Fabulous Five

 My beautiful and independent girlie was born in the spring, right before Easter.  For bringing you home on Easter Sunday, my little Marsupial, I packed pastels:  a pale purple sleeper, a pale yellow onesie, a pale green receiving blanket.  (A far cry from the bold dark blues and greens I packed for your older brother.  You were a GIRL, and by golly I was going to proclaim it to the world!)

The week you were born, Grandma Tobler was in town. My brother's wife was very pregnant with your cousin Kip, and both of us were scheduled for induction on the following Monday. Feeling distraught at another three days of being pregnant, we all decided to go to the mall.  Ostensibly the reason was to find a dress for my mother to wear to my little sister's wedding in May, but the trip was mostly so Caren and I could walk and walk and walk and walk and maybe, just maybe get things started so we didn't have to wait until Monday to bring the babies into the world. So, pushing the soon-to-be-big-brothers in the strollers, we walked.

At one point in time, Caren and I had to go to the bathroom, and while my mother stayed in the hallway with the boys, we entered the mall bathrooms and did our business. The only problem came when Caren tried to exit the stall--the door was stuck! It was so funny--these two HUGELY pregnant ladies, laughing hysterically, one on the outside and one on the inside, as Caren--good thing that even when she IS pregnant, she's not that big--shimmies out from under the door.

If life was fair, Caren would have been the one to go into labor that night, but life isn't fair, and it was me who started having contractions at the mall. Although they weren't too bad, they were constant, and finally I called Bradley to tell him that he might want to be aware of the bus schedules.  I wasn't calling him home quite yet, but just giving him some warning.  Fortunately, he jumped on the next bus, because not 20 minutes later I called him again to tell him to come home NOW.

The contractions started to become more painful around 4:30 pm, and we went to the hospital in Payson, almost expecting to be sent home. By the time we got to hospital at 5:15, I couldn't speak through the pain, and it was obvious we were ready to have a baby. And almost before we knew it--almost before I was completely registered at the hospital--you arrived! 

And you have done things your own way ever since.  You, my darling girlie, have an independent streak that I barely know what to do with, but I am forever fascinated by.  You are your own person:  you love the things YOU love, not the things you "should" love.  Princesses and baby dolls are nice and all, but animals have captured your heart.  Instead of carrying around the dolly you got for your birthday last year, you carry around stuffed cats and dogs.  You love art--for your birthday you got two books by Ed Emberly, one that shows how to draw cars, people, trees, etc, and one that shows you how to make people, animals, insects, and monsters out of thumbprints.  I was a little concerned that these books were too big for you, but I needn't have worried.  You went to town on the thumbprint book, and have been creating amazing masterpieces ever since. 

You are my foodie child, and I am SO GRATEFUL to have one.  It makes cooking dinner a little less painful, when at least one of my children actually actively enjoys what I offer, rather than complaining, eating exactly the requisite number of bites (one for each year), and filling up on rolls and/or bread.  You love "leaves" (fresh spinach), ham sandwiches with mustard, provolone cheese, and lettuce, and even fish with lemon sauce.  It is a pleasure to cook for you, because you are so vocal and happy about the meal.

Kindergarten starts this fall, and you could not be more excited.  You already know all your letters, and can draw (upper case) the entire alphabet in order.  You love to have your big brother read to you, and are intensely curious about the simple "Sam" books he sometimes brings home.  Already you are staring to read little words, and it constantly surprises me to watch you blossom into a reader right before my eyes.

Em, you are sweet and compassionate and kind.  I love the way you try to comfort your brothers when they are sad.  You try to sing to them and help them feel better.  (It doesn't always work, but I hope you keep trying.)  I love the way you give me hugs and kisses and tell me you love me.

Because I love you, too! Happy birthday, darling daughter.

(And I am a bad mother, because I left the camera at home when we went up to Grandma's to celebrate your birthday.  Fortunately Daddy took some pictures with his cell phone, but unfortunately they are about as crisp as you'd expect from a cell phone.  But Grandma took some pictures, and as soon as I get them from her I'll put them up.)