A Letter to Periwinkle at Thirteen Years Old

 Dear Periwinkle,

 

It was nearly impossible to imagine this day back when we were trying to get you to eat just a single ounce in the NICU. It seemed so far away when I was wearing you around the house so you’d just take a nap, for the love of God, even as I did laundry and cooked dinner. Thirteen seemed so abstract when you were trying to crawl but finding yourself going backward, into corners, or crying hysterically on long car rides to Grandma and Grandpa’s house.

 

Thirteen seemed a little more feasible when you started walking, then running, then telling everyone what to do like you were in charge in that adorable little voice that was so loud when it wanted to be. But we had time… so much time.

 

There was moving, and discovering, and trying all sorts of new things. There was soccer and dance (how cute you were doing Irish step at age five!), then horses and gymnastics. You threw yourself into Girl Scouts and friends and baking EVERYTHING and eating none of it, and of course cello — and we’ve been so busy it all just flew by (even as those days felt so damn long).

 

So here we are. Thirteen. So much has brought you here and made you the strong-willed, passionate, confident, creative, opinionated, hilarious person you are. But there is so much that is amazing just ahead. I am so excited for you to experience what’s next, with all the drama and heartache and confusion that it entails — but also the love and incredible memories and friendships with people who truly see you and accept you just as you are.

 

Thirteen. Wow. But when you beg me to sit with you at bedtime just a little longer and you snuggle in under your covers, in the bed that seemed so huge when you were three, I still just see my little girl.

 

Happy birthday!  

 

Love,

Mom

A Letter to Indigo at Thirteen Years Old

 Dear Indigo,

 

You were just over five pounds when you were born. You screamed like a raptor in those first days. We waited until Nonna and Nonno went to find lunch to attempt to change your diaper in the hospital. We didn’t want an audience in case we were terrible at it (we figured it out). You were a champion napper but a terrible nighttime sleeper. (You still are, but you know that.)

 

You were the only baby we got to bring home right away and for that I am grateful. You broke us in fairly gently to the parenthood thing. You slept. You ate. You did other baby things. You snuggled in deep. While your sister pushed away, taking in the world,  you clung to me and examined it all very seriously and suspiciously. You never ventured too far, too fast.

 

But you were curious. Curious how the camera worked at your first school pictures at daycare. Curious how the ref’s stopwatch worked (when you were supposed to be playing soccer). Curious what all the switches did, and what animals were out in the world, and how astronauts breathe in space, and how does a submarine work, and any number of other things. I adore that you are still so curious about the world, but better yet, you’ve found a few answers and are completely excited to tell us all about them.

 

You love to learn. You are still fairly serious, and have always seemed wise beyond your years. Numerous friends, family members, and teachers have said so too. You’re comfortable in a room with adults and can hold your own, because it doesn’t occur to you not to be.

 

As you turn thirteen, stay curious. Stay confident and self-assured. Make time for fun and silliness. Hang on to those awesome friends of yours — they’re good people. You are going to be making some core memories with them in the years ahead. Be safe but occasionally a bit reckless. Know that you can call me at any hour to come pick you up and I will be there, no questions asked. And know that I’m in your corner, always, even if you can’t see it at the moment.

 

Thirteen. You are already taller than me (just a smidge, but not for long). I startle when I realize that the low voice across the house is coming from you, not Dad, when your voice used to be so high and giddy.

 

Thirteen. Yikes. But also always my lanky little raptor dude.

 

Happy birthday!

Love,

Mom

Home Sick for a Whole Week!

The past week has somehow been nice, even though Periwinkle was sick. Or because she was sick. A tiger, declawed. Or returned to kitten-hood, at least.

She spiked a nearly 104* fever on election night, and I watched her sleep next to me on the couch, watching her breathe, making sure she was okay. A terrible night for two reasons. Tylenol helped, when she'd feel miserable enough to take it, and her nightly fevers were never that high again. (I did telehealth to see if I needed to bring her to the ER, but was reassured that if she was eating/drinking not vomming she was good.)

In the meantime, we watched a LOT of YouTube on the TV (a privilege they are only allowed when sick, and boy did she take advantage). It was fun. I tried to work, while laughing at silly videos and getting ridiculously caught up in a few random families' lives (Team #Nalish!). We chatted, when she wasn't napping.

She needed me, for everything. When she got lightheaded, she reached out for my hand. Eighty-five requests for ice water a day, ice packs, blankets, food, fan on, fan off, I was there (I was not productive, work-wise...) She never wanted me out of her sight. It's been a LOT of together time, with no arguing, shouting, or rolling of the eyes.

The fever has been gone a few days now, and now it's a bad bronchitis cough. I don't envy her that. It sounds awful. But we started planning her return to school. Yesterday she was still feeling weak.

But today she was trying to catch up on missed math work, and in one breath begged me to help her understand and yelled at me to go away because I don't know anything anymore.

The tiger is back. But it was nice to have the kitten for a few days.

A Letter to Cyan at Seven Years Old

 Dear Cyan,

The last time I wrote you a birthday letter, you were turning three. We were in lockdown from COVID, and you were loving it! Everyone home to play with!

How much you have changed since then! You are taller and stronger. You know how to read, add, subtract, tell time, and ride a bike with no training wheels! Your curls are mostly a thing of the past, and you no longer eat hot dogs as a primary food group. You love milk and Eggo waffles and Little Bites. You've now been to Disney World ... TWICE!

You are at the end of first grade and pretty much the mayor of your school. Everyone knows who you are, and you put a smile on all their faces! You're also doing Cub Scouts with Blue as your leader!

You have tried playing baseball and soccer but perhaps aren't a team sports guy, like your brother. You still love swimming and are very good at it. Maybe swim team is in your future? You also love doing gymnastics with Indigo. Periwinkle taught you a lot of moves during quarantine so they were very surprised when four-year-old you did a one-handed cartwheel. 

You call my mom Grandma now, not Mima. And when I say "look both ways" you no longer wave both directions before crossing the street because you thought I said "waves" not "ways." I miss that 

As much as you've changed, you are still my sweet Cyan. Your smile lights up my day. You have a great laugh and love telling jokes. You still have boundless energy and adore your siblings (even when you guys fight. So, daily). 

You still end up in our bed several times a week (after three years of every night). You are still very attached to me. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I don't. You need to get a little braver, step a little further. I'll be right there if you need me.

You are stubborn beyond belief. Which you use when you don't feel like going to school. Or baseball. Or breakdancing. I can't wait until the recital. I'll be sad but glad it's over. The battle to get you to class has been rough. Even though you love to dance! I still don't understand. But you do you, kiddo.

I can't wait to see what seven brings you! Odd to think you are now the age your siblings were the last time I wrote to you. I hope you have a better second grade experience than they did!

I'm so proud of the person you are and are becoming. Keep shining a little sunshine into the world! 

Love forever,

Mama 

A Poem for Indigo at 8 Years Old

Waiting for him to fall asleep (a nightly struggle) and felt the urge to get these thoughts down. So in lieu of my annual letter, a poem.

How did we get from zero

to eight 

in a blink of my eyes?

From hurricane and raptor cries,

to--suddenly--

first time around the block all alone?

How did we get from chubby hands and wide eyes

to this tangle of gangly limbs curled up in a pile of sheets and stuffed animals, each beloved, named, with a history all its own?

From those first nights in the dark,

warming you by candlelight,

to watching you struggle to fall asleep,

the anxieties of the world upon your shoulders,

and in your dreams,

never far, not this year.

But I promise you this,

sweet worrier/warrior,

I too will never be far

when you need me.

And you will go from 8 to 18

in just another blink of my eyes.

from awkward boy to tall young man,

ever passionate, ever seeking, ever wondering.

Ever my baby boy.

A Letter to Cyan at Three Years Old

Dear Cyan,

This isn't the third birthday we envisioned for you. Saturday was supposed to be a joyous day for you as well as Periwinkle and Indigo as they celebrated their First Communion. Big to-do at Dave & Buster's, which would have been AWESOME. Looks like it'll be a beautiful day, anyway. And we are going to make it an awesome birthday! Covid-19 can't stop us from celebrating you and how much we love that you have been in our family for three whole years. There will be cake, and presents, and balloons, and a drive-by parade, and it will be fabulous.

You've come a long way this year. Twelve months ago, we had some concerns about your language development. Now, you're talking all time. "Bartleby on mommy's phone please?" "I want to go outside!" "More hot dog please!" "Yogurt pouch, please!" "Leo no baby!"

Any time you see a baby picture of yourself, or of your siblings, you start yelling that you are not a baby anymore. You can be quite emphatic when you want to be. You're a big boy now, for sure. But can we get back on that whole potty-training thing? Like, pronto?

And while usually you are smiling and giggling and being a little imp, you have also discovered your temper. I fear you look to your siblings as role models for that, among other things. All three of you need a chill pill, though I know that it's a bit tough right now.

But you do adore them. Periwinkle and you have baked several batches of cookies, wearing your aprons and chef hats, and eating half the dough before it hits the oven. She plays games with you, and has trained you as the puppy she longs for. Indigo still isn't quite sure what to do with you, but there are times all three of you spend hours playing outside together. He loves you, trust me.

You've been adoring having them home all the time. I think you believe pandemic quarantine is the best thing ever. Sometimes you do "work" alongside them, though unfortunately you've been spending a lot of time watching tv or playing alone as I try to get them to do their assignments. There's a lot of yelling, from them and me, and I'm sorry about that. But you seem to roll with it, as with most things in life. I showed you the circle time from your daycare class one day, and you started screaming, "No! I stay home!" so going back to school, whenever that is, is going to be rough.

You can count to twenty, sing many songs including the ABCs, and know your shapes and colors. You know how to make your toys work and when to ask for new batteries. You love your race cars, trains, and bouncy balls.

Mickey is still your favorite, and I'm sorry we likely won't get to meet him this year. I don't think I trust you to wear a mask in 80-degree heat. Luckily, you don't know what you're missing, so I'm more upset than you are. Maybe next year?

You also love Bartleby, the cat from "True and the Rainbow Kingdom." You get so excited about the Wishing Tree and singing the songs. Daddy has also gotten you into the original "Duck Tales," so that's pretty sweet.

You weigh 38.5 pounds, and I should probably measure your height. You have a doctor's appointment next week, but I need to check if that's still a go.

Everything is on hold, it seems, but not you. You continue to learn and grow and bring sunshine (and some thunderstorms) to our daily lives. You're still my little sidekick, even if we can't go anywhere. I love you, Little Hulk. Just please start sleeping past 5am again. I know the gate is off your door, but that isn't an open invitation to come downstairs in the middle of the night.

Love always,
Mama

A New World

It's been nearly a year since I last posted. I completely missed Periwinkle and Indigo's seventh birthday, and Cyan is nearly three. We've been busy with preparing for First Communion, dance practice, soccer, basketball, gymnastics, Cub Scouts, Girl Scouts, swim lessons, open gym for Cyan, and a million other things.

Except now it's all stopped. Someone hit pause on our lives, and we are all in suspended animation waiting for them to hit Play again. Cyan's first trip to Disney...postponed. Peri's recital...who knows? Do I print communion invites? Do I brave the outside world with my suppressed immune system to deal with two troublesome teeth or just suck up the pain? And of course there's the constant worry and anxiety about much loved older family members.

I'm not sleeping great. I wake up most nights and fight myself back to sleep, trying to think about anything other than this bizarre new reality. The uncertainty. The lack of anticipation and optimism I feel. I stay up too late watching mindnumbing tv to delay the moments between waking and sleeping. I've always hated those moments, even as a kid. That's when the boogeymen come out and shadows seem like nightmares. And as an adult with three kids who are confused and worried themselves (well, maybe not Cyan), those shadows seem even darker. So, yeah, night isn't my favorite these days. It reminds me of how I felt when Cyan was in the NICU and I felt utterly helpless and scared. I want to do something and make this whole horrid situation go away.

So I've been focusing on keeping up their school stuff. It's hard for them to focus when tv and games are right there. Peri blazes through, but Indigo needs more prodding. There's been some yelling. We've let things slide from one day's schedule to the next. We're figuring it out as we go. I'm looking forward to getting more solid direction from the school. The worksheets sent home aren't that exciting, but I know the teachers did what they could with little notice. The school system has been fantastic.

Today we went for a hike and examined the natural world around us. We listened for different bird calls. Don't ask me what types of birds, but there were several. We watched an angry and protective swan charge at two aggressive geese, chasing them across the street and eventually across the pond. He was strong and fierce and majestic, and likely protecting a nest somewhere. 

I sympathized. I would fight some geese for my kids too. But how can I fight this invisible virus?