I Wanna Hold Your Hand

I'm slowly becoming aware of the fact that some day you boys won't want to call me Mommy, you won't want to give me goodbye kisses and you won't want to cuddle in my lap. I know it'll be because you're doing other awesome, big-guy things and I know it won't mean that you'll need me any less. But, nevertheless, I have to admit it brings a hard, hot lump to the back of my throat that's hard to swallow.

That's why I find myself holding out my hand as often as I can. Sometimes you take it, sometimes you're too busy running and being free. But, I figure I've got to take the chance. And, oh, those glorious times when I'm rewarded with a warm, pudgy, sometimes-sticky hand in mine...I wish I'd never have to let go.

A Morning Without Clouds

Every time we've had to pick a baby name, it's been hard. What a huge decision! I think, out of all three names, though, we had the hardest time choosing your name, Owen. I loved the sound of it. It was beautiful and sweet, just like I knew you'd be. For all the right reasons, though, your Daddy loves choosing biblical names. He really likes names with really strong, prophetic meanings.

Even though your name wasn't from the Bible, though, I don't think it could have fit you more perfectly.

Owen - Distinguished. Pleasant to look upon.

At the time, it seemed like a shallow choice - good looking. It turns out [just like we'd suspected], though, that you're that and SO much more.

The scripture that goes with your name is 2 Samuel 23:4.

And he shall be like the light of the morning when the sun rises,
a morning without clouds,
like the brightness after rain
that brings the tender grass from the earth.

I don't know how many times I've had to stop, laugh and appreciate just how much you affect people.

This morning, you helped me run some errands. We had to go to Sam's Club to get a few things. You really like that store, in particular, because you can always hear the beeping of the forklifts. You call them "trucks" and desperately want to see them in action. We usually can't find them, as they're working in some off-limits area, but today was your lucky day. We got to stop and watch a forklift at work. Your mouth hung open as you watched in amazement. You could have stood there, in our basket, and watched all day long. [Actually, probably not. I wouldn't have been surprised if you'd asked to climb right up into the driver's seat.] Anyways, we were able to watch for a minute, but then the driver stopped so we could go on our way. I told him that we'd wait, because you really enjoyed watching, but we ended up needing to move because we were in the way. As we walked by, you held up your hand in a wave and hollered [at the top of your lungs], "Bye, Truck Guy!" He heard you and stopped his work so he could return your wave, with a big smile on his face. That wasn't enough for you, though. You had to continue to wave and holler your goodbyes until we were at the other end of the store - a very, very large store. In your special, Owen-way, you made his day.

You do this over and over again and it blesses me almost as much as it blesses the people around you. I pray that you will always be my morning without clouds.

You're Too Much!

Caleb, you never cease to amaze me. You are so brilliant, so funny and so kind. Earlier this week I wasn't feeling well, so I laid down on the couch in the living room to rest. You wouldn't play until you pulled the blinds to darken the room for me and you brought me your most special pillow and blanket for me to use. You kept asking if there was anything else you could do for me. You, dear Caleb, are so precious.

It's a good thing you were so kind. You needed to earn some brownie points with Mommy, because just the other night, when Daddy was tucking you into bed, you told him: "Mommy is going to be the first one of us to go to heaven, because she's the biggest AND the oldest." Thank you, Sweet Boy. I love you, too.

My favorite times are when you know that you're being outrageously silly. You try to keep a straight face, but you have the hardest time not cracking a smile. You just keep forging on with your outlandish stories, all the while with a twinkle in your eye and a grin just dying to stretch across your whole face. You're such a goofball.

The other day I was cleaning my desk and came across a piece of paper that I'd stashed. It had a list of [more] names that you'd proposed for baby brother:

Lisa [This was before we knew it was a boy.]
Matt
Lincolnstein Taylor [You'd just learned about Abe Lincoln at school.]
Fireball

I love your creativity and silliness, but, for your brother's sake, I'm pretty sure we'll have to chose a name ourselves.

I love you, my big guy!