Dear Lukey 5

Hello, My Love,

I just finished looking back over my last few notes to you to see what has changed in your life. The entire time,  you watched over my shoulder and made me replay each video over and over as you squealed with laughter while watching your absolute favorite performer: you. 

Let me tell you, son: you are all about the theatrics. Your favorite form of play is to reenact whatever scene from whichever Disney movie is your current favorite using whatever toys and props you find most acceptable. This has included:

• The Mufasa death scene from “Lion King,” starring your Bullseye stuffed horse from “Toy Story” as Mufasa and you (?) as Scar (I assume it’s you as I hear you sneering out “Long live THE KING!” at the scene’s pivotal moment. I choose to not read too deeply into this). 

• The “We Don’t Talk About Bruno” song/choreo from “Encanto”

• The “Jafar gets the lamp and does all kinds of nasty stuff” scene from “Aladdin”

Again, I’m not overly concerned with how much you gravitate toward the bad guys. They get the best lines, after all. Plus, your by-far favorite scene to perform is when the Beast “dies” then transforms back into a human from “Beauty and the Beast.” This is where your stage-worthy talent really shines. You commit so much that the smaller cape you originally pulled from your toy bin no longer sufficed and I had to dig out my long red Christmas tablecloth and tie it around your neck to better replicate his look. You crash to the ground, tablecloth/cape draped over you, and lie there for a few moments, soaking in the audience’s astonishment. You then begin to slowly rise, back facing the room, as you inspect each hand and foot as they morph into human parts. Then, as the transformation is complete, you swing around, eyes wide, to reveal your true self. I’ve honestly seen high schoolers attempt this scene during musical season with far less commitment. 

Looking back at those old notes, some things have not changed. You still love Bluey and Muppet Babies. In fact, we just had a Muppet Babies-themed birthday party for you, somewhat surprisingly given that they haven’t come out with any new episodes in what seems like at least five years. You still love to snuggle with me and I try to spend as much time as possible doing so as I know this phase will not last. You also still want to spend every waking minute playing with your sister, yet Lib does not seem nearly as concerned with drawing those moments out. She adores you, to be sure, but she does like some downtime after a long day in the second grade, whereas you see her return home each day as the real start of yours. 

Your two favorite things: Libby and carbs. 

You also once again stole the show at your preschool Christmas pageant this year. I knew some of the songs you’d be singing as I’d catch you practicing them around the house. What I did not know was that you actually had a role in the little play part of the show. I took you out the week before to get a new outfit and fresh haircut, neither of which were visible under the enormous hat and robes of the Wise Man you were portraying. You marched out in that get-up and I honestly couldn’t immediately tell it was you. I don’t remember much else from that show because I spent the rest of it desperately stifling giggles. 

Who even are you?

You definitely had a few firsts this year. You rode your first horse at a fall festival after begging me for weeks to do so. Because you were so relentless, there is no way I can exaggerate the anticipation we all felt when you finally climbed up and grabbed those reins. I assumed I’d have to pry you off when your turn was over. Instead, you hopped down, said you were done, and have never mentioned it again. 🤷🏼‍♀️

I mean, I think you liked it. 

You also attended your first Penguins hockey game. That I know you loved.

Finally, you somehow managed to turn into a high school senior. I don’t know exactly when but at some point over the last year, you went from being my baby to being an actual real-life kid with thoughts and opinions and legitimate acting chops. You’ve left your toddler self behind and are starting to come into your own as a real individual whose incredible imagination I marvel at every day. I can’t wait to see where it takes you in this life. 

I love you so much,

Mummy

Dear Libby 8

 

These always start the same. Every time I start to write, all I can think is: how??!? How can another year have passed in your amazing life? How can the baby who sat swaddled for hours entranced by the sconces be an actual human person with thoughts and opinions and feelings (so many feelings it seems these days—all the feelings, really)? How have we gone from Minnie Mouse and Disney princess-themed birthday parties to this year’s request—some trippy nonsense called The Amazing World of Gumball starring an animated cat, his pet goldfish, and various other creatures ranging from the nondescript to a balloon in the midst of an existential crisis. I…I truly don’t know. 

This year, I’m nearly as surprised another birthday has come around as you were when you climbed into the penguin observation tube at the Aviary and were shocked to discover it involved...observing penguins. 

This was the same level of surprise you expressed when we went fishing with your great-uncle during a trip to his Michigan farm this year and you were flabbergasted to discover the fish were actual real-life living breathing fish (emphasis on “were,” I guess). 

In both scenarios, you did what you do best—make people smile. You are a constant source of joy and light and a complete lack of cynicism you most certainly did not get from me (we’ll talk about what that means when you’re older, though you are starting to pick up on sarcasm so that convo might come sooner than I think). Even when your journey hits the occasional speed bump, you never lose your ability to find the good in anyone and anything in any scenario or circumstance. Even, as it turns out, in the orthodontist’s office.

Expander

The biggest change in your life lately has come in the form of a complicated wire contraption that’s been inserted into the roof of your mouth. Your expander, intended to make room for your adult teeth while correcting a jaw misalignment, has been in for about a month, meaning we have, ideally, about four more to go (but who’s counting?). I don’t love this thing because every night I have to shove a device resembling a needle on the end of a reusable straw into your mouth, affix it to a hole the size of the period at the end of this sentence and crank it until it turns a full rotation. This was initially impossible. For the first few days, these attempts resulted in nothing more than a lot of over-the-top sighing and sobbing. You were pretty upset, too. I literally stabbed you in the cheek at one point (accidentally—again, more sobbing from me than you) and I literally backed away arms raised, dropped the weapon and fled the room. We’ve got the hang of it now, but I still cannot understand how in the year 2023, I can adjust the thermostat in my dining room from Hawaii but can’t push a button and make this damn thing do the only thing it’s invented to do. Four more months, kid. We got this. 

Your Crew

One good thing to come from the expander (other than the whole “fixing your mouth” thing) is how it’s brought out the best in your friends. Your pal Sokani wrote you the most beautiful card talking about how your smile will always be beautiful to her, no matter what. This is the kind of stuff that shows you who your tribe is, girl, and I hope those supportive voices ring loud and strong in your ears as you continue to find fellow kindhearted people and make lasting connections with them. When you first got your expander and were worried about kids making fun of the way you talked, I told you to just look them up and down and say, “Mean people are boring.” Because it’s true. Mean people are always the same: so insecure in themselves that they have to target others who have already figured it out. Never let a person who doesn’t know his/herself tell you who you are supposed to be. Just hope that they get there one day, and when they do, show them what real friendship looks like. 

I mean.

Speaking of lasting connections: yes, Ethan is still your bestie. He’s still a sweet, lovely boy. Sadly, you hated what he got you for your birthday.  

That’s you reacting to the Sonic doll he got you. Your favorite toy from your favorite person. Do birthdays get better than that? 

Screen Time

Yes, Sonic continues to reign supreme (at least I’m telling myself it does—I refuse to give the title to Gumball) and you also really like Roblox and YouTube and basically anything you can do on your iPad. Problem is, these days your brother is equally interested in the exact same things, which results in constant vying for his turn with anything you want to play with at any given moment. You continue to be incredibly patient with him, and I try to reward you with time away from him whenever possible. Sometimes that means sending him and dad out for some guy time whenever you have a friend over so you can play in peace rather than pausing every ten minutes for a Luke-related catastrophe. Sometimes that means telling Luke you’re “going potty” when you’re actually just playing quietly in your room. He hasn’t caught on that an hour in the bathroom is cause for concern yet, so this should work for at least a few more months. 

This year, you also:

• Jumped off the diving board during swim lessons

• Went to Myrtle Beach

• Created a ton of awesome artwork (your drawing is getting seriously good—granted thanks largely to YouTube tutorials, but I’ll take it!) 

• Made me laugh constantly (that sense of humor is also really getting good, also, I suspect because of YouTube)

But the most amazing thing you did this year, as you do every year, was continue to show me what life can look like when you see it through the eyes of someone who assumes the best in everybody and wants only to contribute as much positivity and joy to the world as possible. You truly are the example by which I try to live my own life, and I love you and thank you for that more than I could ever say.  

Love, 

Mum

Dear Lukey 4

Hello, my love. I just finished reading the last letter I wrote to you an entire year ago, back when your fourth birthday seemed like some far-off notion I’d never be able to comprehend. And yet, that day is here, and while much has changed, much has stayed the same. 

You still love Bluey and Muppets. You still hate the word no. You still love pizza and yogurt. You’re still…let’s say “aggressively enthusiastic” when your sister comes home from school every day. You still start every day by climbing into my lap and snuggling with me while we sit in our corner of the couch (“sit cor-nah?” is the first thing you say to me most mornings, and I love it).

You have been getting up earlier, though. All that bragging I used to do to my other mom friends about what an amazing sleeper you were (“I have to wake him up at 9! Can you believe it! Mmmhurhurhurhurrrr” *sips martini*) came back to bite me big time, when you realized Libby gets up at 7:30 every day for school and our mad dash to get her out the door was potential Family Fun Time you were missing out on. So now, after you hear my alarm go off each morning, you stumble into the hallway, ready to start your day despite not having to be at your own school until three hours later. That means I get to spend my mornings swapping the Today show for whatever Disney movie is your current fav and pining for the days when I used to sneak back to bed for an hour after I got Lib on the bus. But you know what? It gives us more time to sit cor-nah, and I can’t think of a better way to start my day.

After our a.m. snuggle, it’s off to preschool, where you are wrapping up your first year. I spent the whole of last summer worried that maybe you weren’t ready to be away from me just yet. The world was just dipping its big toe back into the shallow end of normalcy after covid, meaning you and I had barely spent any time apart for nearly a year and a half. I thought you might need more time to get used to not seeing me for a few hours at a time or socializing with other kids who weren’t your sister. Once again, you proved me wrong. You’ve made me so proud with how well you’ve done making friends and learning new things. I was proudest, however, during your Christmas pageant when you made like your hero The Grinch and stole the whole show.

The shimmy at the end is EVERYTHING.

You’ve also spent the last year falling in love. While you do have a crush on a sweet little girl in your class named Katarina and you affectionately refer to our next-door neighbor Lucy as “my girl,” your heart actually belongs to a deceased nonagenarian. Eric Carle, the late author of such classics as “The Very Hungry Caterpillar” and “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, What Do You See?”, has brought you more joy in the last few months than nearly anything else. I love listening to you read his books aloud, half because of how happy it makes you and half because of how you pronounce some of the animal names. You opt to call the boa constrictor a “ball shaker” and I have zero intentions of correcting you.  

I hope you read this intensely well into adulthood. 

The only thing that might contend with Carle as the thing that makes you most happy is Steve. Steve is the subject of a penguin documentary airing on Disney+ that we have watched however many times it takes for a four-year-old to memorize a 70-minute script. The first time I put it on, I needed something to distract you while I did laundry. I was down in the basement when I heard you shrieking hysterically upstairs as if someone was pinning you down and tickling you within an inch of your life. I raced upstairs to find you cry-laughing at a silly little penguin tripping all over himself to the peppy pop number “Stir It Up” by Patti LaBelle. I have never heard you laugh harder, before or since. 

I mean, I giggle every time, too.

I think Steve speaks to the comedian in you, as this past year has shown us how utterly funny you can be. You love to perform, whether you’re reciting dialogue from your favorite show or shaking your little booty along to the Jeopardy theme song (with perfectly timed hip juts, I might add). You do just about anything to make us all laugh or smile. You’re happiest when the people you love are happy, which is something I love most about you. You show us your beautiful heart in so many ways every day, and each one makes me love you even more. 

I adore you, My Sun.

Love, 

Your Moon (a.k.a. Mommy)

Dear Libby 7

Seven. Seven? Seven. I just keep looking at you and saying it over and over again. At first, you thought it was funny, but by now, I think it’s become annoying to keep catching your mother gazing wistfully at you with tears dotting her eyes when you’re just trying to find the latest EthanGamer video on YouTube. Sorry, kid. I just can’t believe it’s been seven whole years since you came into my life and changed every single aspect of it. I can’t believe you’re so old that you really don’t need me for much anymore (I mean, I still give you food and shelter and all that, but I can remember a time when you needed my help just to sit upright, so excuse me if the idea of a world where you can pick out your own outfits—and serve me legit pushback when I disagree with your choices—seems a bit bonkers to me). 

That’s your favorite sweater. It’s white so luckily it never ever gets anything spilled on it. 

As I write this, you’re sitting at your desk working on math homework. You spend a lot of time on schoolwork these days, as first grade has you reading, writing and bringing home library books you choose simply to mess with me and dad (subjects have included snakes, head lice and more snakes). It’s been amazing to watch that inquisitive mind of yours at work though I have to admit, keeping pace with you is impossible. The sheer volume of questions you ask me on a daily basis is staggering and all I can say is thank God for Google because most of the time, my answer would be, “I have no earthly clue. Ummmm…..ask dad.” You have figured out how to use an iPad and Alexa so that helps and as your reading skills improve, I suspect Wikipedia is going to become your new best friend. 

Speaking of the iPad, it has become your favorite downtime activity. You have approximately 9,000 apps, most of which are dedicated to giving unicorns makeovers. You have some word games and some streaming channels. But your favorite online activity is, by far, watching other kids play on their own devices. You will lose hours of your life to seeing how EthanGamer gets away from the machete-wielding pig in Roblox. You devote multiple viewings to a video of a child you’ve never met unwrapping birthday presents. Most of these videos have millions of views, and yet, while I don’t fully understand this phenomenon, I’m basically OK with it. I mean, I can remember watching Pee-wee’s Playhouse every Saturday morning so I know kids tend to like things adults simply don’t get. And I know you don’t know what Pee-wee’s Playhouse is. Ask Alexa. 

Few sentiments have ever resonated more with me.

EthanGamer is not, however, the most important Ethan in your life. That would be your classmate of three years now, who lives just down the street and is your absolute BFF 4EVA OMG. Ethan is your bestie but as you frequently remind me, you have big plans that extend far beyond the confines of elementary school. You two plan to marry and move to Florida so you can be close to Disney World (I mean, I get it). Where are you planning to get enough money to support your Mouse habit? By being online influencers, of course. I totally support this vision, as my retirement plan involves me selling keychains outside Hogwarts Castle in Universal Studios dressed like an aged Harry Potter character every day, so as long as you don’t mind park hopping from time to time, we’ll stay close. 

The good news is if the YouTube star plan doesn’t pan out, you have a solid backup. You love art and have told me many times (in non-Ethan related conversations) that you plan to become a famous artist one day. This is also something I support as I know how much joy you find in drawing pictures, making cards and mastering new skills. Blank paper is a commodity in this house, as any scrap is fair game for becoming part of your latest creation. You have started drawing mainly at the desk in the dining room your use for doing homework but you occasionally still use Art Show, which is what you've always called the beloved little easel desk you got for Christmas four years ago that still resides in our living room. Your brother has started to monopolize Art Show a bit, but I’ll always think of it as the exact spot where your budding career began. 

Your Valentines to Dad and me this year. Hallmark, eat your heart out.

I also know that no matter whatever life brings your way, you’ll continue to carry that remarkable inner light that shines everywhere you go. You simply radiate, kid. Your heart is so full of love and positivity, it’s impossible to keep it all inside. You show kindness freely and without hesitation. You care about the people around you and expect others to do the same. That genuine, consistent empathy is what I love most about you and in my attempt to emulate it, I’ve become a better person myself. 

I simply couldn’t love you more or be more proud to be your mother. You make me happy every day. You are my sun and my sky. 

Love, 

Mummy