On Song

Dear Ones,

I love to sing, always have. Singing in the shower, with Poppy, in the car, or on stage with a full orchestra -- singing has been one of the greatest joys of my life. The peak song experiences for me though are paled in comparison to what is only described as beyond joy that I hear coming from your little mouths when you think I'm not listening. You are both wonderful little singers, don't ever let anyone tell you different. I hope you always get the happiness from it that you so exuberantly let out right now. No qualms, no fears, no worries over pitch or lyrics or audience ... just ALL OUT SINGING. It's like you are taking your truest smile and flinging it up to Heaven. It is the absolute best sound in the world to your mama's ears.

Little Bunny FooFoo, Shoo Fly, Hush Little Baby, PollyWolly Doodle All Day, Doe a Deer, Don't Stop Believin', Dancing Queen, and of course the Thomas the Tank Engine theme song... these make up the playlist of my heart. But only when you sing them.

I love you so much!

me

On Body

Dear One,

You are so hard on yourself, and so sad so often. Now that you've had your cry, focus. Your legs work. As do your heart, lungs, teeth, arms and ankles. Your husband says he's a fan of your butt. So, you know, that's something.

This new exercise is good for you. And it's good that you can't do it all yet and that you're so tired and sore- it means it's working now and has room for you to grow and keep the method working in the future!

You will see change. It's only been a month. For the life-change you want you need to realize this could easily take all year. You may not feel comfortable in a bathing suit on your 34th birthday, as per the original goal. BUT you WILL feel good in one for birthdays 35- 82. At 83... well, we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we? ;)

You will get yourself up at 5am tomorrow and keep going. Do Not Give Up.

Now go play with your sons. They think you're beautiful. It is possible they are more right about you than you are.

Love,

me

On Stages

Dear One,

When I asked you to "Sit still and be quiet" while I was in a meeting this morning and you responded with "Not Again???!!" it occurred to me that we have a gap in our communication somewhere. You see, the last time I said, "Sit still and be quiet" wasn't actually the last time this will be asked of you. In fact, since you are now 2 1/2 years old, it's entirely possible that this request will be made thousands of times yet over the course of your life. Particularly since you seem to possess truly astounding levels of energy and spunk for someone so little.

Hopefully this clears up any miscommunication we've been having and my next request for you to calm down won't come as such a shock.

Much love,

me :)

On Listening

Dear One,

When my children are upset, self-inflicted or otherwise, I usually tilt their face up to me and say, "Tell me when you can hear me." I know I can fix the problem, but not until the self-centered hysterics die down. After a few hiccups and back-handed wiping of tears they'll eventually nod and say they can. At least that's how it works when it runs smoothly.

When it doesn't run smoothly, their mad and I've been scared into a fury, I don't tilt their face towards me. I grab hold of their chins between my pointer finger and thumb in such a way that I could probably move their entire bodies with just this grip. And say in my deepest vocal register, "Tell. Me. When. You. Can. Hear. Me."

Which they usually respond to with a "I Can't Hear You Yet!" yell that echos off Red Lady. Even in those cases though, eventually their ears open and the muscles surrounding my voice box relax enough to let oxygen get back through and we move ahead. Together.

I don't know which tone of voice you're using with me right now Father. But I can't hear you yet. I want to. I wish the disconnect wasn't there. I believe that eventually my ears will open and your perfect voice, saying just the right words, will come through. I believe that.

But I can't hear you yet.

Amen.

On Waste Removal

Dear Ones,

You are old enough and it is time.

Peeing in the potty is great. Keep it up.

Pooping in the potty is better. Start doing it.

That is all.

me

On Thighs

Dear One,

Your website says you can transform any woman's body- regardless of age, genetics, and/or specific problem spots. If that is true, then the salutation of "Dear One" won't even begin to cover my affection for you.

Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to become my steadfast partner in: Operation Feel Good in a Swimsuit Before I Turn 34.

It is a large scale attack we have taken on. There is much cellulite to defeat and many 'Lil Debbie Swiss Cakes to say no to. This is not for the weak or the hungry- although your workouts so far have made me feel both. There are obstacles to overcome: potty-training, meal preparation for non-dieters, foot deep slush covering all usable ground outside, and the fact that my two favorite foods are butter and chocolate, with salt.

Please keep that last bit between us.

This note will self-destruct in 5 seconds.

See you in the morning,

me

Dear One,

A letter came in the mail today and seeing the handwriting in the corner was enough to snap my spine straight. I'm sorry she has that effect on me. I know it hurts you.

I came across a quote today that really made me think:

Forgiveness is letting go of the hope for a better past.

Interesting, yes? Something to think on anyway.

Okay, I'm going to stop there. I really don't want this to be a sad and drawn out beating-of-the-proverbial-dead-horse type of letter. Just a pause to acknowledge this spiked moment in my day and hopefully a springboard into all the coming moments this Monday has in store- over which I garner much more control.

Love you,

me

On laughter

Dear One,

You've managed it again, so many times now in fact that I am forced to conclude this is actually a beautiful aspect of your specific DNA as opposed to a learned or forced effort on your part. Getting us all up and going this morning, when they are screaming and I am whinny to the point of petulance, takes some doing. And you did it with humor and patience that still baffles me as I look back at it. And you were right. It did help. Getting in the sun and skiing down the snow covered peaks with child-giggles erupting, from the actual children as well... it was everything you said it would be. As usual. So much fun in fact that I can't even be as annoyed as I should be over your rising "right" quotient. You're right a lot. Lucky me to be married to you. :)

Not that there weren't sticky patches, a fussy toddler and a crashing 4 year old off and on, but without fail you again and again you use your unique combination of humor and brute strength to pick us all back up and get us going the right direction again. Physically and mentally, until we are all have a blazing good time again. And when you laugh yourself- oh my. It is a BOOMING sound. Startling, and funny, and contagious even beyond our little group, and it remains my most favorite sound on Earth.

Thank you for being our champion and super-hero and Knight.

Love,

me

On energy

Dear Ones,

You have it today and I do not. Sorry about that. We'll leave in a moment and walk in the sunshine -- which will be nice, but I have to admit it is as much to assuage my guilt as it is to get you the Vitamin D your growing bodies need.

Always trying, I trust you know that,

me

On Help

Dear One,

You didn't have to take so much time for me today. We know each other, but don't really spend the time together or have the commitment to each other that say old friends have gained. You didn't have to take the time or spend the energy or do the work. But you did. Which makes you one of the good ones. I actually already knew this, but some things should be said out loud whenever possible.

Thank You,

me

On Sleep

Dear One,

I really really need you to stop doing this. Sleep. In your own bed. All night.

Please. Come get me if you are sick or scared, of course, but this constant and almost nightly routine of ups and downs is making me as crazy as a... well see... there you go- I can't even think of a good simile and I rock at similes. This has to stop.

Not only is your mood and over-all health better when you do- but MY mood and overall health is better as well. A fact that is easily as important as any other in terms of maintaining your well-being. It's nearly 3 AM as I write to you and that does not bode well for our morning interactions. Which begin in 2 1/2 hours according to this strange internal clock you seem to have inherited from my mother.

Let me explain what the night looks like on my end and hopefully you'll understand just how serious I am about this. Tonight, for example, I go to bed at 10 after checking on you and your brother and kissing your sweet sleep-pinked cheeks and after a normal toss and turn, fall asleep. Until 11. When you come down the first time. Out of bed I go, take your hand, you don't need anything, silently reaching up for my hand as I offer it and peacefully walking back up to your room and climbing into your bed. I try to fall asleep again. Just about do when...Midnight... I hear little footfalls again and ... voices? Two voices? You've gotten your brother up with you?? HOW did you get him out of his crib and down the stairs without me hearing any of that process on the monitor which hisses even his most innocent sleep sounds at me all night long?? Out of bed, take both your hands, littlest starts to cry about doing bedtime again, you don't understand why I'm cross, I'm worried now (on top of cross and tired) about the whole silent crib escape thing, what else do I not hear at night? Everyone back in bed. Take 3. I can't sleep. I hear thumping. Is it the dog? Another crib-break? My imagination? So tired, can't imagine getting out of bed if I don't Have to. Yet. I can't sleep because now I hear all kinds of sounds that could mean all kinds of danger for my nightowl children. Is someone in the house? Is it the fireplace? Your rooms are right above the fireplace... better check. UP AGAIN. Peer up the stairs, it's dark and quiet. You're both finally sleeping and I'm being foolish. Best not to turn the light on and risk waking you up. Back to bed, what's left of it anyway as each time I get up your father takes over more and more space in our bed leaving me to balance precariously on the edge while fighting mother-worry inspired insomnia and -- WHAT IS THAT THUMPING?? Is it mice? Oh no, are you really both out of bed and now sleeping on the floor being crawled on by mice?! I should have turned the light on, I should have checked, up and off I go. (Do you see how sleep-deprivation does dreadful things to my imagination?) Lights on, climb stairs, see two sleep-pinked faces safely in bed and resting my hand on your backs I feel you breathe. Everyone's fine.

No room at all now left in my bed so I'm in the guest room next to your room writing you a letter past the middle of the night and hoping for at least an hour of sleep but fear it will be yet another night of dozing a scant smattering of minutes before facing the demands of another very demanding day.

I want to be better at taking care of you than I am. I have more to give you than you're likely to get over breakfast this morning. Please sweetheart, let. me. sleep.

I love you very much, and at all times.

me

Dear One,

I saw a picture of you this morning that took my breath away. It was such a surprise to see your face after all these years. Do you still look ten years old in Heaven I wonder? Do you see me? Have you met my husband? My children? You're an uncle now you know. Twice over. The oldest has your name and the youngest has your lack of regard for danger. If you can see us, I'd like a little extra watching-over on that account if you don't mind.

I miss you. And I do believe you know that. That you still know me. Are with God.

Until then,

me

Dear Ones,

That bouncing curly-head and the ruby-lipped smile will only last so long and get you so far. Eventually you will need to use the potty without coercion, force, tears, screams, tantrums, diplomacy, and/or bribes of any kind.

Love,

me

P.S. I adore you.

Dear One

Dear One,

I think it's wonderful that you've decided to write letters to the dear ones in your life. You're really much better -- more thoughtful and more honest-- on paper than you have ever been able to be in verbal conversations. Sorry dear, but it's true.

Do you suppose you'll keep up with it?

Yes, I do believe you will.

Much love,

me