Five

Dear Poppy,

Today you are five years old.

You woke up this morning, declared you felt taller, and asked when you were going to kindergarten. Your enthusiasm and zest for life are exhausting sometimes, especially when I haven’t had my coffee yet, but I love how ready you are to experience new things. Spontaneity is your love language. You dream big and you’ve got adventure in your heart.

This week I’ve been filling out forms and reading emails with subject lines like “getting your child ready for kindergarten” and the thought that keeps rolling around in my head is: how do we get kindergarten ready for you? You are intense sometimes, Pops, and I love that about you. I want to make sure school is a place where your intensity and your power are nurtured and appreciated. We’re not sure if you’re going to lead a company or a revolution in the future but we want to prepare you the best we can either way.

You love babies. You come home from daycare full of stories about what the babies did that day. You would make an amazing big sister and I’m sorry that’s something you won’t get to experience.

You want to be a vet when you grow up but you also want to own an ice cream truck. You’d also like to be a mermaid but I’m not sure that’s a viable career choice.

Your favourite foods are: chicken wings, tomato soup (the way Papa makes it!), and fries with gravy. You detest baked goods and chocolate and it is a good reminder that I don’t have to understand you to love you.

And oh, how I love you. I love how you hug me with your whole body. I love how farts are the most hilarious thing to you. I love how you tell me exactly what you need, directly and confidently. I love how deeply you love your big brother. I love how much joy and exuberance you bring to our family.

Happy fifth birthday, Penelope Bloom. I’m so glad I get to know you.

Love, Mama

December 1st

I feel like I’m disappearing a little bit but at the same time I know how lucky I am to be employed and housed and safe. I’m not complaining, I’m just tired and sad. So, in an effort to feel more like myself, I’m going to try to show up here every day and write for five minutes. I can do five minutes. I can be me for five minutes.

Today is December 1st, the birthday of one of my favourite people. I haven’t seen Alexis in way too long but in the before times we would eat pancakes and drink gin (not at the same time). She’s the type of person who shows up with a car full of water guns when my kids invite her to a water fight. She’s always up for an adventure but she’s also one of the most steady, reliable people I know. She cares about people, deeply. I miss her and can’t wait to toast her birthday with our traditional tequila next year.

Nine

Dear Grady,

Today you are nine years old.

When you were just a few days old, and you spent the majority of your hours curved in a ball on my chest, and I was ravaged by postpartum hormones and new mom nerves and sleep deprivation, and the summer heat was long and unrelenting, I would hold you and rock back and forth listening to Willie Nelson’s version of The Scientist on repeat and cry. Coldplay’s version of the song has always had a special place in my heart and Willie Nelson will always and forever remind me of my dad; the combination of the two made for the perfect soundtrack to feeling new parenthood feels. I cried because I couldn’t keep you small forever, and if you grew up I couldn’t protect you from a world that often feels too big, too loud, and too much.

Today you turned nine in a world that still feels too big, too loud, and too much, but I’m not sad that you’re growing up. It is a privilege and a delight to get to witness you grow from a tiny, helpless ball to the kind, empathetic, hilarious kid you’ve become. You care deeply about people and your generous heart is one of my favourite things about you. You make me feel like maybe this world isn’t so scary, and that you and your sister don’t need to be protected so much as accompanied. You make me believe that enthusiasm and good intentions are an advantage, sincere interest in others is a super power, and there’s rarely any harm in sharing a kind word. You make people feel loved and seen, Grady. I’m blown away by how much you care.

It’s been months since you crawled into our bed for an early morning snuggle but if I close my eyes and concentrate, I’m transported back to those first few days when you lived on my chest and we swayed and cried together. This world is a lot but we’re moving through it together.

Happy birthday, Grady Bug. I love you bunches.

Four

Penelope Bloom, today you are four years old. The first thing you said this morning, your voice still slow and sweet with sleep, was: “am I four yet?” You have been waiting to be four for a while. You can’t wait to grow up and go to school and drive a car and be a vet and have a cat and live in a castle and and and. You talk all day long, from the minute you wake up until the minute you fall asleep (and while you sleep too, sometimes). I love to hear your chatter. Your brain and your vocabulary are magnificent.

You are the boss of our home but I will never call you bossy. A few months ago you were ordering us all around and Grady told you that you’re not the boss. You shrugged your shoulders and said, “I’m a powerful woman.” You are, baby girl, and I hope you never forget that.

You requested birthday “beesketti” (spaghetti) instead of cake and you wished for a scooter like Grady’s so you can race (but in morning pink, of course) (“morning pink” is what you call light pink because it’s light in the morning, obviously). You know what you want and you can’t be swayed. You are confident and sure and forceful and I want to be like you when I grow up.

Sometimes, very rarely, I see glimmers of your babyhood. Like how you still say “gotfor” instead of “forgot” or when you crawl up into my lap and request “mama love” when you’re sleepy. But mostly I see the amazing kid you are now, and the powerful woman you’ll continue to be as you grow. You’re a lot like your dad - you want to go faster, higher, louder, bigger, bolder. I am delighted by your indomitable spirit and a tiny bit terrified that you’re going to hop on a city bus one day and end up in another city.

Poppy Doodle Bug, I am so excited to see what you do next. Happy birthday. Love, Mama