before school ends.

Last August, I pleaded in prayer, with anticipation, with excitement, and with fear... I wrote an open letter to Reese's potential teachers and classmates to simply get out my emotions.

This year has superseded any expectations I may have had.

I asked you to be patient. And you were, you so were. You waited on Reese to answer questions, you gave her time to think. You helped her recall that piece of information that was back there somewhere - and if she couldn't you guided her toward the answer as seamlessly as you could. You watched her squeal with excitement when she understood something and immediately conjured up a plan to aide her with what she didn't.  She never felt rushed or as if anyone was frustrated with her. She took her time to learn and you gave her that time without hesitation. You are so patient.

I asked you to be safe. No one outside of our family is seen as a safer place than her teachers and friends at school. They are who she lists that she loves, they are who she trusts when I make decisions that may change that day's schedule. No one was ever threatening to Reese and she learned each rule and regulation of the classroom with nothing but smiles and hugs. You let her cuddle you each time that she asked - and I do know that sometimes she knew right when you might have needed it. You gave her jobs when she felt aimless, you gave her strength when she looked defeated. The trust she has does not falter - and along with that comes so much love.

I asked you to be kind. I could not have written a better end to a kindergarten story than the friends that Reese has made. No one saw her "bad arm" as a problem. No one cared about her teeth being gone - except that they wish that they had lost theirs, too. When Reese was gone for chemo at first, they worried - truly worried. Her friends get emotional when Reese is hurt. The kindness shown by 5 and 6 year olds outshines most adults that I know. They defended, they hugged, they cheered every.single small victory. They pushed her hair out of her face when it brushed over her eyes. They wrote her notes of love. Her friends think her AFO boots are cool and that her having a resource teacher for some pull-outs is jealousy worthy, for sure. She was never left out, lest another friend set them straight. She is wanted and needed and loved and she feels every bit of that.

I asked you to be diligent. I slightly chuckled at myself when I re-read this one as within the first weeks of school, I asked them to be LESS diligent since I was getting numerous calls because everyone wanted to keep me in the loop. She figured out the bathroom in no time and her playground aide was gone quickly. They even built a ramp for Reese to walk onto the playground with because the step was very large. Every detail was taken care of. If she was falling behind, we re-organized her services. If goals were passed, I got calls about adjusting those. The care taken for this year was so supremely planned that I was able to sit at home with my coffee and laptop and feel nothing but overwhelming peace.

I asked you to be you. And wow, did I get some amazing people in our lives. YOU were what made Reese succeed. YOU were what made her love school. YOU were who knew what to do in all situations because you are so wonderful at your job. Every day was a blessing to Reese and I hope that you learned just as much from her. She doesn't fully understand that next year means such big changes, but some of her friends will hopefully follow her to the next classroom adventure. Every new person she will meet will be trusted because YOU are handing her to them. I apologize if that seems overwhelming, but I don't think it will be a problem as I have seen the people she has met at this school. I have walked the halls with Reese Skelte and it is nothing short of a small celeb with high fives and hugs and waves. How did she get so lucky...

My 3 elementary aged kids know that they are so special to one another. Seeing each other at lunch, in the halls, wherever always brought a story home. "I saw Aidan today!!!" was worth hearing a thousand times. "Sawyer was in the library!!" was information I may have known, but still loved having repeated by an excited 5 year old.

Kindergarten was something I could not even picture happening 3 years ago. I couldn't imagine how this would even look like. I didn't want to even go there out of fear of "what if..." But now, every morning, we jam out to dance music, unload the huge van, and shake our booties while we give kisses before they cross to the school. Tomorrow is the last day of the year and I will likely cry for the opposite reasons that I did last August. How amazingly bittersweet.

eta: last day of school pics!!

and now to compare beginning of the year on the left - and end of year on the right!!

summer ramp up.

This summer has already been so full. We haven't done a ridiculous amount of things in the past 2 weeks, but every day is a happy one. They fight, they complain, they cry over nothing... they don't take naps and make me want to scream, but reese feels good all of the time, it seems. Dance recital came and went and we've already started summer classes. And the last day of school for the girls warmed my heart enough to last me a long time.

Recital this year was The Jungle Book and my kids were in a slew of dances. Besides the dances that aidan was in for her classes, she was also the baby elephant ;) and while small, it helped her be so much more confident in herself and her [amazing] abilities. Reese and Miller bounced around like the monkeys that they were supposed to be with the biggest smiles on their face. Sawyer shined in ways I had not seen before - she loves being on stage in any which way.

(all [terribly lit] pics taken at tech rehearsal)

the last day of school, I ran around to each kid at their LDOS events. reese was first.

I cried.

I remember crying the first day in January 2014. When I first dropped her off at lawson, she didn't walk, she didn't even have a walker. She had the same teachers that day that I hugged and cried over the last day of school this year.

I can't explain to you what it feels like to absolutely trust your delicate child into people you don't know, at first. Reese was still on her babyPOG chemo, harsh, but working its way through her brain and a kid who could, only for a few mins, hold herself up against a table. One of her first goals was to sit in a chair.

what??

That seems so long ago.

Soon, she was using her walker, but I'd have to take her across the street, first. Then she started to go across with her walker. Then one day... she walked across with nothing. Not her walker, not my hand... and they were there to celebrate with me.

Her teachers, the people in PPCD, the other inclusion teachers, all of them, they were my lifeline. They were with her for so much of the day and now she goes to kindergarten where I need to learn to trust someone else. Someone else to talk me down and send me a picture of a perfect 4 year old, when I was worried that something may be wrong. Someone new to tell me how she is advancing and to relax. Someone who will let foxy join the class.

They had a small "graduation" where they walked around the school and waved and traipsed to pomp and circumstance. I couldn't believe that we were finally here, in life.

For many months, I could not picture what reese would look like, older. I don't know why. I don't know if my brain just wouldn't let me or if I was scared to. But on the last day of school, this year, I realized that this was exactly what I thought she'd look like.

Sassy, almost bob-cut hair, her high cheek dimple flirting with the camera. She is exactly who I knew she'd be. She looks just like she did at 2, but only older, wiser, even more awesome. She has a ponytail.

Aidan and Sawyer are reminders that time flies too quickly. I see Aidan growing up into this... pre-pre-teen or whatever 8-10yo is. It is funny and awkward and full of the in-between that I don't want to forget. She is silly and giggly and embarrassed. She is confident and nerdy and worth every bit of eyeroll she gives me.

Sawyer shows me that, besides that kids can be totally different than their siblings, that a little pause in life for a hug and a kiss can go a long way. She is an old soul trapped inside a bouncing ball. She loves life and it loves her back ten-fold. Almost 7 suits her well.

But it has been too fast. EJ made the comment this week that aidan is almost half way to leaving the house... to going to college.

I can't even comprehend that. It feels as if each day is so long, but the years keep passing and I can't make them stop no matter how hard I try. So for now, I just go to the their school lunch parties while I am still invited...

So. First day of school 2014

and now.

Since then, every day is documented on instagram or with my underwater camera, at the pool (those coming soon. man, I love that tiny thing).

Dance is 4 days a week. Chemo is 1 day a week. Gym is as many times as I can get my butt there. Pool is the same. Yesterday we had our first ophthalmology appointment for reese, though.

They told me nothing that I didn't already know. A while back, the doctors realized that reese wasn't following their finger out of view on the left eye. I did my own test at home. I would cover her right eye, make a silly face and tell her to copy. She did. I would cover the right eye. She would not.

"I not see you, mommy!" she'd say giggling about how silly it was.

She can't see out of her left eye. 

I am not surprised, her doctors aren't, either - it is what can happen and it's likely been this way for 2.5 years at least. Anyone who knows her was extremely surprised because those who spend time w reese would know that she doesn't act this way at all - you would never know. But, remember, she probably doesn't remember having both, so that's why. Nothing changes, of course. It's just a quirk that she has and now I can just say it for fact, as opposed to guessing with my own eye games.

I am sitting at starbucks, blogging with my carb-free coffee, headphones in with pandora on because an amazing friend offered to give me a morning off.

I am so blessed. Between playing taxi, lifeguard, and maid, I am surrounded by the best people.

Thank you, Jesus, for this life. Thank you for my blessings that lift each moment that seems like a weight. We leave for lighthouse right after independence day and, while I can't imagine it better than last year, the way this summer is going, I feel like I will leave even fuller than before. This year, I have a toddler, as my youngest, not a baby. I can't wait for corbin to lose her mind in the sand with her sisters.

Back to laundry and cleaning. To summer worksheets and art projects. I'm off to make even more coffee and then sit on the couch in one huge pile of redheads - and hope they don't just kick each other under the blanket.