Everything

Text received: I love you.
From that 12 year old man-child.  From the one who is uncertain he wants me beside him as he walks up to his teammates at practice.  Did he really just send this?  At school?  Were his friends around?  Does it matter?  He sent it.

A catch in my throat.  An ache in my chest.  I was okay before this.  I will be okay.  I will be okay.  I will be okay.  I enter Kroger and see a tired looking mom, strapping two wiggly toddlers into the basket, their chubby feet swinging.

I quickly walk past, brushing off the tears that have suddenly appeared on my cheeks.  I am not okay. I am not okay.  I am not okay.

I miss my babies.  I miss them so much it hurts.  Physically.  My arms feel heavy and empty as I walk.  I imagine Caleb's small hand in mine.  Maddie's arm around my waist.  I want to hug Parker and rest my chin on his head.  I want Jack to curl up in my lap.

A big nest empties slowly.  It's deceiving.  A mother of many believes she'll never be alone.  Until she is.  This silence is strange and disconcerting.

And then suddenly the silence is gone.  Four bodies pile into the van, all talking at once, arguing over the radio station, pestering each other, asking a million questions.  I take a deep breath.  I remember.  This, this is what I wanted.  I wanted them.  All of them.  All of their questions, all of their complaints, all at once.  This is what I signed up for.

Their loud conversation continues, but I interrupt them.

"Hey kids?"  [expectant pause]  "Do you know what I love about you?"

[I get an eye roll from some and a grin from others...They've heard this one before.]

"Everything."

(Special thanks to Grammy Susie for that line.)

Nearly a teenager

Dear Parker,
It’s always been a sort of self-imposed, unwritten rule of mine that I have to have a birthday blog post for one child finished before the next sibling’s birthday arrives.  Well, rules are meant to be broken, right?  Here we are, nearly three months after your birthday, on the morning of Caleb’s birthday, and I’m finally ready to record your 11th year and usher in your 12th.

I’m in a hotel room.  Everyone is still asleep.  We are just wrapping up our Dallas house hunting trip.  We found out about one month after your 12th birthday we’d be moving here.  Your eyes lit up.  You are our child - always excited for the next adventure.

Of course, it is bittersweet for you.  You will have difficulty leaving your friends in Kentucky.  You have many circles of friends and have learned just how hard it can be when those circles collide.  You can connect with anyone and often do.  You don’t want anyone to feel left out.  In fact, this year at church, the youth leader sought you out for that very reason.  She wanted you to greet new families at the door during the big Easter service because you put everyone at ease.

At church camp this summer, Ms. Paige kept texting me pictures and updates about how you would jump right up on stage, fearless though unfamiliar with the big 6th, 7th, and 8th graders.  She saw you as confident.  I see even more.  I saw my brave boy in those smiles.  Did you feel totally confident?  Probably not, and that’s okay.  What astounds me is your bravery.  You will always try new things.  You always put yourself out there.  And thank goodness!  Because the world needs more people like you.

You are compassionate, kind, conscientious.  You are respectful, courteous, and caring.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve received a text from a parent following a play date at their home, writing to tell me what a pleasure it was to have you over.  Dude!  I’m not making this stuff up!  While I’m glad you are humble, I hope you are also confident that you are exactly who you are supposed to be.  You are a treasured child of the most high God!  And I know you bring a smile to His face, just as you bring one to mine.

I love you so much, dear boy.  I love your giggles when you watch silly YouTube videos.  I love your fluffy hair.  I love the half moon shape of your eyes when you smile.  I love your huge squeeze hugs.  I love playing games with you, even when you talk smack and utterly destroy me.  I love watching action movies with you.  I love seeing you wrestle and play with your siblings.  I can even appreciate your unrelenting attempts to negotiate, be it for sugar or screen, because it shows your persistence in the midst of failure.

In short, I love you more than words can say or a blog post can contain.  You are my Parkeezee.  Thank you for making me a momma, sweet boy.  Have an awesome 12th year!

Love,
Mom