Five years

We are several emotional key changes behind on this blog. As those of you who keep tabs on my husband through Facebook know, last Tuesday we unexpectedly and abruptly had to euthanize our nine-year-old German shepherd, Bismarck, when he was diagnosed with what appeared to be the late stages of cancer. I have been meaning for a week to post a tribute to this our eldest child, the undersung member of the family, whom we miss so much. I haven't yet found the time or energy to do him justice.

Meanwhile, life continues apace for those who remain, and Bismarck still awaits his eulogy while our eldest daughter's golden birthday has arrived. Five on 5/5, Edith celebrated on a picture-perfect warm spring day, bringing homemade banana bread to share with her class at school, then accompanying us to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia in the afternoon. Mor-mor flew in to help us celebrate and joined Edith for at least half of several dozen journeys through the Institute's giant model human heart.

Leaving the right ventricle...

Logan Square

Mor-mor was also present last night when Edith performed as a finwhale in "Are You Smarter than a Sea Creature?," the long-anticipated preschool spring play and Edith's final appearance on the Dupree stage.

"In an octopus' garden..."

Alice was among the infant livestock on Old MacDonald's farm

In keeping with the theme, I made Edith a whale sweater for her birthday--both of us were pleased with how it turned out.

Over the weekend Edith enjoyed a science-themed birthday party in our backyard. All my carefully prepped science experiments fell by the wayside when guests and hostess launched a group venture in climbing onto the roof of the playhouse, but the kids had a great time, and I measure success by the absence of any meltdown on the part of the birthday child. In fact, she was lovely to her guests throughout, genuinely excited and appreciative that they were there.

The hub-bub of fourteen kids + parents left little time for good picture taking, but after almost everyone had left and things quieted down, Edith and Desi returned to the roof for a little reading time

Ten days ago, before Bismarck died, Edith experienced what she declared to be back-to-back thrills when first, she accompanied me to an undergraduate figure skating show and got to try on skates and venture out on the ice at the end, and second, she received a private tour of the firehouse from our town's extremely kind Director of Emergency Services. Throw in a Trike-a-Thon, a little Communiversity Day action in the bouncy castle and at art tables, and the first performance of the three/four-year-old choir in church, and she has had a memorable couple of weeks.

Edith delighted in telling people she had done "really fast spins on the ice"--true, thanks to the kindness of my student, who managed some fancy moves even while holding 43 pounds of preschooler

Learning to control the bucket on a fire truck by remote


St. Jude's Trike-a-Thon

Communiversity activities

For our part, five years of parenting seems like a significant milestone. I wish I knew how many hours I've nursed, how many stories I've told, and how many pounds of child I've carried how many miles since the spring of 2005. We are perceptibly older, more tired, and more settled than when we giddily drove to the hospital that evening five years ago. But we have been immeasurably enriched, too, by the experiences of the last five years and most importantly, by Edith's entering the world and joining our family.

She also has changed since that night she arrived on the scene red-faced, golden-haired, and screaming five years ago. At five she is measured, perceptive, and thoughtful. She delights in understanding punny jokes. She loves her same-aged friends and adores her pre-K teacher. She has figured out that adults who try to engage her in conversation generally are friendly people worth the time and trouble, and she engages back. Her artwork is vivid, as she enjoys investing the time to realize her vision. She'd like to be able to read but doesn't want to work at it, afraid of being wrong and impatient to hear the story. She can see things from others' point of view, and she often remembers to say an unprompted thank-you at appropriate junctures. The thought of fire makes her nervous, but she eats up accounts of Greek gods changing people into inanimate objects or sending them to the underworld, deeming them "a little violent, but imaginative!" She is generous to her little sister, who has bestowed on her the nickname Dee-Dee and who can almost always make her laugh. She thinks buttons are for boys and won't wear clothes featuring them, but she thinks it's silly that men and women have to use separate bathrooms in public. She remembers every story she has been told but can't focus long enough to get her clothes on without help. She needs her back scratched at bedtime. She enjoys talking to relatives on the phone. She's long-limbed and moves confidently. There is little trace of the preschooler left in her. Most of all, she is a great companion, with a warm heart and lively mind, and she's our pride and joy. Edith, we love you.