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Browsing Tag: child birthday

At Seven, A Name That Fits

She turned seven a couple of weeks ago, our Mighty, and I’ve been thinking about what I’d say about her ever since. Her interests haven’t changed all that much since last year. She still loves butterflies, and horses, and riding her bike. There’s some stuff that’s new: she started playing soccer this spring and was awesome to watch. She learned how to really read this year, and you know as well as I do there’s no better sight than seeing your own child curled up in a chair with a book. She isn’t as afraid anymore, and that’s the thing, I think. That’s what I’ve been thinking about. Here’s what I find funny: Quinlan said earlier this year that she didn’t like her name, which isn’t funny at all, really, especially when you know that I had to bite my tongue to keep from saying that if she’d just stuck with Quinn like we’d wanted to call her, maybe she wouldn’t be complaining. Don’t worry. I…

He’s Two, Baby

He’s two. He’s two. He is my baby, my youngest. He is my most affectionate child. He was my most exhausting newborn. He is walking and running and climbing and talking, and he is now two years old. I still haven’t caught up on my sleep, but he seems to be doing just fine. I love him beyond reason, beyond measure. I joke (okay, it’s not a joke, but I have to make it sound like a joke, or else I’m just complaining) that having that third kid is what tipped me over the edge, life-wise. Everything resembling organization and routine unraveled and fell apart after Cian entered our world. We are officially in survival mode, and quite honestly, I can’t tell you how well I’m even managing that. Those of my friends out there who are about to add on to your families–more specifically, entering into a reality where there will be more tiny offspring than parents living in your household–let me just do what few others did for me and warn you, straight-up: life is about to get…

Four

Our Saoirse Kate turns four today. Four. It’s been four years since our house filled with light, since it swelled up with pride, since the walls started echoing with the kind of laughter that bubbles up from the inside until it has to burst out, out through the windows and up through the sky because hey, world, she is here and she is perfect and she is ours. But she is not ours. It has become so clear over these past few years that we are only blessed enough to know her, to try to shape her as best we can, because even as we chase her around the house, and read books to her at night, and hug her when she comes running out of her classroom for us, and only us, she is not ours. She is growing, rising taller and taller, out of our grasp and through our fingers until up she goes, away. This sweet child has a soul of something absolutely pure. She listens. She remembers. She dances and draws and creates stories as she pushes her little trains around the floor. She asks for crab legs for dinner, and shrimp with Old…