Dear Henry,

You hear the term “bouncing baby boy” so often it has become a cliche. You’ll learn as you read your mother’s writing she avoids cliches like the plague until she gets bent out of shape and has an axe to grind and only a good cliche will do.  You are our bouncing baby boy. Through and through.

You turned 7 months-old on Friday. To continue the cliches, you are on the move! In just the last two weeks you have started crawling and crawling fast! We have to watch you all the time. You are now sitting up on your own and it is absolutely adorable. Daddy, Charlotte and I can’t get enough of making you giggle. Your new thing is kitchen utensils. You are obsessed with whatever wisk or rubber spatula I let you hold as you crawl across the kitchen. Maybe you will be a chef! Charlotte loves getting in “baby jail” with you to play. That is what we call the Pack ‘N Play. Lately you want to watch the dog all the time. You chased Ginger’s tale yesterday while crawling. It was adorable. This video of you crawling cracks me up. I love your little tushy. Sorry, son. It’s true.

We introduced solids this month. You have been eating rice cereal and jars of baby food in multiple flavors. You are particularly fond of peas. We laugh at the faces you make when you try something new for the first time. You have already splattered the wall with pureed vegetables by flinging your arms and grabbing the spoon.

Henry, you are the sweetest when you fall asleep with Daddy or me. I try to soak up all the afternoons of you napping with me. I smell your baby smell and kiss your head. Daddy and I were just saying how it feels like you’ve always been part of our family, not just for 7 months. You make life worth living. I could go on and on with the cliches. I love you, my sweet, sweet boy.

Love,

Mama

Today was the first day I ever took both kids to the pool by myself. I started packing at 7:00am. We were gone all morning, but the cooler, pool bag and stroller were packed for when we were to finally end up poolside by lunchtime. My husband gets half day Fridays in the summer. It’s nice.

My pool babies were wonderful…until they weren’t. I think these texts between he and I speak for themselves:

Note the photo of the 3-year-old mid-tantrum. Can you hear the baby screaming in the background of that photo? I can. The pool is awesome…until it isn’t. Happy freakin’ summer, ya’ll.

This morning I had a heated mother-daughter discussion with my three-year-old about how it is not okay to wear socks with Crocs. She argued the Crocs have Cinderella, Ariel and Rapunzel and went perfectly with her socks that had Anna from “Frozen.” She looked at me like I was insane for believing otherwise.

She was dressed in her gymnastics leotard with a little cotton dress and capri pants over it. Gymnastics was after my exercise class. I gave up and let her wear the footwear of a princess. In hind sight I should have paid more attention to her wardrobe as she pilfered through my drawers while I was getting ready. I hustled the kiddos out the door, grumbling about how we are always late.

We made it and I got my workout in. At the end of my stroller workout class with other moms, the kids get out of the strollers to sing a song. She begged me to get out. That’s when I saw it. A saw a sliver of sheer pink I hadn’t seen in a very long time. I gasped. I peeked under her skirt and flashed back to a moment with my husband when the kids were definitely not around.

Yep. My three-year-old dug through my lingerie drawer, found a Victoria’s Secret thong that was once part of my honeymoon boudoir collection and wore it in public. I didn’t see it on her because her dress was covering it and I was in a hurry. Don’t worry. That thong was about as clean as it could be. I’m pretty sure I wore it for about two minutes on our honeymoon in Costa Rica nine years ago.

 

After I caught my breath I crouched down to her level outside the stroller. I could do that because I wasn’t wearing the flimsy excuse for underwear that she was. I said with a smirk, “Charlotte, did you go through my drawer?” She smirked back at me and said sheepishly, but with a bit of pride, “Yes! It’s pretty, Mama!” The other moms got a good laugh too.

It is extremely embarrassing and off-putting to see your child in negligee. But, it’s also hilarious. I can’t wait to return this embarrassment by telling her this story one day. It will embarrass her three fold:

1. She will learn what lingerie is.
2. She will learn that her mother owns lingerie designed to be wedged between her butt cheeks.
3. She will learn that in the car she spilled her chocolate milk on the thong she refused to take off. By that point she’ll know what chocolate milk on underwear would imply. Ew.

 

Growing up we did not plan the summer until we knew the date of the dance recital. Recital week was intense, long and wonderful. It began with days of rehearsals on a wooden stage in a high school auditorium. It ended with dinner and milkshakes at a Darryl’s restaurant. There were years as a teenager when my mom and I wheeled in a rack of costumes. A rack. Pink and tan tights. Tap shoes. Pointe shoes. Headpieces. Tape for blistered feet. Sequins. False eyelashes. Makeup and hairspray stashed in a Caboodle. The recital of course was after a year of competition weekends, Nutcracker Christmases and classes at least four days a week.

That was dance. A past life. A life before leaving home and becoming an adult.

This weekend we carefully timed Charlotte’s nap, reviewed lengthy emailed instructions from the dance studio, charged the camera batteries, printed our tickets and packed a bag.  I wrestled my squirmy three-year-old into new tights because she ruined the other pairs. I fluffed her tutu. I made a decent attempt at putting stage makeup on a child that kept rubbing her eyes and licking off her lipstick. We bought the DVD and had a bouquet of flowers ready.

I sat in an auditorium and watched my life come full circle. On either side of us were my parents. I mentioned to my dad that I was learning how expensive this hobby is. He laughed. He said, “You remember the recital when you had TWELVE costumes?!” It was fourteen. At least fourteen.

We watched the extraordinary dances of the teens with at least fourteen costumes and far more talent than I ever had. Then the prop volunteers brought a “house made of straw” a “house made of sticks” and a “house made of bricks” on to the stage. With a sweaty hand I grabbed my husband’s and swallowed hard. You could hear the collective “Aw!” of the crowd when they saw the tiniest dancers take the stage. When the lights came up you could see their pig ears and tales. The “Three Little Pigs” dance began. I grinned so hard my face hurt.

This group of tutued, highly distracted three-year-old’s mimicked their teacher standing off the side of the stage. They ran from house to house per the song’s lyrics. The most memorable bit of choreography was when they pointed to their chins for the line, “not by the hair on my chinny chin chin!” If only they could remember to do it. It was the cutest chaos I’d ever seen.

I was so proud I could barely breathe.

Will she do this for as many years as I did? Maybe. Maybe not. That’s okay. Today I sat with my parents and my husband and got to see my child’s first dance recital. That’s worth the price of fourteen-hundred costumes.

Raising my little threenager means we need some direction and organization when working to get her to do the three-year-old version of “chores.” It means we sometimes lose focus. It means we get frustrated and need inspiration.

So, it was perfect timing when Katie and Kelly reached out to me about their mom-owned, mom-operated company. I really want to use my blog to continue to support mom-owned businesses, and wow! This one was one I really wanted to learn more about. Kelly started Scripture Art, Savannah Grey and Appealing Prints, all part of the Mary Square brand. Her story is amazing!

Kelly started the company after she battled postpartum depression after the birth of her third child. She would tape bible verses and inspirational quotes written on index cards around her house to get her through the darkest times. I can relate.

It helped her so much that she decided to make them removable decals to stick anywhere. You know, like these that she sent me:

My fridge and my iPad.

Cute right? It doesn’t stop there. Scripture Art and Appealing Prints has bible verses or inspirational quotes on decals in packs called Promise Packs. They have cute phone cases, totes, personalized gifts and tons of stuff for kids. Check out the personalized lunch totes and water bottles. For some reason I have to have my kids’ names on everything. Seriously. I have a problem.

Another great thing for kids? Chore Charts!

This is Charlotte “filling out” her chore chart. We usually have to go behind her to properly fill it out. I was worried a chore chart would be above a three-year-old’s head. No. It’s not. You can make this appropriate for kids as young as Charlotte or for older, elementary aged children too. It has decals with removable options like cleaning up toys and getting dressed. Each week we use this chart to motivate Charlotte to learn to do things. We have used a reward system as well, like occasionally she’ll get something from the dollar bin at Target if she did well that week. I don’t think it’s realistic to be super-stringent about filling out the whole chart every week and there is not always a reward. Some chores you just do because you are part of the family. The chart has been a great tool for introducing chores to Charlotte.

Somebody’s Parents readers can get a Chore Chart, Promise Pack, or any of their other awesome things for 25% off! Just enter code “guess25.” Have fun!