The latest

The breakneck speed at which life seems to be moving these days has made it a bit difficult for me to keep up with the blog.  Between recitals, dad's birthday, the end of school, the start of camp and assorted other significant life events, recent weeks have been a bit of a blur.  And while this excuse is hardly new around here, it finally feels like perhaps we all need to slow down a bit and focus on what's important.

My mom has decided, after 15 months of our three-sibling crew, what is most important at this very moment is figuring out a way to consistently call us by our correct names.  Although I haven't been tracking in any sort of scientific manner, rough estimates put her calling us by someone else's name roughly 85 percent of the time.  (Thank goodness we don't have a dog, or I'm pretty sure the stat would be somewhere in the mid 90s.)

True story. 

Hello, my name is Jillian Rowan Remy

And so, in the spirit of setting the bar extremely low with our personal goals, today she very seriously pledged to make it one week five days 48 hours calling us by the correct names. 

Which implies to me that keeping this blog going is probably the only hope Remy has to hear anything about her babyhood.  Sharp is likely not the term I'd choose to describe the state of my mom's mind. 

By way of an official update, Remy is 15-and-a-half months and a hold-out walker, like us sisters before her.  I was nervous when she started standing up without pulling up on anything a few weeks ago that she might best my record for the earliest walker, but she missed that opportunity mid last week and can now only hope for second place by walking before 16-and-a-half.  

Because she is a baby of few words (much like me), my mom started the somewhat time-intensive process of screening Rem through the state's early intervention program for speech therapy.  And exactly like the time I started therapy, once Mom finished jumping through the various hoops (which they make you wait weeks to jump through), Rem had a verbal break through of sorts during week 1 of therapy.

Not because therapy is miraculous. Because the universe has a kind of a rude sense of humor. 

Speech therapy was so effective with me back in the day that I now feel an overwhelming urge to fill every square inch of potential silence with my deep and often profound observations on the world.  Observations that I often repeat multiple times in various ways, as silence has a way of creeping up on you if you don't constantly keep it at bay.  It gets slightly overwhelming on car trips over 10 minutes, so Mom is quietly hoping that Rem's therapy proves only slightly less effective.

In other news, I graduated kindergarten, celebrating at a glorious end-of-year kindergarten picnic, for which I wore my special kindergarten shirt.  Viviane tried to make up for my mom's recent photographic laziness by capturing the moment on camera, but the flash was off.  In lieu of sharing a dark and shadowy picture, you'll just have to take my word that I am now officially a first grader. 

Luckily Mom remembered the camera when I danced a few weeks earlier in my fourth ballet recital.

BFFs!

Tomorrow will be the end of our second week of camp.  Mom can tell she's getting her money's worth cause we tend to look like this when the car pulls in the driveway in the afternoons.  

In our spare time, we've been attempting to make the most of summer.  Enjoying the weather.  Going for a ride outdoors.

In financial news, I've sold another tooth to the fairy to raise equity.

And I shouldn't forget to mention how we stormed a castle last month for Dad's birthday.  We were fascinated by the concept of a restaurant that seemed to be proud of offering no silverware at all.  But with courses including "Dragon's Blood Soup" and chicken sans nugget, it turns out we didn't use our hands for anything but the bread.

Till next time.  Which will hopefully be before I leave for college.