“Bribery” by April Dautlich
Sleep has always been our biggest challenge.
You stopped napping ages ago but you could still use them to put the spring back in your step.
Sometimes when we’ve had an especially rough night, we try to coax you into having a little cat nap.
You always say no, of course.
But we’ve found your weak spot.
A show. Paw Patrol specifically. We bribe you with a bit of your favourite television in order for you to rest your sweet body. It’s not my proudest parenting technique to date.
You always say yes and immediately fall asleep for that sweet reward of the glowing iPad screen.
“Five going on six” by Kathryn Fridberg
You are at the very tail end of five years old, halfway through kindergarten. Right now, you love pink, purple, princesses, unicorns, and sparkles, much like I did at that age. You also love Lego sets and video games and learning to cook. Watching you piece words together into sentences as you read is a thrill. For some reason, you prefer sleeping in a sleeping bag on the floor under your loft bed over sleeping in your actual bed. You are enchanted by the smallest things, like these fairy lights I’d bought for a photography project. You marveled at their tiny glow, holding the delicate strings in your hands, and smiled your gappy smile at me, with the ragged edges of your first grown up teeth showing through. Every age with you has been an adventure, but this has been my favorite so far.
“Complete” by Amy Mehlos
For years, I have longed for four little stockings hanging on the mantle on Christmas morning. Every year, I would look at the catalog with all the little stockings and dream about which one I would purchase next. This year, as I looked at our mantle, for the first time, I felt 100% complete. You were the missing piece and I’m so happy you’re here.
“2021.12.24 - Traditions” by Karlie Austin
I have found my joy in this season is rooted in tradition. As you’ve gotten older some of the magic of the holidays is beginning to fade. Bryn it’s been a year now since you haven’t believed and I have struggled to know how to keep this time special for you. This year we decided to make a holiday bucket list. The MUSTS of the season, each adding one or two that are most important to us. Gingerbread cookies were top priority, with icing of course. Each year we spend Christmas Eve baking cookies for Santa, and while this tradition has evolved as you’ve gotten older, you still needed some help this year. What brought me the most joy was the icing. This is not a skill that I have mastered. I made royal icing from scratch and transferred it to a bag… we tried a piping tip, with no success and then it happened. Callum must have placed too much pressure on our makeshift piping bag and out the top came an icing explosion. Bryn you immediately started scooping the icing up off the table with your hands, to help “clean” the it up into your mouth. And Callum you licked the excess from your cookie repeating how sorry you were. The finished product is the most perfectly imperfect collection of gingerbread.
“Christmas Day” by Nadia Stone
We opened Santa ’s presents at 7 am that morning but we had to wait for Nana to open her presents for you. She arrived around 9 am. You both started laughing as you were way too exited to open more presents….
“Improvising” by Bethany Braman
And we just keep improvising and making the most of whatever. Walmart’s been outta sleds for three weeks. . . With a pile’o’dirt and some recyclables, we found out that you can sled with an empty dog food bag. This is how we make memories.
“Fishing” by Janet Holsinger
Your dad used to fish with his dad, and now you go fishing with him. Even when you don’t catch anything, it is special, this time you share together. Casting your lines together, eating gummies, talking about whatever you talk about. Or maybe you observe rules of silence while fishing? However you interact, it is clear this time is special to both you. We all know I don’t understand the allure of fishing, but I can get behind this family tradition.
“Three” by Jena Love
There’s three of you now. I wasn’t sure how it would be. But it’s been 5 weeks now and everyone is happy. I’m grateful for how good your sister and brother are with you. How much they love you. You aren’t a fan of being put down, but hearing their songs and stories make it a bit better. 5 weeks already seems too fast.
“Six” by Kendra Knaggs
Six years. And for all six of those years you have been go-go-go. Full energy. Full emotion. Every pair of pants has holes in the knees from the intensity of your play. Your throw your body into the air only to crash down in laughter. I try to ride the waves of this full force living in a graceful way but it doesn’t come naturally to me. I like to plan for life, to take it gently, to rest, retreat, use caution. I trap the words “be careful” in my throat knowing they are unhelpful and stifling to how you are growing more into yourself. I admire you. I admire the sense of urgency with which you approach life. I am learning from you and striving to meet you at your level so we go forward in this adventure together.
“Kombucha” by Heather Robinson
My wild, comedic son at age 5: “Mama, the reason I keep asking you for Kombucha is because I get this sickness in the morning where I can’t be around people because they make my body, my brain, and my heart sick until I drink Kombucha.”
Me: “I feel you there buddy.”
I say this to you after taking a giant gulp of my coffee.
“Morning Baths” by Debbie Deonier
Ever since you started Kindergarten we have been doing rushed, after-dinner baths. I miss the mornings when you were in preschool and we could play in the bathtub for hours. We’d play games with all of the bath toys, pretending they were Among Us characters or playing hide and seek with them. After a while I would get out but you’d want to stay in and play some more. I was happy about that because the light is always beautiful coming through the window in the mornings and I’d get some great photos. I miss photographing you in that light. I’m thankful for Christmas break so we could slow down and enjoy a morning bath again.
“Knowing and belonging” by Mairead Heffron
And sometimes I’m struck by what an immense privilege it is to know someone in this detail. That fine hair on your back, the shape of your shoulders, you may be changing, growing bigger every day, but you are still, always, ever, all mine.
This is what I tell myself sometimes.
No this is how it feels, often. I know your skin your smile your smell like nobody else.
You have been so mine at times (little arms clinging to my body, big cries only mama’s milk can quiet) it has been exhausting and exhilarating in equal parts.
But-
I must remind myself. Indeed you remind me every day, with every new skill you master, ever item of clothing you wrestle out of my hands (“I can do it MYSELF Mama”). There are stories and drawings and tall tales and games that are all you- nothing to do with me.
You belong here with us for now, but more than that, you belong to yourself. Maybe one day you’ll belong to others. I hope you do - because belonging to another in life, with love, in technicolor detail, is a precious gift.
“On Being Without Them” by Rachel Wheeler
We buried George today. His health deteriorated quickly after his cage mate, Henry, passed but it’s no wonder. It’s hard to just be after a loss like that, isn’t it. It’s been hard just “being” without them – our sweet little gerbils. They became your best friends, favorite playmates and most effective comforts on rough days. And in the end, really, they were family.
For me, the part that lingers was shepherding you through the exquisite grief that can accompany loss. And as Dad and I held you close during the sobbs and questions and preparations for burial, I couldn’t help but remember how you two did the same for me after Grandma passed last year. I wonder sometimes if that was hard for you? I kept you close during that time not only for the tremendous comfort your presence was, but to show you what it looks like to lose a very important someone. That death is as natural a part of life as birth. That the sadness and missing are just as much a part of loving as the warm fuzzies.
Being without them is part of being, little loves. It’s tricky and lovely and in the end, it’s also part of being a family.