When I'm Old, I'll Be Five

    Several weeks have gone by with Evelynn reminding me that "On April 14, when I'm old, I'll be five," and I've mulled over in my mind what I would put in this space in honor of her birthday. My heart and soul want to be cliche and bemoan that fact that my oldest is five. Where has time gone? Time flies. They grow up so fast. I can't stand that so many of you with grown children are right about this. But then I thought maybe I could fill this space with her witticisms. Honestly, after all the thoughts about Evelynn's 5th Birthday, I still don't know what to write. It's surreal.

    Her interests are so different from previous years. She's incredibly specific about how she sees life. She's my little responsible person. She is thoughtful, kind, protective. I can't say that I know too many five year olds that voluntarily clean their room, help me clean other rooms, take care of her sisters, watch over her sisters, and show such a mature level of concern about life. She is the advice giver. She is brutally honest, but somehow knows to temper it with love. She calls it like it is. Of course, we work with her on appropriateness of her talks and when to just remain silent (which for her can be quite hard), but I love that she already has a healthy sense of boundaries, what's wrong and what's right.

    Evelynn loves music, adores her dance class, loves writing/drawing and is desperate to read. Already she can be found late at night, with her light low and a pile of books beside her. Having spent so much of my life doing the same, I have a hard time telling her it's bed time. She has a quick ear, capable of picking out anything that is said or sung, whether it's in English or another language (particularly German). I look forward to introducing her to another culture and immersing her in another way of life and language when we got to Germany next month. She will tell you all about that, too. Time is not moving fast enough for her, but yes, it is for me. I want to put a brick on her head, tell her to quit growing like a weed and tell her she's supposed to stay a little girl. But I won't. I look forward to the next year of her life more than I wish it wouldn't come.

Target with 5,3 and 1

    Shopping has become a major ordeal, and not necessarily because my children are misbehaving. Take yesterday, for example. I had 45 minutes to get the few things on my list and make it to Evelynn's dance class on time. We make it through the door, load up in that Cadillac cart (the new three seater at Target, it's an improvement on the last one, but the seats for the two older girls are too narrow and look really uncomfortable and the buckles for all three of them are not efficient in holding them down). We walk twenty feet into the store and two of my children have to go to the bathroom. Ten minutes later we are back in the cart. Then it really begins.
    McKenna smiles and says "Hi" to everyone who passes us. Evelynn introduces our entire family or talks nonstop to anyone who even looks our way. Caelan horrifies any observers of the other two gabbing girls with her antics in this new cart. I become an incessant stream of "What are you doing? Sit down. Stop talking. They don't want to talk to you right now. Sit down. Stop growling. No, we don't need every box of fruitsnacks that are made. Sit down. Where are you going? Get back in the cart. Keep your head in the cart. Your head almost hit the shelf. That lady can't get by. Your body is in the way. Are we not taking up enough space as it is with this big cart? We don't have to tell everyone everything we know. Now is not a good time to show that person how you can dance. Sit down. Please, stop talking. No, we don't need peanut butter. Yes, I know it's peanut butter. Get back in the cart. WHAT ARE YOU DOING? You're not listening to me. Did you hear what I just said? Then why aren't you doing it? SIT DOWN. How on earth can you still stand up when you are buckled in as tight as I can make the straps? Caelan, that man does not want to speak to you. Really, he won't speak to you. Stop talking to him. Yes, he's wearing something like a dress and yes, his hat is... well, I wouldn't call it cute. Yes, we are going very fast. We need something on the other side of the store. Away from the man wearing the head covering. I know you were just saying hi, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't speak to any women. Yes, dear, I know that sign says to sit down and stay buckled. It also says that if you don't you could get hurt. That lady is trying to shop. Leave her alone. She does not need to know about your birthday. We're almost done. Let's keep it together. What do you mean you lost your ball? Didn't I tell you that if you brought it in, you had to keep up with it? You gave it to McKenna? And it's her fault. I see. We don't have time to look for it. I'll check back next week when we come. Sorry, you should have kept up with it. That's what happens. Nope, no crying. Sit down. Please stop crying, we're almost done. Caelan, sit down. Buckle up. The straps were not meant for Tarzan tricks. Quit swinging on them. The cashier has a job to do. Stop talking to him. He doesn't know where your ball is. How far apart in age are my kids? Too close apparently. How old are they? 5, 3 and 1... but they aren't mine. That would just be insane."