The Closet Weepies

I know my boys are growing. I spend alot of time bemoaning their growth at each milestone, shocked that they have evolved from babies into boys. But one of the hardest testaments of their growth for me to accept is the clothes seasonal changeover.

Yes, I am talking about cleaning out their closets. And yes, cleaning out their closets does make me cry. Every. Single Time. Every. Single. Season. It's a shocker, I know.

It never gets easier to accept.

I packed up Griffin's summer clothes today and waded through piles of fall hand me downs to stock his dresser drawers. I was hesitant to put many a shirt or pants in the give away pile because I didn't want to believe that my baby couldn't manage to fit into that darling little 3T outfit. But, he can't. He won't fit. And I have to give it away, because my baby is wearing size 4 clothes. He isn't a baby anymore.

It shouldn't come as a shock to me. I know this child. I see him grow. But it's the smallest, most concrete evidence of his milestones that make it the most difficult for me. It is such a push pull, this game of parenthood. I enjoy each new step for my children. I like the ease gained at their growth and independence, but also feel melancholy too.

It is impossible to express how a part of me can enjoy their growing up and the other part of me wants to cry at any sign of it.

This is how I came to be crying this morning while sitting on the floor of Griffin's bedroom amidst many a stack of toppling over clothes.

I still have two more boys' closets to go. Let's hope I handle them better.

The Executive's Wife

After much hard work and dedication, Chris's company has been growing. I am immensely proud of his success and even more happy that over the past two years, he has been able to add employees. (Employees who travel for him so he can stay home. Yea staying home! He still has to log some miles, but less miles can only be a good thing for family happiness.)

As another fantastic indication of his success, Chris's company was named to the Inc. 500 - a list of the 500 fastest growing privately owned companies in the U.S. He is number 315 on the list and I could not be more proud. I know how hard he works. It is a gift he is able to see hard and fast results for his hard work and dedication.

This week he headed to National Harbor, Maryland to attend the Inc. 500 conference. When he asked if I wanted to join him at the tail end of the conference to attend the awards ceremony and black tie gala, I jumped at the chance. And yes, I told him I couldn't wait to clap for him as he accepted his award. (But there was also a little part of my that got a little giddy at the thought of me in a hotel room alone all day long.)

And so this week, for Thursday and Friday, I got to be the Executive's Wife. It involved a cushy hotel room, much time alone and room service so I could lounge about in bed until ungodly hours of the day. It involved some shopping, a nice long walk and treating myself to lunch. It also involved reading as much as I wanted and taking naps just because I could.

I think I could get used to this Executive's Wife.

The black tie gala was superb. Chris got a very fancy award. We got to eat a gourmet meal and drink lots of wine.

But then, as with all things, the Executive's Wife vacation came to an end. Sigh. I returned to my life, which involves pre-dawn wake up times, grocery shopping and negotiating battles over light sabers. Maybe I could at least teach the kids to bring me room service? That'd be nice.

Whoville Camps Out

In addition to living in the town of Whoville, we may just live in the Whoville-iest neighborhood of all.

There is the neighborhood picnic, with the climbing wall and fire truck visit, the neighborhood Halloween parade and Halloween ghosting, and the 4th of July float (for which we are currently the reigning champion of Whoville - complete with traveling trophy.) Last night we added the neighborhood camp out.

A dozen or so families met up at one of our neighbor's houses to pitch tents in their backyard. The kids were giddy with excitement as they watched their parents carrying camping stuff to and from tents. It was luxury camping at its best. We ordered pizza delivered, toasted marshmallows on the fire pit, jumped our heads off in a giant trampoline and enjoyed an outdoor movie on a projection screen.

After a taste of camping Whoville style, this may have ruined my boys for true camping.

Lovely Friday

The boys and I had a great day today. It wasn't anything monumental, but just an all around nice day.

Aidan had a half day (yes, again. I know. Really!). We decided to surprise him by picking him up at school, rather than having him take the bus home. After grabbing Aidan at school, we went to the local Party City to soak up the spooky decorations and take a peek at the Halloween costumes.

I love holidays through the eyes of my children. The silly mummies hanging from the ceiling, the screeching plastic bats and the spooky music all made for three very excited little boys.

We celebrated the score of three Star Wars costumes, a Jango Fett and two Jedis, with lunch out at Red Robin. (That's what you get when you let the kids pick the restaurant.)

A day like this, a simple, nothing special really, sort of day are the days I love the most. Just a day soaking up my boys.

Dressed Up

Aidan spoiled me. For the past seven years of his life, he has allowed me to pick out his clothes and his outfits, without complaint. Sure, he has his favorite shirts, but if I lay out his clothes, he will wear them. And that is music to a mother's ears.

I hear horror stories from my friends with girls of Aidan's age. Girls who refused to wear anything that had certain colors or was a skirt or did not resemble a princess. I would laugh, breathe a deep sigh of relief for the wonder of boys. Boys are different. Boys could care less about clothes. And thank goodness, I have three boys.

But then there was Brennan. Over the summer, Brennan started rejecting my carefully planned and laid out clothes for his week. He would place the rejected items back in his dresser drawers and join us at breakfast in a completely different outfit.

It was almost funny. He had a tough time matching at first and often picked many monochromatic outfits. But once he got the hang of it, well, Brennan developed a nice little style. Today, he set off for school in plaid madras shorts and a blue t-shirt, looking as cute and as polished as possible for the pre-K set.

But as Brennan does, then Griffin must also do. A few weeks ago, Griffin also started rejecting my outfit choices and began dressing himself in some very interesting outfits. Griffin lacks Brennan's stylistic sense and often, if not reigned in, looks like a child outfitted in Wal-mart cast offs. He refuses any shirt with a collar, prefers elastic waists, and any shirt displaying a cartoon character is a must. (I had previously banned all cartoon character shirts to bedtime only. I seem to be losing this battle.)

I used to love to dress my boys in their sweet, little man, preppy outfits. Collared shirts, chino pants or cords, little sweater vests. Sigh. But now the inmates are running the asylum and the only child that will allow me to dress him wears a uniform to school. Do they have a What Not to Wear tv show for the preschooler? I see a future for it on Noggin.

Exactly the Same : Sharkfest Two

I think I mentioned that Aidan doesn't like change all that much. I guess I shouldn't have been surprised when he told me he wanted his 7th birthday party to be exactly the same party as his 6th.

I also should have have known that when he said "exactly the same," he really meant "exactly the same." I was setting up for the party, throwing juice boxes into a cooler out on our patio, when Aidan let out a gasp behind me.

"Mom! Last year you served us juice hugs, not juice boxes!" Aidan exclaimed.

Oh dear Lord, save me from my eldest child and his freakishly accurate memory.

We managed to squeak out a somewhat the same party. Water balloons, squirt guns, water slides to the max. It was a wet, muddy, crazy mass of boys running all over our backyard in complete bliss.

I even managed to carve out time to whip up some good ol' shark cupcakes.

Every single gift he opened from friends and family was either Legos, Star Wars or Egypt related. It's good to be 7.

Seven

Today my first baby boy is seven. It is hard to believe he was ever that baby in the pictures. Aidan is so much a boy now. Not just a boy, but his own person.

He is a boy who still loves Star Wars and legos and even more so, Star Wars legos. He spends hours building intricate creations from complicated instructions. He has moved on from the days of requiring his father's help to independently building space ships, helicopters and race cars.

Aidan's favorite food is pizza. He still loves his junk food, but has finally agreed to add new veggies into the mix. (His discovery of broccoli this year was a huge hit amongst all of us.) His favorite television show is Star Wars the Clone Wars and he has viewed the Star Wars movies more times than any of us would care to admit.

He loves to read. He spent most of the summer shoving chapter books into his backpack to read at the pool or a friends' house. He prefers books that have some mystery or history element to them, but will try anything and everything. He also loves books on his new favorite passion, Ancient Egypt. I think he has taken any and every Egypt book out of the library, delighting in the descriptions of the mummy tombs and archaeological digs. He has already made me promise to take him to King Tut's traveling exhibit in Toronto this winter.

He is still bossy. He likes to know the rules and let everyone around him also know the rules. He likes to be in charge and spends alot of his day ordering his younger brothers about the house.

He is, at seven, still a momma's boy and for that, I remain selfishly grateful. He loves to cuddle and hug, not only his parents, but his brothers too. He has a kind heart and loves to laugh. He is still my slow adjuster, and doesn't take well to change. He takes his time to get used to new things, new places and new people.

He is uniquely and wonderfully Aidan. Our sweet, now seven year old, boy.

2nd Grader!

Aidan started second grade yesterday. We all watched as he confidently got on the school bus, waving goodbye with excitement. I waited until the bus turned the corner before I turned away, buried my head into Chris's shoulder and burst into tears. It is hard for me to reconcile the young child who refused to get on the bus not quite two years ago with the confident boy I see before me today. He has grown up so much, so soon.

I heard later on that morning that his confidence faded for a moment or two after he arrived at school. He was out of sorts as he waited for his classroom assignment in the cafeteria and started to cry. Thankfully, the principal was on it, comforted him and found one of his cousins quickly to help him get over his fright. But when I heard he told the principal he just "missed his mom" my heart broke all over again and I had to shut my office door to give myself a few minutes for a good cry. (And the rep for the crazy crying family only continues to build and strengthen in our town of Whoville.)

Thankfully, the rest of the day passed without incident as he settled into familiar routines. My second grader. I couldn't be more proud.

Movin on Up

Today was Griffin's last day in the toddler room. He moves up to the preschool room next week.

My third sweet baby is not a baby. I am not sure he ever has been. He is fiercely independent. He has the attitude, speech and mannerisms of a four year old. He dresses himself (even picking out his own clothes! And oh, the doozy outfits he can put together. It is truly an art form.) He is a master swimmer at the pool, without an ounce of fear. (unlike his older brothers at his age.) He is simply growing up too fast. I expected the third to remain a baby for longer because my third was also my last. But he has surprised us from the start with how quickly he has grown up.

I know he is ready for preschool. He will do great. But there is a part of me that will miss the rituals and comfort of his toddler days at school. I will miss my baby who is too rapidly evolving into a boy.