a moment

Saturday morning came and found me without a husband and two of my children for a few hours (Caleb and Hailey). Porter was sick and in need of all of me. (you know those mornings) as I busied myself tending to him and his every need, Jonas took control of the baby. (I love having a helper!)
By the time I settled Porter enough to sit down and cuddle him, Jonas had gotten Luke to fall fast asleep on his chest. Soon, porter was fast asleep against me.
The house was quiet.
Morning light was pouring in from the library window.
Snow was gently falling outside.
I watched Jonas (but only in the stealthy sort of way. teenagers don't like to be stared at. that's in parenting 101)
Jonas was absent mindedly rubbing the back of his baby brother. Jonas' legs were hanging off the couch due to the ever increasing length of him.
And just like that, I was comforted.
Parenting is hard. (shocking truth.)
Parenting little ones is no where near as hard as parenting giant tweenagers.
The worry and the fear of are you doing it right, saying it right, loving them right is so much more intense; it is all consuming sometimes.
But on that snowy Saturday morning, watching Jonas cuddle his sweet baby brother, I felt peace. Peace that everything is going to be okay all the time? Nope. Peace that he is the perfect child and won't make mistakes? Big no. Peace that I am the all knowing mother who will always know the perfect thing to say or do in any given situation? Biggest no.
Instead, I felt peace in the comforting thought that there is love in this house. There is love in this family and that the love Brian and I have for each other and for our kids will heal a lot of the broken heart moments we are wading through now, and the ones we will wade through in the future.
The mistakes, the failures, the hurt.
Peace that if we continue with love, that we can overcome all of the junk with time.
It was such a gift of a moment.
I would have taken a picture if it wouldn't have been against Jonas' life rules to have photos taken of him. Dang that kid.

wait... what?

Did I used to write on this blog fairly regularly?
Was that me?
Did I try to regularly the record the daily life of me and my family in a somewhat entertaining fashion?
What happened?
Oh yeah, I remember:

Summer.

This summer began hard, as we went at it alone without Brian, but it picked up in fun and intensity once he came back to us. So since, I know everyone has been on pins and needles waiting for an update on what is happening in the Swanson household, I will grace you with an update.

This summer Jonas has honed in on his tween personality traits. Especially the "Friends are like, so much cooler than family. For Sure" trait. Also the "eye rolling" and "whatever, Mom" traits are coming along rather nicely. The big event was he managed to get really sick one night and it was really nice. It was nice because he was so sick, I was able to touch him a handful of times without him breaking out in a hyperactive, allergic to mom fit reaction.

This summer Hailey has been a fury of crafts. She started as a tropical storm but has recently escalated to a full fledged hurricane of glue, paper strips, felt and buttons. Hailey has also began perfecting the arts of list making, and event planning and task mastering. She has created a neighborhood book club, babysat nieces and nephews, performed puppet shows and involved us all in the Swanson theater performances, and done it all while keeping us in line and making sure we are crossing things of our summer to do list. I swear, she is going to be the mother/wife of the year, or the worlds best drill sergeant when she grows up.

Caleb decided to add another personality to his life this summer: Luke Skywalker. His brain has become filled with interesting" facts about Luke and Yoda and Darth Vader. He has decided he needs to wear black everyday, because apparently that's what Luke would do. (I bet you didn't know that). Also, I don't know if I have mentioned this before but Caleb has a sound track to everything in life. He has theme music for eating, playing, falling asleep, swinging, riding his scooter, and uh, using the bathroom. He has spent much of this summer passing his theme song capabilities onto Porter. Porter now believes everything should be accompanied by the theme music from Indiana Jones, Harry Potter and Star wars.

Porter has spent the summer learning major life lessons, most obnoxious important: whining. The kid can whine. He has learned how to annoy the crap out of someone until he gets what he wants. I know all two year olds have the corner of the market on this typically, but he blows all of them out of the water. Porter has also deepened his irrational fears of:
large amounts of water (i.e. bathtub)
movie screens
people in costume
trampolines
and basically any other thing deemed fun by the average child.

Brian has spent the summer repeating the words, "There is no place like home", to which I am glad, but if he starts wearing sparkly red shoes then I am really going to worry. He has restored the yard to it's pretty state, undoing all the work I did to get it all crappy looking and stuff.

I have spent my summer soaking up my family. Some days, I think they almost drowned me, but most days, it was good. It was chill. It was everything summer should be.

But don't think for a minute I am not ecstatic for school to be back in session!

Ode to Jonas

I write this blog to give my kids the history of our lives from my perspective.
I write this blog to record all the little things that happen to us that make up our life together.
I write this blog so they can know what I was thinking when I was thinking it, and why. (although no one may ever understand the "why's").
I write this blog to slightly embarrass my children publicly, because for some reason, I find that enjoyable.

This week I want to take a day highlighting the little things about each person in my family and write a bit about why I love them.

Today:
Jonas.

When he is not making small children scream,

Or giving me some kind of tween drama,

He is pretty awesome.

He is thoughtful, and smart.
       (Every now and then he will let you see it, and you will be reminded of it.)
He is funny, and he appreciates good humor.
      (But for some reason he just doesn't seem to find ME funny, and I am absolutely sure I fall into the good humor category.)

He tries things and gets them right the first time.
       ( I think those who know me can testify he does not get this from me.)
If he does something, he does it big, like, all the way.
        (starting his three year old, stuttering, self spouting off names of dinosaurs I could barely pronounce, to his 11 year old self penning his essays for school that are 10 pages and witty as can be.)
His potential is seriously unlimited.
        (I am patiently waiting for him to realize this.)
He is very polite and respectful.
        (A quality that seems to be non-existent in most boys his age.)

I love this kid.
Obviously.
But more than that, I like him.
I enjoy him.
Even though we seem to find something to argue about on a daily basis, he is a wonderful kid.
The best kind.
He is a great example for those other boys who are constantly looking up at him in a worshipful way.

I think we'll keep him.

The boy who made me a mom

Today, this kid is eleven.

ELEVEN.

That knocks me flat and also makes me reflect.
I can't help but feel the decade of his childhood has passed,
     and the decade of his youth is upon us.
The decade of him wanting his mom and dad has passed,
     and the decade of us trying to convince him he needs us is here.
The decade of total control has passed,
     and the decade of fighting for control is here.

The decade of pacifiers, diapers, sippie cups, sneaking into mom and dad's bed at night, public displays of affection, and trasparency has passed us by in a blur. A wonderful, happy, perfect blur.

We have embarked on a new decade in parenthood.
One where boundaries are tested, choices are made, trust is reluctantly given, and worry really begins.

It's time for us to watch the growth, the struggles, the learning, and the choices from a distance.

As much as it saddens me to see another year gone, I find happiness in seeing who this boy has become.

A wonderfully funny,
Keenly smart,
Thoughtful,
Wise,
and Mostly Respectful
Amazing kid.

And that makes us so happy.

Let's just hope we still feel that same way when he is 13.

it's everywhere

I looked around my house this morning.

There were annoyances in every room.

Hailey's laundry that I lovingly washed dried and folded was still not put away.
The boys room was a mess.
I almost tripped over a basketball on the stairs:

There was caravan of vehicles on almost every surface:

An empty sippie cup lay abandoned on the kitchen floor:

Breakfast sloppily consumed, but left for me to clean:

Books strewn around the library floor:

shoes laying in the middle of the playroom:

Breakfast toast on the library couch:

And a backpack plopped by the front door and left there all night long:

I started to get annoyed.
Kids: Professionals in the art of mess making.
Does it even cross their minds to pick up after themselves?

Then I stopped.
Took a deep breath.
Did some meditating. (not really, but wouldn't I be so much cooler if I had?)

And I realized.
I remembered.
All that mess means childhood is alive in my house.


And that is something I am grateful for.

Today...

Today...

 I am thankful for recent sunshine giving my children something to do again.
There's been lots of rock hunting,
Sidewalk art:

And Chinese jump roping, sans rope:

Today....

I am busy gathering pictures to make a spotlight poster for this birthday boys class tomorrow:

Today I am completing all the details for the worlds greatest super hero training camp happening here tomorrow in honor of the afore mentioned birthday boy:

Today.....

Jonas and I will be wrapping up the work on his state report, which has taken FOREVER and a day. We will be so glad to see that one done.

Today....

Jonas will also be in a permanent state of red, thanks to his attendance to his maturation program. (See, I told you he is growing up.)

Today....

I have big plans to play battleship with Caleb.

And to eat left over pizza for lunch.

Today...
I will blow up make some balloons bombs to be popped detonated by superheros in training.
I will make kryptonite to be strewn about the lawn and temporarily weaken those superheros.

I will make fruit kabobs.

And some top secret superhero files.

It's going to be a good day. 

Children growing up, turning older, and having fun.

I told you spring rocks.

You win some, you loose some

Yesterday at my kids' school they had a day where you dress as what you want to be when you grow up.
We have talked much about what they want to be and the list is so long, I could get my laundry done faster than I could name everything on their lists.

 

Hailey settled on this:

A photographer. But she dug deeper and specified it. A photographer for National Geographic.

Jonas.

Well Jonas had a field trip and so he left for school dressed like this:

Things looked well. An accountant? A businessman? A police detective even?


But he came home dressed as what he aims to be:

 A bum.

I was so proud at least one of my children knows how to set their sights high.

our morning discussion

Hailey: I can't wait until summer.
Me: The last day of school I am totally going to stand in the front yard and sing and dance for all the kids walking by just to embarrass you.
Hailey: No you won't cause those kids will go home and tell their moms and then they will think you are weird.
Me: They already know that. Plus they know that embarrassing your kids is their job. It's my job for sure.
Hailey: You don't have a job.
Me: Yes I do.
Jonas: What is it?
Me: World's most Extraordinary Mother.
Silence.
Jonas [shaking his head in sad disappointment] : Your jokes are so old, we can't even laugh at them anymore.

My heros have always been...

My father in law is a cowboy.
In almost every sense of the word. I say almost, because I don't believe he has ever chewed tobacco and spit into a brass spittoon, or ever shot somebody in a shootout at high noon in the middle of a dusty street...
but I have been known to be wrong once or twice.

My little Jonas was the first grandchild, and for my father in law, the first shining beacon of restored hope to have a little cowboy in the family. You see, one by one, all his six children has broken his horse-lovin' heart by pledging their disinterest for the cowboy way of life. It probably has to do with cleaning out so many horse stalls full of manure. One time of that would cure me of horse-love, you can be sure of that.
Anyway, Jonas got a cowboy hat in every size growing up. He has several pairs of cowboy boots, some nice riding jeans, and some chaps... all of which have been good for nothing other than some Halloween costumes.
Until now.

This summer, my father in law's hopes and dreams have come true.



He has found himself a riding partner.



An eager student.



A cowboy in training.



In fact, he may have found himself two.



He can now die happy. But we would all prefer it if he could wait on that for about 49 years.
As for me, I think that all this is cute and everything, but don't you be thinking for one minute that country music is going to get played in this house.

Lines have to be drawn somewhere.

OCD

Anyone who has ever had or been near a toddler frequently know that they have obsessions. In my observation, there is usually one major obsession. One thing to hold over their head. One thing you can use to distract from public melt downs. One word that you can say that stops them dead in their tracks.

For Jonas this was any animal. Giraffe, zebra, elephant, ring tailed lemur, narwhal... You showed him an animal and you showed saw a light straight to his soul. I thought there was no other career path for him other than veterinarian.

For Hailey it was princess. Or Purse. Or pink. Or Pretty. Anything doused in glitter or adorned with jewels was a treasure to revere. I never thought I would see the end of that. At 7 but dangerously close to 8, pink is no longer her favorite color and glitter is on hiatus.

For Caleb it was SUGAR. Candy. If he saw some, his mood changed, his countenance changed, his heart beat quickened. His desperation to be near the sugar, to touch the sugar, to taste the sugar was palpable. The child loves his sweets. And that is how I know he is my son.

Now we are to Porter. I have been waiting to see that one thing would be...
Trains? Nope.
Music? Sort of.
Cars? It's a definite like.
Balls are close, but it doesn't hold a candle to the excitement his whole body registers when he sets his eyes on an infant car seat.
Because inside those are the greatest creation in the world:
Babies.
He spots them like a mile away.
Baby, Baby, Baby. Baby. BABY!!
I can calm any impending tantrum by simply uttering the word.
His fascination is total and complete.
He would make a GREAT big brother.


But we all know that ain't gonna happen.


Thank goodness for the handful of cousins coming his way.

sharing my wealth

Sometimes I can be really stupid.
Okay, maybe more than sometimes.
I try, I really do, but I think having four children has caused my brain to deteriorate to the point that I am starting to wonder if my IQ level has been lowered to the point of no return.
There is the usual stupid stuff like busting my car mirror while backing out of the driveway, blowing up my microwave, forgetting to pick up kids from school, loosing children temporarily…
Those are just the everyday sort of things.
But last week, I really messed up.
We went to the library without Jonas (he was rounding up cattle with his grandpa).
He asked me to select a couple books for him. As I was strolling the childrens non-fiction section, I came across the joke books. I thought to myself, Jonas loves humor. He appreciates the funny. So I perused until I came upon this book:



The description:

"The greatest leaders and geniuses in history were mischief makers. They were the brave women who looked at how unfair the world was and said, "I can do better than that." They were the stalwart men who saw stupidity and asked, "Why do we have to do it that way?" And they were the delightful children who ganged up on the neighborhood bully and hit him with wet noodles until he said, "Uncle!"

So cute, right? Well I checked it out and a few days later when Jonas came home safe and sound and very smelly, I handed it over to him. It was love at first glance. The book stayed in his hands for hours. He told me the book inspired him.

At this point I smiled to myself and took a moment to pat myself on the back. What a good mom that I am. I totally know my kid.

Then I went to get a drink.
"Someone" had done the old rubber band the sink's spray nozzle trick so it sprays all over you and EVERY INCH OF THE FLOOR.
Then I went into my bedroom and found it covered with dozens of notes all informing me that :
"Jonas is a genius.."
Then I found money glued to the kitchen floor.
And disparaging remarks about my age on my bathroom mirror.

I showed Brian, who reminded me it was my own stupid fault.
He is nice like that.

I went to bed that night, nervous about what is coming tomorrow and also more than a little ashamed of my own density. I was blinded by my desires to be mother of the year.But I vowed to will learn from my mistake.
I always do.

Next time instead of attempting mother of the year I will be shooting for best friend of the year and get my best friend's 10 year old this little gem of a book for his birthday.
I hate to keep all of the fun to myself.

double digits

My first born is ten. For those of you who are not good at math, that means I have been with him for a decade. I have loved every single day with him, except for that one day where he took all the kids for a walk in the gully. Being ten is an interesting place to be. I remember being 10. I remember my thought process, and my feelings, and my deep disdain for my siblings, my yearn to sometimes be an only child(if you had my three older torturers, er I mean brothers, you would understand).

I feel like I get age 10.

10 is too old for playplaces,
but still young enough to enjoy the novelty of a balloon.

10 is old enough to stay up late,
but not old enough to watch what your parents watch (lost).

10 is too old to have girls for friends
but too young to have a girlfriend. (thank you, thank you, thank you...)

10 is too old for a babysitter,
but too young to babysit.

10 is old enough to understand some of life's harsh realities
but young enough to believe you will escape them all.

10 is too old for hugs and kisses,
but young enough to want to be tucked in.

10 is old enough to sometimes think you know it all,
but young enough to most times know your parents do.

I love 10. I am sad the 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, and 9 raced by with a speed that has me wondering if I will remember it all. I know I won't. I know 10 will soon turn into 20 and that I need to count every day with my 10 year old boy as a blessing.

And I do.



I really do.

Is it just me?

Ever have one of those nights?



The kind where your baby is being very cute and you decide to sit down and capture some sweetness?




Things are going well, when suddenly...



The other children come?

And those other children seem to have snorted some kind of illegal substance and are running around like tiny crack addicts? That ever happen to anyone else?



And the craziest crack headed child is screaming... "I'm N A K E D!!!" Like it's some kind of freedom cry?
And the other crazies are running and they are chasing and they are making your ears bleed with a screaming that only crazy crack addicted-like children can make, causing your head to split open and your ears to bleed spontaneously? Is that just me?



And you look at your watch praying for salvation which can only come in the form of bedtime and see 8:00PM! Its here! At last! It's here! And you turn and loudly announce it is bed time. You ignore the instant protests, and whines, and moans and you tell the crazy crack head child screaming proudly about his indecent exposure to society and you tell him, sternly, that he needs to get his clothes on. You've been here right?

Then you get this:



And your child knows when its time to obey and he does. But he doesn't have to like it. So then you move on to another situation.
The crying. The drama on and on.
All the while cuddling a beloved ball.
Sound familiar?




The baby, the adorable subject in the beginning, looses interest in you and crawls over to the crying crazy, and you think, "how sweet... the baby is going to be a comforter... and he does:




he gently taps his brother somewhat calming him.




And then, quickly, before anyone can realize it, he swipes the ball away from his crying brother like some kind of con artist prodigy.



You know what I am talking about, right? Then you, silently laughing, realize that being a parent to these crazy, drug addicted, hoodlums has got to be the most entertaining thing on this planet?




Don't you love it when that happens?

too young

Lately we have been listening to a lot of complaining from Jonas. About cell phones. He is the only one of his friends that is cell phone deficient. So therefore he can never know true happiness unless he can text:
"dude r u at skool?" to his friends every morning.

We obviously are saying that 9 years old is about 9 years too young to own a cell phone.

Then obviously we hear that we are like, ruining his life.

This shall pass...

in like 9 years.

But this leads me to my point:
Are we training our kids too young to be addicted to technology? I mean, if kids don't have their cell phones now a days, they become like junkies without their fix.

And I for one will not stand for it.

I mean, in this house we do not encourage such behavior.

Instead we encourage more enriching and rewarding habits that will serve them better in their future.







Hey, I didn't say we were successful.

too much of a good thing

One day last week when I was elbow deep in some family crafting time with my mother and sister in laws, Hailey came home and asked to have a friend over. A girl named Emma who had never been here before. I graciously said yes and her mom brought her over and we met briefly and made arrangements for her to be picked up at 5:30. Jonas played with the girls and it seemed like they all were having a great time. At about 5:10, the kids asked if they could go outside and again, I graciously answered yes. Whenever someone in this house mentions the word "outside", Caleb's ears perk up and he comes running. He decided to join the fun.
5:30 came, and I was still elbow deep in a craft, when the doorbell rang. I asked Brian if he would quickly call the kids in while I went to answer the door. The mom and I chatted for a little bit and Brian wasn't coming with the kids. I figured he must not have heard me ask him to grab them, so I told the mom to just hang on I would call the kids in from the back yard.

Only they weren't there.

Brian had been calling. They weren't answering. I called. No answer. My in laws joined in the calling; no answers.
It is at this moment I realized I had to go back in the house and tell that mom that I kind of misplaced her kid temporarily.
That was rather embarrassing.
Everyone then spread out searching for the kids, while I awkwardly tried to carry on a casual conversation with the mom who was playing it cool too, but I am sure was thinking how much she would like to give social services my name and number. After 30 minutes of calling and searching, Brian jumped on the four wheeler and head to the gully about half a mile behind our house.

And that is where we found them all, giant walking sticks in hand, going on a leisurely stroll through the fox invested gully.

Brian, in his meanest dad voice, told them to move it back to the house asap and rode back to tell us he found them. I looked at the mom and said, "Gosh, I am sorry I lost your kid.. he he. I am sure you will crossing Hailey off Emma's friend list."
She was very nice and assured me it was OK. and that Emma would call Hailey soon and maybe next time they could play at THEIR house.
Hailey has yet to be invited.
After they left, I lay into my lecture very politely asking the kids what was going through their brains. The thought didn't occur to any of them to ask permission. Hailey said half way through their journey she asked Jonas if mom knew they were doing this, and Jonas replied nonchalantly that I did not. She said she knew then she was in trouble but couldn't turn back on her own. So no one had an answer for me. Why would they do something so bold, so dangerous, so clearly against the rules?
I can only come up with this.



courage.
I am thinking maybe they caught the courage theme wave and rode it a bit too far.
I told them dad and I would have to talk about punishments and get back to them.
Brian and I decided to ground them from friends for the month and have each of them do an extra job for me every day for a week (like clean out the car, scrub the shower..). When Jonas heard this, he begged and pleaded to change the job part of the punishment to no xbox. (This works for him, because he plays xbox about three times a year.) I said that no, this punishment was going to stay. To which he dramatically stated this was THE WORST PUNISHMENT HE HAD EVER RECEIVED IN HIS LIFE.

Brian looked at me and said, "We are so not doing our job as parents."

We see now, that our theme, courage, needs to be had by us as as parents as we increase the severity of our children's punishments. Because there is just no way Jonas can have an angst ridden teenage existence if the worst punishment he ever received was an extra chore.

the first, the last

I can't believe it's already time to post the obligatory "first day of school" pictures. Summer flew by for us this year in a haze of diaper changes and late night feedings.
But what's new? It seems as though my life is flying by.


This kid, my oldest AND my baby at the same time, is entering fourth grade. FOURTH GRADE. I can't even comprehend fourth grade. He has come such a long way from that little stuttering toddler who cracked me up with his imagination on a daily basis.


And this girl, my little rollie pollie chubby baby, just entered first. I mean, I am fully aware that she is not the rollie pollie, chubby, slobbering baby she once was, but I also feel as though someone came in last night and stole that baby and put a wonderful funny little girl in her place. And the thing is I love them both equally, but I am sad.
Sad that I won't get kiss those big chubby baby cheeks.
Sad I won't hear that little stuttering boy blabber on about the parasaurolophus in his head.
And I am sad to know that if this much time has gone by this fast, that I am going to wake up tomorrow to their graduation.
And I can barely handle that thought.

At least I still have these two:






Sometimes that thought gives me a head ache.

report cards

Every year we have a back to school dinner. Last year, I decided it would be a good time to introduce a family theme/goal to work on. Last year's was this:


This week, as I have been thinking of the new theme, I have also contemplated our progress on working hard.

Brian's grade: A
Clearly Brian gets points for being the only bread winner, but he gets extra credit for graduating, and working long hours, traveling, and pretty much working non-stop. He did get docked several thousand points for screwing up my plans several times due to him working unexpectedly and missing like my entire ninth month of pregnancy (which lets face it, that alone should have flunked him), but due to all his extra credit, he shot back up to grade A.

Jonas' grade: B+
Jonas worked pretty hard in school this year.... at first. But by the first parent teacher conference I had a cute teacher trying her best in a positive way to say what I already know about Jonas: somewhere in his head is a world. A wonderful place that only he can go; a place for him to ponder the wonders of the universe. But it's a place that is so vast, he frequently loses himself and has a tough time finding his way into the world in which we all reside. Luckily we welcome him back every time. At school, he improved a ton, he now only reserves his retreat for special times at home like whenever he is required to work.

Hailey's grade: B+
Hailey was like the worlds GREATEST student this year. She obeyed every single rule to a "T". She treated homework like it was a trip to Disneyland. She was so enthusiastic about everything. At home she was a big helper, a fabulous babysitter for all the babies frequenting our house, and she made lots of new friends. But Hailey lost points for OVER competitiveness. If there was a compliment made to any one member of the house, she left in tears sure that no one would love her again. Ever. She was sure she was minutes from being dropped at some random orphanage's doorstep with a note pinned to her that says, "Please take care of me... and dress me in pink."

Caleb's grade: C
worked hard. he worked REALLY hard. The problem was, his hard work was in all the wrong places. Caleb worked on learning to tell a lie. He would ask for chocolate milk at 10 PM and I would say no, it's bedtime. He would then go ask dad who would counter with the classic: "ask your mom", and he would then tell him that mom said yes.
He also perfected his skills in the areas of: making messes, teasing, breaking things, and throwing monstrous tantrums.
I know, sounds like an F grade, BUT
Caleb saved me from the torment of changing a toddler's diaper by deciding once and for all to give up the diaper, therefore he bumped a couple of grades to pass.

Porter's grade: A
Porter spent most of the year working hard by growing to massive proportions. He did so well in this area, he managed to outweigh all of my other massive children at birth. He is currently working hard at tolerance. Tolerance for all those little hands in his face and bouncing him around and "accidentally" waking him up.
He has also been conducting experiments by seeing just how far he can shove his fist down his throat.
He's just too cute to be given anything else, really.

my grade: ???
well I can't very well grade myself can I? My only option is to hand this one over to the husband.
Brian?

big brothers

Dear Hailey,



Life with brothers is hard. Having five of them myself, I know well of what I speak. Summer with brothers can sometimes feel a bit like a prison from which there is no escape. Just remember, I understand it. I do.
This is what I understand about big brothers:

There is no one who will torture you more.
There is no one who will make you more angry.
There is no one else that will cause you to duct tape the carpet in order to determine boundaries.
There is no one that will lie to you as well.
There is no one that will ever cause your parents to be so unfair.
There is no one who will be more critical of you.



But this too, I also know...

There is no one who you will laugh with harder late into the night.
There is no one whose compliment will mean more.
There is no one whose opinion you can trust more.
There is no one else who will get how weird your parents are.
There is no one that will be a better body guard for you.
There is no one who you will have more fond memories with

than your big brother.

So hang in there it will get better one day.

Love,
Mom

p.s. There are only 43 more days of summer... and of being with him ALL DAY LONG.