A Letter to Cyan at Two Years Old

Dear Cyan,

It’s almost impossible to believe that another year has flown by, that you will be TWO, that you are a toddler and not a tiny baby any longer. And then I remember how busy you have kept us, how exhausted you have made us, how much you have made us laugh, and how much you have changed, and it all makes sense.

Cutie one year old

You are still definitely Baby Hulk, although perhaps you need an upgrade to Toddler Hulk or Mini Hulk. You enter a room and assume everything in it is yours for the taking. We go to the library for “Fun with Toddlers” or “Toddler Hunger Games,” as I call it, because that’s how you seem to view it—every man for himself, and don’t get in your way. We also go to the library for story time, but you don’t have time for that. You want to run, and jump, and destroy. So we usually don’t make it past page four.

As your new daycare teacher put it, “He puts his hand on my mouth, says ‘shhhh’, then goes back to destroying the room.” But she loves you, as does everyone there, as do your old teachers at your old school. It was a tough decision to switch you, but I think it was the right one. I get sent all sorts of happy pictures, and they are so excited to have you. They remember you from when you first escaped the NICU, a tiny five pound nugget, and they begged us to send you there so they could watch you grow. And now they can.

And how you have grown. Your face may still say “baby,” but your stature says older. People are often shocked when I say you are just turning two. “He’s so tall!” “What a big guy!” and yet you are perfectly on the curve, not much different in size than Indigo was at your age.

You rarely walk—you run in your own unique way, knees high, bouncing along. I could watch you chase your siblings all day. The three of you have such fun, until they decide they are done and go upstairs, and all you want to do is follow them. I know it’s tough, and the age difference won’t be easy, but they do love you, and I love how you love them.

You still adore swim lessons and your teacher, J. He gets such a kick out of you and trying to understand what you are so pointedly telling him. You are pulling up on the wall and kicking on your own, and I am incredibly proud of you.

You are a huge talker, though a lot of it is still in a language only you understand. But you are adding words every week, and I think we may have squeaked in at the finish with the “required” fifty words by age two. We’ll talk with your doctor next week and see what she says, but I’m hoping our earlier worries about your language development were just paranoia. Of course if you need help, you will get it. I love the way you say “Hey!” and “shoosh” (shoes), and “Yeah” like you are the saddest boy in the world. You say “There it is!” with such joy and surprise, and “Go!” with determination. I can’t wait for “I love you.”

I especially like how you say “Mickey!” because he is just your favorite thing in the world right now. You carry around little figures of the characters like they are made of gold, and the tv shows are the fastest way to chill you out at Indigo’s baseball games or Periwinkle’s soccer games. I wish we could take you to Disney during this magical time. I hope you still love him when we can.

Maybe my favorite is “Hug,” which you say as you run to people to snuggle them. Sometimes you try to use it to avoid going to bed, but often you want to take your nap so much you say “Night night” and grab your loveys and pacifier and meet me at your crib. (That pacifier, or “chooch” as you say, aka “chuchetto” in Italian, is going away soon. Sorry, kiddo.) I just put you to bed and out you go, whether for naps or night. People can’t believe you are so easy! *knocks wood* I’m hoping when we finally finish our reno and move you to your OWN room upstairs at long last, you’ll still love your sleep. Tonight I gave you a pillow for the first time. You seemed pretty excited.

You still rock a hat at age two

So I guess my point here is that you are an incredible ball of energy in our lives, and watching you learn and grow has been one of the true pleasures of the past year (and the year before, of course). I love having you as my little sidekick when you are not at school.

Never stop thinking the world is yours for the taking, but maybe learn to share just a *little* bit?

Love,

Mama

A Letter to Indigo at Six Years Old

Dear Indigo,

Here we are, six years old. You are taller, more confident, more grown up. I sometimes see a shred of my baby boy, when you let your emotions run over you at bedtime and release all your pent-up worries in a torrent of tears. I wish you weren’t such a worrier. I know how exhausting it can be.

You are doing awesome in first grade. I’m amazed at how quick you are solving math problems and reading. No more spelling words at Daddy that I want to keep secret from you, because you are going to pick up on all of it now.

Cyan just adores you. He was so excited to see you after a week apart. Remember you’re the big brother and he’s looking up to you. I know he can be annoying and loud and break things, but try to be patient. He’s learning how to human, just like you are.

You did great on our trip to Disney, other than a few melt downs. It happens. We all have moments where we get tired and overwhelmed. You made a great Beast. I love your confidence. It’s like you don’t even consider being nervous or scared of doing things. And Space Mountain? Yikes!!

Gymnastics is still super fun for you. You are a regular ninja out there! I’m so glad you found an activity you truly enjoy. 

I just love watching you discover new things and learn more about yourself. It truly is amazing to watch you turn into a full-fledged person, even if it means you are taking tiny steps away from me. You say you never want to leave home, not even for college, and while I know that won’t stick, I still enjoy hearing it. My arms will always be open for you, little boy, because you have stolen a piece of my heart forever.

Happy birthday!

Love,

Mama

A Letter to Periwinkle at Six Years Old

Dear Periwinkle,

You are six. How did that happen? How are you in first grade? I hope you always face the world with the confidence you do now. Don’t lose it, baby girl. The world may try to tell you that you have to, that girls shouldn’t believe in themselves as much as you do, that you shouldn’t do certain things because you are a girl. Just tell them to shove off, and do it anyways.

We just finished your first trip to Disney, and though you had moments where I wanted to pack you back up and send you home, you amazed me with your bravery. Space Mountain? The intense Mission: Space? Seriously? You are an adrenaline junkie ready to take on the world. Just stay safe while doing it.

And I was proud when your teacher told me that despite missing four days, you were the only one in class raising their hand during math class, and you got every answer right. You’re also doing fantastic at reading these days. You are a smart cookie, and I hope you continue to be proud of that fact. Don’t dim your brightness for anyone.

I do wish you’d stop instigating trouble, often with an attempt to hide a smirk and an indignant “What? I didn’t mean to do that.”Or that you’d admit when you’re in the wrong instead of doubling down and lashing out. But we’re working on that. Growing up is tough work.

I often forget that you are only six, just out of toddler clothes. You speak with such authority and attitude, especially about baking and horses, your two great obsessions these days. But then you believe with such passion that Mickey and Minnie are real, and that Cinderella actually lives in that castle, and that the Tooth Fairy really brought you all that money, and you are a tiny girl again.

Stay little as long as you can, baby girl. I’m not ready for you to stop believing.

Happy birthday!

Love,

Mama

A Letter to Cyan at One Year Old

Dear Cyan,

I remember so much about the week you were born with vivid clarity: looking over at you as you were weighed, snuggling with you in recovery, our perfect afternoon before it all went south, the debilitating spinal headache, and the rising sense that something was very, very wrong with the way you were eating.

The weeks that followed are more of a blur: mornings spent holding you in the NICU, listening to the doctors at rounds; nights spent watching mind-numbing TV shows until all hours just so I didn’t have to face that inevitable moment when I would get into bed and have nothing to distract me from worrying about you.

I look back on the letter I wrote to you during that time, when everything seemed hopeless, and it feels like yesterday. But mere days later we had the worst/best day ever, when I walked in and saw you with a tube again, and I broke down in tears. A nurse comforted me, handed me a homemade blanket to snuggle you with. The primary doctor who was caring for you told me “sorry” with such sadness in his eyes, and said they would keep looking.

Only hours later, that same nurse convinced the doctor that rerunning a certain GI test was a good idea, and then that same doctor entered the room with a huge grin: “We found the problem!” In what was both a rush of activity and a long wait, you had surgery, you were done, you were on your way to recovery. The entire team felt such relief at solving you. I am forever indebted to them.

I haven't looked at this photo since the day I took it, after your surgery. It still amazes me how small you were, and how strong. You impressed the doctors and nurses with how easy-going you were, how relaxed, and, of course, how cute. You are my little fighter, my trouble-maker, my heart. 

The months since you came home have been nothing but joy. You have a smile that attracts people from across the room. I can’t count how many people have commented on that smile in stores when we run errands. They smile right back at you, your joy now their joy.

You and I have had quite a year together. Quitting my job was one of the best decisions I ever made. It allowed me to watch you grow, day by day, minute by minute. We got to do library programs, swim lessons, go on walks, read books, cuddle on the couch (though there’s no keeping you still these days). We have become a bit attached to each other, which is why daycare was a good idea. I think you like it. I hope you like it. I do miss you, but it’s nice to be able to get things done in chunks longer than your naps.

You have recently figured out standing on your own, and lately clapping as well. You are a speed demon when you crawl. You have even take a step or two before falling into my arms. I’m still working on getting you to say “Hi” and wave. You really only say “mama” and “dada” and “baba” and “nana,” and I’m not sure you say any of those with intention, but I know you will get there. You love your brother and sister, and even though they sometimes say you are annoying I know they love you too.

You get very excited when we put on “Baby Signing Time,” and I’m not ashamed to say I use it to keep you occupied while I do some chores or cook dinner. One of these days you will start signing, but for now the way you jump with excitement when you know I am putting it on makes it worth it. You adore the cats, even though they are a bit wary of you. They have let you pet them, though, which is a Big Deal.

In short, you are exactly where you should be, despite your rough start. I cannot imagine our lives without you and that smile, that excitement, that giggle. You have taught me so much in only a year, and I can’t wait to see what your second year brings!

Love,

Mama

The Night Before Cyan's First Day at Daycare

Why does this feel so much harder than last time?

Could it be the 11 months Cyan and I have spent together, all day, every day, Monday through Friday (and then weekends)? Shopping trips, doctors appointments (his and mine), you name it, we were together. Not to mention his fraught first month in the NICU, which probably isn't helping either.

I only got three months with Periwinkle and Indigo, and it was basically survival mode. Was the bond just not as strong?

Could it be the way Cyan cries for me if he catches the slightest glimpse of me or hears my voice? Will he be crying for me all day? I know the answer is "no" but I can still picture it, him surrounded by strangers, hysterical.

Periwinkle and Indigo didn't get this attached until well after daycare started so it didn't feel so horrible dropping them off. And their attachment was equally to Blue. Cyan definitely has a mommy habit that we need to break or at least soften.

Could it be simply that he is the baby of the family, and quite likely the last kid?

Or maybe it is that this time it is much more a CHOICE. Five years ago I had a fulltime job in the city I had to get back to. My freelancing was not flourishing as it is today. They had to go to daycare. This time around, I/we have decided that maybe it's a good idea, two days a week (yes, just two days a week, and I'm still a bit of a mess), to let me have time to fully focus on work instead of having to work here and there in moments when he is asleep or eating in his high chair next to me, or at night, or while at the older kids' practices, or while they are at a library program. Maybe my sanity needs him gone two days a week.

And maybe he needs to learn to let go of me a little (break my heart). I know he will think the other babies are great fun, because he just LOVES babies. He needs some more socialization with kids. He needs a little less Mommy.

And so it begins. The slow, inevitable separation. The march toward independence that every parent knows is coming the second they first hold their child. Our job is to send them into the world. And so far I haven't had to. We have existed in a little cocoon, away from the world, him and me.

But it's time. We'll see who cries harder in the morning.

But then I'm going to the gym! Finally!

A Letter to Periwinkle at 5 Years Old

Happy birthday, baby girl!

You are five going on fifteen, with all the attitude that entails. I'm not entirely sure where that is coming from. Even Grandma says I was never this feisty. I try to see it as you being strong-willed, smart, and confident. But often I want to tear my hair out, or throw you in your room, or just walk away. And this is only the beginning. Lord help us once you are a real teenager.

At the same time, you can still be incredibly sweet and caring, especially with your little brother, Cyan. In fact, sometimes the attitude comes out when you don't think I am responding to his cries fast enough. Hands on hips, head tilted, look of exasperation: "Mom, he's crying. Help him, will you?"

You are also a little mama to your "big" brother, Indigo. If you guys are fighting over something, and you see he is genuinely upset (like who got their face painted first at the fall festival), you will let him get his way. You know what he needs and you make it happen. I love that about you.

This year has been one of BIG changes: ending daycare, new baby brother, starting kindergarten, me working from home... and you are rolling with it pretty well. I think the increased attitude is probably the result, and the quick temper, but we are working through it.

This year has also seen you turn into quite the soccer player. You are faster than pretty much every body else, and usually score several goals a game. We are very proud of you, and also proud of how you make sure to pass the ball to your teammates a few times to give them a chance, too. I think you have found "your" sport, but let me know what else you want to try. You might be an awesome volleyball player too! And we haven't even gotten started with musical instruments yet... Daddy can't wait to get you guys learning piano or something else.

You also started Irish Step dance class. I'm not sure you will ever be called a natural, but you are working hard at it, and you love going every week. Maybe next year we will try something that allows a little more freedom of movement, but thank you for indulging my Irish soul this year at least.

In Kindergarten you are doing great. Your teacher has told me that you know so much already and are such a joy to work with. She is working to find ways to challenge you, and you are learning sight words like crazy. I expect you'll be reading everything in sight by the end of the school year. You are so smart (which we knew) and it's exciting to see you discover new things to learn about (math! science! music! gym!).

You are growing up faster than I'd like, but remember: you will always be my baby.

Love,
Mama

A Letter to Indigo at 5 Years Old

Happy birthday, little (big) man!

My, how time flies. It seems like just yesterday that you were a tiny screaming thing, and now here you are... a big screaming thing (when you get mad). Perhaps I'm feeling even more nostalgic as your baby brother Cyan cycles through all your old clothes. As I dress him in this or that I can picture so clearly you wearing it, what we did that day, what you were doing development-wise. It doesn't help that he looks quite a bit like you!

You've been doing so great at being a big brother. Sometimes, I think maybe you hardly care. But then I will be making dinner and he will be crying, and I hear your sweet voice singing a silly song you made up, and it calms him, and I know that you love him, and he loves you.

Sometimes, though, I think your renewed interest in biting when you get frustrated has something to do with Cyan, and with starting Kindergarten. But that's to be understood, somewhat, given what a year of changes it has been. But dude, stop. Time to work on those coping strategies again, kiddo. But we love you all the same.

You've been doing great in Kindergarten. Your handwriting has improved so much, and you are quick as a flash with the sight words every week. It's so exciting seeing you soak it all up. I hope you are as proud of yourself as I am of you.

You've also improved a lot in soccer, though I still want you to try baseball in the spring. You've got a nice arm, and a pretty sweet swing. Maybe that is more "your" sport. You've also started going to open tumbling sessions at a gymnastics place. You are slowly learning cartwheels, roundoffs, and other fun (and heart-attack inducing) things. I think it's really helping your confidence that you have something that is yours, that you don't share with Periwinkle.

I can't wait to see what this next year brings, how tall you will grow, what new topic will ignite your passion (we know so much about sea life thanks to Octonauts now). Keep asking questions, keep telling your silly stories, keep making up those songs. With an imagination like yours, there are no limits.

Love,
Mama