday with a few of your friends. Jeff grilled burgers and Emie and I made you chocolate cake. It was really nice of you to fit us in your busy schedule. Who knew we only had to feed four of your closest friends to achieve it?

Jacob, I love you. I know that we don’t always agree, and I’m pretty sure that’s because you are wrong, but I still love you. Nothing you do will ever change that. I’m proud of the person you are growing into and I hope that you continue to make good decisions. (And stop making poor ones.) No matter what you do or where you go in life, I will always be here if you need me. I expect great things out of you, despite our rocky start.

Have a great birth day, week, year and life. I hope this one is the best one yet!

Love,
Mom

Emie,

Well crap, I’m late with your birthday letter. Again. It’s your fault really, for being born in the middle of hurricane season and the start of school. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it and what a rough pregnancy you were, YOU should be writing ME birthday letters. Get on that will you?

So seven years and four days ago, a combination of your failure to thrive and my whining to my OB resulted in you showing up at 3:09 pm, (after a little help from Pitocin.) You were by far my easiest labor, which I really appreciate but kinda of feel like you owed me after being so difficult for the proceeding nine months.

Since that day seven years ago, I have to be honest and admit, you’ve kinda been a joy and much easier than the boys. (Don’t tell them I said that.) Now I don’t want you to get the big head and think that you are without the drama. You are way more sensitive than ANY cherub I’ve ever seen and extremely fearful of new activities, and especially pain. Going to the dentist is usually an apocalyptic event.

Your seventh birthday is a prime example of that. This is the year that you decided that you were ready to pierce your ears. So after much arm twisting and a few out and out WWE events, we got your father’s permission to proceed. I picked both you and the male cherub up from school and headed straight to the mall and the new Build a Bear Workshop. Yep, we finally got one and almost 70 dollars and a camo bear and girlie bunny rabbit later, headed over to Libby Lu’s to do the deed. Only the Libby Lu’s in the mall has since closed, and I knew that I was testing you and you failed.

So after re-grouping, and being joined by your father, we headed to Clair’s and attempt number one to pierce your ears. Things went fine through the whole sterilization and ear marking period, but then you wouldn’t let the girl near your ears with the gun. It’s actually funny to look at your little face fall in the pictures. Fast forward through three more tries of sterilizing everything, and then crying when she comes near you with the gun, and then crying because you really want your ears pierced, but are too scared, add in a trip to the bathroom and watching another little girl get her’s done and then SUCCESS. Whew, that wasn’t really that bad was it? Wait, don’t answer that, the pictures say it all. Like I said, drama.

WHA WHO, we are doing this!

Marking the spot.

Second thoughts.

Still haven’t pierced.

SUCCESS, but wait, you have TWO ears.

You can do this!

Aw, done and suckers make EVERYTHING better.

You are still telling everyone you meet that you got your ears pierced. Which is fine because your father is still rocking in the corner because you got your ears pierced.

We wrapped up the seven extravaganza with ten of your closest friends at the roller rink and a Janell Cake!

We might have gone a little over board this year to due our friend Gustav stealing your birthday last year. This is compounded by the fact that I that I try to keep birthdays low key every other year, to save my sanity. (Odd years, because most major milestones occur on even years and it keeps the big hoop-las of you and your brother on opposite years. In theory any way.) So you were low key for five, and had six snatched right from you little hands. To add insult to injury, I got to do all the work and planning for six, it just never happened. Okay, so I’m not really sure who is more bitter about that.

So that about wraps up the seven extravaganza. Of course we will do this again next year because you will turn eight and will be baptized. Barring any hurricane activity in the Gulf, of course. That’s always a possibility because someone decided early September was a good time to make her entrance into the world. I won’t mention any names though.

I guess I would be remiss if I didn’t mention how incredibly bright you are. You continue to thrive in the gifted program and are now reading on a fifth grade level. You are rawking the second grade with much better conduct reports. You have only gotten four X’s this years. You could do that in under a week last year. I hope it keeps up.

You continue to enjoy being everyone and their brother’s best friend. You still enjoy TV more than anyone else in the family, okay, maybe I give you a run for your money. You read even more than last year and now enjoy chapter books. Your room continues to be a struggle for you, you may in fact be lost to a land slide in there one day. But most of all, you still give the best hugs on the planet. I defy the world to find a better huger. Go head and just try.

Emie, I love you and I’m so lucky to have the front row seat as you continue to grow into the charming, beautiful, smart person that you are. I’m going to close now before I get too mushy, but just know that I honestly believe that you will one day rule the world and I’m happy that I can say ‘hey, I know her’. Thank you for letting me being your mom, I can’t imagine doing anything better. I love you best.

Hugs and Kisses,
Mom

Jax,

Happy happy birthday. Today was a really big day for you, and everyone turned out in droves to help celebrate. In fact, I have spent half a utility bill on cakes and cake like confections, because everyone and their brother wanted to celebrate this momentous occasion with you. That, and they wanted cake. In fact that seems to be the theme of eight, cake. It’s also entirely possible that I’ve gained another five pounds this weekend. There will retribution for that little fact, but there’s no need to dwell on that in your birthday letter. There will plenty of time for that, like at 12:01, you know, once your birthday is over.

You have some how managed to turn your birthday into a birth weekend. Why I’m surprised by that I don’t know, it happens every year with you and your sister. But somehow here I sit amazed.

So we started off Friday night with a small ‘friend’ party that consisted of 24 cupcakes and 5 eight to ten year olds. Suffice it to say that there was laser tag, fart jokes and well, farts. And lots them. All of them. Luckily for all involved, your father took the bullet on that one and was able to enjoy watching the hours of laser tag. Thus saving my brain from rolling out of my ear. Thank you daddy.

Saturday was spent relaxing. By that I mean, you had a friend stay over Friday night and stay allllll day Saturday, but hey, at least we were down to only four cherubs, three of them being native. I put you all in bed by 9 o’clock. I’ve never been so glad to see bed time in my life. Why you may ask? Because there was more to come on Sunday.

We kicked Sunday off with a rousing session of church, followed immediately with your baptism. It went brilliantly, and half the ward turned out. I was so surprised at the number that turned out. We were down to the wire with the cake. (There’s that damn cake again.) I almost lost it multiple times during the program. I had thought I might bear my testimony while you were getting dressed, but when the time came, I was so emotional, I just couldn’t. I almost lost it more times than I can count. If you tell anyone about that, your bear just might disappear. I’m not threatening here, just saying things happen.

But we have survived all that and live to tell the tale. Lived to tell you all the things I love about you. Like how you accept everyone and make them a part of your life. Your friends are diverse as your pokedeck. I admire that about you. You have remained positively passionate about video games. Pokemon still reigns supreme, but I’m hoping that will start to wain shortly. Please? Soon? You show occasional glimpses of maturity that blow my mind. They way you process information and seem to just ‘get’ whats going on is nothing short of impressive. School, of course, continues to come easily to you. I love that you just come in and do your home work these days. I rarely even have to check it at this point. It’s so nice being here with you.

Jackson, I love you. I’m so ridiculously happy you’re a part of my life and this family. You are kind, and sweet and smart. Your getting so big, I can’t believe you’ll be in third grade next year. Where did the time go? I swear I just birthed you last year. Please don’t ever lose your love of learning and sense of wonder in exploring the world. I so enjoy watching you figure everything out. I’m proud of you, and all that you have accomplished so far. Thank you for bringing that to our family and thanks for being my little boy, even if just for a little while longer.

love,
Mom

Jacob,
There are times when a birthday letter just doesn’t seem like enough, so here’s a little something I put together for you.

I love you buddy, and I’m so glad we are where we are. You are standing on the verge of your whole life, with brains in your head and feet in your shoes. A life without mom or dad’s daily input and I’m so excited for you, (and maybe a little sad for me.) I’m looking forward to the next 18 years. I can’t wait to see what you’re gonna do.
Love,
Mom

Em,

This is so long over due it’s ridiculous, but I’ve committed to birthday letters and you will get one for your 6th birthday, damn it. Even if it is closer to your 18th, then 6th. Almost. Anyway, you deserve a birthday letter, and I would really be sad if I didn’t take the time to tell you how special you are and how you make me laugh. So let’s get on with it.

Happy 6th birthday. I know it wasn’t much, what with the lack of friends, or cake, or food, or lights, but hey you got a bike. A new bike that your father stood in line two towns away for over three hours to get for you! (Gustav was fun. At least I hope you remember it that way. My new therapist assures me you will.) A new bike that you ride to school on every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. All the way to school, so slowly that I occasionally stop along the way to kill myself, and then catch back up and kiss you good bye on the play ground. Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We have good times together.

You seem incapable of keeping your room clean at this point. I’m not sure if it’s some type of developmental disability or the first signs of rebellion, but it’s usually about 3 feet deep in there. This never seems to bother you. You navigate the mess like a mountain climber. If it wasn’t so damned annoying I’d be impressed. I recently took your TV away until the room was clean, but once it was finally clean, you didn’t want it back. Your room is now the only bedroom in the house with out a TV, and it’s your choice. Not that you watch any less TV, you just do it in my room on the 32 inch. Sometimes I wonder who is working who around here.

You now have lots of friends. Not that you ever had a shortage, but now the phone calls and nights spent out and friends over has started. It’s always entertaining to have little girls around. It’s a big statement for Nature over Nurture debate. You girls act like catty college co-eds, even at 5, 6 and 7, so I’m guessing there’s not a strong argument for environment around here.

You continue to struggle with conduct. You get X’s everyday for talking. Every parent/teacher conference is the same thing; “she brilliant, she just needs to stop talking”. Your 1st grade teacher is great. She calls you LuLu and tells you to hush up. She makes me laugh at how she really seems to get you, and you absolutely adore her. I think Ms. Creighton is one you will always remember.

So that’s pretty much your life, being beautiful, friends, TV and an occasional book. While your not as obsessed with reading like Jack or I, you certainly put your time in with books. I love to see that. Your reading skills are developing so quickly right now that’s it’s more like an explosion. But you still tell me you can’t read and want to be read to at night. Some things never change and I hope they don’t. Ever.

Thanks for being my little girl. I love you.

Hugs and Kisses,
Mom