Tag Archives: happy birthday

Double Digits, Eleven Days Late

Eleven days ago, on July 15th, I missed posting about your birthday. I’d like to blame technical difficulties (I did forget to bring my laptop to Nana & Pappy’s cottage), but the truth is that four days after arriving in the U.S. I was just too overwhelmed to write a coherent sentence.  A lot happened this month.  That does not, however, mean we didn’t celebrate your birthday as hard as ever, and it does not mean you don’t get a birthday post (I haven’t missed one in years!), but it DOES mean that, like a lot of things right now, we had to adjust our schedules and expectations a bit. 

So, eleven days later, let me wish you the happiest of 10th birthdays.  I know it was a good one because at one point in the late afternoon, in between you opening presents, spending most of the day swimming and kayaking in the pond, playing wiffle ball with your cousins, and eating a cupcake the size of your head, I leaned over and hugged you and said I hoped your birthday was fun and you gasped and said, “I forgot it WAS my birthday! I was too busy to think about it!”.  Pretty much that’s how birthdays should always be.

This past year was a strange one for you and for all of us.  We knew it was the end of an era – the final year in the grand adventure – so we talked a lot about what we’d done during our time in Europe, what we’d miss when we left, what we were looking forward to when we got back to America, and how it was the “last time” we’d do X, Y, and Z.  Although our focus was often on the past and the future, you managed to concentrate on the present and you made your last year in England your best year yet.  You absolutely killed it.

You got the best grades you’ve ever gotten, hands down, and made a concerted effort to overcome your reserved tendencies and speak up more in school.  I know that’s difficult for you and it makes you uncomfortable, but you did it anyway and your effort marks reflected that; I’m so proud of you for reaching beyond your comfort zone. You worked harder and more diligently than I have ever seen you work, and your attention to detail was better than it’s ever been before.  I know your teacher made a huge difference – he helped your Dad and I understand the you that we don’t see in school all day and he helped you be the best possible version of that kid and we owe him a debt of gratitude for that.

You absolutely thrived on the football pitch/soccer field where you played up a level alongside kids that were often two years older (and bigger) than you.  You were never intimidated at all, and your natural speed and athleticism and inherent understanding of sports strategy made up for your lack of size.  You made it clear that you belonged on that team of older boys and your dad and I were so proud to watch you play and grow as an athlete. 

You did the same on the cross-country trail, running with older kids and making it clear that you belonged right there with them.  I was as excited as I’ve ever been watching a sporting event at your cross-country relay this past spring when you came first in your leg — I screamed and jumped up and down and generally acted like a crazy person as you helped your team win a medal.  Who knew cross-country could be so much fun?!?!

You continued to make us all laugh with your sophisticated palate and ability to eat like a grown man on pretty much every trip we took – from consuming your weight in wiener schnitzel in Austria and Germany to inhaling half the seafood in Spain on our Barcelona trip.  We’ve come to accept that you’re never, ever ordering off the kids’ menu again.  I don’t understand how you’re as skinny as you are when you eat more calories in a given day than I do, but man you are skin and bones and ridiculously strong little muscles and that’s it.

You made such great friends in England and I was so glad to see you have your OWN little group instead of tagging along with Gabe’s friend like you mostly had in Virginia.  I really hope you keep in touch with them all (I think you will) and I hope that you make as good a group of friends here in Massachusetts when school starts this fall.

And, as you always have, you continued to impress me this year with your willingness and openness to try new things, see new places, and really think about how those experiences fit into your life and the world you know.  You make great observations on our trips: comparing and contrasting the canals in Venice to those in Bruges and Amsterdam, pointing out the similarities and differences between Menorca and Greece, and proving to your dad and I that you really were taking it all in on these million trips and that it was changing you in such a positive way.  We love hearing you talk about what you’ve seen and what you hope to see in the future.

So now, as you hit double digits, I just want you to know how very, very proud I am of the hard work you’ve put in over the last year, how much I’ve enjoyed watching you grow and change and mature, and how very much I love the boy you are and the person I see you becoming.  You’re a complex guy, and it’s so much fun to see all the different little sides of you in different situations.  Happy birthday, my bug (eleven days late). I love you to the moon and back.

This is 39

On Tuesday, I turned 39. I thought I might hate it — the last year of my 30s, a sure sign of age, and middle-age, too, no question about it — but I’m happy. 

More than happy, actually.

I’m proud and ecstatic and grateful and excited.  I love what I’ve done and I cannot wait for what’s to come.

How lucky I am to live this life, to have all these adventures with the people I love more than anything.  To see cities and countries and continents I’ve dreamed my whole life of seeing.  To have friends and family all over the world who make my life so interesting and enjoyable and who I know I’ll always get to keep, no matter where I live.  I am surrounded with good people everywhere I go: my parents and sisters and nephews and niece(s) and in-laws and cousins and aunts and uncles and more good friends than I deserve.

How fortunate I am to have a husband who loves me absolutely and who I adore.  We’re flawed, both of us, but in just the right ways to complement each other I think.  He entertains my occasionally outlandish ideas, and then, sometimes, he says – yes, let’s do that, that idea is not insane, it’s ingenious – and we move to England for three years.  We’re a good team.  We make things happen.

How grateful I am to have these four amazing children who are just the most fun and entertaining and interesting people I know.  Good lord do they make me work hard, but every second of it is worth it for the moments when it all comes together.  I look around at all of them, doing things they love, being silly and smart and funny and thoughtful and just becoming these whole, unique, amazing individuals and my heart hurts from the beauty of it all. 

How privileged I am to be able to do a job I love, to get paid well, to feel at the end of the day like I did something that matters and is worthwhile.  And to still have time and energy and the ability to do EVEN MORE things I enjoy and love, even when I don’t get paid for them. 

I can see the physical signs of age, for sure.  My forehead is so wrinkly it’s a bit horrifying, but I have bangs to mostly hide it. That might be the one and only thing I don’t like about my appearance, and if that’s all, I’ll take it.  There’s a ton of grey in my hair, more than a little, but I don’t mind covering that up.  New hair colors are fun.  Gravity hasn’t been kind in every area, but I’ll keep on doing what I can to combat the effects of time and childbirth.  I won’t age gracefully I don’t think, I’ll fight where I feel like it matters, but hopefully with some sense and balance.  Age isn’t always easy when you look in the mirror, but I hope I can remember it isn’t all bad.

Where age takes physically, I think it gives in other areas.  Age gives you perspective and hopefully a little wisdom and the ability to look back and compare now to then, and I am so happy for that chance.  Now is amazing.

I am proud of where I am and what I’m doing, proud of my husband and my children, proud of how I look and feel.  I like who I am.  I apologize less now than I did ten years ago.  I have a better understanding of what’s important.  I love everything about my life, truly.  What a gift.

“When it’s over, I want to say: all my life I was a bride married to amazement…I don’t want to end up simply having visited this world.” — Mary Oliver

Happy Birthday Baby

As you have for several years now, you started the countdown to your birthday about a month ago.  You’ve kept track every single day and reminded us all frequently exactly how many days were left until you turned eight.  It’s now a running joke for Daddy to say something like “Ten days left until your birthday Quinn!” and you, with a sigh and a roll of your eyes, instantly correct him without looking at a calendar or counting (“Three, Dad.”).

The funniest thing though, is that you apparently haven’t just been monitoring the number of days, but also trying to keep track of any packages arriving in the mail.  You told Daddy the other day that you were actually getting a little concerned that maybe we weren’t really aware of exactly how close your birthday actually WAS because you had not noticed any deliveries in your name.  Daddy assured you we were on top of it, and you had a sudden epiphany – maybe the packages being delivered to DAD AND ME were actually FOR YOU.  You crack me up, kid.

Seven was a great year for you – you proved yourself to be one of the big kids as you moved up to the Upper Prep school and joined your brothers there.  You have absolutely loved the added benefits of being in the big kid end of the school: playing in sports matches against other schools, participating in all the cool after school clubs, having the real-deal sports kit and track suit to wear, and switching classes and teachers for every lesson.  You’ve done a phenomenal job of it.  (All except for the keeping track of your uniform items part.  We’ve definitely got some work to do in that area.)

We went on some really cool trips this past year and you, as always, greeted every new experience with glee and open-hearted enthusiasm.  I think Menorca may have been a favorite, between the pool in the back yard, the beaches a five minute walk away, the kayaking and sailing trips, and the snorkeling with a little tiny octopus.  You were a rock star snorkeler and it just solidified the fact that our family trips no longer revolve around what the littlest can do.  Cause the littlest can do everything! 

Except stay up for a dinner on a Spanish timeline – meals that begin at 9PM aren’t your forte.

You also discovered some new favorite foods and have carried on the family tradition of outgrowing the children’s menu by about age seven.  Weiner schnitzel, paella, and prawns were proven to be two new favorites, and you ate your weight in both while in Germany, Austria, and then Spain. 

Through every year and phase of parenting, I have found things I love and things I don’t love, and that hasn’t changed in the last year.  I have to say, though, that I really think we’re in the parenting sweet spot with the ages of you and your siblings, and the fact that we can do just about anything with you guys has been such a fun realization.  I think eight might be one of my very favorite ages to parent; you’re little enough that I can still hold your hand and snuggle you without you feeling any embarassment, but you’re big enough that we can go skiing and snorkeling all together as a family without having to make any concessions for little ones.  I’m so excited about the year ahead of you!

Another thing I love about eight year olds is that they have the best, most crooked smiles with mouths full of half giant teeth and half little ones.  You have a fantastic little fang coming in well before the baby tooth it should replace seems ready to come out.  I have a feeling we’re looking at a few sets of braces when we move back to the U.S.

We are looking ahead to another year of massive change, though to be honest, that seems like our family M.O. sometimes.  We’ll move back to America this summer, and you’ll be living in another new place where you’ve never lived before (you have frequently visited this one, at least).  But you never, ever doubt that it will be awesome.  You already know what it’s like to move somewhere new and make new friends and learn how things are done in a new place, so you’re confident that you’ll be as successful in this new endeavor as you were in the last.  I am too.  You make friends so easily and joyfully and I love your open-hearted attitude.  And as a bonus, this time you’ll have your cousins nearby to play with on a regular basis, so you’ve already got some built-in friends anyway!

You and your brothers have over the last few years become this hysterical little gang – no longer are you the little one who has to be included or helped out, you are a full-fledged member of the team.  You hold your own across the board and the three of you spend approximately one billion hours a week playing soccer, cricket, hockey, wiffle ball, skateboarding, practicing archery, and playing PlayStation.  Even though you fight (a lot), you are so lucky to have each other around every day to play with.  I love watching you guys. 

I also love watching you play with your sister.  You may be the only person in our family who she never truly gets annoyed with, because you’re pretty hard to get mad at.  Except when you stink up the room.  She doesn’t love that. (None of us do, but you think it’s the funniest thing EVER.)  But she does love you, and you love her, and that makes me happy.

I can’t wait to see what this next year brings, but I know that no matter what, you’ll go through it all with a positive outlook, a happy, goofy smile, and a million hugs for anyone willing to accept them.  You are the most genuinely sweet and happy person I know and I love that age hasn’t changed you.  You make the world a kinder place and I am so grateful that I get to live a life with you in it.  Happy birthday, baby.  Happy 8th!

Truths About Eleven

You know what I love about you, my Gabey-baby? Everything.

You’re happy, thoughtful, responsible, loving, funny, helpful, interesting, curious, earnest, silly, kind, and caring.  You are all those things, and that is the truth.

Lest I be accused of bias, though, and in order to demonstrate that I am not oblivious to your faults, I’ll tell you that you are also not a good listener, you get too easily frustrated, you like to pick on your brothers, and you have real trouble not trying to get the last word in during an argument. 

Those things are all also true, which I assume you know because your dad and I do have to say them to you fairly frequently.  (But just in case, I’m writing them here so you can read them, because…well…look at the first one on the list.)

In the balance, though, you are a pretty amazing person.  I’m so glad I get to be your mom.

You are, as I’ve said before, the person who introduced me to the way boys work.  When you were born I began this weird new journey into the mind of a little boy and I have learned some amazing things — the most important being that little boys are just as multi-faceted and varied and complex as little girls. 

I think that concept gets brushed aside a lot.  Before I had you, my eldest son, I admit that I probably had a less-than-nuanced understanding and set of beliefs about what little boys were like.  I bought the stereotypes and just assumed that little boys are these rough and tumble oblivious mess-makers who stumble through the world without much thought, slamming into things and not really paying attention.

While that can certainly be true and you’ve had your fair share of times when that description sums you up pretty well, the reality is that you are every bit as capable of being a calm, thoughtful, attentive, detail-oriented person as your sister.  The older you get, the more that becomes true.  You aren’t just one thing, you’re not a preconceived notion or a one-dimensional character.

You are sensitive.  You are empathetic and sympathetic.  You are snuggly and loving.  You’re not a risk-taker or a thrill-seeker, you prefer not to be scared.  You pay attention to people and how they feel.  You look for and find beauty and wonder in the world around you and you appreciate it, out loud, without embarrassment or hesitation.  You are expressive and emotional.

You have taught me about boys and girls and stereotypes and expectations and it has made me a better person and better parent.  Because I have you (and your sister and brothers as well) to illustrate daily the similarities and differences between boys and girls, daughters and sons, and individuals in general, I am a more understanding and complete human myself.  Thank you for showing me the truth.

Yet another truth is that you’re simply one of the coolest people I know.  You do what you love and you do it wholeheartedly, regardless of whether that thing is something people would expect from you or not.

Bridget wondered aloud the other evening why everyone always thinks “Gabe is so cool”, when, as you danced around the dining room singing, with your hair in a ponytail on the front of your head like a unicorn, it seemed very, very clear that you are not, in fact, cool at all.

That, I said, is the trick — Gabe knows in his heart that as long as he believes he’s cool, he is.  And whatever he is doing, therefore, becomes cool by default.

Bridget wasn’t thrilled with that answer, but it’s another truth, undeniably. 

You’ve discovered the key to happiness there, too, I think. 

You really do just embrace whatever you find that you love, whether that’s playing ALL THE SPORTS (which might typically be deemed cool), or tap dancing (which might not).

Whether it’s talking about movies you love like Guardians of the Galaxy (typically pretty cool) or the Sound of Music (maybe not as popular with the 11-year old boys).

Or whether it’s spending your free time playing video games and riding your skateboard and playing football (generally regarded as cool pastimes) or reading books about history and singing along to musicals with your mom (possibly not regarded as the coolest hobbies). 

And because you unapologetically do your thing, because you love what you love out loud and with passion, you MAKE IT COOL.  And you enjoy your life so much more, because you’re doing things you love and you’re happy about it.  If you can hang on to that skill, you will have a much easier time of high school and college than your dad or I ever did.  Keep on doing what you’re doing, my boy.

You are now officially a pre-teen, which is 100,000% insane to me.  I can’t quite wrap my head around the concept of a grown-up version of my Gabe.  You’ve matured so much over the course of the last two years though, and I can occasionally see glimpses of the teenager and adult you will become. 

I’m looking forward to meeting that guy; I think he’s going to be fun and funny and I will enjoy his company.  Hopefully he’ll decide that hanging out with his mom is still cool and we can still watch musicals together even when you’re 15, and 18, and all grown up. 

This is our last year in England, and I know you’re both excited and sad about that.  I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that the time we’ve had here has been awesome for you from beginning to end.  I don’t know that you’d have a single negative thing to say about it.  (Maybe that there’s no baseball.  But that might be it.)  You’ve thrived here.

I think though — I hope — that the happiness and positivity and openness and willingness to try new things you have now is something that you would have grown into no matter where we lived, that it’s just part of who you are.  Whether that’s true or not, though, I hope that now you know that no matter where we live, you will make friends, find things you love, and have fun.  Now you’ve just got the added bonus of being able to do those things in either an American OR an English accent.  So cool.

So on your 11th birthday, I want to finish up by telling you the biggest truth I know: I am so proud of who you are and who you’re becoming as a person, and I am so, so filled with gratitude on a daily basis that I have the privilege to be your mother. 

Happy birthday to you, my Gabey-baby!

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