Aubs & Deac you are L O V E D (and 6 & 3!)

For everything there is a season.

Last year (the year you two turned 6 & 3) was a season of death.

If you read my last post with radio silence on both sides of it; this year held the death of a beloved student that not only broke my heart, but called me to hold space in ways I wasn't sure possible.

It was the death of my long running love affair with the scale.  For an entire year I didn't weigh myself.  By the time you are old enough to read this you will know the ways your mama has forever struggled with her body... I needed to spend a year seeing myself not as a number but as a person who knows how to feed herself and love herself and be worthy and whole no matter what number who's up on a machine that represented her body's interaction with gravity.

This year held the death of having my shit together.  Hence me missing both of your birthday notes.  You two are little, my mom/your tutu is sick and slipping from us, church is wonderfully busy, and we have made amazing friends ... so much of my downtime has vanished. With that, my checklists are far less checked and things fall off the plate.  No one has died because I did not clean the counters or write a thank-you note the day I received a gift.  Also... no one has their shit together.  Life lesson: if someone looks like they do, they are just hiding the truth.  We are all a mess.

So here's my bandaid to hold you over to your next birthday letter.

Aubrey,


You made it through kindergarten just as kind as when you entered.  You love people, make friends easily, but somehow don't let mean kids or difficult situations get you down.  You don't dwell or mope or feel sorry for yourself.

I am not exactly sure if you are mine.

Except that small thing that you are my clone.  Book learning has been hard, we've realized recently that you inherited both your parents attention deficit.

You haven't let it stop you or discourage you.  Again... not me.


We have already had some pretty good blow ups with each other.  We both often cry and apologize.  I have a strong feeling this will be our reality.  Living with yourself, even when she is 6, is hard! You are teaching me so much about owning our mistakes and apologizing.

You love yoga and the outdoors and art and art and art.  You still have the magical skill of making anything that is happening into a song.  It makes me laugh so hard it hurts.

You and your brother are a pair.  You don't complain about him tagging along to everything and you make sure he's safe. You two keep each other in line (often by tattling).  Yet, dad and I catch you two deep in play using such tenderness with each other that we have to take a mental note that you to do, in fact, adore each other.

You are Tutu's joy.  I hope you remember these moments.  There are a million ways that dementia breaks my heart but you give me a glimpse of who my mom used to be to me and you make her happier than anything.  You roll with the constant changes and bring joy to all of us in the midst of the hard.

I am so proud that you are my daughter.  I adore you.

Mom

Deac,

You are T H R E E (for another month) and although this year you have swung back and forth between team mama and team daddy on the 'one more baby' fight it's pretty clear you're it for us.  You have the energy of 10 kids and somehow make as much noise.  Advanced.

You are sweet and affectionate and so connected to the Holy I am constantly reminded that there is more to God that my mind can comprehend.  You are so eager for communion you would think it's birthday cake and feel totally comfortable responding in the sermon... aloud.


You love sports and baby dolls and are funny and so compassionate it's going to break your heart a million times.  We are proud of that.  This August was horrible in Charlottesville.  A bunch of white men who look very similar to what you will look like came into town and spewed hate and killed a woman.  Your daddy and I are working very hard to make sure you know that your gender and race are going to give you power, we don't like it but we need you to recognize it, and use it in ways that recognizes and honors the power of those society doesn't automatically give power to.  The way you reacted to placing flowers on the Downtown Mall where Heather died and the number of times you've asked about it since remind me that you will throw this world for a loop.  You will be just like your dad; the world will look at you and make assumptions and then know you and be surprised how wrong those assumptions could be.

You, my boy, are a natural born empath.  I'm excited for when you grow up and we can sit around and feel all the feelings together while your sister and dad stay logical and laugh at us.

Love you to the moon.

Mama