I haven’t written in awhile. There’s been a lot going on – like impromptu business trips to South Korea. More on that later. But mostly I have all of these sweet little stories that I want to remember and package into witty little presents for you to read later in your life. I’m cracking under the pressure. Sometimes my wit is flighty and I have no idea where to go to find it. And then I think I can do another list to get down all of the things that are so important to remember. Lists are very in – but then I’m so predictable, and I can’t be predictable (except your father and I are the most risk-adverse people in the world so we’re nothing my predictable). So maybe I should just give in to who I am – which is clearly someone who thinks too much about things. So now I’m saying screw it and just getting it down on paper, er screen, before I forget. Wit be damned.

Why I’m So Proud of You:

1. Ellen, you started swimming lessons this summer. You were about a year younger than everybody else, but I figured a level one swimming lesson wasn’t going to push you too much so we went with it. You were so scared when you realized what was going on. You were hiding behind me and crying while I held Lucy trying to convince you that it was going to be fun. I wasn’t getting anywhere. I thought we were in for one VERY long session of swimming lessons. And then all of a sudden, you stood up, put your hands on your hips and your head in the air and said “No! I am NOT going to be shy!”, and off you went to sit with the other kids and started lessons. I’m so proud of that moment. Really. It makes me well up to think about it. At two and a half you decided to face your fears head on and try what the big kids were doing. I would have understood if you stayed on the side the whole time. I would have understand you being intimidated by the big kids. I knew eventually you would get used to it. But this wasn’t you getting used to the idea and realizing it would be fun. This was you making a statement that you are going to take the world by storm in spite of your fears. Well, maybe that’s a little strong, but I know I don’t have to worry about you when things get tough. I could not have been more proud.
2. Swimming lessons provided another opportunity of pride. You were required to do this ridiculous exercise called “spider monkey” where they teach kids who can’t float or tough the bottom to completely disregard boundaries and go around the entire pool holding on to the side while your feet are on the wall. I think it’s a time filler. Well on this first day it was incredibly cold. All of the kids lips were blue. And shivering. And around the pool you went. Being the smallest of the group, it is natural that you would be slower than everyone else. And when I say slower, I mean s l o w e r. You still had a third of the pool to go around when everyone else was done. And all of those poor little kids were sitting there shivering with audible teeth clattering and you just took your time. It did not bother you that you were the last. By a marked margin. And do you know what you did when you got done? You jumped out of the pool, but your hands in the air and screamed “Mommy, I did it!”. Good grief you were proud of yourself. I was proud, too. You are too young to compare yourself to others. You just know when you have done something amazing for yourself. I know you probably won’t, but I hope you keep that attitude. The world will try to beat it out of you, but dear, dear girl. Please hold on.
3. Lucy, you’re only three months old and you’re already trying to sit up on your own. You might already be in a sitting position on someone’s lap, but you are physically trying to sit up even more to be even more a part of the conversation. That’s right. Make people notice you. It’s hard when there is a loud and dramatic toddler around, but you’re doing it. Keep it up.

And You’re Adorable:

1. You’re aunt and uncle got you this tent that is round, and pink, and looks like a princess tower. We finally put it up for you again. You, Nellie (the 75 pound lab), and I will sometimes hang out in there. That is where you said “This is the cave of my dreams! My dreams are now complete!”. Seriously. Where do you come up with this stuff?
2. You went to my hometown’s homecoming parade because Papa was driving a truck in it. When you saw him you started to yell, so everyone could hear “There’s my Papa! There’s my Papa! You can do it!” I’m not sure what looked so difficult for Papa to do while driving the truck, but everyone needs a little encouragement and cheerleader along the way, right?
3. When dad came home from Korea, he bought you a purse and a backpack as a souvenir. They are adorable. But you call the backpack your “pack pack” and wear it at all times. It’s so cute. You love that thing. You feel like you are something with that on. A good purchase or a special gift can do that for you. Remember that.

You love to talk:

1. Papa drove home with us the other day. Five hours. You talked the whole time. You like to do this. People don’t believe me. Papa does now. And when there is a lull, you will say “Papa, I want to talk to you,” and make him start the conversation again. Who could resist that?
2. You talk so much that your dad decided the other night if you are going to keep asking “why” he is going to get your toys that are scientific in nature (like a model airplane and helicopter parts) so that he can give you some useful knowledge instead of answering why lions don’t eat at the dinner table (because they are not domesticated and would never eat in a civilized manner – that you got) or why you shouldn’t touch the stove (because we don’t want you to get hurt – that you did not get).
3. After asking close to one thousand questions, you will finally say “Oh, I get it!” and I think, “Really? Do you really?” I suppose it will take a few years for us to figure that out.

And there it is. Just a few things that have been rattling around in my brain that I don’t want to forget. I wish I could get all of the inflections and inaccuracies in your speech so you could really see how cute you are and so that I won’t forget, but we’ll just have to live with this for now.