My sweet boy turned 5 this week. 5! Amazing. Easton gives the best hugs and loves to snuggle with me. He clings to my leg when we’re in a new situation, comes up at random during the day and says, “I need a hug,” and is working hard to be kind to his siblings. On the flip side of this, he can get very sad very quickly and is learning to navigate the often stormy waters of getting what he wants vs. thinking about others. But he’s sure trying and I love him so much for that. He feels deeply, whether that’s happiness or sadness. He loves My Little Pony and Star Wars, running around outside with his buddies and climbing into bed with me in the morning. He’s my sweet Easton and I can’t get enough of him.

Here are his 5-year photos, taken by my friend and wonderful photographer Adam Johnson.

Me: How do feel about turning 5?

Easton: Um, not excited. Well, I just don’t want to turn 5 because I want to stay at 4 so that you will always hug me and love and kiss me.

M: I’ll always love you and kiss you even when you’re 5.

E: Okay.

M: What do you want to be when you grow up?

E: Um, I think I want to be a man, like a policeman, that helps people go the other ways.

M: That directs traffic?

E: Yeah.

M: What’s your favorite color?

E: Um, I have loads of favorite colors. Light orange and pink and light blue. Also magenta and pink.

M: What do you like at school?

E: Nothing.

M: Nothing?

E: Yeah, well, only when I get to do the sand work.

M: If you could go any place right now, where would you go?

E: Um, probably to China so I could get some minifigures. (LEGO minifigures)

M: What’s your favorite toy to place with?

E: Um, probably my space alien pillow and my LEGO set.

M: Where do you want to live when you grow up?

E: I don’t want to leave this place.

M: You want to stay here? In this house?

E: Yeah. And, Mommy, am I going to be a grandpa when I grow up?

M: Maybe when you get older.

E: Okay.

M: If you could have one super power, what would it be?

E: Um, probably super speed and laser eyes.

M: What is your favorite food to eat?

E: Um, pizza and cake and also mac and cheese.

Happy birthday, Easton! So very very happy to be your mom.

Because this blog has been neglected.

We have a backsplash and it makes me so happy!

Easton and Liam crack me up in this picture.

Day at the farm.

Riding a pony.

Amelie decided to play around with oil paints.

We went for a ride on the Heber Creeper to celebrate our April birthday boys.

You can always count on Calder and Easton to pose nicely.

See what I mean?

Amelie’s latest project from art class. She was copying the Rembrandt on the left using colored pencils and charcoal.

Once upon a time, I worked on a list of “30 Things My Kids Should Know About Me.” I made it to #24. That was in September of 2014. 2014, people! I want to go back and reread my responses. I bet some things have changed since then. But, I really want to finish this little project, so here we go.

If you could have dinner with anyone in history, who would it be and what would you eat?

This might sound very self-absorbed, but I think I would want to have dinner with myself as a child. I’d take my sweet little self, maybe 7 or 8 years old, and we’d go to Fireside Manor in Dunkirk, NY, the very fanciest place my child self could imagine.

The Fireside Manor.

I’d pick my little self up at our brown Victorian house on Hamlet Street in Fredonia. We didn’t live here when I was this age, but I still consider it home. Little Raven would have her hair in braids and some darling dress on made by our mother. And off we’d go. At the restaurant, I’d help her look over the menu and let her order whatever she wanted. She’d probably order chocolate chip pancakes. We’d eat and talk and I would just try to really savor this moment with myself. I’d have questions.

“Tell me about yourself, Raven. What kinds of things do you like to do?”

“How is school going? What makes you happy about school? What parts of school make you worried?”

“Tell me about your family. Tell me about your mom and dad and your brothers.”

And I’d have things to tell her, while she was drinking milk through a straw and eating those pancakes. Things about the world and about how special she is and about love. But mostly I think I’d just listen and watch her.

What a gift that would be, to see myself as I was, and as I am. I see myself from a third person perspective and to just love myself. To recognize how perfect and amazing I was, and am. We’re so hard on ourselves. So quick to find fault and feel guilt and speak harshly to ourselves. But what if we could just spend a couple of hours with ourselves as children and see in perfect beauty how lovable we really are? How worthy we really are? Wouldn’t that be something?

Amelie wanted me to share this with her grandmas, so I figured I’d just post this on here to share with all of you. This is Amelie’s fall still life in chalk pastel, 18×24 inches.

Behind all my work as a doula and a childbirth educator is Bryce. He is my rock and my constant support. How could I have known when I married him at 19 that he would prove to be such a loyal and supportive partner? I count myself very lucky to have him by my side. Our marriage is built on this supportive understanding. He tells me he wants to train for a marathon, or start a business with his brother, or write a book, or quit a job that is no longer working for him–I listen, I work through the details with him, I support him. I tell him I want to get my master’s degree, or birth out of hospital, or fly to California for a training, or become a doula–he listens, he works through the details with me, he supports me. It’s such a beautiful system.

How can I express how much his support means to me? He has never once grumbled about my work. Not even at 2 in the morning when I wake him to say that I’m heading to a birth and he’ll need to get the kids off to school in a few hours (because it’s always 2 in the morning). He mumbles, “Okay. I love you,” goes back to sleep and takes care of morning duties. Not even when I need to fly out of state and be gone for 3 days or a week for a training and he’s left running the household on his own. He says, “Okay. What do we need to do to make this happen?” Not even when I’m gone a couple nights a week working with families and we eat our dinner at 9 p.m. after he’s put the kids to bed. He says, “Okay. See you when you get back,” and brushes teeth and changes diapers.

He writes me notes telling me how proud he is of me and what a great job I’m doing. He listens when I come home with stories from a birth or when I need to vent. He tells me how amazing it is that I’ve found this work and that I should continue to pursue this passion.

He tells me that he’s talked to his boss and arranged it so he can come work from home whenever I need to attend a birth during the day so that I don’t have to scramble to find a babysitter.

He tells me he loves me.

And this means the world to me. Aren’t I the luckiest?