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two!

It’s official. We’ve been talking about “two” all day. In fact, when we came in to wish you a happy birthday this morning, the first thing you said was, “I’m two. I’m not one anymore.” Indeed. You are two, Henry D, and we are loving the chance to celebrate you today and through the weekend!

Truth be told, we love to celebrate you all of the time. You give us much to celebrate! You make us laugh and cry and think twice and raise our eyebrows in disbelief (in a good way). You have so much personality we hardly know where to begin. And yet, somehow being your mama is the most natural thing in the world to me, and we always seem to fall in with one another in just the right way. You keep me in check, little man. I love that about you. You remind me of what’s good, what’s worth celebrating, what’s important to notice in the world. You also remind me when I’m being too much…too busy, too unrealistic, too self-focused, too sad. I know God was intentional in putting us together, and everyday I feel this even more so–deep down into the fabric of everything I am and all that God is calling me to be. I know that God has used you in my world in so many ways I never imagined coming from a two year old. You have a high calling on your life, sweet boy, and I have a feeling that the way you impact my life (our lives) and our family’s lives is only just the beginning. We pray that you will continue to find Jesus “in my heart!” and to pursue Him and Truth and goodness all the days of your life. And we pray that those days would be many and marvelous and overflowing with joy.

Henry, your birthday is the perfect excuse to exude more of what we feel for you all of the time: love, Love, LOVE! The day doesn’t change anything about the way we see you or care for you or marvel at you, except that it reminds us just how much time we’ve been blessed to share breath with you on this earth, and just how greatly you’ve impacted us and been used by God in such a miraculously short span of days. Two years is not long in the grand scheme. But it happens to be the amount of time that’s passed since everything got more colorful and became more beautiful to me.

Thank you for being the little person that you are. Thanks for saying things like, “Like a Boss!” and “Fro-Yo,” and “Dr. Seuss will help me!” (Ask me someday…) Thanks for snuggling up to me and cuddling the baby growing in my tummy and for always being so sensitive to how everyone around you is doing, feeling, acting, living. You heighten my awareness to all of the good, and cause in me an intentionality that I would likely never know otherwise. Man, kiddo, you bring out the very best good in all of us! I know I don’t get it right sometimes as your mama, but I sure do appreciate the grace you extend to me anyway. And the trust. And the unwavering, unblemished, unconditional love you show to me and your daddy, and even the dog. You are pure of heart, Henry. I pray that that part of you will never change.

Someday when you read this, know that we were wishing you the absolute greatest of birthdays today, but more than that, that we consider you one of the very, very, very best gifts in our lives. We are celebrating with full and thankful hearts, and we can’t wait to do so even more this weekend, with more of the people you love (and who love you!) surrounding our little family. Here’s to MINI Coopers and Froggy’s cheeseburgers, to a bagel and “dip” at JP’s, to Tip Toes trips and coloring together at the dining room table. To racing Matchbox cars and chasing Kruger around the house…and to every other thing that has made this day remarkable and normal and celebratory and beautiful to me. I love you with every ounce of my heart, little one.

still remembering that very first day two years ago, and how I knew then that life would always be better because of you. happy, happy second birthday, bug!

your mama

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baby whisperer.

Dear Henry,

People ask me all of the time whether you seem to acknowledge this belly that I’m growing right before your eyes. I always answer “yes,” because you’ve seemed aware of our little miracle even before my tummy began to sprout. Inevitably, my “yes” is followed by the same comment almost every time, “Oh, he has no idea. Just wait. His whole world is going to turn upside down, ” (or some variety of the same). I’ve come to dislike the above question, because I’ve learned the response that comes after. I’d love it if more inquiring minds recognized the possibility that you are keenly aware, but I also understand that they just can’t. They don’t get to see your little heart on a daily basis. And they definitely don’t get to witness the tenderness with which you regard your baby brother or sister to be. It is one of your most endearing qualities to date 😉

I needed to write to you tonight, because I’m hoping someday you or your sibling will read this and realize just what a special bond you’ve had from the very beginning. The other evening as we finished dinner, I walked around the table. You pointed to me and said, “Mommy’s carrying the baby.” “Yes,” I said. “Mommy is carrying the baby. I’m carrying the baby all of the time right now.” You make this kind of observation often, but our exchange tonight was something special. You leaned far over out of your highchair to reach me, craning your neck to kiss my tummy twice. Then you brushed your hand across my belly, back and forth. “Nice baby,” you said to the bump. “It’s a nice baby,” you reiterated as you looked at me. And the next thing that happened made me hold my breath. Tears welled up as you half spoke, half whispered, “Calm baby…calm baby,” gently tapping my tummy with the back of your hand, oh so carefully. In that moment, your attentive focus on the baby rendered me speechless. It was almost as if you had some sort of otherworldly, special connection to your sibling in utero. No doubt you probably do!

We don’t know what gender we’re having, so we most often just refer to the baby as “Baby,” and occasionally as the “Button.” I find this fitting, because you’ve become so fascinated with my belly button (or rather its disappearance) as of late. No more than an hour or two go by without you doting on our “Baby” in some way. You stop playing just come over and greet my belly, as if it were necessary routine. And every night, you kiss and hug the baby as best you can…one of my very favorite parts of every day. Your tenderness will certainly benefit your relationship with wee one #2 once he or she is out in the world.

Before long, we’ll venture out and find something special for you to give Baby when August arrives. In the meantime, I so love talking with you about this tiny little person who is going to change all of our lives. You light up when I ask you about your brother or sister, and you include the babe in your prayers. I’m so blessed by your memory and willingness and cheerful spirit–it is indeed one of the things getting me through to the end of Summer! I so cherish this time with you and can’t wait to have LOTS more days of playtime, soaking up the sun, and snuggling with just my Henry before your little buddy gets here. You will be TWO in just three more days…can you believe it?! Let’s paint the town red and celebrate you like crazy, what do you say?

so proud and blessed and humbled and amazed to be your mama, sweet boy.

mm

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nap time in the little blue house.

(An unconventional “Dear Henry” kind of post.)

It’s your nap time, smallish person who turns two exactly one month from today. Two hours into nap time, and I have just settled down on the couch with BBQ kettle chips, a glass of water and this keyboard because, well, my mind is in a million places and it just felt right. I am pushing my luck with this nap of yours, and I know it. So here’s the thing while I have a moment(or a few things, really):

-I’ve been trying to decide all afternoon how we’re going to break it to you that your dear beta fish, Seuss, has died. He hasn’t exactly died yet, but I’ve been watching this slow and painful progression for the past two days, and it isn’t pretty. I realize that you’re not quite two and that potentially (although quite improbably), you will take no notice of his departure. 1) Flush him and buy a replacement Seuss, or 2) flush him and just never speak of him again, are probably the suggestions I’d gather if I asked around. But no one else is here when you ask me in your little voice on an almost daily basis, “How’s Seuss doing?!” as you settle into breakfast at the table. No one else but your daddy knows that you love this little fish enough to get over the fact that he “stole” the green jeep that’s hanging out in his bowl. No one else will field the daily questions from here ’til next October about Seuss and his whereabouts. I know this to be true. So there’s that. At any rate, he’s dying. And I’m sorry. I probably fed him too much food, or we scared him with his own vehicle. Shoot.

-My belly is growing. You notice this and place your head there to greet the baby daily, but I’m not sure you’ve quite realized the magnitude of the expansion that’s about to take place in front of your little eyes. You can still sit on my lap, certainly, but The Button is not wasting time here, and I know it’s a matter of weeks before you’re on the edge of my knees. At least it feels that way. Perhaps this is some sort of subconscious recognition of the fact that I’m feeling like you’re being pushed out of your space and I don’t like it. You were here first, and the mommy guilt starts to creep up and get into my head when I begin to contemplate all of the changes ahead. You will adjust, I know. And probably well. Besides, you’re gaining a natural best friend (I hope!). But all of this growing and mommy being more tired and everything in the house getting the once over, well…I’m just as sorry about that as I am the fish, and probably more so. I’m so thankful you’re patient, and that God filled you with grace.

-I feel the need to confess that I still love this house. There’s been plenty of debate about this in recent days, and I just want to set the record straight. I went into the basement for something earlier, and as I climbed the stairs, I couldn’t help but think it again. I love it here. And I know it’s getting smaller as we get bigger (or not really, but it feels that way in moments), and I know we’re headed into a season of rearranging and losing our guest room and playing the furniture puzzle game, but secretly or not so secretly, I adore the challenge. We’ll have been here five years on my due date and I still smile coming home. I love the projects and the quirks and the angles and details we wouldn’t find in new construction. Maybe some people would think I’m crazy, but I know you understand–this has been home to you all your life so far. We’re good here. And the little blue house has been good to us. I think we always make it feel like home, no matter how much rearranging takes place. Let’s stay a while longer, ok?

-I’m not sure how we got here again, but we did. Wasn’t I just hand-making bug jars and sewing a birthday bunting and dreaming in Very Hungry Caterpillar? Planning your second birthday party is beginning to take over all of the random cracks and crevices in my day, but I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love it. This year’s theme is proving to be a party planning challenge. Am I up for it with all else that is going on? Only time will tell. Regardless, I promise you an amazing cake and a room filled with people who love you. Sound good? I promise I’ll give this one my best go. Can’t believe you’re almost TWO!

-We are headed out on an adventure this weekend and I cannot wait! A time to celebrate your daddy’s birthday and a time for us to be the three musketeers, just like we’ve been together for almost two years now. We’re going to have all sorts of fun and take a gazillion pictures and eat more good food than we can think of…and go swimming and exploring and creating all kinds of crazy good memories. I’m going to hear about this weekend for the next three months, and I’m thrilled about that fact! Dad and I are so excited to have a special weekend with you!

You are awake and talking to Scout upstairs in your happy little voice. What do you say we see if Auntie B and Miss E want to Face Time or Skype? Or let’s build LEGOS and plot out our evening with your dad…or read books…or all of the above? I delight in my time with you, Henry D.

thanks for letting me be your random and scattered mama. just one more thing to love about who you are.

mm

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still awake.

It’s 2:13am, Little Button, and you are the only one in the house still awake with me. We’ve been up polishing our taxes and scheming for big brother’s birthday party…Etsy and cafepress kept my mind busy tonight, and you’ve obliged with your company.

Something tells me we’ll have many a late night up together in the not too distant future. Five months or so more and you’ll be here, rocking with me in the wee hours and filling up this house with even more love. I thought for a while that your brother had put us at max capacity, but I was completely wrong. You–little you, moving around and doing your flip flops so athletically in my belly, are stretching us to new proportions (both literally and figuratively as of late!) There’s no way I could feel you growing and not possibly love you to the ends of the earth. Your daddy and big brother agree.

Thanks for the company tonight, 17 week-along bundle of God’s grace. I can tell we’ll be good friends 😉

sleepy tired and thinking about how soon the morning will be here. it kind of already is…

xo.
mom

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i owe you one.

HD,

You are officially 22.5 months old. Do you know what that means? It means I missed a blog post to you and have been thinking about it since February 25th. I promised myself I’d keep this up on schedule, but here I am. I hope when you read this you don’t think anything of it–only that it’s a reflection of our incredibly busy life these days, and a reflection of your incredibly tired mama. It’s true that there’s a lot happening in our world, and that the days feel longer and shorter at the same time. You are helping to keep my days beautifully full as you always do. And I can’t pretend to bottle up the past month and half in a blog post, so I won’t. But I’m here, and thinking of you, and wanting you to know I love you as much as I ever have. You make our days so bright!

We’re entering an interesting phase of life with you, Mister, and I think I have a love/hate relationship with trying to figure out how to be the best mama I can be for you at this stage. You are so full of life and so high energy…so verbal and articulate and expressive from the moment you wake up until the moment you rest your head. But sometimes I don’t seem to know what you need these days, and you may or may not be sure how to tell me. Even though you have a lot to say, I think we maybe miss the boat with each other here and there. Our 28 year gap might have something to do with that–I seem to have forgotten what it’s like to have two year old needs. Perhaps nothing but a few minutes of crying and working through it are what you need, and I should just let you have that space as you sort it out. Yet, I’ve grown so accustomed to being able to fix things for you, and it’s getting a little harder. I’m up for the challenge…I’m just sorry that I don’t always get it right. You and I are both learning a lot about patience and a lot more about grace. We’re saying “I’m sorry” to each other more and practicing forgiveness. Despite the hardest moments, I always love when we can talk about things afterward and learn more about moving in the right direction together. You are marvelous to me in that I know you somehow understand. A “yes” to the question, “Will you forgive me,” a hug and a tightly squeezed hand in mine moving forward into the rest of our day. You are still my very best little buddy.

My favorite things about you these days? Your sense of humor, for one. No need for entertainment at the dinner table–you keep us laughing meal after meal, from sun up to sun down. I love that we make faces with each other, that you dance around the room with your daddy without reservation, that we make goofy sounds and act all silly and have a blast being ridiculous on a daily basis. And then, your creativity. I love sneaking into the room to hear your cars have conversations with each other…”Time to take a bath!” “You need a towel? Ok, I can get you one.” “Ok, let’s go.” I love that you loved making “Valentimes,” and that every time we get out stickers and paper now, you exclaim, “Valentimes!” as if they’re the best thing ever. Together, we draw car carrier trucks and pick up trucks and trains til we’re blue. I never knew I had such the artistic hand at things that go, but you seem to think they’re grand. I love your filter and how it works like that! And then, your memory. I don’t know how you do it, but you remember everything. Everything. Sometimes I worry that this means you’re remembering the hard or bad things, too, and I know I won’t be able to protect your from all of that forever. Still, so far your memory serves you to recall every last place we saw a great construction vehicle, emergency scene, train track, funny little animal. You’ve started to “read” me your stories with crazy accuracy, and it’s fascinating to watch your mind work. I will be working hard for a long time to keep up with your constantly turning gears, and that’s something I so admire and adore about you!

Henry, despite the growing pains of this age, you sure do delight and surprise us more than not. Most especially in this season, I am taken with your gentleness and care for babies–including the tiny one growing in mommy’s tummy and also your sweet, sweet cousin, Emmelia. It was the absolute best to watch you interact with “Miss Mia” on our visit to Colorado last month, and I am so endeared to the way you randomly stop what you’re doing to come over and pat my belly or put your head on my lap and say, “awww” as you get as close as possible to your teeny sibling. Somehow you know what’s happening, and although I’m certain your world will change greatly come August, I know that you are building a special place in your heart for this little one who will forever be your little brother or sister–and maybe even, your very best friend. I can’t wait for you two to meet!

Little man, you are awesome. There’s no doubt about it. And you’re surrounded by beautiful people who bless our lives by being in yours. I am unbelievably thankful for the investment that so many have already poured into your world! Someday, I hope you can know just how much it means that you were so enveloped in amazing relationships when you were young–our life is FULL of incredible souls who love you without hesitation! And we love you without hesitation, Bug. We love you and love you and love you, and then we love you some more.

you are growing so fast! six more weeks and you will be TWO! can you believe it?

i blinked, and here we are. in awe of all that 22.5 months can mean,

your mama