KK Graduates Kindergarten

Baby K graduated Kindergarten on Monday. 

My precious baby who started the year as Katherine or KK and then switched to Katie and finally tried to be "Catherine with a C," before I shut that down, grew and blossomed this year as much as her name. 

Her graduation on Monday she was big smiles and, in her own little way, stoic pauses. Tuesday night, with just one in class day left, she came downstairs after bedtime sobbing. "I don't want to leave Miss Julie. I will miss my friends." She buried herself deep into my shoulder, her muffled cries continuing for almost a half hour. 

 I kissed her head. I rubber her back, told her that I loved her,  and that moving on was hard, but grand things lay ahead. And then I sobbed. 

Because I do know grand things are ahead. But at the same time, it all feels like it goes so much faster with that second baby. 

Maybe it is because with Bonnie everything was new and we were still finding our footing so things sometimes felt like they were frozen in time as we navigated the newness of the most recent phase. 

Maybe it is because having witnessed Bonnie I now know how quickly time goes - how the cheeks melt away and the legs grow longer and the reaching for my hand just disappears one day. I know the kindergarten crafts and theme days and playground adventurers all too soon become multiplication tests and spelling lists and crayons sitting idle on the shelf. 

Maybe it is because, at only 20 months older than her brother, I often felt like some of her baby years were robbed from her and she had to grow up much faster than any of her other siblings - all enjoying at least three years before the next little one came along. 

Maybe it is because with a high risk pregnancy and the world in turmoil in 2020, she missed so much of those preschool years and I grieve for those experiences that were skipped. 

Or maybe this is just motherhood - with each new phase bringing the joy of what's next and the very clear reminder that our babies don't keep. 

Happy graduation, KK. I can't wait to see who you become - and what name goes with it.

KK Loses a Tooth

My sweet second born has had FOMO since the day she was born. 

Unlike her siblings, she could never fall asleep anywhere but her room - the excitement of knowing that someone was anywhere close to her and could possibly be doing something - ANYTHING - at all kept her bright blue eyes popped open, waiting to join in. 

She has longed to do whatever Big Sister is doing, sometimes adorably so (selling Girl Scout cookies to strangers at 2) and sometimes to my great heartache (foregoing smock dresses because sister did... when I should technically still have at least three more years of them). 

She is a "BIG sister" she asserts - grouping herself with Bonnie in a power play of olderness, showing she can run with the big kids and insisting she be let in on all the secrets and fun of not being "a baby."

So, it was with great heartache when, last summer, Will lost his first tooth before her. Did it matter that it was removed under general anesthesia because of a "deep cavity?" No. Was she at all concerned that the dentist told us his teeth had "severe genetic defects" resulting in many cavities? Absolutely not. Did she take any solace in being told she had "just perfect teeth?" Of course not. The only thing that mattered was that he had gone first. 

So, when her first tooth did fall out - IN HER CLASS IN FRONT OF ALL HER FRIENDS NO LESS - she was ecstatic. She told everyone she saw that day that the Tooth Fairy was coming THAT NIGHT. She drilled Bon Bon and Will on what they had both experienced on their first toothless night. What did the Tooth Fairy bring? Did she leave a glitter trail? How did they think someone so small was able to move their large heads off their pillows to get the teeth?

Katherine went to bed, smiling, mouth open to show off her missing tooth - a hopeful display to prove she was worthy of the visit. 

Eight short hours later we woke up to her guttural cries. The howls radiated down from the walkway outside of her bedroom to our den, where I woke, confused on the couch. Why am I on the couch? Why is she crying? Why is Roy Kent staring at me?

In an instant it washed over me... the last night replaying in my head as a sense of dread filled my entire body. We had put her to bed. Then Bonnie. Then Beau had woken up sooo many times. By the time we got him to sleep, we were exhausted. In some desperate bid for adult time we had agreed on one episode of Ted Lasso and then Tooth Fairy duty and then bed. But we had fallen asleep... probably only seconds after Marcus Mumford wrapped up his intro and Jason Sudeikis had delivered his first dad joke of the episode. 

And we had forgotten the Tooth Fairy. Forgotten. The. Tooth. Fairy. 

In a panic, I realized it was still dark outside. So... as I listened to my sweet second born sob, so upset that she had finally caught up to her siblings but it wasn't the experience she had imagined, I did the thing I said I would never do to my children. I lied my face off. 

"It is still nighttime angel, you woke up too early." 

Sobbing "It is morning. IT FEELS LIKE MORNING."

"No, my sweet love. Look outside. It is still dark." Thank you, Baby K, for not losing this tooth two weeks from now after Daylight Savings. 

"It is dark? It is still night?"

"Yes, go to bed. I will be right up to snuggle you."

Thinking I had bought myself a half hour at least - imagining her sweet head hitting her pillow, her thumb finding the gap in her teeth, her eyes shutting again - I let out a sigh of relief. 

"I am not going back to bed unless you are with me."

Crap. 

"Okay. Coming right now. Let me wake up Daddy to let him know I am going upstairs."

This, of course, would not be an easy feat. This man can sleep through anything - car alarms, dogs howling, children poking him in the face, active labor in a hospital setting. I shook him - and not the sweet gentle shaking of a loving wife but the panicked shaking of a mother who will replay this day with all the guilt until the end of her days. 

Finally he stirred - 

"Hi. I am going upstairs to put KK back to bed. She was upset because the Tooth Fairy didn't come but I explained to her it is still night so she is going to be okay. But I am going upstairs. SO YOU JUST DO WHATEVER YOU NEED TO DO RIGHT NOW." I squeezed his shoulder for extra emphasis. I telepathically tried to broadcast that he needed to get up this instant and save our poor child from the years of therapy being forgotten by the Tooth Fairy no doubt causes. 

"It is still night? Feels like we slept for awhile. Let me see my phone."

I gripped his shoulder  - again with the power of a mother trying to save her child - and whispered fiercely our code phrase for stop. right. now. "You serious, Clark?"

"Oh. It is night. Got it."

I walked up stairs texting him frantically as I tried to also greet KK with a calm, reassuring, "go back to bed for the love" smile. 

The Tooth Fairy book is in the kitchen cabinet above the wine glasses. There should be a $2 bill in the top drawer of the bookcase in the piano room. Sprinkle glitter on it. The green glitter that is on the top shelf of the classroom. 

She refused to go back to her room so I cuddled her in my bed. Her shoulders had stopped shaking and she was taking deep breaths as she snuggled in, content that she had, after all, not been forgotten. She started to drift off while mummering to herself reassurances that not all had been lost. "It is still night. It is still night."

I heard Russell shuffling around downstairs. Drawers being opened. Cabinet doors being shut. 

It looks like they used all the glitter but the book is under her pillow. 

- Did you write a note in it from the Tooth Fairy?

Seriously? No. 

I rolled my eyes and plotted sneaking out to help him, making sure she had an inscription that matched her sister's and brother's books for their first tooth. I tried ever so coolly to sneak my arm out and was met with a hand forcefully on my shoulder. "Momma, stay."

I laid back down, remaining still so Russell could finish his task. An unwritten book is better than no book at all, I convinced myself. Surely that cuts the therapy time at least in half. 

Soon, he snuck into our room and started going through my diaper bag. 

-What is up?

No $2 bill downstairs. You have cash, right?

- I never have cash. 

Yeah - but you just got cash for the babysitter. 

- I only have twenties. 

It's twenties or nothing. 

I glared at him in the dark while I have no doubt he cursed my name in his head for introducing the glitter $2 bill and book with note. I watched him sneak back out of our room down the hall to her bedroom. Heard her door close softly behind him. 

It is done. It is 6:45. I am going to work. 

I texted my thanks and closed my eyes beside her, assuming I'd wake her in 15 minutes and pretend like she had slept for hours.  

The adrenaline worn off from my failures of motherhood, I fell into a deep sleep. It was truly light when I woke up an hour and half later - her curls bouncing on my bed, her gap toothed grin beaming at me, her brother and sister beside her in wide eyed amazement. The joy in her voice was palpable as she shouted, "MOMMA! She came! And she left me $20!"

And that is the story of how Bonnie found out the Tooth Fairy doesn't play fair and sometimes overgifts the little sister. 

Home from school, showing off her first lost tooth.