The days are long but the years are short. No truer words have ever been spoken.
Birthdays get us reminiscing. They have us looking back at pictures and telling stories and hearing family and friends tell us how big the kids are now. But in the everyday, we don’t see it. We don’t see growth until we compare it to some time in the past.
But yesterday and this morning, I feel like something had actually changed right before my eyes. Wes not only looks older, but he seems older. He’s always been independent, but now, even more so. Things that he was just letting me take care of because it was easier and faster, are no longer things he wants me to do for him. Zippers, shoes and dressing are all his now.
And this kid has a sense of style. Not necessarily what the mass might choose to wear, but he knows what he likes and he has no qualms about telling you. Or changing his outfit if he doesn’t like what we dressed him in. I wish there was a secret handshake or sign to give other parents as you walk through the grocery store on the days your kid has chosen to wear cowboy boots, cargo shorts and a raincoat that says, “All him. I had nothing to do with this”. Mostly it’s just a nod and a smile and they, walking around with their own kid, knows the drill. They’ve been there.
This kid. He just amazes me. He’s smart as a whip and wickedly funny. He’s brave but cautious. He’s bold, but ever so sweet. The other day he crawled into my lap, put his arms around me and told me I was his best friend. That won’t always be the way, and I know that. Soon enough (too soon), friends will take my place so for now and every minute that passes where he thinks that having me close is the best option are minutes I will cherish.
Wesley, although change is inevitable, i hope you stay you. Loud, proud, strong and honest. Bubbling with personalty. I hope that no matter how big you get, that your hands always fit in mine. That sitting with daddy at the end of a long day is where you find the most comfort and that your eyes always light up when your sister enters the room or chases after you. I wouldn’t change an in ch of you.
Happy third birthday, my (not so) little dude.
I had never been to Florida. I had no idea what to expect outside of oranges, gators and the 8 billion photos I’ve seen of friends and family posing with Mickey Mouse ears on in front of Cinderella’s castle.
A couple of weeks ago, we packed up and headed down for a full 5 days. We hadn’t originally planned on a visit to the happiest plce on Earth, but later decided to squeeze it in (that post later). Who knew, at the time, when were planning our mid-April vacay, that Ottawa would still be buried under a blanket of snow by the time we left and that more would come while we were gone. Not me, but I’m glad we left when we did. Especially when WestJet – best airline ever – offered to extend our stay for free when an incoming storm was forecasted on the day were to return. 2 more days in Florida? Sign me up! Thanks for being so awesome, WestJet.
We were staying in the Daytona Beach area. I have never seen a more beautiful beach. The sand was like powder. The kids were happy.
We were all happy. But mostly the kids.
Sadly, I have no pictures of Wesley frolicking in the waves. A mere 5 minutes after our first visit to the beach, a ‘huge’ wave rolled in and swept him down, rolled him around and dragged him a few feet. This sounds more dramatic than it actually was, but to a 2 year old who had never been to the ocean before, it was terrifying. He spent the rest of the week WAY up on the sand, building and destroying castles, racing around and asking us if he was safe.
But that’s not to say he didn’t have his own fun.
When I visit a new place, I always end up trying to imagine myself living there. Not the vacation version, but the everyday humdrum. The rushing to work, doing groceries, going to the gym version. Some places I am very drawn to. I can picture my life there. Sometimes in a sad way with the realization that I will probably never actually get to experience life there. And some make me glad for where I do live.
Florida had me at hello.
I’m not even sure I can picture the everyday, but the beach, the palm trees, the warm breeze on my cold, white Canadian face confirmed that this would not be the last visit.
If only the bugs there weren’t so creepy.
Dove does it again. A must watch.
Jaia wouldn’t have known mischief if it walked up and bit her at 2 or 3. Even now. But Wes, well, Wes is a true kid. Michief maker, extraordinaire. Take last night. I left a tub of cream unattended while I answered the door. While having a quick chat with a friend, it got silent in the living room. As a mom you know silence means TROUBLE.
You can’t tell from the picture, but the cream was up to his elbows.
He’s lucky he’s cute. And that he calls me his best friend. That helps.
I know I’m not alone. I saw a picture someone posted of their daughter who had coloured ALL OVER her kitchen with a black Sharpie. It happens. Hopefully not in my kitchen, but it happens.
I came across this the other day and fell in love. A group of photographers have started documenting their life with kids. It pulled at the heartstrings for me when I saw the pictures because it reminded me of my own house, so full of life and noise at this very moment in time. We sometimes wish away the mess and chaos, but one day, maybe not too far from today, I’ll look back and miss it.
And now that we are getting all mushy, if you haven’t watched this one…you have to. If you don’t cry just a little, you are a robot.