Here are the Fally Felkers.

I've been blessed with a couple of great girlfriends in this season of my life, and Christie is one of them.  She and her family are dear to me.  She asked me to take some photos of her family.  I sent her to the website where I go to get inspiration...tarawhitney.com.  Christie was cool enough to give me the freedom to attempt a really candid, low key session.  They dressed warm and hung out in the pretty awesome yard doing their favorite fall family activities.  If I were to get my family photos done, (which I must confess minus pictures friends have taken we haven't ever really done), this would be the type of session I would want....hanging out in our house or neighborhood.  Anyway, I liked these photos so much, I thought I would break some of my blog silence to post them.  

This post is a little of this (Schroeder and Kindergarten) and a little of that (Washington DC).

Some days, I spend a lot of mental energy fighting the desire to feel sad.  Slowly, but surely, I'm losing my kids to a bigger version of themselves.  A moment passes so quickly and I can't bottle it up for later.  But, man, I want to be present in the moment instead of being sad about the inevitability of losing it.  It's a sentiment I've shared before.

Schroeder has had some serious trouble adjusting to kindergarten.  It took me by surprise.  He's been five for half a year, and he went to preschool without much problem.  And, plus, I've sent two other kids to school with little difficulty.  But, yeah, all these kids are a little different.  They keep me humble, and they keep me on my toes.  

There are a couple things going on.  It's a long day for the dude.  Nope, he doesn't need a nap, he doesn't seem to be physically tired.  He just has a hard time staying focused all day.  He's used to having loads of free play time where he decides what's interesting.  He seems to like school, but there are moments when his interest is lost and he decides to make it more interesting by...destroying stuff.  Cutting up other kids' papers and knocking over their block structures.  And spitting and throwing stuff out the bus window.  When there is nothing to destroy, you might find him running around the room or rolling on the bus floor.  

Oh, and plus, he's just super impulsive.  He comes by it honestly.  Please contact my poor college roommate, Kristin Bedi, to discover the many impulsive, strange behaviors I exhibited as a twenty year old.  For example, once while we were jogging, it occurred to me that it would be funny if I blew my snot out my nose onto her.  So, without thinking again, I did it, and she was pretty disgusted.  

Thankfully, somewhere about year twenty-eight, I started to reign in some of my impulsive actions.  We are working with Schroeder to get a handle on it before that birthday rolls around.  And, I'm really hopeful because despite the principal's questioning his kindergarten readiness, I think Schroeder is working hard.  Yesterday, he said with lots of hope and excitement, "Mom, I'm going to school tomorrow and I'm not going to get any think sheets.  I'm not going to roll on the bus floor, and the principal isn't going to call you."  

And I wanted to bottle that little blue eyed, dimpled five year old boy up.  

But, I can't, and instead I'm searching for a moment to make me happy to remember.  I landed on memories of our trip to Washington DC over spring break that I neglected to blog about.  

We took D'arcy and Julian to Washington DC for a long weekend in March.  I remember that Julian told me on the plane ride over that he was going to miss "the new five year old in our house".  They are buds, and Schroeder will be invited on our next big kid trip.  I remember Julian being enthralled by the plane ride like it was his first one.  I had forgotten that kids don't remember what they did at three.  

I remember Julian being adamant that we go to Mount Vernon, and walking around in a lovely spring rain.  D'arcy took about a hundred bad photos with my phone.  

I remember walking about twelve miles from Arlington Cemetery to Lincoln Memorial to the MLK Jr memorial to the White House.  At some point, the kids started complaining (D'arcy started crying) so after lunch, we splurged and spent ten dollars on an Uber to take us back to our car.  Stephen loves taking Uber cars.  I prefer taking public transit, the transit of the people.  My opinion is better, but I compromise when I have to.

I love our little opportunities to pretend that we have a family of four.  What would life be like if we had stopped with a girl and a boy?  We rented this tiny little car, and we all fit!  It was fun, but I'm glad it's just pretend.  We all are.

(Update on Schroeder.  The day after I blogged this but did not post it, his principal took me aside when I picked up for LEGO club to have a mini celebration.  The bus driver came into her office to tell her how much Schroeder's behavior had improved.  And then, the next day, Schroeder had a substitute bus driver, and when she dropped the kids off she said, "That little one was all over the place."  Sigh.)

(So, I was going to put photos from our trip up, but my external hard drive is giving me grief.  So I'm putting up photos from my Instagram.)

D'arcy hits the decade mark.

In April, we went to a wedding.  At some point in the reception, one of the groomsmen came up to me and asked if I was the blond girl's mom.  He told me that he had a conversation with her about aquatic life and about ten minutes into it he realized that he had never had such a long conversation with someone so young.  He wanted to know what our parenting secret was.  I shared my truthful opinion.  I have no secret, and I don't take credit for her ability to talk like a mini adult.

My parenting philosophy for D'arcy is to get out of her way and sort of yell behind "don't forget the details!"  I worry, though, that every time I tell her to brush her hair properly, sort her enormous stack of journals shoved in her home locker, or take a minute to check her spelling, I'm killing her creativity.  And, yeah, that's pretty dramatic.  Then I think that maybe that's what she needs a mom for because really, clean, untangled hair is kind of important.

This summer we went to South Carolina, and the first beautiful day in the ocean, D'arcy approached Stephen and asked him to baptize her right then and there.  Stephen shared with her what he believed about baptism and asked if she was on the same page, and then he baptized her.

She went to church camp in July and came home sharing that she had been baptized in the Holy Spirit.  She still makes it clear that she is bored in church every Sunday, though.  She lays down in the pew like we are horrible parents for expecting her to sit still and listen for an hour.

The other day she came home from school and said that she looked up the meaning of her name.  D'arcy means dark she told us.  She didn't think this described her.  Jacquelyn meant beautiful and funny and smart.  I'm not sure where she was getting her information, but she and her friend agreed that was a super good description of her.  She doesn't seem to be lacking in confidence.

She wears a lot of clothes passed down from cousins.  There was a stack of training bras passed down and we agreed that she could start wearing them as soon as she turned ten.  The morning of her birthday, she spent ten minutes digging in her closet to find them.  She is eager to grow up.

For her birthday, D'arcy wanted to go horseback riding.  Stephen and I drove her down to Brown County and we all rode a horse through the woods.  She wasn't nervous, and she wasn't tentative when she smacked those horse flies.  She was eager to get the horse trotting, too.

On the evening of her birthday, we had some of our neighbors over for cake and ice cream.  It was a mini party.

My mom bought one of those rubber band bracelet making kits.  She sits up in her penthouse (top bunk) and creates all kinds of random things with those rubber bands.

Maggie Lu is four.

At four, Maggie likes Frozen.  Specifically Elsa.  Elsa is like this combination of princess and super hero.  Maggie dresses up and runs around shooting ice out of her wrists instead of webs.  Turning the soundtrack on in the car is my secret weapon.  It kills arguments and bad attitudes almost instantly.  Maggie loves dresses and pretty accessories, but she's quick to ditch those things for ridiculous princess dresses and old dance costumes when we get home.  She has this tie dyed blanket that she asks me to tie around her neck or under her chin or around her shoulder.  It can be a cape or a head scarf or an off the shoulder dress.  Besides dress up, she plays by carrying around little treasures that she finds around the house.  She stores them in purses or bags or tied up handkerchiefs.
Maggie is sassy.  She sticks her hip out when I take her picture and tells people who ask her age, "I'm not telling you."  She is quick to correct us and explain why she isn't wrong.  I don't say this because I think it's cute but just to document the reality of the situation.  She is also quick to remind me how much she loves me and give me compliments about my hair, outfit, or mothering skills.
She started preschool at the YMCA downtown.  She is so proud that Schroeder's old school is her school now.  She is also thrilled to have Annie, her favorite friend, in class with her.

Conversations with Maggie these days go something like this.

"Mom, it's super hot in this car.  Turn on the car and the A/C!"
I ask her to rephrase her request.
When I turn on the car jazz is playing on the radio.
"OHHH...that sounds smooth!"
A few minutes pass, I get in the front seat, and she says, "Mom, are you planning on making smoothies anytime soon?"

I wake up and ask Maggie if she wants breakfast.
She says, "I already had lunch."
Me: "Lunch?"
Maggie: "I already had breakfast.
I had a hotdog.
I sneaked it."
Me: I say, "That's not funny."
Maggie: "I'm not laughing."

We were checking out in Kohl's and the cashier tells me how cute my little baby boy is.  It's not the cashier's fault.  Penelope is dressed in blue again and doesn't have a bow in her hair.  I would have let it go but Maggie says, "She's not a boy!  She's my baby sister."
I say, "Yep, her name is Penelope."
Maggie says on the way out of the store, "Mom, I told you to stop calling her Penelope.  Her new name is Anna, remember?"

We celebrated her birthday by having some of her cousins over for a playdate after preschool.  Then we invited all of her favorite people to Dairy Queen for some dessert.  I made her a little fairy garden in the backyard for her to tinker in with her siblings.