Growin' like weeds

This blog is like a scary movie villain.  Just when you think it’s dead, it gets up again.  There’s no use in trying to write about all the happenings and milestones since our last post.  In short, Traci & I are the proud parents of 3 growing, beautiful kiddos – Anna, Ellen, & Owen.  Everyday these three tiny humans amaze me.  Though, they’re not really as tiny as they used to be.

Anna is going on 4 but, clearly thinks she’s going on 14.  Last weekend, we were out buying a few new outfits for fall.  We picked out several matchy-matchy outfits for our little girl at Carter’s.  They were all rainbows, hearts & ponies, of course, in standard Carter’s pink & purple.  Anna has grown very particular about her clothes (skirts must have the right “twirl factor” to be satisfactory) but seemed content with these new things.  On our way from the store to the car, we passed an Old Navy store where Anna saw a shirt in the window display that caught her eye.  Our almost four year old froze, stared at the shirt on the eyeless mannequin with the plastic pony tail, and said, “I want THAT shirt!  I mean, can I have that shirt please?”  The shirt that had captivated her so was a long t-shirt meant to be worn over leggings with a sequined necktie applique on the front and only came in girls sizes.  As in, the size doesn't have “T” behind the number.  Somehow, the size 5 fit.  And just like that, Anna became 3 going on 14.  A few days later she continued to prove that by referring to Traci as “Mom da bomb.”

Ellen is growing up too.  We’re told that she’s a classic middle child, causing mischief and being obstinate every chance she gets.  She too has developed quite strong opinions about her clothes.  Though, hers seem to be more based in comfort than fashion as she refuses to wear any shoes (including sandals) without socks.  Ellen’s opinions don’t stop at clothes.  She frequently gives others a very disapproving scowl.  Some have said that she has inherited this trait from me.  (I say, just don’t do things that are disapproving to me or Ellen.)  Ellen has also taken over Anna’s chore of corralling Eve the WonderDog into the basement before we leave home.  Most mornings, she stands with the basement door open, yelling, “Eeeee!  Go, Eee!  Go!”  Ellen swats at Eve, as Eve goes by, apparently thinking that the dog requires a bit of a push to make it down the basement stairs.  Another of Ellen’s (self-assigned) duties is to follow behind Anna as she rides her bicycle (with training wheels of course).  When Anna stops and can’t get started again, Ellen runs up behind her and pushes Anna off with all her might. 

And then, there’s Owen.  He’s the tiniest of our three tiny humans.  Though, it’s all relative because he’s really not that tiny either.  I’m pretty sure that he’s been holding his head up on his own since before he was born.  And, at 8 weeks, he’s a robust 13 pounds and 25 inches long.  He has a smile & dimples to steal any heart (he probably could do time for grand larceny, if caught).  We’ve spent eight weeks getting to know him & still don’t know who he looks like.  Anna & Ellen have loved him, tolerated him, disliked him, and loved him some more in that time too.  I suspect most of what he feels towards the two of them is somewhere on the “tolerate” end of the spectrum.  A baby brother can only take so much kissing, touching, poking, being tugged, and being sat on.  Some nights he cries and cries until we just put him down, in his bed, ALONE.  I’m convinced that these cries are the baby equivalent of, “STOP TOUCHING ME!”  

So, as you see, they're all three "growing like weeds."  Every parent of teenagers or adult children will tell you that "time goes so fast and they grow so quickly."  I'm learning that they're right.  Tiny humans don't stay tiny forever.