Fireflies and fun

We have recently moved back to my (and Daddio's) hometown, which is more rural than the city/suburban area we had been living in. Everyone is happy, much happier than was anticipated (phwew!) Daddio no longer has to commute. Mommio loves her career. All three kids have friends - and really good, nice friends. We are blessed. We love our new home. Two sets of grandparents and a bajillion aunts, uncles and cousins are close by. The schools are good. Things are good. Some things are even really good. And some things are even great.

Fireflies. They are great. Really great. We didn't have fireflies in our old neck of the woods - and we never really missed them. But, at a picnic early last summer- before we had actually moved down, my children discovered fireflies. It was as if they had discovered flying nuggets of gold. They could not wait to move here so they could catch fireflies every night. And boy, were they disappointed to learn that fireflies are a 'seasonal' bug. Bummer. But, those little suckers are back. And the kids are ready. They have jars and lids and butterfly nets all set to go tonight. I am pretty sure that no battle has ever been more carefully planned. Littlest Brother is going to keep a jar full of them on his dresser as a nightlite. Middlest sister is sure she will catch Tinkerbelle and has visions of visiting Neverland with her. Biggest sister is going along for the ride and hasn't burst either of the Littlest or Middlest's bubbles, but has told Daddio and I on the side that she just knows Littlest's fireflies will die in the jar and that Tinkerbelle is not 'for real'.

Now I know for sure that it is summer. School is out. The smell of sunscreen is everywhere. And all of my tupperware lids have breathing holes in them to keep keep fireflies alive!

Happy birthday to the sweet creme of my cookie!

Oh my Boo - you are 8 years old now. 8! I can't believe it! You were two weeks late and weighed in at a whopping 9 pounds, 13 ounces and were 22 inches long. My doctor thought you probably had lost a little bit of weight while you were cramped up on 'the inside'. You were black and blue, with really long fingernails and a broken collarbone (you got a little 'stuck' on the way out) - but you were beautiful. And perfect. And you still are.



I know that we should have given you the middle name of 'Passion'. You, my sweet, are passionate about everything. There is NEVER any doubt about how you feel about something! You are not shy in letting anyone know how you feel and exactly why you feel that way. You are the original nature girl...always prefering to be outside, in any kind of weather (except thunderstorms - a new fear). When you were four months old we went down south with Momom and Pop. One afternoon, after waking up from your nap, Pop was holding you and playing with you when you started to cry for no apparent reason. Fiercely. Nothing would calm you down. Nothing. Out of desperation, Pop walked outside with you and the crying IMMEDIATELY stopped and a smile formed right on your little mouth. The moment he walked inside, you started right up again! Pop turned it into a little game -walking inside and outside, just to see how quickly you could go from crying to smiling and back to crying again. You kept up with him until Momom banished both of you outside! And the two of you sat there smiling until I came back to feed you - guess where? Outside!



You are finishing 2nd grade tomorrow. You love basketball, soccer, playing on the trampoline, bike riding, swimming, Camp Rock and i-Carly. You LOVE to read. We currently call you Evil Genius. You love that nickname. It scares us a little bit that you love that nickname. Just for the record, right now you want to be a neonatologist, veterinarian, or a preschool teacher when you grow up. You have recently dumped the color purple in favor of pink. You hang onto everything Biggest Sister says - even if you pretend you don't care. And she loves to impress you. You love that Little Brother thinks you are the coolest thing since worms. Pretty cool in his book. Your little cousin, F, thinks you are as great as Dora and asks Auntie K everyday to come and see you!You cannot get enough of strawberry jell-o with sliced strawberries in it. You can't wait for 'real' summer camp to start next week. You have a guinea pig without eyes, a tank full of fish and a dog. For your birthday all you wanted was a basketball hoop, a soccer goal and a new American Girl doll (boy, you will be one happy chick later on!). And today, you are at M's birthday party - how cool is that? Your newest, bestest friend in the whole wide world is having her party on your birthday!

Middlest Sister - sometimes it's hard to be the middlest. You tell us that all of the time. But, don't ever forget - you have such a special place in our family. You get to be a little sister and a big sister. You will always be my baby girl. You are the sweet creme in the middle of an Oreo cookie. I love you and I am so proud to be your mom.

I have a theory...

I really do... and if anyone ever actually reads my blog, I'd like to hear what you think. Biggest Sister was born three weeks early. She wakes up early. Always has. Doesn't matter what time she goes to sleep- although she has always been an early to bed kind of girl. Son was born two weeks early. If he is still asleep at 6:30 in the morning we automatically think he is seriously ill. Really. Then we have Middlest Sister. She was two weeks late. You got it...cannot get this girl moving in the morning. She actually bemoans middle and high school already (she is finishing 2nd grade this year) because she knows how early the bus comes. This doesn't really bother me- I teach, so Daddio is really the morning choreographer. And, since I am an early bird myself (yep...I was born early) and he is a "5 more minutes" man (once causing us to miss a yummy breakfast at a cute bed and breakfast in Vermont by 5 minutes), I find that his having to deal with her in the morning (Middlest Sister is, shall we say, passionate in expressing her feelings) is poetic justice.

Because I tend to get, uh, 'long winded', (and between Daddio and I, we have 13 years of higher education and I edited a bajillion papers for the two of us in that time and appreciate a good summary) I will summarize with my theory:
Kids who are born earlier than said due date are early risers. Kids who are born later than said due date are late risers. Boy, that seems lame actually written out like that. Anyone else agree with me?

It's 8:00, do you know where your child is?

I do...mine (one of mine)(now known as Son) is crying and yelling that he never gets to watch a whole show like his sisters and that he never gets to make choices like his sisters do.

So, so, so not like him. But Daddio and I jinxed ourselves on Friday afternoon when we picked the kids up from daycare together and they were raving, raving, about what a great kid son is - he's sweet, funny, smart, yada yada yada...and we agreed. All out of ear range of the kid. However, since Friday afternoon he has had one bona fide temper tantrum each evening. Three in a row. The kid will be 5 in August and I don't think he's actually had three tantrums in all of this time. Seriously. Initially his sisters (now known as Biggest Sister and Middlest Sister) were sweet and consoling and loving - but that's over. In a big way.

Since Daddio is about to lose his cool, I am not sure that this is the time to write the sappy, loving, wonderful Father's Day tribute to him....or bring up possibly having another baby...

What does poison ivy, prednisone and the stomach flu get you?

Well, it's gotten me a BRAND NEW BLOG. First case of poison ivy EVER and some heavy duty prednisone kept me home from work for a week. So my *lurking* habit increased. a lot. Then the stomach flu. BAD. Luckily my lurking habit (similiar to a crack habit as far as I can tell) was easily fed, since our downstairs bathroom is right next to our computer....and voila! here is my new blog.

I am not sure how this blog will go - I have started blogs before and then stopped them. But, I'm thinking if I spend half the time writing this blog as I do lurking other blogs, this blog has a fighting chance. maybe.

Wish me luck.