“My sons, you may outgrow my lap, but never my heart.” ~anonymous
Liam (age 3) – you, my lumpy, my oldest, are insatiably curious, uncommonly extroverted and silly to the core. you’ve never met a person you didn’t like–or want to talk to. in so many ways, i wish i could be like you — always an optimist, forever looking forward, and yet savoring every moment (then dissecting what happened and why, over and over again). you have more energy than i know what to do with — and truly, if i could bottle just a bit, i’d be wealthier than my wildest dreams could fathom. you are perseverant and fiercely independent, yet you still want me to cradle you, and rock you, and sing to you, and lay with you “for just a little bit, momma.” i love it when you say, “hey, waiiiiiiit a minute!” when you pause to ponder something. and how you always dance with abandon when you hear music, as if no one is ever watching, but of course, someone almost always is. already, you are a voracious reader. and you have the memory of an elephant. you love your daddy more than most anyone in the world…but trains, jets, superheroes, cars, playdoh, swimming pools and trampolines are tied for a close second. you are never lukewarm. you are always passionate–for better or for worse. but when it’s better, it’s one of the most amazing things a mama can witness. and for now, you tolerate your brother (on most days). there’s not much more a mother could ask for–except a long hot bath and warm cup of tea at the end of the day. you wear me out my dear son, but you amaze me every single day. you keep my spirit young. how i adore you. you have shown me a love i never knew i was capable of. you have my all.
Finn (8 months) – you, my sweet baby, are the newcomer here, and in so many ways, we are still getting to know you. in fact, you haven’t quite figured out who you are yet. but let me tell you a few things that only a mama knows. already it’s clear to me that you have a heart of gold. i nearly burst every time you smile at me because there is something magically sincere and true about your demeanor. you are calm. peaceful. restful. honest. you love your big brother in a way i can only pray that he reciprocates some day. you are a quick learner — in the span of three days, you learned to sit up, crawl and began to pull yourself up. you’d rather nurse on mama than eat the homemade food that i diligently prepare for you–and i think i love you even more because of that. you are social and perhaps, the happiest person i have ever met. your daddy is a close second. God has blessed you with a cheerful heart. it shines through and through, and anyone who meets you notices it right away. they also admire the curly mop of brown hair that sits upon your head. hair that is really older than your years–but makes you a bit of a novelty. and, i must confess, you are exactly what i envisioned my children would look like at a time when children were only imaginings for me. you scoot when you crawl and it brings me joy just to watch you move. when you are still, you twirl your ankles incessantly. the day this stops, i will feel like i lose a little piece of you. for now, i treasure it so. that, along with your newness, which is already beginning to fade. you are my little one. the sweetest muffin. my dearest. i love you to the moon and back.