Happy Birthday, Happiness

 I return to this completely ignored space to acknowledge my daughter's 19th birthday.  

[Gulp. 19.]

Darling Daughter,

I have that lovely joy of waking up in the middle of the night and unable to go back to sleep.  Not every night but enough to be annoying.  Early this Friday morning I awoke at 1am all grumbling that I had to face hours of lying in bed staring at the ceiling when I joyfully realized... 

I could listen to your radio show at 2am. 

Which is just bizarre because I had a radio show in early hours of Friday morning when I went to college. Adding to the bizarreness of it all is you are rowing like I did. You are also attending the same college I attended. 

Which is where the similarities stop. 

You are much smarter than I. Really.  Your focus and dedication to academics has earned you a spot in the college Honors Forum after only one semester. You also have a way more robust social life than I ever did in college.  You're telling me about parties and gatherings I never would have been a part of. I am so excited that you are making college yours.

When I called the radio station at 2am I knew exactly where you were sitting, how dark the room was and how it feels like no one is listening (which is kind of true since the live stream isn't working and what college kid owns a stand-alone radio these days).  You had me listen through the phone and I got to hear you introduce Scarlett by Claud and Stressed - A Colors Show by Doechii.  We talked while the songs played then you had me introduce myself on air and even announce that listeners heard Mariah the Scientist's 2 You. 

While it is an honor to have you in the spaces I once called my own, it is a joy to watch you make them yours and be even better than I dreamed I could be.

Happy 19th birthday.

I love you,

Mom 

Happy Birthday, Happiness

I return to this completely ignored space to acknowledge my daughter's 18th birthday.  

[Oh my god.  That says 18.]

Darling Daughter,

Earlier this week we sat in a sample lecture at the accepted students' day of a college you are considering.  The psychology professor talked about personality traits and stated there is research indicating that personality can be known within hours of someone being born.

Which is why your Birthday Letter is always titled "Happy Birthday Happiness".  

You prove this Professor's point.  You beamed out happiness within hours of arriving in the world on Friday, April 23, 2004. You have personified happiness since Day 1.

As you embark on adulthood hold onto your happiness.  You exude it when you get up and rarely have that grumpy teenager sheen.  You ensure your happiness when we travel by planning the itinerary.  Our trip to Southern California last month was pretty much all your planning.  You meticulously mapped out the great college tour of 2021 and were proud of how it all worked out.  You came up with fun ideas when you, Dad and I went to Iceland.

But it is not just when we travel (which I love to do with you because you are fun to travel with. And really hope this continues) but also in all parts of life.  You are genuinely happy when you complete a task, even before you receive feedback.  I admire that you appreciate your efforts. You have worked a variety of jobs and the act of working gives you satisfaction. 

You deserve to be happy.

Of course there will be days, weeks - painfully even months - when happiness could be elusive but that is different from being worthy of happiness.  You bring so much joy to the world and the people around you through your hard work, love of music, big smile and compassion.  Always remember that you also give yourself happiness.

As we drove back from the college this week we played - several times - Lizzo's new song About Damn Time.  It couldn't be a more perfect tune to celebrate you turning 18.

I'm way too fine to be this stressed, yeah

Oh, I'm not the girl I was or used to be

Bitch, I might be better

 

You get better every day and that is reason alone to be happy.

I love you,

Mom 

 

 

Love, more

It seems only fitting that the day my twin boys turn 21 years old we are preparing for the first hurricane to hit our region in 30 years.  Their shared arrival certainly upended our lives and changed our history as a family.  

However, this year feels different because while they are separate people my message to them is the same.  

So I return, once again, to this completely ignored space on the interwebs to acknowledge my twin boys' 21st birthday. 

Dear son and son,

Every year for your shared birthday I write each of you a letter that I don't actually give you but I post on this blog that I barely go to.  Every year I make an observation or five, impart some wisdom, assure you both I love you then wish you a Happy Birthday.

This year is different.  This year you both are turning 21.  Watching and listening to you both this year has been watching you be the adults you are.  The adults you are becoming.  I finally get to truly marvel at who you each are and not worry that my awe will overshadow some lesson or punishment. Because it is hard to be the stern disciplinarian assuring you have manners and common sense when being awe-struck.  Now I just get to be awe-struck.

While being a parent of young children and teens is fun and rewarding, I've been waiting for this time.  The time I get to just listen and not have to fix something because now you both have the skills and resources to do it yourself.  The time when we talk not because of some obligation but because we want to share something, laugh about something, figure out something or just remember.  Rest assured I'll still listen to your problems but more often than not I hope you'll figure out that you have the skills, strength and means to fix them yourself.  It may take some time, even years, but you'll figure it out.  Then I'll get to be awe-struck again.

This is the big birthday for all of us.  You're adults and I'm your adoring mom.  A role I will treasure and relish and celebrate.

Just like I do each of you.

Happy birthday.

I love you so very much.

Mama

Happy birthday, Happiness

 I return to this completely ignored space to acknowledge my daughter's 17th birthday.  

Dear Darling Daughter,

Here we are again.

Another pandemic birthday.

This is not what you or anyone who has a spring birthday thought would happen when celebrations were squashed last year.  Your plans for a Sweet 16 party were dashed because we were still under stay-at-home orders.  We hoped by this time in 2021 it would be over, that we would be out and about and you could have the bash with twice the blast to make up for the missed milestone celebration.

But we aren't there yet.  And you are facing it with your humor, grace, intelligence and some grumbling.  I'd worry if you didn't grumble at least a bit.

The milestone you didn't miss this year, although was a few months delayed, was getting your driver's license. Yet even that was caught up in the first few days of the pandemic.  The day of your final driver's education class was the day the state shut-down and your class was in limbo.  The Registry of Motor Vehicles wasn't offering learner's permits or tests.  But you were able to finish your class via Zoom and take your permit test online at home - something that was only offered for a short time.  It seems so normal now but a year ago it was all weird and yet you handled it.

Then the actual driving - being behind the wheel - began.  

There were times you fought me, tooth and nail, when trying a new skill, a new situation or even driving when you were in a bad mood (because one has to drive in any mood). Even though you are normally fearless you were plagued with doubt about driving.  It is never fun to push you but when I know you can do something that is my job.

When you passed your driver's license, in a snow storm no less, earlier this year you subtly danced through the parking lot back to our car.  You celebrated and beamed.  You drove by yourself around that day and now drive yourself to the train station most days to get to school.  You've driven on highways, Storrow Drive and Boston streets.  There are still days you marvel that you can do this.  

I don't.  I know you can do the tough things.  You have a core of strength that you have barely tapped.

Not even a pandemic has scratched the surface. I know it.

I love you,
Mom

Happy Sweet 16, Happiness

I return to this completely ignored space to acknowledge my daughter's 16th birthday.  

Dear Darling Daughter,

This is not how you wanted your 16th birthday to be.

You had it all planned since January.  Well actually you started planning on the day you turn 15 because that is how you roll but we'll leave that part out.  You were going to have a dinner with friends this past Saturday, have cake and dinner of your choice this evening with me and Dad then head to your surrogate auntie's house to sleep over.  The day after your birthday you were going to Saratoga Springs, NY to spend the weekend at your first regatta as a varsity rower while your dad and I were going to fly super early in the morning to California to watch both your brothers in the National College Rugby Championships.  It was all planned.

Then a pandemic struck.  All those plans were cancelled and our lives were upended.

My worst birthday as a kid was around age 7 or 8 years old when I got a stomach bug and my parents had to postpone the party, stick the Ohlin's cake in the freezer and have the party a few weeks later.  But I still got to have my party pretty close to my actual birthday and Ohlin's cakes still tasted really good after being frozen.

Your 16th birthday, in fact this particular teenage year, can't easily be rescheduled or postponed.  You aren't getting to row with the varsity girls - a goal you've worked towards for over a year - and every regatta has been cancelled not to be rescheduled.  You were going to attend a dance with your boyfriend who you haven't seen in nearly six weeks.  That dance cannot happen and we don't know when you'll be able to see him.

That is what is so hard to watch for you, your friends and all other teens and young adults.  This is the age when you have big moments that can't be done over because they celebrate a distinct achievement, a particular point of time and age or a rite of passage.  There is nothing in our society that is particularly momentous about being 27 or 32 or 51 though ask someone about their teen years and there are stories, events, moments that could only happen during that age.

Yet, and yet, you have been the strongest, most reliable one in the house of five humans and one dog.  You have been diligent about your school work, take very seriously being engaged and present during Zoom class time and have stayed connected with friends via all those things you use (maybe that last one you were actually in-training for just this situation).  You have rowed every day on the erg your team loaned out.  You have, mostly, kept it together (hey, no one is perfect) and tried to stay positive through this.

Your happiness, the happiness you've had since you were born, keeps shining through.

That's what I hope you remember from this.  What your stories will be when you recount this time 40, 50, 60 years from now.

That you got through this with focus, determination, grit and happiness.

Happy Sweet 16.

I love you,
Mom

Happy Birthday, Happiness

Dear Darling Daughter,

Well this got awkward.

You found my blog and have been reading your birthday letters.  So instead of being something I wrote that went out into the ether, this is now something you're going to read. In real time.

First off, happy birthday.  You start thinking about your next birthday the night of your current birthday (so tonight you will start planning for your 16th).  You truly enjoy birthdays and I hope you never lose that joy of having a day to celebrate you and all that you are.

But you should celebrate you every day (not with gifts, don't get greedy).  You personify resiliency.  You have shown great strength and perseverance since a young age and I continue to marvel at.

You started at a new school last fall.  You wanted to attend a co-ed school after three years at an all-girls school in part so you would have peers to look in the eye.  At 6'2" you were tired of being the tallest human being on campus and now have tall guys in the mix in your classes.

You also wanted to try rowing and this new school has a low-key team.  You walked into the boathouse the school uses and found other super tall people from other schools and programs.  You found a sport that celebrates your height that doesn't involve running (basketball) or jumping (volleyball) both which aggravates your knees.  Last month you tried out for a competitive club program and now row six days a week.  It's a level of intensity I didn't think you were ready for and once again you are showing strength and perseverance as you deal with really nasty blisters, throwing up after intense 2Ks on the erg, and sore muscles.

I shouldn't doubt you because you personify resiliency.

I hope you never doubt yourself.

Happy Birthday.

I love you,
Mom

Happy Birthday, Happiness

April 23, 2016

Dear Daughter,

Today you are 12 years old.  Still not a teen but at 5'11" you are often seen as a high school and a few times as a college student.  You seem bemused by the misunderstandings.  I don't find them nearly as funny.

You started at a new school this year and for the most part it has been a wonderful, lovely fit.  The teachers challenge you and marvel at your work ethic while the students are mostly kind.  Except this is that wondrous time of life when all children between the ages of 11-14 seem, at times, to get all Hunger Games on each other.

You have been in the sights of the "Queen Bees", as you call them, twice this year.  Early in the fall someone said something to you that upset you so much, that tipped the scale for you, that you stood up in front of hundreds of other students in the dining hall and yelled at her.  Told her to back off and stop her behavior.  I could not be prouder of you to stand up and yell - loudly and in front of middle and high school students - that you were being hurt.  Clearly telling off your twin older brothers on a near daily basis came in handy that fall day.

As winter ended you were part of a larger formal class discussion about body image and food and you were telling your classmates that you eat more than them because you are bigger than they are and you are hungry.  Then you cried recounting that some classmates had on several occasions whispered and pointed at how much food was on your plate during lunch.  This led to a heartfelt conversation about judging one another, about being comfortable in your body and taking care of oneself.  Other classmates thanked you for your candor, for saying what they felt and for showing that whispering and shame really hurts.

Which, by the way, are pretty great things to be talking about as 11 and 12-year-olds and I am grateful that you attend a school that addresses these issues head on, without sugar coating them and in real time.  I know a few too many people in their 40's who could benefit from that conversation, both as the perpetrators of unkind words and those who are lacking support.

But those were truly the only two days that you left school with difficult tales.  If you have any "drama" to report you talk about it as if you could care less.  With one student you made it clear "we're never meant to be friends and that is fine".  You focus on the schoolwork as well as the students who do make you happy and feel good about yourself, who in turn share with you their trials and happiness.

That fearlessness you had as a little kid, both in age and height, is still there.  New situations don't frighten you and you graciously meet new people - children and adults - with no trepidation.

So that perception of you being older than you are is an honest mistake.  You continue to carry yourself with a confidence, self-preservation and wisdom that is beyond your, now, 12 years.

I love you.

Happy birthday,
Mom

Love, more

Once again I return to this completely ignored space to acknowledge my twin boys' 15th birthday.  This is a long post but they each deserve their own letter. 

August 22, 2015

Dear son,

You walked towards me in the grocery store parking lot, your shirt untucked and black pants covered with flour.  Your black store hat had finger prints where you tugged it with flour on your hands.  The car window was down and I waved to you.  You waved back and our exchange caught the eye of the older man standing by a parked car next to me.  He smiled at us.

He then walked over to our car to tell us that his son also worked at this grocery store starting at age 14.  He went on to tell us with great pride about the son's various jobs at the store and how he saved money to buy special things then realized they weren't all that special.  The gentleman told us he was a salesman and he understood it is long days in the store but it teaches responsibility and the value of hard work.

He clearly loved that his son had worked at this store and asked you about your experiences.  He then said that his son decided as a little kid he was going to Harvard.  "And guess what?" he said as he shook his head, "he got into Harvard!"

Then he pointed his finger at you and said "You can go too.  Do well in school.  Working is good but school is most important."

"Yes sir" you replied followed by "Have a good evening" as you waved.

He waved back.

And you were pretty quiet on the ride home.


You've got the whole world ahead of you.  Make the most of it my six foot tall son.  Who will always be a little man in my heart.


Happy Birthday my son.


Love.
Mom

****


August, 22, 2015



Dear son,

As you know our close family friend, who is like an older auntie to you and your siblings, has been diagnosed with cancer and undergoing treatment.  She does not drive so I've been helping arrange rides to and from the hospital for treatment and occasionally driving her myself.  She asked that you and your siblings join her for a chemotherapy session.  So one afternoon last month we sat with her, talked, laughed and told stories to pass the time as an IV dripped medicine into her arm.

A few weeks later it was time to drive her again but your sister and I had to leave the hospital early for a dance performance.  Wonderfully you and your brother chose to stay with our friend until the chemo session was finished and get a ride home with another close friend.  As I was leaving you got up to rearrange the chairs and announced "Dance party!  Where's the disco ball?"

Which made our friend laugh and brought smiles to other patients and staff in the area.  

Keep using your powers for good.




Happy Birthday my son.


Love,

Mom

Love, more

Once again I return to this completely ignored space to acknowledge my twin boys' 14th birthday.  This is a long post but they each deserve their own letter.

August 22, 2014

Dear son,

A few years ago you were in a community production of Suessical the Musical as one of the Wickersham Brothers who are the meddlesome monkeys in the Jungle of Nool.  Clearly this was not typecasting a then mischievous 5th grade boy.

This past spring you were in the Middle School production of Suessical Jr. but this time you were cast as Horton the Elephant, the only story line that isn't butchered by turning the full length play into a one act (the Junior version doesn't even have the General/Bread-and-Butter Battle storyline which makes Jojo and the Mayors' story lines really short and odd).  You were also finishing up 7th grade - that glorious year of growing like a weed, getting serious pimples and being so full of yourself I just wanted to knock you on the side of your head.  If I could reach that high.

So when you sang "Alone in the Universe" in your grey newsboy-looking outfit, holding a pink fuzzy thing that looked more like a poppy than a clover in a glaring spotlight it was all I could do to not start loudly sobbing.  You sang about loneliness, imagination and flying over troubles with conviction and sympathy.

When you sang it at the very last show it was with desperation and delirium.  You had a 102.7 degree fever which came on during call time.  You were fine when you left the house at 5:45pm.  The fever came on like an arson fire.

But not once did you back down from the show.  You channeled what little energy and focus you had and got through it.  You even sat through an awards program when you could've have begged to be let go.

So when you sang, feeling sick, about being alone in the universe just know that you will never be alone.  No matter where you are or what you are doing I am there for you.

Happy birthday darling boy,
Mama

August 22, 2014

Dear son,

You are my tough guy.

Yet earlier this month, after we had eaten dinner at picnic tables I turned my head to find you rolling on the grass with your not-quite 4-year-old cousin.  I'm not sure if there was a race involved but I do know that you had her laughing loudly as you both rolled down a small incline.  You smiled at her and she just beamed right back at you.

Earlier in the summer you let your twin 7-year-old cousins both sit on top of you while you laid on your belly.  You chased after their minivan as they drove away with their heads out of the windows laughing loudly.  You never once turned down a request to put one of them on your shoulders.

And we share our two weeks of beach heaven with another family who has a 15-month-old son.  You follow him around, make funny faces at him in restaurants, and give him hugs and kisses.

Because while you are tough, you are also affectionate, loving and kind.  So go ahead and be the tough 14-year-old today.  I know you are quick with a kiss for a little one.

Happy birthday darling boy,
Mama

Happy Birthday, Happiness

Dear darling,

You are ten years old today.

Last month we had our first, real, public this-is-your-life-get-out-of-my-way-mother moment.  For the world to see.  Well, our beloved town and the theater group we're a part of.

You were recently the Red Queen in a local production of Alice in Wonderland.  In this version you start the second act, explain what was about to happen to Alice and generally got the audience back into the groove after a twenty minute intermission spent eating Skittles and brownies, buying raffle tickets and listening to blue grass music.

Let's just say that was a tall order for a then 9-year-old.  Only something a mother would ask.  A mother who was also the director.  A first time director.  So there was no pressure on either of us.

Two weeks before our "paying" shows, the theater company performed a free show for a local autism support network.  Over 60 individuals came and got to experience live theater.  You were just perfect.  You consistently and clearly delivered your lines with a very royal attitude.

And in my mind - the director's mind - you peaked.

Because after that show you started doing all these weird things.  You would pull a Mae West with one line (like you knew who Ms. West was), then go into a Lucille Ball bit, then flail about and suddenly be still. You would drop the last word of a sentence in an attempt to be super dramatic which only made it harder for people to hear your jokes.

You were clearly bored.  You had memorized your lines in January.  It was the end of March and you
not only knew the Red Queen inside and out - you would probably knew what moves she would maneuver on the chess board.  You were bored.

And I was frantic.  As the director - and your mother - you looked like a character mess.  There was no rhyme or reason to what you were doing on stage.  The entire tech/dress rehearsal week was agony for me.  I'd talk to you about this at home so as not to embarrass you in front of the group.  You'd nod, repeat a line as I suggested, and then promptly continue your whack job delivery.

The show opened for four performances and you shined.  Every single person who spoke to me marveled at your stage presence, your "look at me" quality, your funny character.

I've been stupid enough to bemoan to a few friends that you went off the rails as an actor.

The thing is you didn't go off the rails.  You never do.  You are just so amazingly confident that you don't care what 120 people in an audience think.  Or what your mother thinks.  You will just experiment and try new things.

You are by far the most fearless person - man or woman, adult or child - I know.

And being your mother is the greatest gift I could ask for.  A bit of a stomach-turning-will-I-survive?-ride but I would not trade this for anything.

Welcome to double digits, Darling Daughter.

Love,
Mama

Love, more

My sons - who were born ten weeks early and spent eight weeks in the NICU - are turning 13 years old today.  Feel free to sob with me.

Dear not-so-little-man,

During a week of no camps or activities I dragged took you and your siblings to the John F. Kennedy Presidential Museum and Library.  The building alone is stunning.  It is designed by I. M. Pei and juts out onto Boston Harbor.  Inside this beautiful space is history of an era that we are not familiar with but impacts our daily lives.  You were enthralled with the faux White House hallway, the real letters and news footage from the time.  That and television channels were only changed with knobs that you had to get up from the couch to change.

As we finished the special exhibit about the Cuban Missile Crisis you begged me to buy you Profiles in Courage, the book the then Senator Kennedy wrote while he recovered from back surgery caused by injuries from World War II.  Surprisingly you have been reading it, telling me all about Robert Kennedy's forward to the book and interesting facts about the Kennedys.

A few days after our visit to the museum a good family friend who has his own wonderful career in politics offered us two barely used twin-sized mattresses and box springs.  After I happily accepted he threw in two headboards which had been used by a certain newly elected Congressman and his twin brother when they were boys.

So now you've been reading Profiles in Courage propped up against the same headboard of Robert Kennedy's grandson.  And President Kennedy's great-nephew.  Which only feeds into your belief that you are going to make a difference in the world, in a really big way.

And I have no doubt you will.

I love you,
Mom

****

Dear not-so-little-man,

We, as a family, had to give up one of our dogs to animal rescue in June.  You, your brother and your younger sister seemed to handle this development well.  You all appeared to understand that Zeke was becoming increasingly violent and our family could not provide him a safe home.  We had a scheduled time to drop him off while you were at school.

The morning we were to drop off Zeke your brother woke up and was inconsolable.  He sobbed and sobbed, unable to even get to school never mind manage the day.  You were fine and trooped off to school with barely a lowered shoulder.  I promised your brother I would take him out of school to say goodbye to Zeke and be part of leaving him at the shelter.

When I got to school your brother told me you wanted to go as well which mildly ticked me off since I figured you were only asking so you could miss a class or two.  Eventually we got to the shelter, finished the paperwork and said goodbye to Zeke.  Everyone's eyes stayed dry.

Until we got out the door when your brother lost it.  You told him to sit in the front seat of the car and you sat behind him.  Once we climbed in you reached forward, grabbed his shoulders and told him that Zeke was safe now. You reminded him that you both could now have friends at our home (since Zeke was particularly hostile towards/would bite 12-year-old boys).  You rubbed his shoulders and told him it eventually wouldn't hurt so much.  Your brother calmed down - so much so he walked back into school with a smile.

You were not at the shelter to skip a class.  You weren't there to say goodbye to the family dog we had for four years.

You were there to help your twin brother grieve.

I was dry eyed as we left the shelter.  I was practically clicking my heals - a la Gene Kelly in "Singin' in the Rain" - as we walked out the door since Zeke had been a struggle for a while.

But as you comforted your brother I slipped my sunglasses on.  Because that was when I started to cry.

I love you.  More than you will ever really understand.
Mom

Happy Birthday, Happiness

Dear Daughter,

You love to perform.  Last month you had your own song for our local production of Schoolhouse Rock Live which you memorized in one week.  At Christmas time you were in The Urban Nutcracker and never has anyone been so proud of dancing on a blue and yellow-polkadotted bouncing ball.

But the work it takes to get there, to get to the performing, is something you don't love.

You manage the expectation of learning your part with both unrealistic fantasy ("Maybe I'll be the lead!!") and stoic team player attitude.  You accept your role and find something to get excited about ("I am the first person on stage for the second act!!").

Then the dreaded learning of the parts begins.  You squirm in your seat as the cast learns songs ("WHEN do we get ON STAGE?!?") and grumble as the dance sequence is gone over again.  And again.  And again.

But when tech week begins, when costumes are worn, when bright lights are tested, you stand taller, throw your shoulders back and look out into the seats with eager anticipation.  When the shows begin you are both an eager kid goofing with friends backstage and focused performer quietly centering yourself (sometimes doing both within a minute).

This confidence carries through to school, standing up for yourself with your two older brothers, and your playing.

Because when I walk into the kitchen in the middle of you doing an imaginary cooking show you don't recoil from embarrassment that I am seeing this.  You smile, nonchalantly face the "camera" and say "and here is my mom.  Say 'hi', Mom!"

And I say "Hi" to the imaginary camera just as you direct me.

Happy Birthday.
I love you,
Mom

Photo by the always wonderful friend
Steven Davey.

Love, more

Once again, I'm writing letters to my sons.  For their birthday.

Dear not-so-little man,

This summer you and your brother started to do the lawns of several neighbors.  You announced it was a company, started "hiring" friends to do jobs and even used money from your godmother to invest in a new weed whacker.

I really did not take this all seriously.  Until an 11-year-old called the house in July asking if there was a meeting that Friday night to discuss the weekend jobs.  I was informed by you there was such a meeting and sure enough several boys were in my front yard promptly at 5:00 pm discussing cutting lawns, pulling weeds and laying mulch.

According to the neighbors who hired "the company" you are the taskmaster of the group.  You assign the jobs, keep people focused and save most of your fussing for your brother.  I've heard many an argument between you two about who "owns" the company and who is the "boss".

However, what I also saw this summer was a commitment to getting a job done well, being courteous to customers in the hopes they will rehire you, and worrying about the conditions of neighbor's lawns while they were out-of-town but hadn't hired you to tend them.  "Should I just cut their lawn?" you would ask.

So when you are lazy on the couch, laughing hysterically over sit-coms like Reba, I think about your company.  And know you are going to be just fine.

Happy 12th birthday.  You are my not-so-little man.

Love,
Mom


Dear not-so-little man,

A few weeks ago your brother was going off the deep end about something ridiculous and became very rude to me in the process.  The three of us had two more errands, both fun, and I informed him that not only was he not going with us I was taking him back to the house to stay home alone.

The last fun errand was to get junk food for watching the Opening Ceremonies of the Olympics (because it is our family tradition to watch athletic matches while eating horrible food - think Super Bowl).  Since your brother was not with us we were not getting him any special food.

You, however, would not stand for it.  You got a bag of chips you knew your brother liked, turned to me and declared "He's my brother and I am sharing with him."  That was fine with me. This was not your punishment so if you chose to share with him that was fine.

You were also very antsy to get home to him.  "He can't be alone" you informed me.

"More like you miss him?" I asked.

"Yes" you said quietly, looking down.

So home we went.  Because your brother's punishment shouldn't make you suffer too.

Happy 12 birthday not-so-little man.  Who won't admit that he is a big softie inside.

Love,
Mom

Happy Birthday, Happiness

Dear Daughter,

In New York City last week you were happily chomping on a chocolate chip pancake as a singing server at Ellen's on Broadway started to belt out "Notice Me Horton" from Seussical, the musical you were in earlier this month.  While you were a Bird Girl, you knew just about every other part.  The singer noticed you crooning, came up behind you and stuck the microphone into your face as you finished chewing.

She was clearly expecting you to recoil, to cringe at the thought of singing so publicly in front of strangers eating their breakfast in a Broadway diner.

She had not met you.

You proceeded to sing the rest of the introduction to the song as the wide-eyed server cheered you on.  Other servers noticed and started to clap.

But when you told the story the next day you made it sound like you were reluctant and did not sing very well.  Even though our neighbors were impressed with the story you lowered you shoulders, looked down and acted as if it was not a big deal.

It made me think of a quote by Bobbe Sommer:  

“Having a low opinion of yourself is not ‘modesty’.  It’s self-destruction.  Holding your uniqueness in high regard is not ‘egotism’.  It’s a necessary precondition to happiness and success.”

I told you to be proud of your confidence and talents.  You should not be embarrassed that you like to perform.  You enjoy it and your family enjoys watching you.

Earlier this month a reporter from our local paper was at the first big dress rehearsal for Seussical.  She was interviewing cast members when you charged up to her and said,

“Have you heard of Harper?  Well here I am!”

The reporter could not get enough of you.  I spoke to her a few weeks later and she still thought you were funny, confident and talented.

Which you are.  As you start your 8th year, please stay that way.

Happy birthday.

I love you,

Mom

Love, more

Once again, I return from blogging oblivion - and vacation mode - to acknowledge the boys' birthday. They turn 11 today. And as is my custom they get their own letters.

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Dear little man,

I recently read in Sophie's World (a fictional novel about the history of philosophy) the following quote:

"The most subversive people are those who ask questions."

You, my son, are the most subversive of subversive people.

When you and your brother were less than two years old, I encouraged you both to use words to describe how you felt, in an attempt to thwart the oncoming "terrible twos". I thought if you could articulate what was going on inside your brain you would be able to calmly explain your toddler angst with grace and dignity.

That clearly didn't happen. But it did lead to a relative asking, incredulously, if you as a 20-month-old had explained you were feeling blue. You were able to saying that you were sad by using the word "blue".

Fast forward to today. This has been a year of incredible horrors - the shooting of an elected official and murder of others in Arizona, natural and man-made calamities in Japan, gruesome mass slaying in Norway, drownings and murders closer to home, the return of an old man to our big city that was on the FBI's most wanted list. And through it all you keep asking questions. Hard questions. About the root of evil. About goodness. The details of events. Who did it. Why they did it. Why didn't their parents stop them. As if an 81-year-old man has parents who are still alive to punish him.

Sometimes your questions wear me down and I just say "that is all I know". And you stew. I don't know what your stewing about. Is it that I let you down. That I couldn't answer all your questions. That I am fallible.

Or, maybe, are you realizing there are still questions to answer. Still mysteries - some great, some horrible - that need to be solved. Are you realizing that you could be the one to answer one of them? Maybe several?

Because I knew when you were nearly two years old. When you were telling me that you were blue.

Happy birthday little man. I love you,

Mama


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Dear little man,

During 2010 you were two musicals within 8 months of each other with the amateur theater group our family is a part of. You played a young gambler in Guys and Dolls and had a solo in "Learn Your Lessons Well" in Godspell. The director, Diane, made it clear that she had plans for you in future productions. One of them was to resurrect a simple staging of Amahl and the Night Visitor. Diane was the only one who would mount that show and she had been waiting for a boy to become old enough to handle the singing. You were even given the music to get to know it.

Then Diane got sick. We didn't understand how sick. She had cancer and was dead in a matter of weeks. You were devastated. Within a week of her dying you had to write a school essay about someone who made a big difference in your life.

This is what partly what you wrote:

The person that made a big difference in my life is Diane W. First, she was a beautiful singer, and she acted. Next, we attended the same church. Last, she got sick 5 weeks ago. We had big plans for future shows....

The effect she had on me was important. First, I am more confident on stage, and this carries in the outside world. Also, she made me more mature. To conclude, I know more songs because of her. She made a big difference in my life.

You cried as you wrote this. But you worked through it. To write this tribute to Diane. And to show that you will always make music. And act. And sing.

Earlier this month we all saw All Shook Up, Shakespeare's Twelfth Night set to Elvis' songs. And you have already decided that the first post-Diane production of our little community theater group will be All Shook Up. And you're going to be the lead. The Elvis character.

And Diane would've loved it.

Happy Birthday. I love you,
Mama

Happy Birthday Happiness

Dear daughter,

Your confidence continues to amaze me. It is as if you have a core of steel. You will boldly try a new task, dance move or experience with barely a blink. Although as you turn 7 years old it seems that strong confidence is starting to become a bit shaky. You complain that certain steps in ballet are too hard. Your bicycle peddles are not properly placed for you to get started. You can't figure out a math problem. But then you are presented a challenge and never look back.

Last fall you were the second youngest cast member in an intergenerational production of Godspell. For the final dress rehearsals the actress playing John the Baptist/Judas had laryngitis. Heading into opening night it was becoming apparent she wasn't going to be able to sing the opening to "Prepare Ye" as she walked from the back of the hall towards the stage. An hour before the show the director asked me if you could sing "Prepare Ye" by yourself, walking in front of the actress. I said yes but only if you agreed.

Of course you agreed.

After the opening song you appeared at the back of the hall, arms outstretched singing

"Prepare ye the way of the lord, prepare ye the way of the lord."

While the audience was indeed prepared for the lord, they were also warned to watch for you. Because in spite of your budding concerns and occasional lapses in confidence, you still have that fearless core of steel.

Happy Birthday. I love you,

Mama

Love, more

Not only am I coming out of vacation but I am coming out of non-blogging mode to honor my boys' 10th birthday. And even though they are twins, they deserve their own letters which makes this a bit long for a blog post. But it is their birthday. And their first year in double digits.

Dear little man,

I sometimes can't figure you out. You can be maddeningly mean to your younger sister, mocking her 6-year-old illogical comments or fantastical stories, to the point where I think I've raised a vicious young man. You and your brother can gang up on her and just be merciless.

Yet you carefully help her make "parfaits" just like her favorite book character, Fancy Nancy, and use all the fancy words that Nancy uses ("Why YES! Putting a layer of jimmies in our parfaits is just stupendous!!!" you said to your little sister, making her beam with pride). You offer to fix her hair or play with dolls. I celebrate your kindness and practically cane you when you are mean.

Then, during the last parent-teacher conference for the grade you just finished, your teacher told me how you are the one she went to when a classmate was struggling. She shared that she often would pull you aside before recess, tell you that she was worried about one classmate or another, and ask you to "check in on the playground".

And you would.

You also in front of all your friends come up to me, slide your arm around my waist and lay your head against me. It still floors me that you continue to show such affection in public. In private you are even more cuddly. While I was cleaning the kitchen in our vacation home this week you came up behind me, wrapped your arms around me and starting singing Taylor Swift's You Belong With Me.

If you only knew how true that is.

Happy birthday little man,

Mama



Dear little man,

You are convinced you are going to be discovered on the Internet on some home video. Or you will single-handedly save an entire nation from ruin. It depends on the day. Or hour.

One excitement during your 9th year was you and your brother were hired to be "mother's helpers" for a mom with three-year-old twin boys. You got to spend 1/3 of your earnings that week, place 1/3 in savings and after several months designate the final third for a charity. We had talked during that time that you would donate to the local food pantry because it would make a real difference in our community.

And then an earthquake struck Haiti. You have classmates with family who live there. You had to listen to me talk about my own friends who were trying to locate their families. And you decided that your $18 from babysitting should go to Haiti. Three days after the earthquake. We eventually agreed to give the money to the pantry because it wasn't clear if the money would actually get to people in Haiti.

When you first heard We are the World: 25 for Haiti you were floored. Months later you continue to sing along with the song with a sincerity and passion that humbles me. I'm pretty grateful for the sunglasses I wear in the car while driving when you start singing "send them your heart/ so they know that someone cares..." You sing the entire song with feeling, eyes closed, and as loud as a you can. Your sincerity makes me weep which I hide behind the sunglasses.

And then Katie Perry's California Gurls comes on the radio and you sing that perfectly, loudly and with great zest. Making me wonder just where your passions are. Saving the world, or being a star.

I'm looking forward to seeing what it will be.

Happy birthday little man,

Mama

Happy Birthday Happiness

Dear daughter,

Many days I find myself catching my breath, incredulous that you are in my life. You often wake up in the morning, face framed in golden curly hair, with a glorious grin and announcing the fabulous realization of what the day will bring. "I'm going to see a PLAY!" you yelled one morning. "I have LIBRARY and can get a NEW BOOK!" was another day's observation. You manage to find cause for celebration in the smallest things.

Last week, while dropping off your brothers at their school, you did your usual wander away while I stood near the spot where the third graders line up. As hundreds of children ran around I could hear "Mama!" over the yelling. I turned to find you standing alone in a swirl of children and pointing up at the sky. A flock of birds were flying over head in a perfect, backwards check mark. Eventually other children stopped and stared, yelling "cool!" and "that's a backwards check mark!" You just smiled and went along with your private jumping game.

You continue to amaze me how you get along with nearly everyone you meet. And if they are reluctant, you will get them to like you by force of will. I watched you, with great determination, convince a fellow ballet student to play with you following class. Her father watched in amazement, after she had hidden behind his leg, as she eventually grabbed your hand and ran off shrieking with you. He swore that wasn't in her nature. But there you both were, hanging from a stair bar talking about princesses, or bugs or ballet moves.

However, you are starting to hear when other children are mean to you. Up until now it seemed you didn't, or chose not to, hear mean words. This week at a playground you came sadly up to me after having another girl tell you that you can't play with her and her friends. I can't believe that someone wouldn't want you in their life. I can't believe that someone wouldn't see the fun, joy and laughter that you bring.

But in the end, those people will lose out. Because very quickly you found others at the playground to play with. And you were laughing again. And swinging in the swing so high you could touch the sky.

Love,
Mama

Love, more

We're away. On vacation. But I come out of vacation to honor my boys' 9th birthday. To honor their last year in single digits here are letters to each of them. A bit long for typical posts but humor me. They have to share a birthday so why should they share a letter?

Dear darling one,

You are my tough guy. The one who will strut around the house with his pants half down pulling off some gansta move you learned from other white kids at camp. While part of me wants to fall over in hysterics at how just plain ridiculous you look the other part wants to pull your pants up and tell you to act right. You are quick to put on an I-don't-care face when you know you've done something wrong. And just as quick to sob as I send you to your room for being disrespectful.

But then, but then, the week before vacation you insisted on walking arm and arm with me, everywhere we went. Through the big city square, on a wooded and rocky mountain, and into the town coffee shop, you would sidle up to my side that didn't have a bag, slip your arm around my waist and lift my arm to drape over your shoulder. Then you would work really hard to get your steps in sink with mine. Your left foot out with mine. Your right foot out with mine. You would over compensate for my longer strides. This would go on for many city blocks, over several wooded hills.

Every few minutes you would yelp "Mama! We're in sync!"

Yes, my darling boy. I hope we will always be in sync.

Happy Birthday. I love you,
Mama

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Dear darling one,

This summer I started in earnest to teach your younger sister how to ride a bike without training wheels. It has been a struggle because she can do it. She has the balance and the strength but she doesn't believe she can do it. It is probably the thing that drives me the most nuts as a mother - when one of you can do something but you won't do it because of fear, doubt, lack of practice. It was exactly what happened with you when you were learning to ride a bike. You didn't believe in yourself and then one day you got it. And off you went, riding far away from me.

One afternoon this summer, in the parking lot of a courthouse, you watched me seethe as your sister kept giving up on herself. And you looked me in the eye and said "Mom, I feel your stress."

I nearly fell over. Both from your empathy and from embarrassment.

Around the same time you started to spontaneously say "I love you" to me. Sometimes with a hug, sometimes as a comment as you passed by on your way out the backdoor to play or ride your bike. You never said it to worm your way out of a punishment. You just say it.

And like when you feel my stress, telling me you love me just makes me melt.

Because you will never know how much I love you.

Happy birthday little man,
Mama

Happy Birthday darling

Dear Daughter,

You light up a room when you walk into it. Children and adults are drawn to you, in part by your Botticelli curls and in part by your personality.

Last year as a girl turning 4 you didn't notice them. This year you look over your shoulder as you pass people to see if they have noticed. While I long for that little kid oblivion, as you turn 5 it would be inevitable that you would figure out your effect on people.

But what I am grateful for is that you seem to use this power for good.

You are in a big pre-school class. It is no secret that most of the students just invite every single classmate for birthday parties. I'm in no mood to have 22 classmates plus other non-school friends and your brothers in our house for a birthday party. I asked your teachers for help in who you really play with to winnow down the list. Years ago when I asked similar questions for your brothers I would get a few names and that was it.

It took your teachers a few days to get back to me and when the lead teacher did, she sheepishly told me they couldn't pare down the list.

"She plays with everyone. It doesn't matter who it is. She decides she wants to do a certain activity and whoever wants to join her is welcomed. If she ends up alone, that is fine. If she ends up with everyone, that is fine too."

The teacher reminded me of how you talked about a particular boy a fair amount last year. She then disclosed it was because no one else would play with him. He had a tendency to hit or lash out in other ways. You told him early on he couldn't do hit and he listened to you. For a good part of the year you were the only classmate who would play with him. Now he plays fine and is welcomed by the other kids. You helped him figure it all out and welcomed other kids to play with him.

You use your powers for good.

I love you,
Mama