Elise is seven!

So she's been seven for seven months. Seems like a perfect time to write about it. (Plus, I've got to squeeze it in before I can post about Sydney turning four last week.)

Elise has the misfortune of being a December baby. Not only a December baby, but a post-Christmas December baby. We try not to let her birthday get too lost in the holiday hubbub. I hope we've succeeded somewhat.

Lucky for us, my brother, Uncle Sam, was in town for Christmas and was able to celebrate Elise's birthday with us. We played around at the Pacific Science Center, then came home for presents, cake and ice cream and a little Rock Band.

At the Science Center:

It's hard to believe she's seven. She still seems so small!

Opening presents:

The haul:

Celebrating with the Lohberg cousins (You can always count on at least one of them to be hamming it up--Kenzie's usually a safe bet):

Cake (I always go all out with the cake decorating):

A few days later, she took a few friends to see The Tale of Despereaux and back home for brownies and ice cream.

I made a goal last year to write something about each one of my children for their birthdays, and I actually did it! (I know, I can't believe it either.) Here's what I wrote for Elise:

They say every good story has to have a conflict. I guess that would explain why out of all that I’ve written and said about my children, I usually have the most to say about Elise.

The last seven years have been a roller coaster ride with squeals of delight and screams of terror, arms raised high in joy and victory, and eyes covered waiting for it to be over. I sometimes worry that I’m spending too much of this ride covering my eyes and waiting for the end. The thing with rides is, the end always comes before you know it, sometimes before you’re ready for it, and ultimately almost always before you want it.

Some days I feel like I should know this ride well enough by now to anticipate the twists and turns, to look forward to them or at least ready myself for them. And some days I do. But there are always those other days where I’m thrown for an extra loop or maybe I just ate one too many churros before hopping through the turnstile. That’s not the ride’s fault. I love this ride. In my right mind, I know no matter what I never want to get off.

Elise is seven today, and I’m determined that seven is the year I’ll figure out how to be her mom. Or maybe she’ll figure out how to be my daughter. Yep, seven is the year. Lucky seven.

I promise that even when I push you away, I’ll always be standing right here, waiting. Promise me you’ll always come back.

Happy Birthday, Elise! I love you!

I'm still not sure we've figured things out, but so far it's been a pretty great year.