They're watching us just as closely...if not closer...than we are of them.

Much to my delight, my three year-old daughter is a girly-girl. The moment she gets home from day care, she strips down to her panties and goes in search of a dress worthy of dancing in. (Lately, this has led to her wearing a flower girl dress from earlier this summer...it was white at one time.)

She loves Barbies, which was one of my favorite pastimes as a young girl. We dance like it's going out of style. She loves to brush her hair and wear lipgloss. The list goes on.

But while I often feel she's so caught up in being a girl, I have more often been bit by her keen remembrance of what her mother says and how she acts.

Just this past week, I heard her following her daddy around the house as he was moving some heavy furniture. She would call after him, "You know you're going to hurt yourself," or "Let me go in front of you daddy," as she wedged herself between the wall and whatever it was that he was moving. As she gabbed-and crabbed-at him, she never once stopped to let him react. Class mommy move.

Another fine example occurred this morning shortly after we got home from church. I was crabby at her father already and grumbled the entire time I made HIM breakfast. While he searched the TV for an old Western, my daughter caught me calling him a lazy ass. For the next five minutes, she strolled in and out of the living room asking daddy if he was going to get off of his lazy ass...and by the way, mommy's the one who said it. Her brother and I ended up repeatedly asking her to stop using potty language.

While I do correct her for some of the behavior, I mostly find myself finding a corner of the house where I can smile or laugh for a moment at how wonderful it is to have the opportunity to see myself in someone else. No matter if she's learning good or bad traits, it's a pretty amazing feeling.

Their love is pretty darn great (as in the size)...

Last week school started back up for the second semester. It was bittersweet dropping my son off as we all enjoyed the extra time together (although the evenings got a little out of control). For whatever reason, I didn't just pull away from the curb after he hopped out. This time, I sat there for a few seconds to watch him with his friends. But instead of seeing them all freaking out about getting together after two weeks apart, I caught him looking back at me.

One thing you have to understand is that my son...my beloved first born...has these amazing eyes. Not only are they as large and round as his head, they are also the warmest shade of brown and surrounded by the longest, softest lashes I have ever seen. (Yes, I also realize I'll be paying for this as soon as he becomes interested in girls). So even after he gave me the usual "I love you too mom" smile when he hopped out of the van, he turned back a few steps in. I smiled, he grinned and it was like we shared this secret mother-son moment where all was right in the world. He's never been naughty and I've never screwed up as a parent.

Although we were 20 feet from one another at this point, I could feel his love and I'm pretty sure he could feel mine...and that's why I am so blessed to be a parent. There is nothing that even comes close to that feeling, and I'm certain there never will be.

We should never grow out of our silliness.

I've caught myself taking life too seriously on and off through my life. I always feel guilty the moment I realize how ridiculous I'm being. This night, my son was pretending to be a super strong wrestler...obviously ready for his pee-wee wrestling season to start. And my daughter, the ultimate copy-cat, was not very far behind. (I'm just hoping she grows out of wanting to wrestle!)

As they hollered about being tough and grunted and stomped around the living room for awhile, my husband caught their toughness on camera. Good thing it's difficult to stay too serious in this house for very long. Let's hope we're still laughing and being silly another thirty years from now.

Their love shines just as bright as ours.

I'm not sure what's gotten into me this week but Monday will be the third time I've visited my son's kindergarten class in seven days. I never know what to expect. The first visit was to listen to an author speak about a children's book she wrote. A book I've been wanting to buy and now want it even more.

The kids were fidgety the entire hour; I almost couldn't stand it. The teachers were obviously used to it. And while I went into the event believing my son would be embarrassed to have me there even though he begged me to go, he sat there, draped all across my lap through most of it. Held my hand the other part. I didn't mind at all. It was sweet and I wanted to squeeze him back but refrained until I said goodbye.

Today, I went to lunch with his class. Again, he had begged me to go and acted excited and nervous the whole time. He kept peeking around at the other kids to see how they would react and yet, you could tell he was on cloud 9. I think I smiled for that entire 30 minutes. I was so proud of my son. He's growing so quickly and is learning so much. He amazes me. But after we dumped our trays, he went and re-joined his friends and yelled out "Bye mom!" I turned, knelt down and asked for a hug. Keep in mind there were 13 kindergarten kids staring at us and a handful of other children and adults watching. He leaned the opposite direction. So I took the opportunity and squeezed him as hard as I could and as I planted a big kiss on the top of his head, I said, "Awe, are you embarrassed to hug your mom in front of your friends?" They all roared with laughter...it was pretty incredible.

I could see and feel his love today. There is absolutely nothing like it in the world. And I just hope that he could see and feel how much I love him. What a terrific memory...can't wait to do it again Monday!

Liar, liar...

I've busted my son lying to me a few times now. He tells me his room is tidy and I walk in to find the floor still covered in little cars and clothes. I ask a simple question and get some strange, obviously made up story in return. I've tried explaining right from wrong; used poor Santa Claus as a scare tactic; threatened to take away toys...all with no real sign of remorse or a single ounce of care.

But last night, he went too far. Or maybe it was just the first time his father witnessed a lie. Either way, it went from bad to worse in a matter of seconds. All he had to do was eat a dinner roll. He had asked for it. Wanted butter on it. And then he tried saying that it was his sisters or some crazy thing. The next thing I know, his father is yelling and and carrying on...Caden's bawling and Cali just looks thoroughly confused.

I tried to step in an speak calmly. Try to negotiate a solution. I though I got through to Caden but received death stares from his father. Two minutes later, he was lying to me. Only I didn't know it. Instead, I took pity on him and felt his father went too far. I asked him to go apologize and maybe dad would change his mind about his punishment. He walked away only to return two minutes later to apologize to me for lying. His dad knew all along that I was lied to.

Now my blood was boiling and I was trying so hard to keep my emotions in check...following a bath, I sent him to bed. Sobbing, shuttering with sadness. My heart hurt for hurting him (although today I realize it didn't really phase him). I thought about it as I went to sleep that night. Considered going in and laying with him in an attempt to reassure him that I love him and that I'm not mad, even though I was.

My lesson here was more for me. I truly believed that we were hard on Caden by making him go to bed early. I believed that his sobs were true torture. But reality is that he was tired. He was trying to play us. And I have a feeling his days of lying are not over.

So now I'm rethinking my strategy and wondering if we were in fact, too soft.

Maybe none of us are as comfortable in our own skin as we seem.

My son is officially a member of a kindergarten class. And no, I didn't cry. My lack of tears did shock me but what was even more interesting this past week was watching his reaction to the whole thing.

The first day of school, there he was in his little uniform, looking very much like everyone else (only cuter). He hopped out of the car and I walked with him considering the load of school supplies we were asked to provide...watercolor paint of all things...anyway, the kids were lined up outside waiting for the front doors to be opened and I asked Caden if he'd hold my hand or if he's too cool for that now. He quietly said he was too cool. Keep in mind, his eyes didn't leave the crowd of kids the entire way into the building. So, being the over-protective mother that I am, I firmly placed my hand on his head instead. More to comfort myself, and yes, I realize this is my doing.

We walk inside the classroom and he's the last one to arrive. I felt terrible as he shrunk back a little after seeing all of these eyes staring at him. But he found his seat and let me walk out with a little peck on his head and a tight squeeze of his arm.

He was all smiles at the end of school that day.

Day two...the first full day. This time, I walk him in because we had forgotten some stuff that needed to be dropped off...this time, four boxes of Kleenex tissue...I barely get around to his side of the car and he grabs my hand. Again, his eyes never leave the sight of the big kids standing around outside.

I couldn't help but smile. As brave as we all want to seem, sometimes you just need a hand to squeeze to know you're not alone. I have never felt so proud of my son as I have this week. It feels like my heart doubles in size at moments like these...And I have a feeling that it's just the beginning.

Only kids know what unadulterated happiness feels like.

My little family of four traveled four blocks over to our town's carnival last night. I have to admit, I was a little bit in awe. A town with less than 300 people and a three-day carnival that takes up the entire main street area. It was quite a sight. But what was even more amazing was the look in my children's eyes. It was pure bliss at its finest.

They couldn't wait to ride the rides, play games for cheap toys and see all of their friends. But on this night, it was even more magical. First came my son's slow bike race. We recently took the training wheels off of his bike and I was nervous about how steady he would be trying to ride slow. But he was amazing...just the fact that he understood the concept of the race was amazing to me.

Next up was our daughter's foot race. I have to admit I was nervous. She rarely runs without falling on her face. I don't know where she gets it but that girl is one clumsy lady. There are many days she comes part way into the room and just falls over, tripping over nothing. Anyway, her daddy stood on the starting line with her while I waved from the finish, hoping that she'd run to me. "Go" was yelled and away they went; a bunch of little tikes running for their lives, although I'm sure none of them knew why.  The closer my daughter got to me, the louder her giggles became. And the look on her face was sheer happiness. She had no idea why she should feel so gleeful but she did and she let it show. It was truly amazing, and I realized that as adults, we're robbed of unadulterated happiness. How wonderful it would be to see the world through their eyes one more time.