I have a hundred thousand pictures from the past week or so.
Starting with the egg drop testing and ending with a splash in the pool.
There are so many moments I snapped with my camera but so many more that I captured with my mind.
I want to, I need to write it all down before I forget.
I can already feel the memories barely begin to crackle.
(It’s amazing how quickly that happens.)

Look at how she looks at them, to them.
And how he hangs on.
His enthusiasm and her excitement.
And oh, my heart explodes.

What I would give to live these days over and over!
They have been so, so very wonderful.

But if we stayed in this moment forever,
We’d never know the rest of their stories.
And I know that no matter how great it is right now,
There’s something greater to come.
Just look at them…

Linked up with Heather’s Just Write.

Trepidatiously tiptoeing between little kid and big boy,
You haven’t quite let go of Mickey Mouse
But you’ve fully embraced Captain America.

You absorb so many things so quickly.
Your mind swirls with activity
And I am grateful for the opportunity to watch.

The excitement in your eyes and voice when you talk about stars.
The furrowed brow as you take things in and begin to assemble all the pieces in your mind.
The wide-eyed, open-mouthed look of incredulity when the science experiment ended differently than you’d predicted.
These are things I hope I will always be able to recall (although I know all-too-well what time can do to all that is in our head).

You’ve been reading for a while, but lately you’ve really become absorbed in it.
I see your eyes scan each page and you barely even blink.
My heart flutters happily when I think about your fascination with words.

I hesitate to interrupt but we have to go.
You look up, startled.
And I am afraid that I have broken the magic.
But you climb into the car and share the magic with us.

~linked to just write~

(Oh.my.stars.  Look at that adorable baby!)

The baby loved it, even if it was a bit cold.

My big boy, who has a love-hate relationship with water, jumped in!

My little fish ran straight off the diving board with not a single shred of hesitation.

And my little man splashed and smiled and splashed and smiled.

We had dinner with friends and we talked to real!live!adults!
while the children played hide-and-go-seek.
It was so very nice that we didn’t feel time passing.
And so we came home late and slipped the children into their beds.
Then Marshall and I sat out back on pollen-covered chairs in the cool night air and talked quietly.
And we looked up at what seems to be a vast nothing-ness but is really this massive huge-ness.
That always blows my mind.

Y’all…this is my life!
(Sometimes I just have to say that out loud.)

Nothing special.  Just every day things.

We’ve spent a lot of time just being.

And it’s been so, so good.

*Grass photo taken by Carter

You are chattering away lately.  When I come into your room in the morning, I always say “Good mornin’” and you’ve started groggily mumbling “moh-een”.  You ‘talk’ to us all the time.  I really wish we could understand what you’re saying!  Because you obviously think you’re very funny.  You’ll blabber on and just laugh and laugh.  (Don’t worry.  I do the same thing sometimes.)

You love all of your siblings so much.  I love the way you and Asa seem to talk without words.  Just a look here or there and little sounds.  And then with Lydia…your eyes just sparkle when she focuses her attention on you.  She thinks she’s your little mama and you love it that way.  Carter is a little more reserved with you, but when you interact it’s adorable.  He throws his arm around your neck and you lean into him – eyes closed – and smile.

You make us all smile.  You always keep us on our toes.  You are almost always up for a cuddle.  Your favorite food is cooked carrots and you transitioned from bottle to cup overnight.  You love to sit in Asa’s little recliner and it is so stinking cute.  You love to ‘read’ books and play with trains.  You still cross your legs like they were in utero – although that’s beginning to fade away.

You are one.  I can’t believe you’re one.
But I also can’t believe that it’s only been 367 days since you first came into our lives.
I pray we have thousands and thousands more.
We all love you so, so much.

p.s. Yesterday when you gave me an unprompted kiss and then giggled, my heart nearly exploded from happiness.

Asa,
It sounds cliche to say, but it doesn’t seem possible that you are three years old.  You are my little buddy.  No matter where I go, you are never far behind.  You still like to be held and carried and cuddled – but only when you want to.  You are funny and tough and bull-in-a-china-shop all the time.  You fall and pop right back up.  You crash into the wall and keep on going.  Nothing phases you.  You love all of your siblings and being with them, but your favorite time of day seems to be when the bigs are gone to school and Alden takes a nap.  It’s one of the few times you have me to yourself and you relish every moment.  I do, too.  I love to watch you play.  You are so animated, with those enormous, sparkling eyes.  You are going to break some hearts with those.  It’s hard sometimes to get on to you when you do something wrong because of those eyes.  You are just so dang cute.  Lately when I tell you not to do something, you say “oh.” in a very short, staccato way that makes me laugh.  Even if you are doing something you know you shouldn’t do, when you get in trouble for it you just say “oh.” like you had no idea that it wasn’t allowed.  And when you ask to do something and the answer is no, you say ‘aaaaawwwww…’ in the most adorable way possible.  You hang your head down and slump your shoulders over and look like Opie Taylor.

Happy third birthday (a little late), bud.
I love you!

Dear Marshall,
As I write this, we’ve seen each other no more than about 2 hours today.  Your commitment to your work is something that I am proud of.  There have been times that I’ve been at my wits end with your schedule, but it’s hard to be mad when I see all the good that you are doing.  You don’t just have patients.  Every child that walks through the doors of your office is made to feel like royalty.  You are good at your job.  You are passionate about learning and keeping up with all the new recommendations and literature.  You don’t just walk into a room and rush through the exam, you are specific about educating parents and patients about why you are doing what you are doing.  You care.  You care a lot.  And it shows.

But you are so much more than your work.  You are a fabulous father and wonderful husband.  When you get home, you pick right up with helping around here.  It’s usually wild when you walk in the door – loud, hungry children, me trying to cook, dogs whining to go out – but you don’t let it bother you.  And just by you being in the room, it makes things better.  (I feel like I’m oozing cheesy right now.  (I am.)  But it’s true.)  I don’t thank you enough for all that you do.  Thank you so much.  I couldn’t do it without you.  Sharing this crazy life with you is truly one of my biggest pleasures.

I should stop now. I’m kinda making myself gag with all the cheese.
I love you.  Happy (belated) birthday.

Dear Carter,
You.are.amazing.  You are so smart and kind and funny.  I sometimes miss the little baby that you were, but I am so in love with the person you have become.  You are so grown-up all of a sudden.  You crawled into your Daddy’s lap tonight and said, “When I’m eight years old, I’ll be too big for this.”  And I know there will come a time when you really are too big to crawl into our laps, but I most certainly hope it’s not next year.

I love your passion for learning.  You seem to soak up every piece of information that you hear.  You know more about planets and space and stars than I do.  You love math so much that you asked for math workbooks for your birthday.  When it comes to learning, you are wise beyond your years.  But the thing I love most is that you are still a kid.  You still love to play with cars and draw with chalk and ride your scooter and now your bike, too.  I’m so proud of you for learning how to ride your bike.  It didn’t come easy for you (and you aren’t used to that) and at one point you looked into my eyes and there were tears welling up in yours and I told you, “You can do this!  You can.”  And you, completely seriously said, “But Mama…tricky peddling is much trickier than tricky math.”  But you conquered tricky math and tricky peddling and now you proudly zoom by us all.  Seeing your smile when you finally got the hang of it was priceless.

Happy (late) birthday, my super seven year old.
I love you.

We drove to see friends and Christmas lights.
We went caroling and at real Italian food and went to BabyLand General.
We made cookies and a family handprint Christmas tree.
We watched Tello bounce all around our house.
We celebrated a birthday and news of a new baby in our family of friends.
We made gifts and bought gifts and wrapped gifts and gave gifts.
We sang Silent Night and read the Christmas story.
We heard the bells ring on Christmas Day.
We had Christmas and Christmas again and Christmas yet again…each time with different groups of family.
And one night we even learned a little about Hanukkah.
We’ve had short sleeve weather and bundle up weather. (Sometimes all in the same day.)
We rode on roller coasters and riding toys and we went skating in the living room.
We made snowflakes and read books.
We’ve watched How The Universe Works.
And played Angry Birds way too much.
We’ve played board games and Wii games,
With teeny tiny dolls and teeny tiny dishes,
And with lots and lots of trains.
Made art projects and more art projects,
And a science experiment or two.
We built a fire and made s’mores.
And looked at (real) stars and gazed at the (plastic) moon.
And we played and played and played
And played some more.
And it.was.perfect.

I’m just not sure I’m ready to get back to early mornings and packing lunches and homework.

I told her story.  And I told mine.

We laughed.  And we cried.
(Sometimes all at once.)

We closed our eyes, breathed deep, and remembered.

We said things we’d been thinking and did things we didn’t think we’d do.

We celebrated today, yesterday; dreamed of tomorrow;

and found grace in small things.

We listened and we learned.

We simply lived.

 *Post title by Carter.

Friday I had a chance to work on a little project with my dad.
And the kids and I went to visit Marshall’s parents.

Saturday I had the chance to do a family photos for dear friends of mine.
(We all went to college together.  They also have 4 kids who are about the same ages as our kids.)
The kids got to play on their favorite playground with the big silver slide.

And I had the chance to eat at my favorite restaurant!
(Who wants to open one locally?  I have the franchise information!)

We got home just in time to see the Georgia game and visit with friends.
And WE WON against Florida!!!!

Sunday was just perfectly lazy-daisy.
Sunday School and church.
Lunch with family and friends.
And the Harvest Festival where my kids donned home-made costumes.
Meet Jake, Izzy and Cubby.

You know, after several weeks of the blahs bringing me down…
I’ve finally found my footing.
My camera clicks happily.
My heart sings and so do I.
I make silly jokes with the kids.
And laugh at their jokes (even when they don’t make sense).
We play outside until the sun starts to set.
And we just enjoy being together.

I am happy.
I am full of warm fuzzies.
And I am so, so in love the right here, right now.

There are moments that I love looking at you, with your one-tooth grin.
But there are moments that I’m sad the gummy grin is beginning to fade.

You are The-One-Who-Must-Be-Held and there are moments when that is exhausting.
But there are more moments when I am just so happy to have you here that I can’t put you down.

There are many, many moments that I just watch.
Watch you grow.
Watch you learn.
Watch you play.

I am grateful for all the moments I have with you.
You made us complete.
We love you.
(Especially when you purse your lips like this and roll your tongue over that little tooth.)