9 months old!
Tonight, I visited a newborn in the same hospital I delivered Sam exactly nine months ago. And as I held that new baby boy, I could not for the life of me remember Samuel's sweet little face on the day he was born. I could imagine that smile of his I've fallen in love with, his eyes that beam with joy, and those precious cheeks (both sets), but his face, his beautiful newborn face, eluded me. It made me so very sad. It all happens way too quickly. They're tiny bundles wrapped in blue blankets with toboggan-covered fuzzy heads, and then they're 9-month olds crawling and rolling and chatting and creating all sorts of mischief. And, in just a blink, he'll be one, and then two and then sixteen and then gone. Listen to me, teary eyed and blubbery! What will I do when he heads off to school for the first time. I'll tell you what I'll do--cry. Speaking of school and crying, Kate starts preschool this coming Tuesday. And, just to clarify, I'll be the one crying, not her. I know I sound a bit dramatic, but here's the thing: occasions like today (and the one I know is waiting on Tuesday) serve to remind me to cling to each day of their childhood and make it as wonderful, as magical, as loving, as joyful as I can. It's easy to think of childhood as an abstraction, but their childhood is today, right now. It goes by so very fast, and I want to hold onto it with all my might.
Go, Pops, Go!
Here, Pops is thinking that this seemed like a good idea, but now...not so sure. From the look on Sam's face, he's not so sure, either.
He'll be coming around the mountain when he comes...
Just about everyday, Kate, Sam, and I sit on the porch and wait for Stephen to come home. We spend a lot of that time telling stories (usually about one of the princesses), looking for different colors, or just chatting, but we always, always end our time on the porch by singing the Burton version of "She'll be coming around the mountain." And, sure enough, daddy soon arrives, living up to the last verse of our song, "He'll be giving hugs and kisses when he comes!" (And sometimes suckers, too!)
I skapin'!
The lighting is poor, but look closely and you'll see Kate's "Cinderella skapes." We bought them for her first ever roller-skating party, and they were good for about 20 seconds of actual skating. Still, seeing her so excited was worth every penny. And yes, she is skating in her underwear, but they were cinderella underwear, too, so it's all good.
dinner's ready!
We've finally started to transition Kate out of the highchair and into a big girl seat, but the poor, dirty highchair didn't get a moment's rest. Take a look at it's new occupant, Samuel. It may be a bit big for him now, but given the amount of food he consumes while sitting here, it won't be long before he's a big boy.
morning devotions
A conversation I overheard this morning while Kate was playing in the living room:
Kate: "Jesus, I'm Hohohantas (Pocahontas). I love you and thank you for playing with me. AAAAMEN!"
And just a few minutes later, still talking to Jesus:
"I see you!"
Tonight, I visited a newborn in the same hospital I delivered Sam exactly nine months ago. And as I held that new baby boy, I could not for the life of me remember Samuel's sweet little face on the day he was born. I could imagine that smile of his I've fallen in love with, his eyes that beam with joy, and those precious cheeks (both sets), but his face, his beautiful newborn face, eluded me. It made me so very sad. It all happens way too quickly. They're tiny bundles wrapped in blue blankets with toboggan-covered fuzzy heads, and then they're 9-month olds crawling and rolling and chatting and creating all sorts of mischief. And, in just a blink, he'll be one, and then two and then sixteen and then gone. Listen to me, teary eyed and blubbery! What will I do when he heads off to school for the first time. I'll tell you what I'll do--cry. 
