Fiona making pancakes for the first time.

Science Olympiad

How he greets Rowan and Saoirse every day at pickup.

The girls' closet

The perfect place on a hot night for dessert.

Rock collection.

First trip to the pool this summer.

Fiona is five.

Your dad took this picture, and he was pretty proud of it, because he waited for just the right moment to get this look on my face. The one that says, "No, that's fine, I don't want to eat my food, I'm happy to just be a chair and a ranch dressing holder for you, Liam."

You never, never want to left behind, Liam. Luckily for you, they like to have you along, most of the time.

Coming along to watch your daddy play soccer. All of his outdoor games should be held at sunset, I think.

Your grandparents and our friends came over tonight to barbecue and celebrate all of our May birthdays. As soon as you opened the books that Sarah brought, you all disappeared into them. She chose well, clearly.

Tonight you had your first friend over for a sleepover, for your birthday. This penguin is the gift she brought you. All week you waited anxiously. Tonight your dad and I laughed, often, at what a match L seems to be for you. Quirky, enthusiastic, talkative. Her deadpan delivery to me of the line, "Yeah, Saoirse's sensitive" when you cried at some small injury. The two of you stayed up until almost midnight, reading and playing quietly in your room. I'm glad you found a match, your first one.

A writer's workshop at 826 Michigan. This time you wrote Survival Guides, while I sat to the side and read for a while. And, of course snapped a few pics.

We ran to Old Navy to look for a white t-shirt for Saoirse, for the school play. But when we walked by this shirt, you insisted you had to have it, because "Dad would LOVE this shirt! I can't wait to show him. I'll bet he wishes HE could wear this shirt!"

Why are you getting a bath in the middle of the day, you ask? Because now you have your sister's stomach bug.

Today you two are eight. Eight years old feels strange to me, I think because I remember being eight. Eight year olds are not babies. Eight year olds fall in some strange in between time in which it's totally normal for you to seem 15 one minute...and 3 the next. You read chapter books, and have sleepovers...and you still love My Little Pony and sometimes want to be carried. When you were born, I stared at the two of you and thought...how is it possible that I have babies?! Now that you're eight I stare at you and think...how is it possible that I have EIGHT year olds?! The common thread is amazement. You amaze me, now and always. I love you, my biggest girls.

She just wants to make sure you notice that tear. Bike rides are torture, and don't try to joke her out of it.

This has been the most intense stomach bug I've ever seen. I finally convinced you that a shower and clean hair were in order today, but you lay on the floor of the shower, and then were "too weak" to stand while I dried your hair, and too feverish for me to feel like you could lie back down with wet hair and be comfortable. I hope you feel better soon.

Saoirse is still spending most of her time on this couch, although the sickness is slightly less intense today than yesterday. We're all keeping our fingers crossed that no one else gets it...although it's hard to believe that we could be that lucky.

Less than 12 hours after the play, Saoirse was not having a good time. The stomach virus that's been going around hit her hard. She's very sad to be missing doing the play for the school assembly, and missing L. She asked, pitifully, this morning, "Will I be able to go back to school? Because there's not much school left."

Tonight was Rowan and Saoirse's spring musical. Grandma and Grandpa came to watch. It was Sing a Song of Aesop this year. Saoirse did a great job as a narrator, and Rowan played Mouse Child One. Liam climbed from lap to lap, and we met some classmates at Dairy Queen for a treat afterward. Another year of school, almost over.

Just as I was getting used to it being warm, it was unexpectedly cold and rainy today. We made an extra trip to school to drop off jackets and umbrellas, because the big girls definitely were not dressed appropriately for this weather when they left home. Also, we should rename Spring "the only season that inspires me to shoot macro." Apparently the new buds and flowers really seem worthy of appreciating in detail to me.

Whenever it's time to get my oil changed, you are so happy, Fiona. Playing in the play room at the dealership seems like such a treat to you. Next year I'm going to have to do it without mentioning it, I think, because you'll feel like you're missing out.

After a 24 hour rice bath, the camera works again. Halleluia!

With your dad out of town, the only way for me to exercise is to take you all with me. Here you are, right before we all went for a 2 mile run/walk. Liam rode, Fiona joined him only for one short stretch. Saoirse complained a lot. And my camera took a bath when the water bottles you all insisted you needed leaked all over the basket in the stroller. It was a very stress-inducing run.

You love the bulk aisle best at our new grocery store.