This has been a fun year, and I have loved watching you grow into the 8 year old that you are now. You are sweet and bright and strong and hopeful. You are headstrong, kind, independent and sensitive.

And you are my pancake. I am making mistakes, and I know it. As in so many things, you amaze me by taking it in and dealing with it. A few months ago, we were having morning battles. You didn’t want to get up, I didn’t want to be up, and everything turned into a battleground. More often than not, you left the house annoyed with me, and as you were walking down the driveway, I would realize just how much kinder I could have been. We talked about it one time. I said that neither of us was a morning person, and I thought that maybe we should remember that in the mornings and try to give one another a break. Starting the next day, the morning battles stopped. It floors me that you are able to get something so quickly and so completely that it changes everything.

It has been interesting watching you begin to understand that you are setting the example for your sister this year. You don’t always like it, but I can see that it has changed how you act. And you are a good example. I have seen you taking on the challenge of finding the balance between standing up for the right thing and keeping your nose out of other peoples’ business. I can see how you struggle with it, and that you are trying. I need to give you more credit for what you do with an issue that most adults have a hard time with.

You are so strong, and so fast. Because you are so happy to sit down and read for hours at a time (over 1,000 pages in April alone!), it always comes as a shock to see how happy you are when you are moving fast. Running, skating, climbing, riding your bike—it doesn’t matter. When you are moving your body, you are a happy, happy girl and the smile on your face reaches every bit of you. And you are fast and fearless with all of it, and unfailingly supportive of those you play with.

You certainly walk to the beat of your own drummer. It does not matter to you what other people say is cool or how you should act, wear or think—if you like it, it is right for you, and if you don’t, or if you think it is wrong, you aren’t going to do it, even if someone tells you you should. I hope that quality stays with you forever.

For your birthday CD this year, there was a late entry. You weren’t sure about it at first because it sounded a little different, but you listened anyway, and decided you it worked. So it went on. I’ve taken out the chorus, because while I love this age, and hope that you are always able to hold on to your innocence and sense of wonder at the world, I do not want you to be forever young. I am having far too much fun watching you grow up. I look forward to this next year, and all those that come after it.

Love,
mom

PS. Thank you for making me laugh so often this year. You are a funny girl, and I love your jokes and your humor more than you know.

May God bless and keep you always; may your wishes all come true.
May you always do for others, and let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars and climb on every rung.

May you grow up to be righteous; may you grow up to be true.
May you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong.

May your hands always be busy; may your feet always be swift.
May you have a strong foundation when the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful and may your song always be sung.

Really, though, I think that March in Atlanta should be snow free.

And, I think she is pretty good, too. Her team this year has not been a winning one. This fact does not upset Maggie at all. She’s there to play, and the outcome does not really matter to her.

Maggie has had several shots on goal, but she hasn’t scored yet. She wants to really badly (and I’m not sure what will happen if Katie does scores next weekend before she does).

Tiger at the Boosterthon

They had a great time walking the laps– I think some were run, but most were walked. And the kids were so cute doing it. The Boosterthon team did a wonderful job keeping the kids motivated and happy while they were going around a 1/16 mile track. It wasn’t quite as much fun for the parents, but it was still a good time.

More pictures here.

My mind is on swine flu these days, so I asked her what he was sick with.

Katie’s mind has clearly been elsewhere. She shrugged and said, “Oh… I don’t know. Maybe breast cancer.”

Yikes.

Last night at dinner, the girls and I were talking about how they might get to go to ASP after school when I do the 3Day in October. We’ve talked about the 3Day and why I’m doing it several times. So it caught me off guard when Katie’s mouth dropped open and her eyes bugged out of her head and she asked, “YOU HAVE BREAST CANCER???!”

Maggie assured her I didn’t, rolled her eyes dramatically, and then looked at me and said, “Right, mom?”

We talked about the fact that I DON’T have breast cancer, what it is, and more. Then Katie wanted to know WHEN I would get breast cancer. She agreed when I said that I hoped I wouldn’t ever get it, but her reasoning is that I’d look really silly without boobies.

But then we hit a wall. I tried to get the third floatie off, taking her down to one thin floatie, but she wouldn’t give it up. I tried to take it off when she wasn’t looking and she’d figure it out and thrash about like she was drowning. Then, she sat on the side of the pool and refused to go back in until I put the second float back on. And MAN, that girl is stubborn. She sat on the side of the pool for an afternoon and watched the kids. In July. In Atlanta. When she wanted to swim. Just to prove to me that she was NOT going to go along with my plan just no matter what.

I gave in. Of course I did. She was 3, and if she wanted her floats that badly, she could have them. She won. I lost. And I dropped the subject. Next summer, I thought. No problem.

A couple weeks later, we were swimming with friends, and she looked at me, took her floatie off and said, “Mommy, I can swim now.” And she jumped in the pool and swam away before I could pick my jaw up out of my lap and say something. I stood at the edge of the pool and watched her do it. She was so proud of herself. So happy to be swimming. And there was no doubt in her mind that that day was her day.

Last Friday night, when Katie was getting ready for bed, I reminded her to put on a pull up. She looked at me and told me that she was going to sleep in underwear that night. Although Stagg and I have talked about when we might be able to stop buying pull ups many times, we have not talked to her about it at all. She knows she sleeps deeply and doesn’t wake up when she needs to go to the bathroom, so she needs a pull up.

Friday night, she did wake up once to go to the bathroom. I was upstairs just afterward, and she was so proud of herself. When she woke up in the morning, though, she was wet. She was sad, but still pretty pleased with herself for doing it. Saturday night, she tried it again, and woke up dry. What a happy girl! She was so excited to tell everyone she knew that she had done it. And, of course, her favorite and most important person to tell was Maggie. Oh, how she loved telling her big sister that she had done something that moved her so much further into the “big girl” category with her.

Sunday night there was no stopping her. She woke up wet on Monday, but had firmly planted herself in the “sleeps in underwear” category of kids. This morning she woke up dry again and is almost looking forward to going to bed tonight so she can do it again. Because she’s decided THIS is her time, and she’s going to take advantage of it.

Katie missed Thursday and Friday of last week. The first day, she laid in bed, the second day, she was mostly fine and did crafts and drew pictures. She was very sad to miss all her friends, and devastated that she couldn’t go to the play date we had scheduled for Friday afternoon. There was crying and flailing and attempts at negotiation and bargaining. It was so hard for her to understand that she couldn’t play because she hadn’t gone to school; that germs are things we don’t want to share with our friends.

Maggie’s fever, which was actually higher than Katie’s, seemed to affect her less yesterday. She mostly lay in bed, but was able to make it to the library and do a little homework, too. She read a whole book, got dressed and was in decent spirits. Today, her fever is just about gone, and she is anxious to get back to school. For the second time in her three years at school, she’s missed picture day.

And I’ve been faced with the unending quandary about when to call the doctor. Is a fever enough? What about these sore throats they complain about? Is it strep? Or just the general fever virus that makes them feel icky all over and they notice it more when they swallow? So far, although I’ve had the phone in hand, and some numbers dialed, I haven’t made an appointment. The fevers seem to be going away on their own too quickly to be anything other than weirdness.

If all continues the way it is now, it looks like both girls will be back in school tomorrow for the first time in a week. And since I volunteered at the school this morning, I got to hear about the strep, stomach bugs, flu, pink eye and general fever disease going around. And I can only wonder how long both of them will be in school for this stretch.

“It is? Why is that?” I had never really thought about it much.

“Well, the White House is in Washington, DC, and that is NOWHERE near here. Doesn’t the naming person know that?”

A few seconds later…

“BANANA REPUBLIC??! Now that is a REALLY dumb name! I bet they don’t sell bananas in there. Who names these stores? Why do they have such dumb names?”

I tried hard not to laugh, tried hard to come up with a reason and tried hard to make it into the parking spot.

Then we shopped. As we were leaving a store, Maggie found another dumb thing. “Mom, there was a shirt in there that said, ‘My heart belongs to daddy’ and that is dumb. I’d never wear that shirt. My heart doesn’t belong to daddy.”

Thinking I was about to get a compliment, I asked, “Who does your heart belong to?”

“My heart belongs to ME. ONLY ME. Its mine and it belongs to me. No one else can own it. Even if someone else wanted it, it is still mine because I’m mine. ALL mine.”

That Maggie, she’s not dumb.

First, they competed for speed. Two of the 7 year olds were clearly faster than the other two girls, and they were thrilled to have the wind in the hair that wasn’t covered by helmets. The other two were just as thrilled to be on their bikes and riding fast. So what if it wasn’t as fast as the other two? They were still hitting speeds unattainable in their driveways, so it was all good.

Then the little one decided that not going SUPER FAST was not ok. She started to behave, well, like a 5 year old, and sat down on the side of the street to watch. The other girls decided they needed to cheer her up, and oh boy did they work at it. Each pass had a theme. The most popular meta theme was “crazy football players.” They rode by at full speed, chanting “hut hut…cuckoo!”

The five year old entertained herself by taking pictures of herself and of us together.

She felt pretty confident that she was able to express her displeasure, and then got over it entirely.

Finally, they were all pretty tired, and dinner time was approaching, so we left. And as soon as we started heading back to the house, we all noticed the huge dark clouds that had started gathering overhead. As we got to the first stop sign, the wind picked up. And as soon as we got the bikes in the garage, the first rain drops started to fall.

Fun and lucky all in one afternoon. How do you beat that?