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Archive for February, 2008

from my friend mary…

“We can see God everywhere if we know how to look.”

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one, two, three…

This day three years ago, Chris and I came home with our 2-day-old firstborn. I don’t know where the last three years have gone, but I’ve loved every minute of them with this kid. I thank God every day for loaning me this precious little boy–sometimes I still can’t believe I’m the one who got him. And just when we think things can’t get any better and he can’t get any cuter or sweeter, they do and he does. And even though I’m proud of the little boy he’s quickly becoming, a big part of me is sad that he will soon leave all stages of baby- and toddler-hood behind him forever (if he ever decides to get out of diapers!). So right now I’m just trying to cherish his sweet threesomeness and all the little things he says and does before they leave too, because I so desperately want to remember…

  • how he wakes up every morning with a smile and boundless enthusiasm for the day
  • how much he loves his “ohl-neen” (Ovaltine)
  • how he loves to just sit and look through books at random moments throughout the day
  • how he likes to “read” to himself before he goes to sleep for a nap
  • how “the wise man’s house” is his most frequently requested bedtime song and after-breakfast Bible story
  • how he likes to make Ben laugh…and run in circles, and jump on beds, and play “tackle”
  • how he likes to ask me, “Mommy, play with me hair,” especially at bedtime
  • how he’s so quick to come up to us with spontaneous hugs and sweet little, “Mommy/Daddy, I yuv you”
  • how he has to kiss all three of us good night every night
  • how he loves cars and trains and airplanes, both real and toy ones
  • how he loves to eat almost anything, but especially fruit and yogurt and the very rare (and therefore very cherished) sweet treat like a birthday cupcake
  • how he tries to join in adult conversations like he really knows what’s being talked about
  • how he loves to talk on the phone…to anybody
  • how he asks most of his questions in yoda-ese (“Mommy, this apple juice, is it?”)
  • how he tries so hard to do everything exactly as it’s supposed to be done–three-point stance before a running tackle, dribble and run around before shooting a basket, hike the leg before throwing a baseball–and how he picks up all of that kind of stuff on his own without being taught
  • how his memory is better than mine and Chris’s combined and he’ll make reference to obscure things that happened six months ago
  • how his compassion just gets bigger the bigger he gets (“Mommy, what wrong?”)
  • how he loves going to Bible class and church and seeing all his friends (big and little, but mostly big)
  • how he seems to get more and more lovable the longer he’s around

Here’s to you, little buddy. May you always be so quick to laugh and learn and help and love and play, because the world needs more of that. Happy birthday, Sean!

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only boys

Warning: The following post is not for those who are squeamish about calling body parts by their given names and insist on coming up with cutesy nicknames so as to spare themselves, and their children (I suppose), some kind of embarrassment. For everyone else, read on and enjoy.

I challenge any mother of daughters to come up with a conversation quite as interesting as the one I had with Sean last week following his nightly bath:

[Just a sidenote: when Sean asks a question, his voice raises to an increasingly higher pitch, so by the time he’s finished with his question and depending on its length, he may be speaking at an octave five times higher from where he started. Keep that in mind…]
Me: Sean, stop playing with yourself so I can finish drying you off.
S: Mommy, what dat?
Me: That’s your penis.
S: My peanuts?
Me: Yes, Sean, your penis.
S: Mommy, why dat my peanuts?
Me: Because that’s what makes you a little boy. Little girls don’t have one of those.
S: Little girls don’t have one of those? [The octave change that accompanied this question gave the implication that he was really asking, “You mean, there are people in this world who don’t have one of these?! How do they get by?!”]

No, son, little girls don’t have one of those. And mommies of little girls don’t get to have conversations like this either.

Chris’s only concern was that Sean was calling it his “peanuts” and now if anybody offers Sean some real peanuts…well, that could lead to another interesting conversation altogether.

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I think baby #3 deserves at least one outfit to call his own! And he shall have it before his debut in June.

Another little boy. I have to say, I’m not surprised, I’m not upset, I’m not disappointed–never was from the moment we found out on Friday. In fact, I find that the more I think about it, the happier I am that we’ll have yet another little man in our growing family. After all, with boys as fun and cute and just plain boyish as ours, who couldn’t be happy to be getting another one?

And yet I get the feeling that so many people are surprised that we’re not disappointed, or they are readily disappointed for us. Even the ultrasound tech apologized when she told us we were having another boy. I think part of it is because most people assume that three kids is our limit–it’s not, we’ve always wanted four; and I think another part of it is that people assume we must be tired of raising boys and ready to move on to something else–we’re not, and the little boys we do have are so vastly different that we’re quite looking forward to seeing what this next one will be like–they’re not little clones by any stretch of the imagination.

No, I can’t say I’m in the least disappointed to be a mother of boys. Quite the opposite, actually. I’ve always had a vision of what an ideal man is, and what every man should be, and it doesn’t take much observation to see that the world needs more “real” men–desperately needs them. And I’m thankful that God’s giving me the opportunity to help teach at least three little boys what it means to be a man. And I’m especially thankful that they have a living example of godly manhood in their daddy, who I can easily point to and say, “That’s what it means to be a man.”

Do I want a little girl? Absolutely. I long for one. But if the Lord never blesses me with a daughter, I can honestly say that I will be more than happy with my crop full of little men.

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