real life and sharing

“Life doesn’t get more real than having a newborn.” ~ Eric Church

Youngest grandchild status is a wonderful thing…until it seems that you are no longer the youngest grandchild. At least it appears to be so looking at Fallon’s reaction to her auntie’s beautiful first born baby in the arms of her Papa.

Oh Fallon!

Soon enough she will realize that her status as very much adored grand child is absolutely secure. Then shall come the perks of having someone younger than you to play with, to look up to you and for you to maybe boss around…kind of like your life with Hazel. There’s also the consolation of the fact that your youngest grand child status is secure under The Big Top…at least for now.

Congratulations and welcome to the world, beautiful Baby E.

her reader

It’s a lazy summer afternoon. After an hour or so of swimming, it is quite satisfying to relax on the sofa and perhaps watch a movie…

Or watch the boys play a video game together.

That’s fine too because I’m quite satisfied to lie back on this sofa and maybe close my eyes for…

Mima, read to me.

I open my eyes and there is Fallon, holding out a picture book to me.

Mima, read to me.

She looks at me with those big blue-green eyes and red rose pouty lips waiting for me to take the book.

I can’t say no.

What kind of grandparent would I be to say no?

Sure, I’m tired. I’d much rather do nothing at all at this very moment but this three year old wants me to read to her. It’s literally a ten page picture book with maybe a three to five word sentence on each page. It won’t kill me. More importantly, she WANTS me to read to her. I can’t imagine any grandparent ever not wanting to read to their grandchild, especially when they ask you. Considering the fact that it wasn’t that long ago when her big sister was making the same request and now she is Miss Independent Reader Thank You Very Much, I know that I can not, must not refuse this request, this moment.

So I don’t. I take the book, pat the sofa next to me inviting her to have a seat and she does…in my lap….and together we, Fallon and her reader, enjoy a good book.

kids, here are 10 things I may or may not have told you

You made me cry…a lot

Hollie and me – 1987. No apologies for the hair and glasses because 1987.

I wanted that last piece of pie…cake…cookie

Hollie, Zoë and me, 1992. Yes, those are matching Christmas sweaters. A gift. Funny how my darling husband didn’t receive one.

It hurt.

Hollie, Zoë, Abby and me, 1994. One child might never forgive me for this picture.

I was always afraid…still am…don’t judge, especially if you are not my child.

Hollie, Zoë, Abby, Jodie and us, 1996. Apparently we didn’t realize just how busy we were then as people told us ALL THE TIME that “we must be busy.

I know that I am not perfect.

And the Family Circus is completed, 2002. Also the year where any doubts of me being a perfect Mother were solidly squashed. Have a teenager and you will understand.

I watched you as you slept…still do.

Hollie, 1990

I carried you a lot longer than nine months.

Zoë, 1998

It broke my heart every time you cried.

Abby, 1997

I put you first.

Jodie, 1999

I would do it all over again…times five…to the infinity power.

Daniel, 2008

Kids, I can’t begin to express my gratitude that I get to be your Mother, Mommy, Mom, times five…to infinity and beyond.

I thank you all for calling me Mama, Mommy, Mom, Mommy Dearest, OMG-Mom, Mother; and, thank you , for needing me, teaching me, forgiving me, loving me, accepting me, modeling me and, most of all, amazing me because I get to say that I am Mom to these five remarkable people.

BONUS!! I have to say that I must be a pretty okay mom because these two perfectly, exquisite children  call me Mima…and give the best hugs.


when you are three

When you are three you navigate this world the way that you want…

because you are three.

You eat what you want.

You wear what you want.

You even boldly change your name from Fallon to Caitlin because obviously your Mommy got it all wrong naming you Fallon because it is clear that you are Caitlin. You are especially vindicated when your Mima tells you how your own Mommy decided when she was a little girl that her Mommy Dearest spelled her name wrong on her birth certificate and then made the necessary corrections.

But the best thing about you when you are three is you can sing at the top of your lungs, I came in like a wrecking ball… over and over and over again while you are swinging on a swing because when you are three years old and you are you, it makes total sense.

Happy, happy birthday our perfect palindrome, darling monster, fancy Fallon Elizabeth! I know, your name is actually Caitlin but I am going to play the grandparent card and stubbornly refuse to acknowledge your true name or even the correct spelling as grandparents do sometimes.