Big Girl

How'd this happen?!

(Love the poses. The hand in the face came when I asked her to show me how old she is today.)

She's sooo excited that today is "her" day. We're doing cupcakes at school for lunch. Her head may very well explode.

The Graduate

Playette graduated from preschool this evening. They had a ceremony at the college down the street.

I remember thinking, last year as I picked her up from school one day and the older children were preparing for their own event, that it seemed a little over the top...this whole Pre-K graduation thing. It just seemed like one more thing to turn into an event. I vowed again, as I had over the many years prior, even before having a child of my own, that I would not get caught up in the hype.

Fast forward twelve months and I was almost right. Our preparation was low-key and, once there, I tried to politely turn down the tissues as they were passed my way just prior to the children's procession.

I took one because it seemed like the thing to do. I balled it up in my hand so that I could hold Dez more tightly.

The kids marched in, blue caps with tassles slightly askew on most heads. They smiled and waved to familiar faces.

We all stood to recite the Pledge of Allegiance along with them.

The school director called them all "Kindergarteners."

I smiled. Playette didn't know every word, but she was obviously part of the group. Just another four-year-old, reveling in being the center of attention. She waved to BD, me, and Dez.

They sang three songs, one of which required them to don sunglasses and declare that they were stars.

One of the teachers read a short poem, barely able to choke back the tears that, as I was told by her daughter seated near me, she was unable to hold in during the rehearsal earlier in the day.

And then they asked each child, before they crossed the stage as individuals to receive their mock diplomas, what they wanted to be when they grew up.

I was told later that there was no coaching. Each child came up with their own answer. It may or may not have been the same during the rehearsal as it was tonight.

I recall three nurses, a cheeseburger, a butterfly, fireman, policeman, meatball, Batman, and a doctor amongst the responses.

Before they started, I jokingly told myself that Playette would probably say something silly like "pizza."

But she didn't.

She got up there and spoke into the microphone the same answer that she had given earlier that day, I later learned. She was sure. She was confident.

She was the only child who said that what she wanted to be was...a mommy.

I bawled.

And wished I had taken more than one tissue.

And then...

I'm typing this with my thumbs while seated on a plane. Because, y'know, the baby's sleeping and I can't pass up avoiding a nap for myself. (It's Dez's first flight! Heading to new state #1!)

I had every intention of posting something yesterday, because I always seem to think of these things on Mondays, but time escaped me yet again. Nothing new. I'm not complaining because I really am enjoying this new little family member of ours. I can sleep when I'm 70. Right?

I cannot even begin to promise that I will blog more consistently any time soon. You get that though, right? It'll happen eventually. Just bear with me, 'k?

Anyway, so the bebe is now seven weeks old. It's both so young and yet so far from when he first came into this world, all at the same time. Yesterday, I was looking a photos from a session we had done when he was 8 days old and I realized that he'd never look like that again. Le sigh. I think I'm overly emotional because I still feel oh-so-guilty for paying attention to all the wrong things after Playette was born.

Wait. I thought I was supposed to be letting myself off the hook for that? Any day now would be nice.

So, when did I last post? It had to be weeks ago, right? Here's some of what we've been up to:

BD fell back into his role of Event Planner Extraordinaire and spent two weeks in NYC helping to facilitate another successful Fleet Week. He worked hard and was rewarded with some cool experiences. Like seeing Katy Perry and that tall country dude perform (brain fail - oh! Trace Adkins!), going to both he Jimmy Fallon and Daily shows, meeting the First Lady and Jon Stewart, and generally rocking with showing the public how awesome the Navy is.

Back home...well, we did none of those things. But! We did survive. Which is amazing in and of itself. But not without some help.

Both our former Friendly Neighborhood Physical Therapist (FNPT) and Auntie D came to visit.

First was FNPT, all the way from our old, temporary hometown in California. We hadn't seen her in almost 18 months and it was cool to see how Playette quickly made up for lost time. We had fun going out to eat (all-you-can-eat seafood buffet FTW!) and making a couple of trips to the beach. What was biggest for me, though, was the way she helped me to plow through my to-do list and keep my eldest clean and fed. That was rather HUGE.

After a week with FNPT, we paused for Memorial Day weekend (don't ask me how I made it through because I think my brain very conveniently dumped the details). Bright and early on Monday, Auntie D, BD's sister, drove into town. I knew she had arrived when I heard Playette screeching her name. Who needs a doorbell?

The ladies enjoyed one another as only they can, as they have a wonderful bond. Playette was surely testing boundaries and loving the attention, but that's par for the course these days. I try so hard to remember that she's going through a lot of transition and I have to keep expectations of her behavior appropriate. Not. Easy. For. Me.

What else, what else? I'm sure there's so much more, but I blame sleep deprivation. I feel like I'm running on adrenaline 100% of the time and I just don't have that much adrenaline. What results is a lot of finger crossing and hoping for the best.

Oh! I signed up for the Army 10 Miler at 4 o'clock one morning. Crazy! So far, I have run one mile. That was yesterday. It was slow and hard and way too hot, but I kept moving. Go, me?

Also, in the last few weeks, Dez and I attended not one but two IEP meetings to help get his big sister all documents up for her Kindergarten debut in a few months. Yikes. Thankfully, I was able to secure the assistance of an advocate, so we walked away with a signed document the second time. Whew. I truly hate that part. IEP season blows.

Also, prom season always reminds me of my mother. The morning I came home from my own prom is when my mother, after yelling at me for staying out all night, told us that she had breast cancer. And it was spreading. 18 years later and that's one memory my brain clings tightly to.

I didn't mean to end on such a sad note, but that's life, y'all. At least, that's MY life. MY normal. And I'm ok with it. Most days.

Today is surely one of those days. I'm hours into my adventure and I can't wait to tell you more about it later.

Dez and I only have about 34 more hours to make our imprint on this town before its back home for us again.

Here's to making it count.