Tag Archives: sibling love

A Letter that Says Nice Things


Warning: I get a little sappy in this letter to my kids. If that’s not your thing, I get it. Move along; come back another day. I’ll be bitching again really soon.

Dear Loud One, Nibbit & Happy Dude,

I have this vision of you guys someday pulling up this blog and reading through post after post in which I’m mostly complaining about you. Now, I may be giving myself too much credit; it’s possible that you’ll have ZERO interest in reading anything I’ve expressed here because well, I’m your MOM, and omg, why would you ever want to read anything written by your mother? I get it.

But on the off-chance you’re bored one day because all of your friends have gone to the mall but you can’t go because you’ve been grounded for lying to us about being at the mall last weekend when really you were at a person of the opposite gender’s house unsupervised and you decide to pull up this blog, in which case I say GET OFF THE INTERNET! (or whatever the latest World Wide Web Information Super Highway is called in the future) YOU’RE GROUNDED AND YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ONLINE! But if you ignore me and continue onto this site: I want you to read this post. THIS one. The one you’re reading right now.

Because this is the one where I tell you that I think you’re AWESOME.

On Monday night, I took a good look at the pictures recently uploaded from the “good camera,” (as opposed to the iPhone, which we sadly use way more often). They were all taken over the past month or so… and I got a little verklempt. To a stranger, they don’t look like pictures of anything extraordinary, but a few just struck a chord.



LO, you have no idea how much Dad and I loved watching you play soccer this fall. Of course we loved watching you improve to the point where you were scoring and even more often, saving goals in every game, but it was so much more than that.

You wore the shorts. And the team shirt. And the shin guards and the socks. And the CLEATS! And you put it all on, by yourself. Every week.

You were EXCITED to get out there and be a part of a team of girls, many of whom you didn’t know in the beginning. Every week.

You cheered LOUDLY (like you’d do it any other way) from the sidelines when you were subbed out and I really think those three-person pyramids you created inspired your teammates in a big way. Every week.

I would jokingly say to other parents on the sidelines that what you lacked in ability, you made up for with enthusiasm. And volume. But honestly, you were pretty good out there! (I’m sorry that I sound so surprised, LO.)

You showed up to play, with determination and enthusiasm EVERY WEEK. And you made us so proud.

And then you gave us the “what? why are you taking so many pictures?” face, which was also great. Because it wasn’t long ago that you wouldn’t even put on the damn cleats. Now you’re a team player.

I know every parent in America has a photo like this one… doesn't make them any less special.

I know every parent in America has a photo like this one… doesn’t make them any less special.


OK, so then I got to HD’s birthday pictures…


… and I felt really sad that my baby is three years old! My YOUNGEST kid is THREE. Three is the official not-a-baby age, am I right?

And while I’m excited for all of the things that having no babies may potentially bring, like sleepful nights and strollerless airport experiences, I LIKE babies. I’m the crazy lady who gets a little too close to your newborn and says things like, “I might just eat you up!” or “I need to take you home with me right now!” (Note to self: stop saying that to strangers or risk arrest.)

This inevitably leads people to ask me if I’d consider another baby and the answer is YES! I would consider it, if only it were not a medical impossibility. And also, certain to lead to divorce.

Anyway kids, the point is, Happy Dude will always be the baby of our family. And it’s hard for me to accept that he’s three now.


Although if I’ve learned anything from the other two of you, three-year-olds aren’t really THAT close to full independence. Almost-five-year-olds are still pretty needy. As are seven-years-olds. So, I guess I’m still good. 🙂

Listen, I love you guys. Even if you read some of this blog and start to think otherwise, know that I really think you three are something special.

I vent a lot here, and make a lot of jokes, but ultimately, you’re my favorite people in the whole world. I think you’re truly funny (when you’re not being stupidly silly) and amazingly interesting. I’m confident you’re all pretty creative and there may even be a degree of intelligence (but that really remains to be seen). Also, I’m fairly certain you’re growing up to be compassionate and kind, which is most important in my book.

Lastly, I love to watch you chase tackle hang conspire laugh with love each other. Those moments are always my favorite part of the day.

IMG_3461 - Version 4







Love you always infinity,


PS. Nibbit, I realize this letter is a CLASSIC case of middle-child-negligence … LO rocks the soccer field, Happy Dude turns three and the Nibbit… is ignored. Despite no specifics mentioned here, I think you’re fantastic. And you’re somewhat skilled at taking selfies, as well.


Note to readers: It’s possible the sentimentality induced by the photos were prompted by the fact that it was Veteran’s Day and I had spent most of the day sobbing at the videos of the surprise reunions between soldiers and their families. (If there is a soul out there who can watch one of those things with bawling, I’d like to meet you. And knock on your heart of STONE.) Thank you to all of our service men and women, and their families, for sacrificing so much of their lives, so that we can enjoy ours freely.