Happy 4th Birthday!

This kid LOVES animals.

It was a blur

The opening of presents was the most stressful part of the day.  Alex has been asking to open her presents from the moment she realized that the past 3 days was her birthday (one celebration at school, one on her ACTUAL birthday, and then finally her party).
There is a reason the wrapping paper is all in a blur in this photo.  It's one of her superpowers you see, the ability to open 12 presents in 12 seconds.

I'm 4!

Birthday girl came to visit me at the Firehouse!  She brought some friends and gave them a tour of the Ambulance and the Firetruck.

The Last Time

This article is so beautifully written, and a good reminder for me today, as Alex turns 4.  

Her Birthdays are bittersweet for me.  I am so proud of her, and who she has become, and at the same time, I feel a sense of sadness that she will never be 3 again.  

Tonight, Little Dude asked for a snuggle before bed. It was well past his bedtime and I was tired, cranky and had a stack of laundry to fold, a memo to write and a blog post to finish. I told him I'd snuggle for two minutes.

He crawled under his blanket, squirmed until he was comfortable and pushed me to the edge of the mattress. He offered me his favorite blankie to keep me warm. I put my arm around him and he was sound asleep before I had finished cataloguing the list of things I had to do before I could crawl into my own bed. I considered making a stealthy escape but stopped when he threw his arm around my neck while mumbling unintelligibly. A sleeping 4-year old's arm has as much strength as a soggy piece of toast, but I didn't move. Despite my earlier desire to leave, I stayed and pulled him toward me.

I had one of those rare blissful parenting moments when everything else fades away and you appreciate the simple physical presence of your child. I marveled at the amount of heat a small boy produces when he sleeps and the ease with which he leaves the world behind. I smelled his hair. The laundry could wait.

It hit me in the darkness of his cluttered room that these days are numbered. Some night in the future, Little Dude will ask me to snuggle with him before he falls asleep, and I will have no idea that it will be the last time. I won't know to pay attention or to try to commit every minute to memory. Days or weeks or months later, I will try to recall when that last snuggle happened. I won't be able to. I know I will ache to slide next to him on his narrow bed, listen to him breathe and wait for the moment when he surrenders to his dreams. All of the irritations, the inconveniences and the wishing for time alone will seem insignificant in comparison to the warmth and peace of his nighttime routine. I will regret the times I hurried through bedtime and left his room even though he asked me to stay "Just one more minute, Mommy."

It will be too late.

I just now understand that in anticipating my son's "firsts," I've forgotten to appreciate what he's left behind. The firsts are monumental, celebrated and captured on film. I reveled in Little Dude's first steps, jotted down his first words and am prepared to save lost teeth. There isn't a first I haven't recorded in some way. I've paid less attention to his "lasts." I've ignored the finality that comes with moving from one stage to another.

I don't remember the last day that Little Dude's eyes were blue before they turned green. I can't recall the last time his hair was baby soft and curly, or the last time he crawled or took a real nap. I can't pinpoint the last time we shared the peaceful quiet of a 3 a.m. feeding, or he squealed with joy to be riding his wooden rocking horse. There will be a hundred last times to come. And I won't know they've passed until there is no hope of recapturing them. I know this because I don't remember the last day he used a pacifier or waited for us to get him from his bed rather than clomping into our bedroom at some ungodly pre-dawn hour exuberant and ready to face the day as we struggle to open our eyes. I've forgotten when he stopped liking sweet potatoes or saying "Pick mine up!"

Not that there aren't stages I'm happy are gone. I don't miss teething, two-hour feedings, biting or needing to be carried everywhere. I'm neither Pollyanna nor a masochist. Babies are darling; I'm also glad I don't have one anymore. Raising children isn't all warm snuggles and charming memories. Parenting can be a long, hard slog.

But for today I'm focusing on the last times still to come, even though I won't know that they're the last chapters until long after they've gone. The last snuggle. The last time Little Dude asks me to bring him chocolate milk. The last time we play fire trucks. The last time he falls down and comes crying to me with his entire body shaking, tears streaming down his face, believing with childish certainty that a kiss from me will make his skinned knee better. The last time he asks to marry me. The last time he believes in my omniscience. The last time we color together at the kitchen table. I'm not naïve enough to believe that this moment of reflection will stop me from becoming irritated, impatient, frustrated, bored or upset tomorrow when my son whines, spills spaghetti sauce on the rug or throws a fit because I won't let him stay up late. Maybe, though, I'll temper my response if I can remember how fleeting this all is. That for every moment I've prayed would end, there is something I miss.

By Devon Corneal

Mother, Lawyer

To the moon!

Alex takes her missions to the moon very seriously.

Superfood Walnut

My little "Walnut Superfood" was in a little play today at the Museum of Nature and Science. 
It was a story about eating healthy foods to combat free radicals with the help of "Super Antioxidant Girl".
When the superhero lady asked her what her favorite fruits and vegetables are, she said, "I LOVE MAC AND CHEESE!"
I love her honesty.

Last day of sumner

Fun with shaving cream!  Even though summer is coming to a screeching hault, we are really looking forward to Halloween, Alex's birthday, and the first snowfall.

Scooby goes to the Doctor

Going to the Doctor with Alex is like going some where with a famous person.  She has a lot of friends at that place.  Turns out, she just had a really bad cold that required steroids in order to breathe with ease.  (That never stops her from talking though.)

Little dancer

This kid makes each day very different, and very special.  I didn't see this costume coming, that's for sure.

Watering hole

Even lions get thirsty.

Little lion

Grrrrrrrrrr!

School

School is going great!  In fact, if you want to get Alex out of bed in the morning, just tell her that it's a school day.

Summer Fun

Literally, EVERY girl at the park had fairy wings on...except for our little superhero.  She is a superhero through and through, and there is no disputing that.

So complex

Spidey putting on makeup...just another day here in Golden, Colorado.

Giddyup

Labor Day weekend

The human family

Look who's rock climbing!  The (human) family had such a fantastic weekend in Steamboat!  (Alex refers to us as "the human family", unless Codie and Finley join us, then we are to be called "the whole family".)

Steamboat

The cowgirls in Steamboat.