Farewell, 2020

Happy New Year, friends! We did it! We made it to the 2020 finish line.

Every year I make a retrospective video and spend some time reflecting on the past 365 days. Thinking back on 2020 has been...conflicting, I suppose? To be honest, I'm sort of at a loss for the right word to really summarize what this year has been.

There were, obviously, struggles. A lot of anxiety, a lot of worry, a lot of uncertainty, a lot of frustration. A lot of constantly second guessing choices made and wondering if we're doing the right thing for ourselves, our family and our community. It was a year of canceled plans and isolation from family and friends. It was a year of loss and grief - we have been fortunate to not lose anyone to the virus itself, but we did lose my grandfather and were unable to mourn him together as a family as we otherwise would have. And so many have lost so much more. It was also a year of unrest and hate and hurt, of arguing and division. There were times when things nearly felt hopeless.

But, to be fair, our family had it a lot easier than many, and for that I am exceedingly grateful - Eric already worked from home, and his work has continued to keep him very busy; I'm able to be home with the kids and we have the space, time and resources to devote to virtual school, plus they attend a great school with teachers who work hard to support them; AND my children are unicorn children who are great, cooperative, hardworking virtual learners. I am so grateful that we were able to adjust to pandemic life as easily as we did.

And, I realized some time ago that even in the hardest times, if you take a step back and look closely, there's beauty in the situation: true, pure, selfless, love-thy-neighbor type of beauty. Today, I am also enjoying remembering all the good things that have happened in the world around us this past year.

When schools initially closed, zoos and museums and people all over hopped online to keep children entertained and engaged. We have been able to "visit" places and watch performances from all over the country that we otherwise would never have seen (including our nieces' and nephew's piano recital this month!). Locally, people drew rainbows on their sidewalks for children to find when they went outside, and built scavenger hunts throughout the neighborhood.

When grocery store shelves were bare, local restaurants sold groceries to the public to fill the gaps. For some time we bought our chicken and pasta from Maple Street Biscuit Company and our eggs by the dozen from Metro Diner. People rushed to fill a need where they saw one and make things easier for their community.

When the CDC started recommending masks, crafters across the country ran their sewing machines ragged making them for their loved ones or to donate to local people in need. When elastic was hard to find, they were cutting up fitted bedsheets to use that elastic for ear straps. Creativity for a noble purpose!

When I asked for help with a drive-by birthday parade for Ellie and birthday video for E.J., I was overwhelmed by the response of our friends and family. It was so touching to see everyone so willing to give of their time to make the day special for our kids.

It often felt like you had to dig through the negative to find it, but if you paid attention, positive stories were plentiful: teachers giving their absolute all to virtual students. Daily applause for healthcare workers. People using their talents to entertain their neighbors from their driveways. Breweries shifting course to produce hand sanitizer, and athletic uniform companies making masks. Zoom lifting time limits on holidays so people could virtually celebrate with distant family and friends without restriction. Examples abound of people giving of themselves to others, trying to ease the burden for their neighbors and bring joy where they could.

And, this year may have looked very different, but there was something kind of fun in coming up with new ways to celebrate the usual events. We were forced out of our rut of tradition, to think creatively about what really is important to us and how best to celebrate it. If nothing else, it was a breath of fresh air, and maybe we even figured out some fun new things to add to our celebrations in the future.

As a family, we slowed down and enjoyed each other more: we started walking together every evening; we started reading the Harry Potter books together; Eric learned magic to entertain us; the kids put on a full-blown "concert" (complete with program) for me for Mother's Day; we spent many nights watching movies together in our backyard. And, we got a puppy!

I hope 2020 has not been too cruel to you, my friends. I hope you're also able to look back and see the beauty amidst the mess. And I hope that 2021 leaves the mess behind and brings you simply joy, good health, hope and togetherness.

Happy New Year.

VIDEO: A look back at our year in 2020

Signing off for 2020,

Meghan

Dear E.J. - Six Years

My dear E.J.,

Happy birthday, buddy! You are six years old now! Six seems so grown up, don't you think? I think you agree, considering that two nights before your birthday, as I said goodnight to you I told you, "Wow! Tomorrow is your last day of being five! How exciting!" and you burst into tears. You told me you like being five and you like kindergarten and don't want to be six. And I'll tell you what, bud - I get that. Five was great fun and frankly, you kind of got cheated out of a lot of it. I can understand your feeling that we haven't quite finished this chapter, so it can't possibly be time to move on already.

You see, we are in the midst of a global pandemic. A novel coronavirus has been spreading throughout the world since late 2019, and through the U.S. in earnest since March. As of March 16, we put ourselves in "safer at home" self-quarantine and have barely left the house since then. The goal was to "flatten the curve," to slow the spread of the virus enough that our hospitals and healthcare systems would not be overloaded. The remainder of the school year was canceled, and you finished kindergarten via virtual learning. Churches, stores, museums, everything closed - even Disney World! The restaurants that did stay open were only open for takeout and delivery, and shelves were picked clean at grocery stores. Things got really bad in major cities right away - New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Miami. Things stayed pretty under control in our neck of the woods, however, so in May things started to open back up. First the beaches, then restaurants with limited capacity, then more and more businesses and activities. However, now we're seeing a surge in virus cases in our state and so the threat feels very imminent once again. Yet now the people are tired of restrictions, resistant to wearing masks, and some even question if the virus is actually real, or as serious as it is made out to be. So, I'm a bit apprehensive of what may still be to come for us.

Our family does take the whole thing very seriously, however, and it has dominated our lives for the past four months. Aside from grocery or other food pickup, daily evening walks, and bi-weekly trips to the beach (where we stay FAR away from any other people), we don't leave the house. We did attempt to go to the zoo once, but the unmasked crowds forced us to leave shortly after we got there because we didn't feel it was safe enough. Of course, just last week our mayor issued a mask mandate for our county, which may or may not help things. But as for us, when we do go out where we may in any way interact with others, we wear masks. I even made you and Bunny matching ones to try to bring some lightheartedness to what can be a pretty stressful environment.

All this to say, you really were cheated out of your last few months of being five, and certainly the last couple of months of kindergarten.You didn't get to go on your zoo field trip with your class (and for many weeks after schools closed you would remind me to keep an eye on my email in case your teacher emailed and told you to wear your class shirt, because that would mean you were going to the zoo after all). You didn't get to celebrate your birthday at school. Almost your entire t-ball season was canceled. We missed out on several Disney trips. You had a virtual kindergarten graduation instead of an in-person performance (and you cried when it was over, because you didn't REALLY get to say goodbye to your friends and teacher). We "attended" church on Easter Sunday via YouTube. Instead of spending the month of June at Papa's house with Aunt Heather, Aunt Molly and your cousins as we planned, we spent our days walking the neighborhood and tie-dying shirts at our own house. We had planned to celebrate your birthday with a weekend stay at Legoland, but instead we stayed home and made the most of things. 

All this breaks my heart, because I know that you and Ellie only get one childhood. It kills me to see you "missing it." We're doing our best to keep things fun and interesting even in these circumstances, but clearly this is not what I would have wanted for your childhood. And I don't know how long it will last, or how long I can keep putting a positive spin on things for you. I haven't yet told you that you will likely still be attending school via at-home computer screen in the fall, or that Halloween trick-or-treating may very well be canceled. It's easy for me to lose myself in the sadness of what is lost, but we are trying to take it one day at a time and do what we can to build happy memories, so that your recollection of this time is much more rosy than mine will be.

But I'll tell you what, buddy, you and Ellie have been real troopers. Sure, there have been moments when you've really felt the weight of what's going on and how it is affecting your life. There have definitely been tears and breakdowns, for all of us. But you really have rolled with the punches and done very well - you were a good sport for online school, you play well with Ellie (most of the time), and you've mastered your scooter which helps make our walks more tolerable to you. You seem pretty content to be at home a lot of the time, especially because you have tons more time to build LEGO now than you did a few months ago!

LEGO is everything to you right now. You spend almost all of your free time building things and you are very creative, always making creations with elaborate stories, even with the sort of limited brick selection we have. We also watched a show call Lego Masters at the start of quarantine, in which a series of LEGO builder pairs competed for the title of Master Builder. You had a favorite team and you cried when they were eliminated, but you loved the show and you love to make your own "Building With E.J." how-to videos for me to send to your cousins. For your birthday "party" this year, we had a whole LEGO day at home (yes, I'm writing this letter a couple days AFTER your birthday! For shame!). We had LEGO decorations, a LEGO cake with minifigs holding your candles, and the main event was a big scavenger hunt that led you to eight different LEGO sets hidden around the house. We spent the day building, building, building and you loved it!

You still like baseball, though that has sort of taken a backseat given that everything baseball-related has been canceled. Your spring t-ball season was canceled after only three games, the Jumbo Shrimp season has been canceled, and Major League Baseball is attempting to resume their season later this month but there is much skepticism about how realistic that really is. But, you do still like to go out in the front yard and hit some home runs - a major highlight of your birthday this year was doing so under the neighborhood fireworks, as they do in The Sandlot! You really are getting good, even with pretty minimal practice! You're getting so much better at catching and throwing, and assuming we can resume t-ball next year, your dreams of hitting a home run over the fence will likely be realized. A major highlight from the fall season this year was you calling your shot, Babe Ruth style, and then hitting it right where you called it. You are something else and people always loved to watch you when you were up to bat. Some opposing team coaches jokingly accused us of corking our bats after your turn at bat this season! I sure do hope you can get back to where you left off soon.

You did very well in kindergarten this year! Our decision to move you forward rather than giving you another year in preschool was a good one. You loved your class and your teacher and made some great little friends. Your reading has progressed quite well, and your teacher says you really enjoy math, too. I was lucky enough to be able to chaperone a couple of your field trips and class parties in the fall, and I loved seeing you thriving in your school environment!

You still love all things Halloween and spooky, and you've been talking about what we will be for Halloween this year since September (yes, before last year's Halloween had even passed!). You love rollercoasters and Star Wars and macaroni and cheese. Your favorite color is still blue, and your favorite TV shows include The Clone Wars, Lego Masters, and Xavier Riddle and the Secret Museum. Your favorite movies are The Last Jedi and the The Sandlot. Your favorite ride at Disney World is the Haunted Mansion, though the two new Star Wars rides at Hollywood Studios might give it a run for its money these days. Your favorite restaurant is Chick-Fil-A. You sleep on the bottom bunk, and you like to hang blankets around the perimeter to form a "cave," and you hang toys and stuffed animals from the slats above you so they look like bats. You say "musician" when you mean to say "magician" (and nobody is in a hurry to correct you). You love to FaceTime with family, though you are also notorious for being the one to say "so should we end the call?" as soon as there's a lull in conversation. Your best friends this year were Emory, Angelo, Eli and Micah. Your favorite music varies, often depending on the hot movie du juor - recently you've been on a Hamilton soundtrack kick ("Guns and Ships" is your favorite), but you also like soundtracks to Aladdin, Lego Ninjago, and Lego Movie 2. You have learned how to ride your Spiderman scooter and you love to coast down hills. You still laugh yourself into hiccups and love to be tickled. You are very expressive when you speak and you make the funniest emotive faces. You've got charisma!

You are also very sweet. Sure, you have your ornery and contrarian moments, but don't we all? But you have such a sweet side. When you see two butterflies flying together you say, "Look, Mama! That's you and me!" and when I have the hiccups, you run and get me a cup of water with a straw so I can try the trick for getting rid of them that you saw on TV. You are thoughtful and kind - for example, for Ellie's birthday, you made her a Lego "doll," worked very hard on a homemade Frozen birthday card for her, chose a perfect Frozen-themed Lego set to buy for her (and you already had it in mind, it wasn't something I suggested), and chose to dress in your Olaf t-shirt in her honor. You also suggested that we drive you around the block so you could be a part of her birthday car parade! I also often find little LEGO creations that you make for me waiting on my desk (flowers, a panda, us in minifig form), and even little "I love you notes." They are all so special to me!

I will say, in looking back at last year's letter, you seem to have done some solid growing up this year. You no longer take naps, you're able to do an assortment of things for yourself (get your own breakfast, turn on your PBS Kids show in the morning, get your own cup of water, etc.), and you're finally tall enough for some of the bigger rollercoasters at Disney (though that will have to wait!). You speak well and have a great memory. You play well independently (as I mentioned, you could build LEGO on your own for hours), as well as playing great elaborate pretend play games with Ellie. You still like costumes, though they're not a daily staple like they once were. You don't need me to sing to you at night anymore, though you do still ask for a round of Twinkle, Twinkle if you've had a bad dream.

Last year I was lamenting the transition from young-childhood to school-age for you, and that continues to play out. I'm still holding tight to any threads of baby you that are still hanging on - you still often ask for snuggles (and I can still fit you in my lap!), you often come out of your room at night to ask for another hug, you still reach for my hand when we're out walking. When your LEGO creation breaks, you cry and seek my help in repairing it. I see you growing and changing so fast, and those moments where you still need me just to be there are very dear to me.

Sometimes, out of nowhere, you'll ask insightful questions that speak to what may be going on in your head, even if you're not particularly forthcoming about it usually (for example, you recently asked me if I ever get scared, which I believe reflected what you might be feeling about the pandemic). You have this sort of quiet, subtle way to let me know that you're working through something and I love that you trust me enough to ask those questions.

E.J., I hope you know how much you are loved. And not only by our little family, but by so many people in your life. For your birthday this year, since you couldn't have a party, I posted on Facebook asking for people to send me videos of themselves wishing you a happy birthday. I thought I'd get a handful from family and hopefully a couple of friends, but buddy, I got 45 videos. Forty-five! One woman from our church even spent three evenings wandering the neighborhood, asking strangers to sing to you. We got videos from friends, family, your teacher, your pastors and other church leaders, just so many people who wanted to brighten your day. You leave an impression on people, buddy. You make people smile and they want to return the favor. 

I think you did enjoy your birthday this year, even if it didn't look like we would have wanted it to. One thing this pandemic has really made clear to me is that our family is everything we need. I know everyone says that; I always have. But we are also a family of "do-ers." We go places and do things and dress in costume and throw crazy birthday parties and travel to fun places. Now that we are stuck at home, our family identity is sort of being tested. We can't do all the things we usually do. That could really be a tough adjustment for us - and sure, to an extent, it has been. We miss doing a lot of our usual activities, of course. But we are also having so much fun together. I feel like this quarantine has been one example after another of me thinking "oh no, we're going to be in quarantine for xyz occasion, I can't even imagine it, how disappointing" and then somehow, we find a way to make that occasion just as special and memorable (if not more so) than any other has ever been. Even being stuck at home, we're enjoying ourselves and our time together just as much as ever before. We've got a really special thing here, buddy.

E.J., I don't know what the next year will look like for you. I mean, I never do, really, but this year feels much more uncertain than probably any year of your life thus far. I don't know what is to come for our city, our country, our world. I don't know what your schooling will look like, or when you will return to t-ball, or how we'll celebrate Christmas this year. I don't know when you'll next play on a public playground or hug a friend. I don't know what toll any of this will take on you, both in the immediate weeks and months, and long term. All I can do is try my best to help you form great memories from this time, to feel loved and supported, to feel as safe as possible, and to keep you moving forward and growing and developing as best as I can in the situation at hand. It's a tall task, to be sure, but you are so, so worth it. 

And the one thing I know is that we are lucky to have each other. We're lucky to have you, buddy - you to snuggle in close, to show us your latest builds with such enthusiasm, to give one last hug to at night, to make us laugh, to remind us to put the world aside and have some fun for a while. Thank you for what you bring to our family. Thank you for being you. 

I love you so much, nugget. I'm always here for whatever you need. Always.

All my love,

Mama

* * * * *

Dear E.J.,

Happy birthday! Congrats on wrapping up another great year! A few nights before your birthday, you cried because you liked being five so much. That’s understandable because you spend so much of your days doing things you love. It probably also helps that there are so many things you like doing and that you are pretty good at most of them. I feel pretty confident this will continue to be true for at least the next few years and hope it’s still pretty true when you get around to reading this. When writing a letter like this, there’s always so much that could be said. I mean, we wrote you letters each of your first twelve months and you couldn’t even really do anything! What I want to try to do instead this year is to tell you a couple of stories that stand out now and that I think you might like to know about someday.

The Great EJ-Bino

Last time we checked in, you had started down a path to being super into baseball. I am very happy to report that, although you’ve branched out a bit into LEGO, some kicking and dribbling, as well as a renewed Star Wars obsession, baseball is still way up there. After your 5th birthday, we kept practicing all the time, and read a bunch of baseball books, actually we read all the baseball books our library had in its kids section, including stories about Joe DiMaggio and his bat, Jackie Robinson, and Babe Ruth. The Sandlot became your favorite movie and we got to visit the Hall of Fame in Cooperstown and watch a bunch of games in person on our road trip (Phillies, Mets, Indians and Reds). The Mets game was particularly memorable because it was just you and me and we had such a great time! You looked like you felt so cool riding the subway out to Queens and walking around the big stadium. We got a Mr. Met on the Moon bobblehead, Mr. Met signed your baseball card and you even hit a ball over the fence at “Kiddie” field in the kids area. You still talk about details from that game any time we hear anything about the Mets or the Pirates. 

But the fun really kicked up a notch in the fall. I feel pretty confident saying that you were, pound-for-pound, the best hitter in the tee ball league. All season, I could hear parents from both teams telling their friends they had to watch you bat and, even though you are still one of the smallest players on our team, there were multiple opposing coaches who joked about having you tested for PEDs after the game. You even made a kid cry with a line drive to third base. It’s okay, he’s fine. Besides hitting the ball hard, it was also fun to watch because you took it so seriously. You have a really elaborate pre-swing routine like your favorite major leaguers. You hold up a hand, as if to call for time, while you dig your cleats into the box, and then loop your bat a couple of times to get loose. All the while the ball is just sitting there because you are five and its tee ball. I just love it. But there was one at bat that will forever be a part of EJ lore, and it’s a major reason baseball is our first story. Early in the season you walked up to the plate for your second at bat of the game. You looked so purposeful as you walked to the plate, and you moved with a good bit of swagger. Before settling in you lifted your left hand and pointed one finger at center field. Yes, I’m serious. Inspired by your favorite Hall of Famer and your number three jersey, you called your shot at five years old in a tee ball game where nobody had any idea what was happening. And to seal the deal, you ripped one over second base and it was amazing.

Before I move on, I also want to point out that it has been interesting as a parent, coach and former teacher to see that your prowess is primarily the result of hard work. I hope you have decent baseball genes (I mean, who wouldn’t want to take credit), but your growth from year one to two is so clearly the result of the countless hours you spent practicing. I think it helps that it doesn’t feel like work, but that you really enjoy playing and want to do it all the time. Either way, it’s been a great, and clear, example of the value of practice. I hope you always work hard and believe you can do anything you decide you want to do. 

You can’t control the cards you’re dealt, just how you play the hand

Not to take anything away from an eventful year 6 and all of the fun ways you’re growing up, but the biggest story in 2020 is the worldwide COVID-19 pandemic and the 100+ days we’ve spent in quarantine. Unfortunately, this story is still being written and I think we’re too deep in it for me to step back and have any significant reflections to share right now. I can say that I hope you and Ellie are at just the right age to be able to keep learning and to play and entertain each other, without missing out on things that have a high probability of being significant. Neither of you are changing school levels, or missing out on a prom, science fair or a key field trip. You don’t yet hang out with friends outside of school, and you are too young to be playing sports competitively or meaningfully participating in other extracurricular activities. Nonetheless, it stinks that you didn’t get to finish kindergarten, that you had 70% of our tee ball season cancelled, and that we won’t get to take a trip this summer. Most of all, it stinks that I don’t know when this list is going to stop getting longer.

I hesitate to call anything a silver lining, but my second story is the result of something that started because of this situation. You, me and Ellie are now regular card players, mostly poker and blackjack, and I’ve been performing a couple of magic tricks every week for the past two months. I have no idea how long the magic hobby will last, but I spent a lot of time playing cards when I was younger and I think it’s great for building number fluency and strategic thinking, in addition just plain being fun. I’ve always liked magic-Mama and I even met David Blaine in Times Square-but it wasn’t until we had so much extra time to fill that I got the push I needed to give it a try. It also helped that Mama started having hours-long calls some evenings with her sister and family because it really takes practice!

Some of my first tricks involved having a Lego minifigure bend a quarter and changing all of the M&Ms in a bag to chosen color, though most of the subsequent tricks have focused on card magic. I am working my way through Hugard’s The Royal Road to Card Magic and magicians like Chris Ramsey and Alex Pandrea on YouTube have been super helpful. I can’t believe so much information was just sitting out there this whole time. It’s easier than it has ever been to learn what you want, and I can’t help but wonder how you and your peers will be able to discern the best and most valuable information from the glut that is only going to get bigger. In any event, your faces and reactions to the magic have been so awesome and are what drive me to keep learning. It’s also the first thing you and Ellie suggest when I ask what you want to do each weekend. But, the most fun part for me has been watching you guys try to replicate the tricks. For example, you had M&Ms for dessert every day after the first show, though you weren’t quite able to make any magic happen. Cards have been a different story and that’s what I really wanted to share with you. 

I think there are two ways to interpret a “magic trick,” which depend largely on which word does most of the work. Either it’s magic, such that some people have it and others don’t, or it’s a trick and things are not what they seem. Most kids, including your sister, are awed by magic, only to get frustrated when they do what they thought they saw and have it not work. It took you maybe two weeks to figure out it couldn’t be that simple and that you needed to take matters into your own hands. We were outside playing when you brought out a deck and had Ellie pick a card. You turned around and fumbled with the cards, before turning back and dealing a couple off the top that you knew weren’t hers. You then secretly dealt her card from the bottom of the deck and she loved it. I may not have reacted as loudly as she did, but I loved it, too. It’s obviously not the cleanest trick in the world, but you basically invented your own sleight of hand! Since then, you’ve also started setting up the deck to be able to guess a spectator’s card, and dealt yourself four aces on more than one occasion when you were playing poker with Ellie. I hope you get good enough that you don’t need to cheat, or, at least, that you learn to disguise it better. Mostly, I’m really interested to see what this cleverness means. It’s too soon to speculate, but I thought it was cool and worth noting.

Various and Sundry

I know I said I’d try to work with only a few stories, but I wanted to let you know there were lots of other things we could have covered here, such as: 

• Your Mother’s Day stormtrooper dance or the other performances you’ve done this year, acting out shows, playing on the piano, or with the recorder. 

• Lego. You build constantly, are really creative and detail-oriented, and keep getting better all the time. We also watched the Lego Masters TV show as a family and you cried when your favorite team was sent home early. 

• Your impressive memory for names. Whenever we see a kid from your school, you almost always know who they are and which class they’re in. From what I see, it’s pretty rare, but I think it fits well with the charisma narrative I started to build in an earlier letter. 

• You’re still pretty small for your age, which I think could actually help you develop better in sports without being able to rely on size or strength advantages, like most of the kids who will stand out in youth leagues. But, this year, it also meant you could go as Abu to my Aladdin for Halloween. It was super fun to walk around with you sitting on my shoulder. 

E.J., I just love that you’re my little buddy and I think you like it almost as much as I do. I hope it never changes even when you’re not so little. You’re so special and I love you so much.

All my love,

Daddy 

Dear Ellie - Eight Years

My dear Ellie,

Today is your eighth birthday, and what an interesting day it is. I know I usually start my letters with some exclamations of wonderment that you are getting so old - and I'll get to that, I'm sure. But right now there are things going on in the world that have eclipsed every part of our everyday life, and I feel I can't go forward with my reflections on your past year without first addressing our present situation.

Right now, we are in the middle of "social distancing." There is a global pandemic, a novel coronavirus, making its way through the world. It is highly contagious and easily spread. For most people, it's like a flu, but for many, it can be very serious and hospitals are being overwhelmed by people who need care. Our society has opted for social distancing as a way to "flatten the curve," to slow down the spread of this illness in the hopes that our medical workers and hospitals will be able to keep up. That means that for the past two weeks, we have essentially been quarantined in our own home. Schools are canceled - for now, until April 15th, but we suspect it will be much longer. You and E.J. are doing "distance learning" online instead. Many people are working from home (Daddy already does, so that's not different for us!). The church is closed, and we watch the services on YouTube now (and that is how we'll be celebrating Easter this year). Stores are closed, many restaurants are closed, doctors are canceling any non-essential visits. The restaurants that are open are open only for take-out or delivery. The grocery stores are open, but filled with people wearing gloves and masks and scrounging for whatever they can find on the shelves - people panicked early and started hoarding food and necessities (in particular, toilet paper!) so now it's hard to find the groceries you need, and when you do, they are rationed to prevent further stockpiling. For the past two weeks, we have left our house for only two reasons: to pick up necessary groceries as much as we are able (after which we sanitize them outside of the house before bringing them in), and to walk in the evenings (people have been making rainbow chalk drawings on their sidewalks, so we go hunting rainbows!). Nobody knows when this will end, either, so we're looking towards summer and wondering how many more of our plans will be canceled and how long this will be our reality. It's a very strange, very surreal time. It's historic, and I can't help but wonder how you will remember this time as you grow up.

Needless to say, all this means you are not having the birthday you planned for. We did manage to squeeze in your biggest birthday request before we went into isolation: you asked to go to Kennedy Space Center for a few days, to include a day at the beach and a rocket launch. We managed to do that over spring break and it was a wonderful little mini family vacation (even though the launch was aborted mid-countdown!). Of course, we left on Sunday and as of Monday the Space Center closed indefinitely, so we really just barely made it and have been on lockdown since we got home. But, you described that little trip as the "best weekend ever" so I'm so glad we were able to make it happen for you! It's such a happy memory from right before everything went crazy.

But, we also had some great surprises planned for you for your actual birthday (Disney-related, but Disney World is also closed indefinitely), and you had hoped to have your first sleepover party with a few friends next weekend. You have really handled all this craziness remarkably well, but earlier this week it hit you that you would not be able to celebrate with any friends or family on your birthday, or even go anywhere fun, not even a playground. This hit you hard - you are my social butterfly! My hugger! You are KNOWN for your hugs. Just the other day your first grade teacher even commented on how she had been sick and hadn't been able to hug you for a week and it was torture. I know it's hard for you to not be around your friends and all the people at school and church that you love. In a journal entry this week, you said that you wish you could do homeschool with your friends, and when trapped at home for "like a month" you feel "sad and scwushed" (squished). I hate that you have to feel any kind of sadness or disappointment because of this whole ordeal!

So, on your birthday this year, we're doing our best to make it special for you. We're getting takeout from Metro Diner, one of your favorite restaurants ("best grilled cheese ever!"). You requested salmon for dinner - something new that you like! And of course, we'll have cake and presents. And, as a surprise, I've organized a drive-by parade for you in the afternoon. Many of your friends will be driving past our house at 2:00 pm to wish you a happy birthday from the safety of their cars. I was so touched at the response to my request for help with this - everybody is very excited to come. It warms my heart to see how much you are loved! Of course, I know that you are a very special girl, but it is always wonderful to see that other people appreciate that, too. You are VERY loved, my girl. Very loved and very special.

This year has been another impressive one for you. You're doing very well in second grade, but that is no surprise. You're a reading machine, and you read novels now. You've even started digging into the American Girl books, which were always a favorite of mine, so that makes me very happy! You love your teachers (and they, you!) and still love science and math. You're also really enjoying your gifted class this year, and I think they're doing a good job of challenging your thinking and teaching you new strategies for problem-solving. You seem to enjoy having E.J. at school with you this year, too, and you walk him to class every morning.

You're still enjoying ballet, and have moved into the Upper School which is a bit more serious. Right now, during social-distancing, your instructor records your lessons and posts them on YouTube for you to do at home, and your first Upper School recital has been postponed until (hopefully) June, which is a bummer. But I enjoyed watching you do your lesson at home this week! You are very graceful, and I was very impressed.

You also joined the Girl Scouts this year and you really enjoy that. I got talked into being a co-leader for your troop, which I'm not sure is my forte, but I love that we have that special thing to do together. We have a good troop of girls, most of whom go to church and/or school with you. We wrapped up our first Girl Scout cookie season just before this quarantine started, and you KILLED IT. You sold over 500 boxes of cookies, which was the most in your troop by a lot (the girl in second place trailed you by about 200 boxes!). You worked really hard and I was just so impressed by you. You walked around town with your wagon full of cookies, worked a booth, and went table-to-table at church Wednesday night dinner to sell cookies. You worked so hard to earn money to pay for a campout at the Jacksonville Zoo in the tiger exhibit, but sadly, that will likely be canceled because of coronavirus. I hate that you won't get the reward you worked so hard for, but knowing you, you'll take it in stride. Which is fine, of course - I'll be plenty disappointed on your behalf.

This year we took a big road trip, as we do every year, but this one included a stop in New York City and Ellie, what a delight it was to be back there with you! We showed you where we lived, took you to all our favorite cupcake places, and even took you out to Hoboken to show you the riverfront where I walked with you endlesslessly when you were a grumpy little infant who just wanted the bumpy bricks to lull her to sleep. You loved the city, and you and I shared a really special night together - while the boys went to a Mets game, you and I went out to dinner (at Junior's, where you tried your first cheesecake!) and then saw Wicked on Broadway. You loved it and I can't even describe to you how much I loved watching you love it. I love it all, too, so much, and to share that with you was something so precious to me. It was a night I will never forget. Thank you for sharing it with me, and I know it won't be our last night out together in New York. I can hardly wait to take you back!

In other exciting news, you've been facing fears left and right this year! For instance, this summer at Papa's house, you learned how to swim underwater! We had hoped it would happen the summer prior but you were NOT having it. This summer, though, it clicked, and now you LOVE the water. During your birthday celebration at the Space Center, you tried a boogey board on our beach day and loved that, too! Also, you got your ears pierced this year! You decided you really wanted it and you did it, and you were so proud of yourself (and I was proud of you, too!). You also faced your fears and rode Space Mountain for the first time, and now claim it is your favorite ride. Also, after taking a little hiatus from monkey bars, you are back at it and rocking it. And, just since we've been quarantined, you've started learning how to roller-skate and today you gave your bike a try without training wheels for the first time. I think the coming year will be a big one for you, at this rate!

What else can I say about eight-year-old Ellie? Your favorite movies right now are Frozen II and the live-action Aladdin movie. You love Xavier Riddle and the Secret Museum on PBS, The Who Was Show and Ms. Julie's Greenroom. You still love to dance, and the Frozen II soundtrack has been a staple around here for the past few months. You also still love crafty things, and this year you got into making little rubber band bracelets. They were all the rage at school, so we got you a kit for Valentine's Day and you've been a bracelet-making machine. Speaking of Valentine's Day, you still have a little crush on a boy, and are still willing to talk to me about it, so I love that (I pray you always feel comfortable talking to me about people who are important to you!). On Valentine's Day you even went up to him and told him that you thought he was handsome and smart and funny, and wow! Did I ever admire you for that! I hope you are always so bold and outspoken with your feelings. What an admirable quality!

You still love bunnies, and you wish we could have a pet. You had a relapse of sadness over Achilles recently, which led to the declaration of Achilles Day, complete with a dog movie (Lady and the Tramp), pizza dinner (Achilles loved pizza), and a decorated picture frame in his memory. Your favorite food is still ziti and meatballs, though you've gotten so much better about trying new things (hence, the salmon for dinner!). You have backed off of the astronaut talk a little, now leaning more towards being a doctor (maybe a pediatrician). As I mentioned, you're a hugger. You often come up to us out of the blue and say "huggy?" when you want a hug, and we are happy to oblige. You often also give "sneak attack" hugs - you'll run up to someone and wrap your arms around them before they even realize you're there. It's very dear!

You and E.J. (mostly) play well together, though you do have your squabbles. You are both really into Legos right now, and you had been saving your money for a very realistic babydoll for a long time, until I gave you one that I had as a child and that seems to have satisfied you. You dress her and carry her around and push her in an old stroller when we go on walks. Your freckles are getting darker since our time at the beach and they're just the cutest. You wanted to grow your hair long this year. You're done losing teeth for a while. You cried when it was announced that our pastor was leaving the church, but have also accepted our new one readily and with hugs and homemade gifts. At family reunions, you pay special attention to Gramps and he adores you. You love God, and you read your Bible or devotionals every night before bed. You just completed your first needlepoint, and are giving it to Aunt Heather as a birthday gift. You love technology, and are thrilled that you get to do your school lessons on our new iPad (and you really work it well!). You ask a lot of questions, love to explain things, and are diligent with your schoolwork (especially now as you do it at home!). When you get in trouble for something (a rarity), you take it hard, often lamenting that you are "not the best girl in the world." Go easy on yourself, kiddo! Because, 1) you are, and 2) it doesn't matter - we love you all the much no matter what.

Ellie, you're a special kiddo, and you deserve the best in every way. All I want is to make everything as perfect for you as possible. So I'm having a little trouble with this letter, both with reflecting on where we've been in your eight years (the news has occupied my thoughts for weeks, hardly allowing time for memories and reflection), as well as thinking ahead to what's coming next. Because really, we don't know what's coming next. Not economically, not socially - there's so many big, significant question marks on the horizon. This virus has everyone rattled, and I fear it's really just getting started. I don't know how long we'll be living life like this, and even more so, I don't know what the world will look like when we're done. Every aspect of life feels very uncertain now, and we're just taking it day by day and praying for the best.

I know that all I can do right now is try to remain steady for you, to hold my fears in tight to not worry you needlessly, to protect you as best I can and try to make this whole experience a positive memory for you. I hope that when we come out of this you will only remember all the time we spent together, your birthday parade, our All Day Movie Day, doing art together, drawing rainbows on our sidewalk, reading books outside in the shade, worshipping together while cuddled up on the couch, playing hopscotch at lunchtime, sleeping in and making s'mores at night. I hope I'm able to make this a happy time for you, to turn something stressful into something special that you will remember fondly. I'm doing my best and I hope we all can maintain our patience with each other in pursuit of that goal.

I love you, Ellie. No matter what uncertainty is happening outside the door of our home, that is one constant that you can always count on. I love you and I always will, no matter what.

I just love you so much, bug.

All my love,
Mama

* * * * *

My dear Ellie,

Here we go again - another letter. But, also, another whole year older for you, and this time you're eight! Birthdays are a big deal for kids, and your Mama and I are trying to make it as special as we can. But we are in fairly uncharted territory as a planet, and that is forcing us to be a little creative. I hope it's obvious what I'm talking about when you read this because it actually ended and was just a crazy, once-in-several-generations event. But it has only been two weeks and I don't know. I read something interesting this week about the futility of using the present to plan for the future, and, boy, does that feel true. Three weeks ago, it would have been laughable to suggest the ENTIRE COUNTRY would be confined to their homes and that professional sports would be shut down indefinitely. And, yet, here we are. There are probably important lessons about slowing down to appreciate our health and the freedoms we simply take for granted, or the fact that for all our technological advances, we are still no match for nature. I'm just not sure yet.

But, I digress. This letter isn't about the world, but about one of my absolute favorite people in it - you. One of the things I've wondered about is whether to actually write to you now or keep thinking about the you I don't know know yet. It's tricky this year because you're old enough to read fluently. You do it all the time, especially nonfiction, Magic Treehouse and American Girl chapter books. When we read together at night, you always get to play a character or two, except now you can follow along on your own (I don't have to whisper your lines to you anymore) and you're getting pretty good at using inflection and doing different voices when you have more than one part. I can't tell you how much I love reading with you and your brother just about every night. You are super-cuddly, which is not always the most physically comfortable thing for me, but I will never say anything about it. Whoops. I seem to be digressing again, but I think it counts because I should have found a place to mention all this anyway. What I am trying to say is that I could probably write to you now, not just because you can actually read it, but because you are getting old enough to really start to consider the wider world and your place in it. But as I think about it, I'm not going to. I think my job is to be the best dad I can be every day, reflect and try to do better. These letters are more for posterity so we can look back and see what we got right. Or, maybe they are to help me remember the things that feel unforgettable but get forgotten because you never know what's next. Or, maybe, hopefully, you'll be interested or curious. These are a lot of work!

Seeing as I'm committed to writing to the you of someday, and I don't know what you'll be like, I am a little nervous. What will you want or need to hear? Will you just roll your eyes if it feels too over-the-top or sappy? Part of my wondering is that now that you are eight, I know you are that much closer to big feelings. It seems like I have encountered a lot of parents of middle and high school girls this year who sound like they are dealing with quite a challenge. I hope we are able to navigate those years okay. So far, so good for us, but you never know. As I hope is still true, or that you at least know from past letters, you and I are actually better than good. Whenever I describe my kids to people, I always try to share some details like how much I love coaching EJ and how much he loves baseball and that he's really good. But for you, I always start by literally saying "my daughter Ellie is perfect." Obviously no one is actually perfect, but it's kinda funny because when you get down on yourself, you sometimes say it's because you feel like you aren't the best girl in the world. I love that you have high standards, but whoa! Really, though, no one needs you to be the best girl in the world, even if you just might be. I hope you will always do your best, of course, but what I really mean is that perfect is the word that comes to mind when I think about how much I love being your dad. You're so loving, smart, curious, outgoing, thoughtful and polite, and pretty much, more than any father could ask for in a kid.

I feel like I need to also mention one of the things we haven't really figured out: how to help you with your anxiety. You've always been on the strong-willed side, but this year you seemed to ramp up the ways your brain can get you stuck. And to be totally honest, I really don't' know the best way to help. No matter how calmly I have tried, I have not been able to ease you into changing your mind about doing something on the spot. When we can't physically force you to do it (like new rides) our only option is for you to decide on your own that you're going to do it. For example, you got your ears pierced this year! But then six weeks later had an hours-long ordeal when we tried to change them. It has now been six months and you haven't touched anything from your growing earring collection. Running has also been a bit of an adventure. After following up your 11:00 minute mile with an 18-minute debacle at Disney, I ran with you and we finished in 10:23! Then, in December, I tried to run with you and EJ and told you that you could go ahead if you wanted to. Well, EJ flew off the start line and you got trapped behind other people. You didn't panic, caught up to us and flew by to finish in 9 minutes flat! Then, when we trained in the Spring for your first 5k, you had all kinds of problems in our first 2-mile training run - you stopped to complain about a sore back, legs and then nearly hyperventilated out of nowhere down the stretch. I saw up close what must have happened at Disney and then happened again at a Girl Scout race in February where you stopped to walk 50 yards into the race because your legs hurt. You get yourself nervous and then it manifests in some way and then that's it. But when it doesn't, you have a real skill. It's so frustrating to not know how to help, but I promise to keep reading about it and trying.

I'm sorry I used so many words to talk about running. The anxiety is such a big thing, but it is still mostly infrequent and by no means defines you for this year. You are, or at least you were until the world shut down, having another great year in school, still love math and science, and you have thrived in gifted class. We went on more dates and continue to dance to "A Whole New World" - fueled by a new Aladdin movie this year that was everything until Frozen II came out. You saw your first Broadway show and we did some more golfing and played baseball and football and all kinds of other games in the yard. You are interested in soccer, but have too many extracurriculars already, and you really LOVE swimming.

My dear Ellie, I know I have talked about the unfairness of writing a letter to you on one day that is meant to reflect on your progress over a whole year. The reality is that it has never really worked out to build it throughout the year. It is really a snapshot of you at the moment you move from one year to the next. And the moment we are in now is just so different than any one that anyone can remember, and that has to be coloring what has ended up here. So far, though, you don't seem to grasp the enormity of the situation, and you shouldn't, but it is definitely impacting you. I'm sure Mama will mention "sad and squished" and your birthday, itself, will just be us. I hope we get back to normal soon and that you have many more chances to sleep over with your friends and go out and be celebrated properly. For now, we will do the best we can and be grateful that we have a decent group of people to spend the quarantine, and life, with.

I love you so, so much,
Daddy

Dear E.J. - Five Years

My dear E.J.,

FIVE. YEARS. OLD. Goodness, kiddo. GOODNESS. My baby is five years old, and Mama has been a blubbering mess about it for the past couple of months now. It just seems cruel to have your preschool graduation, kindergarten enrollment (and school tour) and fifth birthday all within the span of two months. Who schedules these things? THINK OF THE MAMAS, people. The poor, bubbling-over-with-emotion mamas! It just ain't right.

Yet despite my teary eyes and that lump that has taken up residence in my throat, here we are. With your fifth birthday and rising kindergartener status you officially transition from toddler/preschool-hood to an actual KID-kid. The fact that you're just the coolest kid does soften the blow a little bit, but I've spent probably the last six months or so clinging to any remaining traces of your babyhood - your soft cheeks, your small hands in mine, the way you can still just fit in my lap and melt your body into mine for a "snuggle," your big brown eyes, your mispronunciations. It's all so good and so precious and it's all on its way out, and that's just a lot for me to take in. Oof. Let's come back to the sappy stuff in a bit, shall we?

You did so well in school this year! You went to preschool four days a week for four hours a day. You loved your teachers and had some sweet little friends in your class. You did very well on all your testing and your teacher had glowing things to say about you at our mid-year conference with her. Daddy and I spent a good bit of time this year debating whether to give you another year in preschool or send you on your way to kindergarten next year, but ultimately decided that you are definitely ready for kindergarten in all possible ways.You are very bright and excited to learn, as well as outgoing and friendly, eager to make connections with your peers. I think you're going to do very well in kindergarten.

One downside to your academic success this year was that you learned to properly pronounce your "Ls" within the first month or so of the school year and much to my utter dismay. I knew that day would come, and did my best to record all your sweet little pronunciations on video before they vanished, but I can't say I don't still sometimes long to hear you say "Ewwie" instead of "Ellie," or "Achiwwes," or "pway." Man, that was all so cute. You're still holding on to a couple, like "bessert" instead of "dessert," and so help me, our whole family will be having bessert after dinner for the rest of our lives if it will keep you thinking that's just what it's called. DON'T TOUCH BESSERT, kid. Just leave me that one.

Your preschool graduation was the sweetest, with a highlight being the pre-graduation slideshow they showed on the screens, which included a photo of each graduate and what they said their favorite part of school was, and what they wanted to be when they grow up. We were all very eager to see what you would say you wanted to be, because in just this school year your answers have ranged everywhere from Captain America (because of your July 4th birthday) to an engineer ("builder") to a North Pole elf (you worried a good bit about if they would train you to make toys, or if you would just have to know how when you got there). Ultimately, you settled on Spider-Man, which is a fine choice. You've already told me you have been feeling your Spidey sense starting to tingle so it seems you're well on your way!

You continue to be a remarkably happy child, who still laughs until he hiccups and loves to be tickled. Your charisma is still a force to be reckoned with, and nearly everyone who knows you just becomes so smitten with you. In fact, they don't even have to know you. At t-ball this spring, the other moms would gush to me about you - how adorable you are, how much they love you and love watching you. They didn't know you, only saw you on the field, but somehow you captured their attention and admiration. I mean, I get it. I feel the same way. But it always makes my heart swell with pride to hear other people tell me about the positive impression you have left on them. You're something special, kiddo.

Of course, as you are my second child I know by now that the toddler/preschool years are also fraught with angst to at least some extent, and I can't say we haven't had our share of tantrums, obstinance, and limit-testing this year. It has seemed to ebb and flow, really. A particular favorite pastime of yours lately is tormenting your sister, as you learned very early on just how to push her buttons and you do so often and effectively. I know this is par for the course with siblings, and I do my best to remain a neutral party and help you kids work it out, but sometimes, man...the fighting drives me crazy.  Last year at this time, you guys were getting a long so well that you were having sleepovers in each others' rooms every night, so much so that we shifted all our upstairs bedrooms around to give you and Ellie the master bedroom to share, complete with bunk beds and everything. I have to say, I would not make that same decision this year! But, what can you do. I'm sure it's good for you, right? And it's not all fighting; you guys do enjoy each other and play together quite a bit. I just wish the scales tipped a little more in that direction! In due time, I hope.

You are quite a thrill-seeker! You LOVE rollercoasters and other rides, and have ridden everything you are tall enough for at Disney World. Not only do you love to ride these thrill rides, you're also the first of us to put your hands up. Recently, you also got up your nerve to jump off the high platform into the foam pit at the gymnastics studio (where we will be hosting your birthday party this weekend!), and you learned how to swim underwater and do cannonballs! It took a little convincing to get you to try a jump in the pool without your floatie, but as soon as you tried it, you were an unstoppable cannonball-ing machine. I think you did nothing but cannonballs for the last three straight days of our summer stay at Papa's house.

You also still love all things spooky/Halloween-related, especially The Nightmare Before Christmas. This year for Halloween we dressed up as the main characters from that movie and boy, did you rock the part of Jack. We went to Mickey's Not So Scary Halloween Party at Disney World and the costumes were a hit - but not only did you look the part, you even mastered Jack's walk and mannerisms and Jack-walked all over the park. That's your style, though - you really get into character! This year also brought lots more Star Wars costuming at Hollywood Studios, plus TONS of superhero play and dress-up. Spider-Man has remained your favorite superhero, though you also seem drawn to Black Panther and lately, Thanos. You always have had a soft spot for bad guys!

I mentioned t-ball a moment ago, but I have to talk on that a little more because boy, did THAT become huge this spring! This year we joined a new league closer to our house, and it was a huge success. Daddy was an assistant coach in the fall, and in the spring he was your head coach and Ellie joined your team, as well. By the end of the year, you showed great improvement, but what really blossomed was your love for and interest in the game. You now ask to go outside and play baseball with Daddy every afternoon, and he is happy to oblige. You're always excited to tell me when you "crushed it" and you work hard to follow Daddy's coaching, with great results. You also have elected Mike Trout as your First Official Favorite Baseball Player, thus bringing a little Angels fandom along with it. Baseball cards are everything to you right now, and you have a big binder full of them and always want more. You study them and memorize the details and organize them by team, going back over them again and again every day. Such focus! I love that.

We had a bit of a sad family event this year: we lost our dog, Achilles. He passed away unexpectedly and I was unprepared for how to handle it with you. I'm not sure you really understood, as you would sometimes pray for Achilles to come back to our house after he was done in Heaven, or for him to get all better and come back. I am comforted that you won't have much memory of it, and so you were largely spared the heartache of losing a pet this time around.

A few more notable things about five-year-old E.J.: you have a great imagination and love to tell stories, especially about things "Bunny" does (always very elaborate adventures!). You love to climb and jump off things. You like for me to sing "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" to you before nap time. Your favorite color is blue, food is peas and macaroni, restaurant is McDonald's, and toy is your Bunny. You eat VERY slowly, except at TacoLu, where you are always the first one done. And when you are finally done eating, you announce it to the world with a buzzer-like "hmmmm" noise. You love to dress up in costumes and build robots out of Legos. This year you decided you love "handsome clothes" and wore a lot of seersucker, suits and bowties. You can open your car door by yourself now, and get yourself a cup of water. You love books and are able to read some sight words. You sing in the Littlest Angels church choir. When you have a nightmare, you call us in just to tell us that you had one; you require no additional comforting aside from an "I'm sorry, buddy" and a quick re-sing of "Twinkle, Twinkle." You really just need us to know.

This birthday is a tough one for me, not only because you're getting older and transitioning from babyhood to childhood, but because it is a time of transition for me, too. For over seven years now, my identity has been wrapped up in being a mama to small children. I have almost always had one or both of you by my side. I have been needed each day, more moments than not, day in and day out (and nighttimes, too) for the better part of a decade. When people ask me what I do for a living, I say "I stay home with the kids." But starting this fall, the kids won't be at home anymore, at least not in the way they have been. I have no more babies to wrap to my chest and no more morning story times to attend. I have no more fussy little ones to strap into the stroller and walk to sleep. I have no babies to nurse. My purse is no longer filled with snack and sippy cups and spare diapers. When we go to a playground, I can sit on a bench or chit chat with friends without worrying about a little one's imminent doom on the climbing equipment, or having to endlessly push someone in the baby swing. My schedule is no longer dictated by anyone's need for a nap, and more often than not, we all sleep through the night. In the mornings, no one needs me to retrieve them from their crib - instead, my babies are downstairs preparing their own breakfasts.

In a way, it's freeing and exciting. The world is opening up to me again (I even read a book this month! For the first time since before you were born!). With your growing independence, I'm finding a newfound freedom and frankly, the possibilities of what to do with it are a bit overwhelming. I'm at a crossroads, and I'm having to reshape my identity as a mother and an individual. Without babies at home requiring my constant care, how will I spend my days? What is the best use of my time? What will at once keep me free to be there for you and Ellie, but also give me fulfillment outside of the home? What does my future hold? I'm a mother of school-age children now. I'm no longer a mama of littles. It has taken me all these years to shift my identity from my pre-kid self to this, and now I'm on the precipice of another change. The last change rocked me to my core and I wasn't prepared to have to navigate another one so soon. It's an aspect of motherhood I was wholly unprepared for.

Of course, the world isn't just opening up to me - it's also opening up to you, and to us as a family. You have so many new things to look forward to as you start your school years, and with your increasing self-sufficiency and we're able to do a lot more with you kids in tow, which is very exciting. For example, this summer we have a two-week road trip planned with stops at four baseball stadiums, because that's what you're interested in. We're also taking you and Ellie to New York City for the first time, which will be fantastic, and is not something we would have considered with a baby you. But big kid you? Why not! We're able to spend longer days out in the world, enjoying fun activities and each other. We're able to stay up late and try new restaurants and explore new places. This new chapter promises to be a fun one - different from the last, sure, but really exciting in new ways.

And so, we close the chapter on babyhood, both for you and for me as a mother. You were my last, though that is something I wrestled with a lot this year. But you are. I know that my wavering back and forth about wanting another baby is less about the desire to actually add to our family and more about just longing for more time with the babies I did have. It went so fast, kiddo. It was such a special time and it's crazy to think you won't remember most of it. Hopefully the feelings of love and security and joy and family togetherness will stick with you, at least. Because we enjoyed all of those things in excess over the last five years.

E.J., what a joy it is to be your mother. Thank you for the greatest five years. Now, let's turn the page and see what happens next.

Happy birthday, nugget.

All my love,
Mama

* * * * *

My dear E.J.,

"What's up little buddy?" If soon-to-be-five-year-old you were here, you would almost certainly say, "Good," because you always do. Until now, I've never really thought about it other than as one of those things I am never going to correct. Those things, like "bessert" and "Los Angels" are the cutest (once you are sure your kid is going to figure it all out someday). Thinking about those exchanges makes me smile because I can hear how sincere, friendly and content you sound when you say it. And that feels like a good start to a summary of you this past year.

I also think the E.J. "good" is close to how I would describe our relationship at five years old. Again, not the word itself so much as the way you say it. I think we spent more time together this year than we ever have, including "boys' days," reading, battling at the park and in the front yard after work, and in heart-to-hearts as you start to process real concepts like fairness. One of our boys' days included a morning out to the baseball card store, which has kicked off a really fun hobby and may have caused your first "favorite player." We bought a bunch of packs of cards to open at McDonald's and I was telling you who some of the best players were that you might get. Low and behold, the first name I mentioned was also the very first card in your very pack. We've since acquired matching jerseys and watched him hit a long home run in person on Father's Day. In case the rest ends up being history, so to speak, I thought it was worth chronicling here.

If I'm being honest, I'm also a little nervous about keeping up this momentum. So far, raising a son has absolutely everything I could have ever imagined it would be, but we're only just getting started. While you are just five, I am old enough to know what a fine line the world will need you to walk between masculine leadership and thoughtful compassion. I want you to be competitive and strong and confident, but it is even more important for you to be a great husband and father who considers the needs of others before yourself. I don't have the closest relationship with my father or a clear model for the best way to help you as you grow up. You are such an amazing little boy with all the potential in the world, and I guess I am starting to process how great a responsibility I have to help you realize it in a healthy and productive way. I know these things are on my mind because of the current political climate, but I also know that you're only five and don't have to grow up for a little while yet, though you have started getting regular haircuts and are all in on "handsome clothes" for church and big school events.

Speaking of being five, you love Halloween, costumes, and baseball. Oh, how you've fallen in love with baseball. On the last day of preschool, you actually wrote that you wanted to be a professional baseball player when you grow up. You also told your teacher you wanted to be Spider-Man, so I'm taking it with a grain of salt. Anyway, we switched to a more formal tee-ball league with three fields and a concession stand last fall. I was your head coach for the first time this Spring and since the season ended, you have asked to practice almost every single day. You are eager to work on all parts of the game, even though you aren't big enough to confidently swing an aluminum bat and well, aren't bothered by bad reps and you are always thinking about the things we work on, talking about old tips or showing me things during nap times. You also study your baseball cards and the players we watch on TV, which has led to some adorableness, like fashioning an elbow guard for batting, giving high fives to the imaginary dugout after a home run, performing slow-motion replays, and throwing from your knees when you are being the catcher.

Off the field, I'm excited for you to start kindergarten this fall. You really seem to have an aptitude for learning and you pick things up really fast, like basic sight words and addition, and even the concept of negative numbers. One time, you even brought me a book because you wanted to practice reading. Without ever having done it before, you just sort of pieced together letter sounds and kept track of the words you worked out and did an amazing job.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention that you started sharing a room with Ellie this past year, put your hands up on roller coasters at Disney, were obsessed with The Nightmare Before Christmas for a while and saw a lot of cool places on our summer road trip (I'm sure there's a book for that - P.S., your future wife is going to love your mama for doing such an awesome job chronicling how cute you are right now.)

I love you, little buddy, and couldn't be more excited to keep enjoying what we have going on right now. I promise I will always do my best.

All my love,
Daddy

Dear Ellie - Seven Years

My dear Ellie,

Child. You're seven. Who approved this? Who allowed this to happen? Remember when you were smaller than that stuffed alligator you're holding in your yearly photo? You were tiny and squishy and often grumpy, and we spent our days snuggled together trying to figure out the whole mother-daughter thing together. We walked and played and napped and cried and cuddled. And then you went and grew up on me. You're still as special as ever....you're just much bigger.

You are in first grade now and you are KILLING IT. You have two wonderful teachers and you are just thriving. Your reading has taken off and you are now reading at a third grade level. We've started reading chapter books together (Beezus and Ramona - you find Beezus, the sensible older sister to a wild, trouble-making little sibling, very relatable!) and you're really starting to take the initiative to actually read books on your own, instead of just looking at the pictures. You're doing great in math, as well, and math and science continue to be your favorite subjects. As of yesterday, you also have officially been admitted into the gifted program at your school, and I'm really hopeful that it will challenge you and help you grow even more!

I loved sitting in the meeting about your gifted program admission yesterday and hearing the glowing things your teacher had to say about you. I mean, I know all these great things are true, but it really makes me puff up with pride when other people notice them, too. You excel not only academically in school, but also as a leader and a friend. In fact, you were chosen as the very first recipient of your class's "Leader in Action" award in the first two weeks of the school year, and you were recognized at a school-wide assembly. You are well-liked by your peers because you are kind, thoughtful and sweet. You care very much about others and are very affectionate (you ran up and gave the crossing guard a huge hug today, just because). You have a way of making people feel very special.

As you're getting older, your extracurricular activities have continued to increase in number. You're still doing ballet (very beautifully and gracefully, I may add), plus worship dance and choir at church. You're in the Children's Choir now (a bump up from the Littlest Angels), which means you're putting on a musical at the end of this school year (in which you have both a singing feature and a speaking part), and you flawlessly read a Bible verse in front of a jam-packed church on Christmas Eve. You are also still going to running club at school, and this year you've added tee-ball to your resume. You saw E.J. play in the fall, and you decided you wanted to give it a try in the spring. You're on a team with E.J., and Daddy is your coach (Go Indians!). I have loved watching how hard you are working at it! You look great out in the field, and you're always up for practicing at home in your free time.

Speaking of motivation and hard work, when you started this school year you set a goal for yourself to learn how to do the monkey bars on your school playground. I watched with great pride as you kept working at it and working at it (with the blisters to prove it!) until you finally did it! You were so proud, and we were so impressed. Yesterday you also did the other, bigger set of monkey bars for the first time, too. You're really something, kiddo - when you get it in your mind that you're going to do something. YOU DO IT.

This year you also discovered your love for rollercoasters! It was almost exactly a year ago that you went on the Seven Dwarfs Mine Train at Disney World for the first time, after much effort to summon your courage. You said you enjoyed it, though your face in the pictures from the ride indicated otherwise. Yet, you asked to go on it again next time, and you were hooked. Recently, we have added a lot more Disney thrill rides to your resume! For some time it was a bit of a process to get you on a new ride: you would be nervous, but we would make you go anyway, which meant dragging you through the line as you dug your heels in and wailed about how unhappy and nervous you were, drawing stares from everyone else in line as we reassured them we really aren't awful parents, you love it. We would get on the ride with you still crying and squeezing your eyes shut. Then by the time the ride was over, you would be gushing about how much you loved it and begging to go on again. And we did this every. time. we tried a new rollercoaster for the better part of a year. But, on our most recent trip, you tried three new rides and DIDN'T CRY ONCE. We crossed a threshold, here! It's a whole new world! You were so brave and confident and AMAZING. And man, do you love those thrill rides. You get such an adrenaline high! And now you finally got your brain on board with the idea, too. Good for you, kiddo.

You and E.J. are still getting along well! I mean, you do bicker a decent bit, but all siblings do, don't they? You love to play together, and after spending almost every night in the early summer having "sleepovers" in each other's rooms, we shifted around our bedrooms to give you and E.J. a room to share, with bunk beds and everything! And speaking of sleepovers, you had your first real one this year! You and E.J. slept at Sophie's house just last month, and are already planning for the next one.

In other big firsts, you had your first Valentine this year. The day he asked you to be his Valentine, you came bounding out of school with such joy on your face, just talking a mile a minute about how happy this made you. You got your first taste of "love" and I got my first taste of terror that someone could possibly break your heart. I spent the next couple of weeks leading up to Valentine's Day just praying that something didn't go awry with the whole arrangement because you would have been devastated. Phew, boy. I'm not ready to do this for real yet, kiddo. My heart can't take it. Has anyone told you yet that boys have cooties? They totally do. Stay clear!

In some sad news, this year we said goodbye to Achilles. He passed away in November and you and I probably took it the hardest. It happened unexpectedly and I wasn't prepared for how to handle it with you, but we had a nice memorial service for him and I think you're doing okay. You mention missing him sometimes and still pray for him every night, but for the most part, you're okay. I love to see pictures of him with baby you and remember those times; those memories are very dear to me.

As for other notable things about seven-year-old Ellie, you still love music and dancing, and often turn on music yourself with our Amazon Echo so you can dance around the family room. Your favorite TV shows this year have been Mr. Rogers' Neighborhood, The Who Was Show, Bill Nye the Science Guy and Ms. Julie's Greenroom. You still say Moana is your favorite movie, but you've been on a huge Mary Poppins kick lately! You love to play outside, and are showing some interest in learning to bike, roller-skate and swim, so maybe this will be a big outdoorsy year for you! You love to do crafty and artistic things, and you love stationery - you will write and mail cards to family without prompting (and it just makes their day to get mail from you!). You still love bunnies and space (you still want to be an astronaut!), the color pink, ziti and meatballs and dates with Daddy. You like to read books in bed with a flashlight before going to sleep. You have lost six teeth so far, with one or two more loose right now. You close your eyes when Alexa turns off the light in your bedroom because it scares you a little. You love to point out the constellation Orion. When we kiss you goodnight you take the kiss off your face and put it on your pillow for safe-keeping (the actual pillow, not the pillowcase, so it won't get washed off). You love to explain things, to figure out how things work, and to operate with a predictable routine. You have precious freckles on your nose, which you crinkle up when you give a big smile (just like you did as a baby!). I'd say all around, you're a pretty awesome kid.

As we kick off this new year of your life, I feel like you're really starting to dip your toes into the water of official Big Kid status, which is both really cool to watch and a little bit heartbreaking. For instance, in last year's letter, I wrote about how I love walking to and from school with you, because you always reach for my hand and tell me all about your day. I still love our walks together, but the hand-holding is becoming less frequent and you often head into school in the mornings without pausing for a hug or kiss for me. Sometimes you don't even remember to wave before you go in the door. I wonder if by next year's letter, you'll be holding my hand on the walk at all? I hate to think of it. Regardless, my hand will always be here if you want it, love.

Some of the less-pretty parts of growing up are starting to peek into your world, too. For example, a month or so ago we were getting to go somewhere and for the first time ever, you opted to change out of the cool (on-theme) costume you had planned to wear because you were scared people would stare at you. I can so vividly picture you standing there in your costume, tears in your eyes, verbalizing that fear to me and as I watched you sadly take it off, my heart broke into a million pieces. I have so loved all these years where you just wore what you wanted and did what made you happy and it never even occurred to you that other people might have opinions about it. I understand how you feel, and I knew it would come, and it still is only a glimmer of something - you still very much love costumes at Disney, or themed dress-up days at school, or what have you - but I know where we're headed and my heart aches that you will feel insecure sometimes, or self-conscious, or like you have to censor yourself. Ellie, you are the only you in the whole world and you are so special. I know it will be increasingly harder to proudly embrace that uniqueness, but I hope you will always remember that God made you perfectly you. I only wish I could make it easier for you to go through all that normal growing-up stuff. I just want to put you in a bubble and protect you from any possible heartache.

You know, Bug, I feel like you and I are partners, in a way - teammates. Seven years ago, you were thrust into a world that was entirely new to you, and so was I. I had never been somebody's mother before, and I only hoped you would afford me the grace I needed as I figured it out. We started out on a journey together, you and me, walking side by side and trying to find our way.

Seven years later, I'm still figuring it out. I'm not sure that will ever stop, really. Between you and E.J., I know that I make countless mistakes every day. Each night I go to bed praying that both you and God will forgive me for my shortcomings and that He will mold me into the mother you need. I think of all the ways I can be better and vow to do exactly that the next day. Yet, each morning I wake up as human and flawed as ever and the cycle repeats. I know what a blessing it is that at this point, my mistakes aren't even a blip on your radar and every day you offer me nothing but unfaltering adoration. I know those days are numbered, and as you get older my flaws will be more and more obvious to you. When that happens I only hope that my efforts will be as visible as my mistakes, that you will not only see my flaws but also how much I love you and how badly I want to be perfect for you. I'm trying, baby. I'm really trying.

Ellie, I love you. You are so precious to me and I am so honored and humbled that God chose me for you. What a blessing it is to be your mother! It's unlike anything I ever could have imagined.

I love you all the much, sweet girl. Happy birthday.

All my love,
Mama

Dear Ellie,

Happy birthday!!! For some reason, this one feels like another of those with the weird parenting time contradiction where your sixth birthday seems like forever ago, when you were so much younger, yet it hardly seems possible that the year passed by so quickly and you are actually seven! I don't even want to think about how old you'll be when you actually read this letter. Actually, seven-year old you just asked me what I was doing while I am typing this and it occurs to me that you have grown so much this year that you could probably read this letter right now. Honestly, first grade has really agreed with you. You've only missed a handful of points total on a 3 quarters of assignments and tests and you actually asked your math teacher for harder problems. Your reading teacher recommended you be screened for gifted and you passed! You will soon begin attending one day per week classes that will continue through at least 5th grade. But doing well in school is not new for you. What is new this year is climbing monkey bars and working through a fear of scary rides - roller coasters are now your favorite! (If Mama's letter doesn't tell this story in more detail, I'll add a footnote later because it's a good one!)

On your beginning of school "About me" poster, you wrote that your two goals were to "get on" all the monkey bars and to be an astronaut. It took some time, but you are doing great with the first goal, though the second one is going take a bit longer. That said, as of this writing, you still want to be an astronaut! You're also interested in being a doctor and sometimes a Mama, but science/math and space are still your primary loves. You read and ask questions about space all the time and you were even Dr. Mae Jemison for your school Halloween book character parade. You've taken an interest in constellations and have gotten very good at spotting Orion and Mars when they are in the sky. This passion helped me justify the cost of a three-foot tall Lego Saturn V rocket set because we built the entire thing together. Recently, we say an Apollo 11 documentary in the theater and you came home and wrote a letter to Buzz Aldrin. During your space unit in school, you actually caught your teacher oversimplifying things. She told the class that there was no gravity in space, and we ended up talking about orbits and underwater. Amazing.

Speaking of amazing, I have to mention how great of a bond we have right now. Goodness, we are buds. I know enough about the world to know that you have to grow up someday and this it means we won't get to spend as much time together, that I won't necessarily be the first person you share good or bad news with, and I definitely won't still be your top choice for a date. Heck, you already had a Valentine who wasn't me. But for now, we are still super close, and I have loved every second of our dates, whether we are running, golfing, going to the movies, or having dinner and dancing (even the one time the power went out in the restaurant). We also play catch now (!) and spend most days playing in the front yard or at playground with EJ, and every night reading and cuddling. Ellie, I can't explain how much I love you, but it's also pretty cool to know that you love me, too. The enthusiasm in your voice when I come downstairs every day is so genuine and so, so precious.

I know I've said it before, but writing these letters can be tricky because I don't exactly know who you'll be when you read (or re-read) them or what you might want or need to hear from me. A lot of things can be true at the same time, and certainly more than will fit into a letter, but as much as I hope they all fit together to tell a meaningful story when you read (or, lets be honest, skim) them all, there isn't any intentional coordination from letter to letter. I don't re-read old ones before writing the new one (so as not to bias my thinking) and I don't even really spread out the writing across multiple days. I also don't do nearly as good of a job keeping track of the whole year as I always hope to because there's just too much good stuff and I never know when you'll grow out of something until it's too late. Even with all those pseudo-short cuts, writing still takes time because, as you will find, life has a way of filling itself with stuff. Every year feels like it is especially busy, and it always actually is, so it would be really easy not to write anything at all. But parenting is the coolest thing in the world and you matter as much as something possibly can, so I'm glad your Mama and I have been able to find time to do this for you. Along those lines, I hope you will be intentional about setting priorities and keeping them clear so you will find a way to make time for the things that matter to you.

Anyway, whatever message(s) you happen to take from these letters, I need you to know that I couldn't possibly love you any more than I do and there isn't a single thing I would change about you. Every single trait, interest and experience of yours combines in just such a way to make you exactly who you are, and that is someone who is perfect and for whom God has a plan. I really hope you understand that, but I also know that, sometimes, it takes a bit more faith than other times, and that it never hurts to be reminded.

Before I go, I am happy to note some of the things I haven't mentioned yet that you dislike: having your foot fall asleep, being cold, the dark and not knowing how to do something really well the first time you do it; and some other things you like: ice cream, pasta, bunnies, ketchup, grilled cheese, explaining things, writing and drawing. See? You're perfect!

All my love,
Daddy