I sat there watching the Kindergarteners file in and then saw Claire take her seat on the stage in the front row. My first thought was "oh good! Claire's in front!" My second thought was "oh no. Claire's in front."  Sure enough, about 2 lines into the first song, a rendition of "Days of the Week" sung to the tune of  "The Adam's Family" (haven't we all heard it?), her tears became uncontrollable as the stage fright set in.  Claire had warned me all week that she was a little nervous about performing her solo line in "Brown Bear, Brown Bear."  I was totally prepared for that part of the show to be a bust (and it was).  After all, if you know this family at all you know that every single one of our children are born with a very real, and powerfully dominant gene called the "please don't expect me to talk to you because I'm a big chicken" gene.  It's true.  They can't help it, until around age 7 or 8 when the severity of it starts to wear off.  Even still, I thought she'd at least be able to hold it together for the group part of the program. Of all the kids, Claire has probably learned to handle her shy gene most gracefully. I sat there watching Claire try to be brave, but failing miserably.  The other moms all turned to me offering sympathetic looks and wondering what I was going to do. I couldn't blame them. Heck, I was wondering what I was going to do too. So I sat in my seat, squirming a little as I felt my own eyes tear up a bit for her sake, and sending her all the smiley happy, you can be brave mom vibes that I could muster.  It didn't work.

 While her classmates sang their little hearts out, my poor, poor baby girl chose to look on while sitting down below next to the comforting Mrs. Bosworth.  Do you see her? She's the teeny tiny, scared looking soul sitting between the two big heads at the bottom of the picture.  This picture breaks my heart.



Mrs. Bosworth gave it her best effort. No luck. Claire wouldn't budge.  I tried too.  I knelt down next to her as she threw her arms around my neck, afraid I was going to make her do something she really could not do. Of course, I wasn't going to make her go back up there. I just wanted her to know it was all o.k. and that I was so proud of her for trying.




She recovered like a champ, thanks to the time that about 10 more songs allotted her, and found enough courage to walk back on stage to accept her diploma with a smile.  What a come back!



 That perfect little smile and those bobbing curls...I am SO not ready for her to move on. She's so affectionate and aware, always drawing picture presents, writing love notes, and pausing to give a kiss just because.  I wish I could freeze time for just a little longer.  1st grade somehow makes big kids out of the little guys.  So yes, even though this cutie has it in her mind that she's now all grown up and officially a 1st grader, I'm not letting her go that easy. She's my kindergartener for 2 1/2 more months.

All of our kids except Maggie have been cursed with trouble saying their R's.We're working on it.  In the meantime I get to enjoy some good entertainment. Like this conversation between Claire and Lily.  Lily hams it up good and if you listen closely you even get a "on the roof again" from her!

I know I said there'd be no more birthday posting. I lied. I forgot that we still had Claire's party coming up. I'll make it short and sweet.

So sweet in fact, you may get a sugar high just from reading.

We had a rousing game of pin the cherry and sprinkles on the icecream cone.

Followed by a game I call "Sprinkle Dump." Simply put, shake up your construction paper sprinkles and cherries, dump 'em out, watch the kids scramble to find one of each color, and then let them glue them on their bowls of icecream.

Maybe kind of lame as far as party games go, but I needed another icecream game. It was appropriately appreciated by a group of 4-5 year olds. That's all that matters.

Next, the highlight of the party. Create your own icecream sundae - only rule , don't tell your mom how many gummy bears, marshmallows, and brownie bites you consumed by 10:00 AM or she may not let you be Claire's friend anymore.

We all know who has the coolest mom now.

We did provide fresh strawberries for those kids who were watching their figures.

All the little cuties ate and ate and ate until all were adequately over-stuffed and then we sent them home...with more candy.

When Claire was born, the nurse said she had never seen a more beautiful newborn. Sure, she probably told all the moms that, but it was the only sensible thing that woman said all day, so you bet I'll always remember it.

These girls have been busy for over an hour now!  Never underestimate the value of water, a baster, a strainer, and a squirty ketchup thingy.

You would've thought I was giving them a big fudge brownie when I handed over the baster.  I think we need two of them...and turkey has nothing to do with it.




Whatever you do, don't forget the aprons.  Somehow it's the aprons that transform the whole process from a silly game into an extremely dangerous scientific experiment. Really. Try it!

Me and Claire, we're pals.  It has been so fun having a bit more one on one time with her now that school is back in.  Of course, occassionaly I hope I'll be able to sneak in a nap while Lily is sleeping, but that is yet to happen.  Claire's good.  Without fail she somehow talks me into reading Cinderella, playing babies, or creating something out of popsicle sticks and googley eyes.  Her convincing me usually involves a killer smile and some kind of wild promise of doing something for me in return.  How can I say no? Sometimes my eyes are half closed and I'm falling asleep between turning pages, but it's all good.

I really don't want this girl to grow up.  And darn it, I know she will all too soon.  This is our last year together before she walks out our front door and into a classroom.  She makes me laugh...she makes me crazy too.  But she always seems to make everything better when she starts talking.  Seriously, I could listen to her ramble on all day long.

"Mom, why are they called girlled cheese sandwiches when boys eat them too?"

"When I'm drinking water and I start to cry, is that because the water goes up in my face and comes out of my eyes?"  After I gave her my take on where tears come from, which happened to be substantially different than hears, she says, "Hmm.  I was so close!"

Not only is she a thinker, she's an independent kind of thing:

"Mom, can you get me a screwdriver, and some double As so I can replace these batteries?"

She is always careful not to offend when she doesn't like my dinner:

"Mom, I can't eat these green beans. I only eat green beans on Thursdays."

She's got an artistic eye well beyond her years:

"Mom, doesn't my graham cracker sort of look like a dinosaur that doesn't have a head...or legs...or a tail?"
Impressive, eh?

And then she'll go and say something that just reminds me that she's a total girl:

"Oh, my hair looks so cute!  It just makes me wish one of my friends could come over."


Oh my little Clairebear, let's make this year the best!  And please...don't ever stop being YOU.

Claire's birthday wraps up birthday season for our family. We have lots of spring chickens around our house. Claire turned four on May 1st.

We're still working on the "thou shalt not covet" thing around here.


Here's what she got:


Little princess, fancy pants, drama queen Claire had a fabulous day. In the end, she'll tell you she learned one thing on her birthday - cards are the best because they have money in them.

...I think we're headed for trouble with this girl.

Mom, I love you because you make me green beans and asparagus!

Claire: How old do you think you'll be when I'm a mom.



Thanks, Claire. You always know just what to say...as if saying "fifty" out loud wasn't bad enough.

Yesterday Claire and I had a date to DI. I was in need of some shorts for my trip (only 3 more days!! *squeal*) Then we decided, or Claire informed me rather, that we needed to go look at kid clothes for her because she "never gets new clothes!" sob sob. She is a fashionista through and through. The current Claire trend is skirts and leggings only. No worries that it's still the middle of winter - it's all for the cause of cuteness. That is the issue here.

For less than $10 we found her 3 skirts, 2 pairs of leggings, and 1 dress. No, the dress is not a skirt, but it passed for "so pretty" according to the judge, so it was tossed in the cart as well.

Today she is sporting one of her "new" outfits, and feeling like the most gorgeous thing ever. After getting dressed she announced, "Now I want to go see Emery and Sarah (her little friends)so I can show them how cute I am." Oh dear. I promise she didn't get this fashion awareness from me. Nor the pride...I hope. I'm not quite sure how to handle it. Should I nurture her obsession? Do I let her creativity take flight? She comes up with some totally original looks so I'm a little hesitant to give her free reign. On the other hand, she may become rich and famous one day if I don't ruin her before then.

I love friendly people. Especially friendly people who don't speak English. A language barrier between two jolly individuals makes for good times. There's this nice man who works at a local restaraunt where we eat every now and then and I'm pretty sure he doesn't speak a word of English except for the one question he asks me every time I'm there. And I don't think he recognizes me yet because well... if he did, he wouldn't keep asking me the same question. I seriously hope he doesn't start recognizing me because then I'd never again be able to hear him ask me, "Are you a futon modddder?" Ohhh! It makes me smile, and then bust up laughing as soon as I get outside the restaraunt.


The first time I was asked if I was a futon modddder, it didn't go over so well. I was like, "Sorry, what?" He said, "A futon moddddder. Are you a futon moddddder?" as he was looking at the kids I had with me. "What? One more time. Am I a what?" I asked. But really what I was thinking was, "Why are we talking about mattresses? Why do you want to know about my futon. I don't even have a futon." Then again, the biggest grin, and he motioned to the kids. "A futon modddder!" Are you a FUTON MODDDDER?" I could understand enough that I knew he was asking me a question...and waiting for an answer, so I couldn't just simply smile and nod. I had to say something. I said yes, not knowing what I was saying yes to.

Fast forward a couple of months. Same restaraunt. Same nice guy. Same question. Oh no. "Are you a futon modddder?" I smiled...very stupidly. I was racking my brain trying to think of a response to the mystery question when, ohhh! Somehow it clicked - and it wasn't because he pronounced his English any better. "Yes, yes! I'm a full-time mother!" Then he smiled and nodded his head, never saying another single solitary word. He didn't need to. We were great friends by that point.

Last Saturday, there I was again. There he was again. I was ready. And he delivered. "Are you a futon modddder?"

"Well, yes I am!" I said, patting Claire's head because I wanted him to know I really understood. He smiled at Claire. Somehow in that exchange of smiles and confusion, he made me feel proud. He showed kindness without words. Somehow, and I don't even really know how, I could tell that he was recognizing my efforts as a stay-at-home mom and he was happy that I could say that's all I did. I'm just a mom.

I left the restaraunt smiling (and still laughing) not only because we could speak to eachother (er...at least about futons) but because a complete stranger had said, "Way to go, Mom! with only a smile and a question.

Since the day Lily arrived, we've wondered where her little look came from. Those cheeks, those EARS, the shape of her face. It's all different than I remember our other babies looking. Then I came across this picture of Claire at almost exactly the same age as Lily - same jammies just a bit more spit-up stained, same Christmas decorations (it was only slightly staged). I was surprised at the similarities.

I'm not sure what features are causing the resemblance, but something is there. Maybe the noses.

Whatever it is, they're cute. And they're mine.