And, now we are 6

Dear Rosie,

6 years old? How? When? Where did the time go?

But what a year it's been!

It was a great year- new things. Kindergarten, a new schedule, new friends, new experiences and new independence. You loved your year with Mrs. Garritson. Last night we got the call about your 1st grade placement and you are in the class that Dad and I hoped you'd be in.
We cheered!

Later, Dad and I watched you swim and couldn't help but ask,

"Can you believe we have a 1st grader?
A 6 year old? It's all going by so fast."
You're still our Rosie; sweet, sassy, silly and smart.
You continue to grow in joy, perseverance and compassion.
We delighted in watching you be 5. We watched you squat catching frogs and squeal with joy at holding them. I heard you gasp at hearing the call of a loon, I observed you crouch low counting the rings of a fallen Giant Sequoia, I listened to your joyful laugher as you played with Sadie, your cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents and friends.
 I relish in your creativity.
I witness your gratitude.
You help us be more attentive, in the moment, paying attention to the simple blessings of this short life.

Earlier this spring you decided that you'd like to go to Emerald Cove Day Camp during the summer. We talked about the expense and what that might mean.  We asked if you'd like to contribute some money to pay for ECDC and you enthusiastically said yes. You'd earn the money!
We asked you how much and you confidently said that 9 dollars would cover the costs.

Oh, Rosie. Our hearts melt at those moments.
At about the same time, we hit a low point in the school year as you started having a tough time getting up and ready for school. We had a lot of tears in the month of March... both yours and mine... and maybe even some of Dad's. I hated dropping you off after rushing all morning. I polled a few friends and came up with the morning checklist. You were able put a sticker after each morning chore that you accomplished and after 5 days, I gave you 2 dollars. You saved up for 5 weeks and paid your way. 

Oh, yes, my love. That covers it. 

We saw your "rally gene" come out more this year. It's always been there and it's strong. You persevered through hard mornings, being left out by friends,
(oh, the vicious girl triad... isn't this too young?) 
having to "sit soooo long at calendar time," being a gracious big sister and even experiencing your first tastes of loss in saying goodbye to Great Papa. We watched you express painful moments. On a bike ride after a particularly tough playtime feeling left out you said, "My heart is cracked."

Oh, Rosie...

 I wanted to lay down in the middle of the street and sob!

We also saw you persevere past fear in dominating the climbing wall, riding your bike to school, paddle board around Newport Harbor, running a 1/2 mile race, diving under waves at the beach, jumping off of docks, taking a lake shower in the middle of a downpour (mom may have pushed too hard on this one), hiking to the Grizzly Giant, jumping off of the top of the pontoon
and sliding down water slides.
You're brave.
Can I borrow some of that, Rosie?

You show great empathy. This year, you asked to watch the Star Wars movies after your cousins had seen them.
Dad was like, "Yes! FINALLY!!"

We had to turn the movie off part way through the The Empire Strikes Back because you were crying so hard over one scene where R2D2 couldn't fit into Yoda's hut during a rainstorm and had to wait outside for Luke.
You kept saying, "I just feel so sad for R2! He's out there alone and he's getting wet!"

Earlier this summer, the neighbors next door were dog sitting for a little dachshund named Coco. They were coming home late and asked if we could let her out and put her back in the house. After we had put her back, we heard her crying and whining. You burst into tears, "Poor Coco! I can't take it! It's too sad! Please can we bring her to our house?"

During the year you talked about a friend at school who had broken his leg. You chose not to go out to recess for a few days so that you could sit with Finn and keep him company because he couldn't play.
I asked you what you would do with Finn: 

"Oh, I don't know. Sometimes we color.
Sometimes we just sit."

This was striking to us because we know how much you love to play. You live for playtime!

You have so much room for others in that heart of yours. So much empathy and compassion.
I'd like to borrow some of that, too.

And so I end your birthday letter with a quote... it's actually your quote. Last summer sitting around the fire pit you looked up, hands behind the head, feet propped up after a deep contented sigh and said, "This is the life.
This is the life of God."
Yes, it is Rosie.

Happy Birthday, Rosie Caroline.
Love you more than Baskin Robbin's chocolate peanut butter ice cream on a warm summer night,
Mama

ECDC 2013

Rosie went to Emerald Cove Day Camp this summer!

Every morning during the summer we send Ron off to run the world for the day. We always have fun hanging out with the staff, but we really don't know what goes on behind closed doors... tents. In July, Rosie got a full taste of camp and, not surprisingly, loved EVERY minute of it. 

A few days in I overheard Ron and Rosie chatting one evening. Ron made a joke and Rosie said, "Oh, whatever, Professor Baggywinkle."

Then, they both laughed.

Ummm, what? 

Who?

I realized it was an inside joke from camp. Guess who was on the outside ? :)

At the end of the first week, on the way home in the car,  I asked Rosie what her favorite camp activity was. She thought for a moment and then said, "I think my favorite activity was: the train ride, Sonny's sing and dance, archery, horses, pool time, the beach, crafts, snack, the rock wall, games, lunch and the water slide. Oh, and Daisy (her counselor)"

Yup. I think that covers it. 

We snuck in to watch the last day open house and award ceremony.

And, while the big mouse was away... the mini mouse and I did a lot of this:

Quiet, Peaceful Wisconsin 2013

The girls and I arrived home from Bass Lake in early June just to do some laundry and throw all of the clothes back in the suitcase for a Wisconsin adventure. We couldn't wait to get up there to see Nana and Papa Bordeaux and the Welches and Hunts. 

Time with Nana and Papa was magic. We missed them so much! Our time together talking, laughing and getting plenty of hugs filled us all up.

One of the things that really struck me this year was the way that the girls and I absorbed the quiet, open, unpopulated space. I didn't know that we needed it so very much, but we did.... and we do. Most mornings, my sleepy ones and their cousins would wake me up and we would all head upstairs for oatmeal (them) and coffee (me). We'd quietly watch birds, squirrels, chipmunks and deer from the upstairs porch until the rest of the family woke up and joined us. Often times the kids would then head out to inspect and explore and inevitably end up in the lake... nude.... and I didn't mind a bit because we were the only ones there. Later, on my morning run, I might see 2 or 3 cars. I couldn't get over it. 

Because I was the single lady, I slept downstairs on the porch that faces the lake. Don't worry, it's much less Dan in Real Life than it sounds. When I would fall asleep, most nights I heard nothing. Nothing. It would be silent. Other nights I would fall asleep to a symphony of loons calling to each other or hear a frog hopping around my room. (I really did have a frog in my room and had to call for backup to help me get him out and into the grass where he belonged.) Those times of quiet fed my soul.

It's amazing, the way that the quiet can open your ears (and your heart) to so much more.

But don't get me wrong... it wasn't all quiet solitude.
We had our fair share of wild rumpus.
There were boat rides, birthdays, bike rides, lots of hugs and kisses, swim contests, sailing, lots of eating, meltdowns, thunderstorms, giggles galore, cornhole, kayaking, fish fries, Annie sing-offs, nature walks, archery, campfires, crafts, mandatory naps, trips to town and much more. 

We all ached for Ron. I know that he needed these moments of quiet solitude too but because of his work schedule couldn't get away with us. Next year, next year. 

 My mom is probably going to be mad at me for posting this picture as it's rather, um... soggy... but because this blog is our story scrapbook, I simply cannot leave it out. As we were heading in from a boat ride one evening, Simon, Erin and I jumped off of the boat a little ways off so that we could swim in... this is per the Welch Family Die Hard Traditions.

Suddenly, I see my mom dive in after us... fully clothed. You could hear our cheers for miles. She's awesome.