Category: Ellery

How much do I adore that Ellery walks over to the drawer where I keep the camera, demands that I take it out, and take a photo of her?

Delicious.

I adore these boots. I'm so glad they fit someone again. Even if that someone wearing them skipped her nap and is a little bit grouchy.

Suddenly Ellery has developed an interest in the potty. And no interest in clothing.

Ellery spends a lot of time trying to get her shirt on and off. Mostly with success, but often with a furrowed brow.

Today you turn two. Which is somewhat stunning when I think about it, because weren't you just born a few months ago?

I feel compelled to write some sort of post about who you are and what you do, so I looked back on last year's post to see what I'd written. I was somewhat shocked to see that I could have written the same post this year.

Other than the fact that now you are stringing words into whole sentences, you're very much the same. I have a feeling that on your fortieth birthday, we'll look back and all those first observations will hold true. You are a wise, old soul.

Your love for babies know no bounds. This year's birthday gifts were almost all accessories for your little ones—a snuggly carrier and a bathtub. You have immediately put both to good use.

Second to babies, you love Elmo, who adorned your cupcakes. I confess, I was ill-prepared when I got down to the business of baking. Those decorative balls cover an orange-y pink color that was a result of not enough red food coloring and the chocolate chip mouth was a last-minute substitution when I realized I had no black food coloring. You were delighted, nonetheless.

Oh, and I apologize for these photos. It was dark in the morning when we opened presents and again in the evening when we ate cupcakes. So they're kind of mediocre photos.

But I have a feeling this is how life is as a third. We're busier than when we did all this for the first two. And these events happen in the space and time when we're all in the same room, and the amount of that seems to be dwindling. We don't love you any less, we just have to make a greater effort to squeeze in the moments to profess it.

You are bright, wise, and fiercely independent. But in the midst of all that, you've developed a shy side. At story hour you now crawl into my lap and bury your head with a little whisper just to me, "Shy." I had my own shy side as a child, so this all feels rather familiar.

I have a feeling this shy, quiet part of you would be more present if it weren't for your crazy siblings. But they rev you up, and soon you're tearing around the house, squealing and making just as much racket as possible to keep up. We all may be a bit hard of hearing in a few years, but I think their effect on you is mostly quite wonderful. They adore you so much, I'm not sure I could keep them at bay even if I tried.

Happy birthday, little one.

Ellery is all about the camera these days. She's demanding I take her photo and then she likes to see it on the back of my camera.

The first photo is when I asked her to say "cheese". The second happened shortly after.

Then, about two hours later, during her nap, she threw up all over her crib. Because, that, my friends, is the story of my life.

This picture was taken Thursday morning. Just as life was going from the normal crazy to downright stupid.

Thursday morning: The weather forces a two-hour delay. Shep's school is canceled as is his turn as Star of the Day. He will be devastated when he figures this out. Neko starts to feel cruddy and begins running a fever. She sobs as we tell her she will have to miss school.

Thursday evening: Neko throws up two hours after going to bed. The rest of the night is a big blur of no sleep and waiting on a sick kid.

Friday: Neko has no school. What should have been a fun day out with my three kids turns into a day where Tom and I ping pong kids back and forth and attempt to keep Shep and Ellery healthy. Much laundry is done and many Clorox wipes used. Neko is still throwing up.

Saturday: I'm supposed to spend the day up north, celebrating at Beth and Dave's baby shower. Instead I spend the morning packing up the shower gift and putting it in the mail. It didn't seem wise for me to be 2.5 hours away when vomit is involved. Special thanks to Barb for taking Shep and Ellery while I run around and get errands done. Tom spends the day waiting on Neko. Things seem to be looking up, so I get to leave for the evening to celebrate Anne's birthday over an insanely good dinner. Yum. The night is kind of quiet, except for those two hours Tom has to get up and watch TV with Neko.

Sunday: Anne's actual birthday…happy birthday! Try to let Tom sleep in (not very successful). Shellie offers to take the kids for a few hours, so I drive them over. Neko is cranky and out of sorts. She takes one sip of cocoa and throws up all over Shellie's table and floor. Thank goodness Shellie loves us. Not only does she clean up vomit, but even offers to keep Shep and Ellery. Bring Neko back home and settle her. Cancel her afternoon playdate.

Sunday evening: Things are looking better. I think. Am determined everyone will be healthy by tomorrow. I will it to be so.

Sunday evening, bedtime: After well over a year of referring to himself as Sizzles the Dog, Shep informs me he is now Spot the Dog. And my heart shatters into many pieces. Kids can't throw up and grow up all in one weekend. My heart can't take it. He'd better take that back tomorrow.

The kids are restless as the cold, icy weekend draws to a close. Tom decided to take Neko and Shep to the craft store, while Ellery and I made our way through Target and Old Navy. After Target, we stopped at Chipotle, where Ellery insisted on staying and eating lunch at a table. In a big chair. Like big people do.

Then we headed to Old Navy, where she insisted on sitting in the infant stroller, reclined back, her feet propped on the basket, chewing on coat hangers.

Kid? Baby? We're clearly somewhere in between.

None of my other kids liked dolls. Stuffed lizards and big stock pots, but not dolls.

Until Ellery came along.

She's been obsessed with all things "baby" since she could attempt the word (which was one of her first, I might add). She borrows babies from my mother's house and the library. She totes them around lovingly.

For Christmas we got her this pretend diaper bag, complete with bottle, changing pad, wipes, and extra diapers. And for 20 minutes today, she very carefully wiped the bottom of this baby, lifting her leg just like she's seen me do many times before, placed just so on the changing pad.

I can't help but note the irony that the one that seems to love mothering the most is the baby of this family. Thank goodness Bonnie is having one that she can dote on.