Ode to Claire on Your 5th Birthday

Dear Claire,

Let me begin by saying, how did we get here?

This morning we woke up and you were officially five years old.  Holy smokes!

They say that some children come to their mothers with a deep intention to change them in ways that at the time seem impossible, but later upon reflection are profound.

You, for me are that child.

We couldn't be more different really, you and I...you with your blond hair and petite, sweet little smile and frame.

You who inhabits her body so completely and fully that I'm often exhausted and overcome by the boundless energy, purpose, determination and sheer tour de force that you bring to brushing your teeth and putting on a pair of snow boots.

You with your love of song...any melody...a myriad of tunes...constantly singing, continually moving your arms, legs, fingers and toes to the beat of well, your own deal.

I think you were the lucky one...the third in the row of ducklings...the youngest...but definitively, no longer the baby.  And you'll forgive me when I say that your birth order has imbued you with a gorgeous, raging, truly stunning, "I could give two shits" attitude about fear or what others think of you or what a "little girl" should or should not do.

"Hell yes" seems to be your mantra all wrapped up in a princess dress, a tiara, a crown, mismatched leg warmers, a preferred commando get-up and a staunch belief that macaroni and cheese should undoubtedly be the only meal of choice.

You are loud and brash and strong and tough and you don't. ever. let. up. when by God damn it.  you want. it.  And, I'm not going to lie, it kills me.  Like boiling over the top makes me want to throw that Kraft Macaroni and Cheese cardboard box right in your direction.  But then, I see you working it out in your mind.  It makes perfect sense to you.  So, why not fight for it?  And for that, I give you props and I pray that you never lose your chops or your nerve or your edge.  In so many ways, I want to be you when I grow up.

And this is it for us, Claire Bear.  Our last year home together, just you and me.  Next year, you will be in kindergarten full-time and I will cry.  I'm sure of it.  I'm also confident in the fact that you will not.  You are ready.  Born ready to tackle the unfair world and to bring it to its' knees with your big heart, your tireless love, your cup so incredibly full and your belief that everything is possible if you just want it badly enough.

So shine on, my five-year old.  Make this an incredible year as I know you will.  We couldn't be more proud or grateful to have received the gift of you for another day, another year, another season to learn...even if it taxes the shit out of us...what it means to live your life, all five years of it with gusto and glory.

All my love,

Mama

Ode to Kate on Her Fifth Birthday

Our family had only known grandsons before you.

And so, with bated breath, everyone was hoping that you would be a girl.

But no one knew that you would come out of the womb, the most beautiful, sweet, feisty, funky ball of sass and love that the world had ever seen.

You, my middle child, my first daughter.  My little one who read complete sentences by the age of three and who corrects my grammar and the injustices of the world around her.

You who walks around in mix matched tights and dresses with braids, cowboy hats, princess tutus and a mind that is always cranking out the most amazing and bold thoughts like, "Mama, why do you have a spiky vagina?"

You who looks like me, but is far more self assured, far more indulgent to the present moment, far more willing to love the red in the rose and the brown in the chocolate, and the warmth in the hug.

You who I would die for and nearly did when you hit your head on the diving board yesterday and then hours later, landed on your neck and back falling off of a trampoline.

You who is fearless, focused, capable, beautiful and aware....may you know today and always (especially when I am not here to tell you daily), that you are loved, you are wanted, and that the world is a brighter, more loving place because of you.

Happy Birthday, Kate.

Strong, Beautiful, Fearless

Tomorrow I run my first race.  It's a five-mile trail run in the middle of January.

I've been running, but have yet to do five miles straight without walking, so I'm nervous.  Like, really nervous.

And when I get anxious, I dream...technicolor style.  Last night, I was running, running, and running and I was lost beyond belief.  Alone and lost.  Freaked out, I woke up and thought, "What the hell have I gotten myself into to?"  And then I thought, "I can do this."  "I can absolutely do this."

For good measure, I got some decent wool running socks, a good pair of gloves, and my hair colored this morning.  Because, if I die and am found, I want to look good trying.  Every woman knows exactly what I'm talking about.  No one wants to be corpse-like with shitty roots.

Throughout this journey, I've adopted the mantra....Strong, Beautiful, Fearless....as my theme for 2012.  The ball is rolling.  The weight is coming off.  My muscles are getting stronger.  And, the fear is still there, but I'm slowly learning to leverage it to my benefit.  And the stronger I get, the sexier, more beautiful that I feel, especially in the face of fear.

So, here's to the race tomorrow.  You and I are doing this...one step at a time.