Connor is Getting Way Too Big

Connor has been on my mind a lot lately, and it recently occurred to me that I've never written a post solely about my little guy. Not because there's nothing to write about...but probably because that's what happens when you're not the first baby.  I stop and mark all of Faith's milestones with carefully crafted blog posts, while CJ cruises through them with a high-five and a Facebook photo. Yesterday, while visiting with friends I nearly choked over the fact that Faith was going into 5th grade, but tears quickly filled my eyes when I stopped to note that "my baby" would be starting first grade.

I love summer with him. He's my early-rising-climb-into-bed buddy and we regularly watch PBS kids while I sip my coffee and browse whatever Facebook and Pinterest have to offer.  It's our "thing," and it's not special...but it is...because he'll turn to me to say "I love you, Mama" and will then snuggle in for a brief minute, and I always hold on just a second or two longer than he had planned. He's my favorite hug-giver...hands down.

Mommy-Son Date Night:
He bought me an apple
and these flowers

This summer has been a fun one with him because I love the simplicity of his play. He's at an age where the technology is still momentary, while the allure of a Hot Wheel car jumping a cardboard box ramp is just about the coolest thing in the world. When I asked him recently what his favorite thing to do was, he asked and answered, "Ever? My favorite thing to do? I think it's ride my bike." Simplicity. We lack playmates on the block and I'm not the arrange-a-playdate kinda mom, so we keep it simple during these slow summer days. Yesterday he beamed with pride when he told me he had finally split a 4x4 he had been working on with a screw and a hammer...better than an ax, right? I'll admit, his desire to bang nails and work with Dad's tools took some time for me to come to terms with, but now it's pretty normal. "Oh, you're just playing with a hammer? Okay, just keep it out of the mud"...real words from me this week.

His first fish of the year at Woodhaven

I also love his tender little heart and his serious desire to own a pet. We've been fortunate to be watching Aunt Kristy and Uncle Ben's dog, Junior, for the past week, and he loves nothing more than being his buddy. From tickling his paws to checking out his teeth, Connor wants everything to do with Junior...and the best part is that Junior has picked Connor's bed to curl up on every single night. He just thinks that's the coolest. Tomorrow, Junior heads home, and I think CJ may miss him the most. Someday he'll have a dog to care for, and he's got quite a plan for a few barn cats that he wants to own...once we own a barn, of course.

As I was trying to fall asleep tonight, I kept running my afternoon through my head and couldn't shake what a

CJ at his "favorite splash pad ever."

big kid Connor is becoming. Yes, he still snuggles and climbs on my lap before bed, but his little kisses are getting harder and harder to come by. He's recently decided to give them out less frequently, and that's just too sad for me. Another growing up moment happened today when we went to the community pool. As soon as we entered he saw a friend...he looked at the friend...looked back at me...kicked off his flip flops...and jumped right in. He's the kid who literally clung to me when we swam in early July, and now he's jumping in and leaving me behind to mind his flip flops. Oh what a metaphor that is. Eventually his friend left and he pulled me over to the basketball hoop at the edge of the pool where he edged his way in with the big kids to shoot as often as he could get the rebound...and then asked to stand on my knees so he could dunk. Yes, little man, anything to see your smile as you hang from the rim (with one arm) and beam with happiness. I won some major Mom Points because after the pool closed we went to a park nearby to swing on the swings. When he asked I nearly said no...why? Why do I say no to things that are so stinking simple? So there we were. "Push me, Mama," said my big kid who can easily do it himself, and so I did. I pushed him until he got "too high" and we laughed over silly stories of rockets attached to his butt to help him spin all the way around the bar. It was a perfect moment, and I knew I wanted to write it down so I could keep it forever.

I'm at the point in my summer where my brain flips into Work Mode, and I have a workshop tomorrow that will turn that mode into high gear. This is usually about the time where I've had enough of this stay-at-home-mom stuff, but this summer I am way in love with my big kids. I'm in love with their personalities, with their simple routines, and with the way they just roll with it. They don't need big and fancy...and quite frankly, neither do I. I know that I can count the days until summer of 2015 is in the books, and this time around it's making me sad because I'm quickly understanding how big these kids are getting; and lately my heart is aching over Connor and his big-kid ways. So, for now I'll make the best of the days that are left (following tomorrow's workshop of course). I'll try not to "Shush" him as he mindlessly crows like a rooster, I'll let him linger in my lap a few minutes longer before bed, I'll celebrate creativity when he attaches a hand mirror to a toy truck to use as a "phone launcher," I'll do all that I can to say yes to simple things like a bike ride and swing at the park. The end of this summer is bittersweet for sure, but mostly because, as my Grammie and Papa would have said, my baby is "getting too big for his britches," and it's making this Mama sad.

Lessons Learned Through Princess Dresses and Ponytails...Faith is Growing Up

Faith recently marched upstairs, armed with a garbage bag, explaining that she was going to gather toys to give to goodwill, and of course, Connor followed her up with a bag of his own, declaring, "Me too!"  We recently rearranged her room, and it was already "junked up" again...she had enough.

After about 7 minutes of rooting around and a few outbursts, both kids came downstairs, bags in hand.  Connor's bag was clearly the reason for the outbursts, as it contained many of Faith's dolls, which were new Christmas presents and some of her new clothes.  Faith's bag was a bit more telling - it was full of "baby things" like princess crowns, dress-up clothes and play shoes.  I looked through the bag with a bit of surprise, and asked her if she was sure about what she had gathered. 

"Yes, mom.  Those things are for toddlers, and I am not a toddler.  I don't wear princess crowns and I don't play dress up.  You can give those to other kids who need them."

As quickly as that, Faith had packed up her toddler-hood into a tightly drawn trashbag.  And that was it.  She marched right back upstairs to continue to "organize" her messy little room.

Moments like those make me want to stop the world, pull her onto my lap, squeeze her tight, kiss her little neck and make her giggle.  Those kinds of moments lead me to nights where I want to pull my sleeping babies into my bed, or better yet, crawl in with them.  Where on earth did Faith's six years go?  How in the world can Connor be three?

That toddler-toys-in-the-trashbag moment came back to mind this morning as I asked my little girl if she wanted to do her own ponytail today.  Like a flash, she was out of bed, teeth were brushed, and she was dressed and seated at her new vanity.  She struggled through tangles, winced through knots, and finally gathered her hair into a haphazard side-pony, complete with a friendship bracelet clipped into the front for a fancy finishing touch.  To be plain, it was quite terrible, but she was quite proud.

I ask Kevin to help me out, "Daddy, what do you think of Faith's ponytail?" 

He diplomatically said, "I love where it is, and I like the clip, but I think that Mommy needs to use the brush to smooth out the lines."

"Where?  I don't see lines."

So, I swooped in, while she was still contemplating how there could be any imperfections, just to smooth out the rough patches.  I removed the ponytail holder, and all hell broke loose.  Her eyes narrowed, her jaw set.  I crushed her...completely crushed her when I pulled out that pony.  I offered advice, I offered to let her do it again...nope...the damage had been done. 

As quickly as that, she set me straight, "No, Mom.  Mine wasn't good enough.  You do it [tears welling up]."

Then I realized that all I really wanted was a do-over.  I wanted to leave that snarly-looks-like-she-slept-in-it ponytail in her head and send her to school with a shrug of my shoulders which said, "Hey, what can you do?"  But instead, I was left to deal with a sad-faced, pout-lipped little girl with a perfectly smooth ponytail...I drove her to school wishing I could have loved her pony just the way it was.

Faithy girl is over her pretty dresses and party shoes and into trendy outfits and big-girl boots.  Her look is becoming much less fairy-princess and much more edgy-fashionista...and I'm okay with that.  Honestly, I am. 

But, I guess her independence just caught me by surprise today - who knew that her ponytail could mean so much to her?  Then again, who knew a princess dress could mean so much to me?

I can promise that tonight you will find me giving ponytail tips while playing with her Cabbage Patch Kid and Target Brand "American Girl" Dolls...all while wondering when those will get packed up and given away because they are "kids" toys.