Micah was proud not to be a “kindergarten baby” anymore, and his favorite part about 1st grade is that he has his own desk. With a rectangle opening! “Folders go on the bottom on the left, then my pencil case on top of that with all my pencils, crayons, and erasers. And then on the right side is all my books, like my math book and reading book.” Now if I can get him to channel that organizational prowess at home…

Lucas was ready for preschool months ago. Poor guy; mommy got pretty boring, I guess. I have to say though, that I love his preschool; it’s a gym converted into a playspace, so kids have tons of room to roam around, and the teachers (4 — count ‘em — 4 of them!) are incredibly nurturing and know their stuff. When it was time for goodbyes, Lucas didn’t even give me the time of day. Fist pump.

eager beaver.

In other and somewhat related news, it was a week of lasts, too. Micah stopped sleeping with his blankie (really, an old sweater of Hubbie’s, or at least what’s left of it. What started as a cashmere sweater became a ragged 6″ x 8″ piece of cloth.) If you know Micah, you know this is HUGE. It’s sort of bittersweet, to think of all those moments when he cried in the middle of the night for it, or the way his eyes would light up when he’d bury his nose in it, or all those road trips when it was high up on the packing list. It makes sense. You could see his confidence grow this past year — for conquering kindergarten, hitting line drives, and forging friendships. I couldn’t tell while it was happening, but the entire time his security was migrating from an external source to an internal one. It’s as if with each thread unraveled from that sweater, a new one was stitched in his sense of self. It’s beautiful, watching your firstborn grow up and find his footing.

(I’m still keeping Cashmere, though.)

him: Yes, because I smell a lot of things. Like the garbage can.

But not without a fight.

happy happy.

joy joy.

Then there are nights like tonight, after a full day of being with mommy and daddy, when the boys are chipper and you see that boldness that children ooze when they are happy, content, and absolutely sure that you love them. Never fails; these are the days that one of them actually volunteers for dear Jesus time. Tonight it was Lucas.

Dear Jesus, please help Mommy feel better, and please help baby to grow. And we are going to play with her when she comes out, tomorrow, after we take care of stuff. And it will be a lot of fun. And her name is Cadence because her’s a girl. Amen.

I’m sitting next to a group of seniors at Caribou on the northshore. I just dropped Micah off at his basketball camp, where about 20 squirrely 6-8 year olds infiltrated a community center gym, each dreaming about the NBA in his future. Now I’m sitting next to a group of four silver-haired retirees, reminiscing about their pasts. (And keeping each other abreast of what’s hip.)

Funny how I’m surrounded by youth and age all the time and spend most of my waking hours forgetting about one and in denial about the other.

“It’s true. Mr. Rogers was an ex-Navy Seal. A natural killer.”

Like my body deciding to create a new human being (without consulting me first).

But all was forgiven when we found out that Baby turned out to be (finally!) a girl.

How did I get here? Here being the place where I am a mother of three. You would think that moms of three are old pros. In some ways, there’s a sense of confidence and groundedness this time around, allowing me freedom to enjoy this pregnancy in a way I didn’t with the other two. At the same time, it’s a lot like the first time around–completely unexpected, unplanned, and leaving us with a lot of questions about what practical, real life stuff will look like with this little one in the mix.

I’m so preoccupied chasing the boys around and breaking up wrestling matches gone awry that I haven’t had much time to bond with Baby. But these last few hours of the night before I turn in, she lets me know she’s alive and well, kicking up a storm. This little life inside of me is already special, and has already brought out the best in all of us. (Lucas in particular likes to shout into my belly button to greet Baby every day.)

It’s funny how motherhood is the convergence of all your strongest emotions, your greatest potential for both triumph and failure, your most extreme capabilities of selflessness and self-absorption, your obsession with both the smallest details of the day and with the wistful hopes for future generations. So what does it look like to experience all that three times over?

For whatever reason, this is the way our story is being written. I’m sure it will be full of drama, suspense, comic relief, and familiar themes. I’m itching to be on the other side of the plotline to see how it turns out. But for now, it’s a journey page by page, learning to enjoy and relish every detail.

The fact that this chain probably shuttered many an independent store in its heyday is just too ironic not to point out. Still, do we cheer at the fall of a franchise giant or mourn the loss of a bastion of education?

I strolled through the skeletal remains of the store with a lot of memories. I used to study there as a high school kid and spend hours poring over Seventeen magazine. When Mister could barely walk, I brought him there for storytime and spent hours poring over parenting magazines. It used to be the only hot spot in that mini mall (until Starbucks showed up) and made the sleepy, conservative area feel refined, like it had finally made it as a credible urban, modern community.

The massive space lends itself to X Sport or Marshalls or something equally original and charming. It’ll be interesting to see what rises out of these ashes.

For now though, if you’re interested in nabbing a bargain, the store had plenty of these:

The comma, is misplaced!