Jack Turned 3!

Dearest Jack,

You are three.  I am so sorry for not writing your birthday letter on your actual birthday, but things have been ridiculously busy at our house.  But we'll pretend that it's because most of my pictures of you are on my work computer, because that's where I back up my phone, ok?  Cut Mommy some slack.

Last year I was so worried about you because you weren't talking much.  It makes us laugh now, because you never stop!  When you get excited you say something will be "so so much fun!"  Instead of "stop" you say "fop," and Superman is "Fooperman," but it's cute so we don't worry about it.  I apologize if you're reading this as an adult and calling me foopid for not fixing it.  Feriously.

When you go to sleep you still like to snuggle, and you're likely my last baby so I'm not as firm about it as I was with your sisters.  You like to feel my cozy arms (what is it with you kids and my arms?) and to rest your head on my tummy.  You love to read books - especially books about trains and dogs.

You are such a happy, sweet natured little boy.  It's very rare that you're grouchy or hyper.  You love to be around people, but you'll also play by yourself happily (it helps that you got lots of cool new stuff for your birthday).  You love your "gogs" (dogs).  You love Daddy and you break his heart when he has to leave for work and you're begging him to come downstairs and play trains with you.  

I'm so glad that we have had the opportunity to raise a little boy.  I hope that you grow up to be as strong and as gentle as your father.  I hope you stay as sweet as you are right now.  I hope you learn to do your own laundry at a prodigious age, because seriously...

Here's the checklist:

Here's the checklist:

Your favorite toy for playing is: anything with wheels, especially trains

Your favorite toy for snuggling is: your dogs

Your favorite foods: strawberries, apples, apple pie, chocolate

Your favorite book is: Spot Goes to School - books with trains, dogs, and flaps

Your favorite activity is: riding things (trains, bikes, etc.)

Your favorite place to go is: the park

Your best friend is: Penny

Something new that you're doing: counting

Something you've mastered: speaking, almost!

Something people say about you: "Look at his curly hair!"

Something that you're saying is: When I call you I'll say "Jaa-aack!" on a decending third, and you'll sing, "Whaaa-aaat," back to me, and I'll sing back, "I love you!" and you sing, "I love you too!"  Sometimes I lose you on purpose just so that I can hear you sing to me.

Something Dad and I are proud of you for: You are gentle with the dogs and almost never pull their ears and tails.

Something surprising about you: you have a sense of humor that is well beyond your age.

What you want to be when you grow up: Fooperman.

I love you so much, Jack Jack.

Mommy

Autumn

In the car this morning:

"Look at the pretty trees, Jack!  Aren't the leaves pretty today"

"Why somebody paint doze trees?"

Oh, this kid, he is my heart.

Things I Don't Want to Forget, October Edition

I was adjusting the "static correction" collar we got for Penny, because she barks constantly.

Mary Grace said, "Set it to extra crispy!"

***

I complained that Jack hadn't touched his dinner.  He stuck out one finger and gently nudged his sandwich.  "I touched it."

***

Aunt Mimi was babysitting, Jack had a dirty diaper.  He wouldn't let her change it.  She asked him why.  He replied, "I do not want you to see my butt."

***

Our friends gave us a big cardboard stand-up Han Solo.  The kids have delighted in scaring me with him at every opportunity.  First they left him standing in my doorway.  I actually screamed and jumped backward about 8 feet.  He has shown up in every room of the house, in the shower, in my bed, behind BJ's car.  I even printed little Han Solos and sent them to school in the girls' lunches one day.  The whole thing has been hilarious.

***

A girl was giving Claire a hard time at school - this girl gives everyone a hard time, actually.  Claire came home asking what it means when someone holds up their middle finger at you.  Ugh.  So I explained, and told her to just stay away from that kid as much as possible.  Instead of listening, Claire drew a picture with the two of them holding hands under a rainbow.  She took it to school and gave it to her the next day.  The little girl with the problems showed the teacher, and Claire got to "clip up" to Sparkling - the highest honor for the day.

I am humbled by her gentle heart.  It turns out that the little girl has a paraprofessional with her in the class, and obviously has special needs of some kind.  Leave it to my girl to realize that she needs a friend, and to reach out to her.

***

Oh, how I love these wonderful kids!

PPD in the News

I'm heartbroken this morning to learn that the woman driving the car in Washington DC who was shot to death by Capitol police after running over a member of the Secret Service and driving erratically in the mall area suffered from postpartum depression.

Actually, chances are that she suffered from postpartum psychosis, which is a different disorder, but since I'm not a shrink and I've never met the woman, I'll refrain from diagnosing her myself.

What kills me is that PPD and PPP are known disorders with effective treatments available, and yet so many women suffer in shame and silence.

I know the pain of PPD.  I have felt helpless, wanting the pain to end so badly that I might have done anything to make it stop.  Instead of doing anything, though, I called my husband or my mom, I called my sister, I called a friend.  I got help.

I'm heartbroken that this woman didn't have the support she needed so desperately.  I'm heartbroken for her baby who will never know her mother. 

And I'm writing this today because I know that there are women out there who are in the throes of PPD and who will read this story and think, "Might I do something like that too?" and it'll send them spiraling downward - as any bad news will do when you're in that place.

Listen to me - help is out there.  There are plenty of places you can go.  Call someone you love.  Call the crisis line - 1-800-273-TALK.  Call your doctor.  Call the hospital where you gave birth.  Don't suffer alone. 

You are not alone.  Perinatal Anxiety and Mood Disorders affect thousands and thousands of women every year - nearly a million women in the US per year, according to Postpartum Progress.  Only when we're honest with each other and willing to be vulnerable and admit, "Yeah, this happened to me," can we get help or help each other.  Which is why I am brutally honest about my experience on this blog.  It happened to me.  It was awful.  But I GOT BETTER and you can too.  Please, if you're suffering right now, ask for help.

Rest in peace, Miriam Carey. 

School Pictures

Dear People,

In the interest of being able to send the children to college one day, I have elected to never ever ever buy prints of their school pictures to distribute, because it would cost a fortune.

Therefore, I have purchased the digital rights to these photos and you are welcome to copy them and print them to your heart's content.  Actually, if everyone prints each one 47 times it will bring the total cost per picture down to a reasonable level.

Here is MG's official 2nd Grade Portrait:

And here is Claire's official 1st Grade Portrait:

I still regret not getting the laser background.