A month.  4 weeks.
Gone in a flash.
I am worried that I am going to blink
And you are going to be a teenager.

As time quickly ticks by, you change – almost imperceptibly at first.
And I only notice when the change is complete, the milestone is past.
No longer do I find you curled up in the fetal position,
But unfurled and exploring the space around you.
When did you stop sleeping with your hands up by your face?
Or your legs uncrossed?

And I think you’ve finally begun to see us.
You look into my eyes and study my face,
Just as I do to you.
And I can’t stop my heart from bursting when you half-smile up at me.

I am learning your habits.
You are learning mine.
I hope we have a lifetime of this…
Both of us changing, learning, loving.

Many people worry that they could never love another child like they loved their first
(Or their second or the third),
But you are so easy to love,
and oh how you are loved.

And I hope you always know that, feel that, experience that love.

I found this in my drafts folder.  I don’t even remember writing it, but from the time stamp on it I wrote it in the early hours of January 27th(Alden’s birthday).  I also found one that I tapped out on my phone during labor and had forgotten about.  I’ll post it tomorrow.

Are you nervous?
Aren’t you sad that this is the last one?
Can you believe it’s here already?

I’ve heard these questions a lot lately.
I’ve asked them of myself lately.

No, I’m not nervous.
I’m tired.
Weary is probably a more accurate description.

I know that this is certainly the last one.
I know that I was made for this, created for this.
I know that this child is one we wanted and one we will love.
But I also know that it’s not been an easy pregnancy.
And that my body, though certainly not old, isn’t quite as forgiving as it used to be.
I’m not sure I could do it again.

I have soaked it up.
I have breathed it in.
I have savored it.

And now, the time has come…

Oh.My.Heavens.  I found this recipe in a local cookbook and had to share!
I made it last night for dinner and Marshall actually got chill bumps when he took a bite.
It is that good (and easy)!

Lydia and I just had some for breakfast, too.
So now we know that it’s tasty when it’s hot or cold!

16 oz. cream cheese(softened)
2 eggs
2TBsp all-purpose flour
3TBsp Pesto
2 cups chopped cooked chicken
1 cup sour cream
1 TBsp all-purpose flour
Basil leaves for garnish

Preheat  the oven to 325°.  Beat the cream cheese in a bowl with an electric mixer until smooth.  Add eggs, 2 TBsp flour and pesto.  Beat until blended.  Stir in the chicken.  Spread into a greased 8-inch springform pan.  (I only had a 9-inch, so mine is a little thin.)  Bake for 30 minutes.  Remove to a wire rack.  Mix the sour cream and 1 TBsp flour in a bowl.  Spread evenly over the warm cheesecake.  Bake for 10 more minutes and remove to wire rack.  Loosen from the sides of the pan and then remove the side.  Serve hot or cold.  Garnish with basil leaves, if desired.

Find more great recipes over at Rachel’s blog, A Southern Fairytale.

You lie sleeping on my chest.
The weight of your body hardly enough to feel.
The sound of your shallow breaths go in and out…
And I look down at you.
So small, so fragile.
Your tiny hand curled and resting on my breast.

Before I know it, you’ll be two
And your hands will no longer be tiny and delicate
And the weight of you on my chest will be heavy but comforting.
You will stand on the cusp of independence,
Ready to be your own person
(As long as I’m right there beside you).

And then you will be four
And your hands will be thin again, losing all traces of their toddleriness.
Too long and too heavy to lay on my chest, you’ll lie beside me.
And even though your weight isn’t bearing down on me, you take my breath away.
How did you get so big so fast?
Was it not just a week ago that you were the little babe?

And then you will be six.
Too old to nap,
Too big to want to rest with Mommy.
But you’ll cuddle up beside me and I will read to you
And then you will read to me.
And, once again, you’ll take my breath away.

I want to freeze each moment.
I want to relish it all in a way that I can instantly recall it even years from now.

But I know that’s not the way memories work.
So I write.  I photograph.  I chronicle it all.
I do it for you.
I do it for me.
I do it to remember.

“Sometimes I wish that I could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time
Slipping through my fingers all the time…”
-ABBA

When I was little-probably somewhere around Carter’s age-we did a musical at church called Down by the Creek Bank.

I loved that musical, and although there are a lot of things from my childhood that I don’t remember,
I am fairly certain that I could sing almost every word of that musical to you today.

I remember us shaking long strips of blue fabric to make it look like water.
I remember wearing overalls and pigtails…
And being thrilled that I was actually allowed to go barefoot in church!

There was the song about “Germs”, the invisible dog who lived in my pocket and fell asleep at church.
And the fill-in-the-blank song about Jonah and Zachaeus and Daniel.
And one about the boy with fish and bread…

But the thing I remember the most is the song “Love Is…”

Love is a very special thing –
A smile, a tear, a soft summer rain.
It has no beginning it has no end,
But I like it best when its shared with a friend.

Love is never stuffed up, ever puffed up,
Never gives up when the going’s rough.
It’s the biggest little word you can say, by the way.
Its sympathy, sincerity, its charity, the main variety
Of everything happiness is made of.

And I like it best when it’s shared with a friend.

Sure it’s cheesy.
(But I am, too.)

And I’m glad that every now and then these words pop into my head.
It doesn’t hurt to have a reminder that love is what happiness is made of.
It doesn’t hurt to be reminded that we should always be showing sympathy, sincerity and charity.

So even though Marshall and I don’t really celebrate Valentine’s Day,
I am celebrating love.
It’s a very special thing!