all these gifts.

when I was little, my mom took my sister and I to little rock to the mall to shop.  we did this often.  park plaza. I LOVED it.  we would get clothes.  shoes.  whatever.  and then I would ALWAYS go in the bookstore.  in the corner.  on the second floor. where justice is right now, I think.  I can't remember what book store it was.  but I would buy fear street books.  by r.l. stine.  and I would have those suckers read by the time we got back to Camden.  I would buy as many as could afford. 

on one trip, I remember going in the girls' section of dillards.  finding this espirit jacket.  it was grey and black.

I remember being in that dillards dressing room.  looking at myself in that tri-fold mirror.  I loved it.  it was a great jacket.  and then I saw the tag.  the price.  It was 60 dollars.  that was huge.  I remember coming out and telling mom I didn't want it.  she knew that I liked it...so she was confused.  I must have mentioned the price because she said something like, "well, if you wear it, I don't mind paying that.  as long as you'll wear it."

I knew I'd wear it.  but I said no.  that I didn't need it. 

that had to have happened over 20 years ago.  25 probably.  and I still remember it.  like it was yesterday.

I've always been aware of what things cost.  that doesn't mean that I'm not the same person who was using her father's exxon credit card to buy eggs and velveeta and six packs of cokes at the exxon in Arkadelphia for me and all my friends.  because I was.  that was my grocery store and I didn't even care what it cost.  because I wasn't paying for it.  (no worries.  my dad showed up one night outside my dorm.  asking me for the card.  because my mother was wondering who was spending 500 a month on food at the exxon in Arkadelphia.  but seriously.  cappuccino helped me study all those nights in the science building).  anyway.  that jacket.  I was aware.

at Christmas...I was always aware.  I can remember walking all my many presents up the stairs.  feeling guilty about all that I got.  (I loved it all.  and you never saw me give anything away.  so...)

ever since pratt was born, we have done 3 gifts for him.  same for max.  3 gifts.  3 gifts from santa. THAT IS IT.  there is nothing from us.  just 3 gifts. 

this year he got a kindle fire.  a furby boom.  and a build a bear gift certificate.  max got a v-tech train, a baby doll and a beanbag toss. 

as I set everything up, I realized that it looked small.  and for the first time in 5 years, I was worried.  worried that pratt would walk down and be disappointed.

now.  let me tell you why.

because when I looked on facebook that night...and saw all these gifts...all this stuff, I wondered if I was doing something wrong.  like maybe 3 wasn't enough.  but there wasn't anything I could do about it.  it was midnight.  and well, that was it. 

and I know.  trust me, I KNOW.  Christmas isn't about presents.  I know this.  and he does too.  well, he's been told.  but he's American and he's 5.

when he opened his presents the next morning, he was completely ecstatic.  he loved the furby (it's what he asked santa for).  he LOVED the kindle.  because it had minecraft on it!  and Charlie and lola books.  and he is so excited about making a bear.

as he crawled up in my lap with his kindle, he said, "oh momma.  my eyes are all watery.  because I'm just so happy with all these gifts I got.  they are all so perfect."

yes.  you read that right.  "all these gifts".  ALL.  as in a million.  but really as in his three. 

this prompted clint and me to talk on the way to Camden that day.  talking with clint is one of my favorite things.  honestly.  communication with him is better than most anything else.  as we were talking, I remembered something our former pastor, mark norman said one day in church.  it was this, "you give your children enough to do something...NOT enough to do nothing." amen. 

pratt isn't perfect.  he's a part of me....so he's far from it.  but he's headed in the right direction.  and we will continue to teach him what we think is right.  and good.  and necessary. 

and giving kids so much stuff on Christmas...(to me) is just setting them up for failure in the long run.  at some point, when you are given so much stuff, you lose track of what is important.  in reality, you can really only play with a few things.  max...really, well, he really only likes his train. 

next year..and the year after that...when peer pressure gets to me.  and I feel the need to get the boys 15 gifts, I expect you to hold me accountable.  and remind me of this post. 

merry Christmas...one day late.

dear pratt.

dear pratt,

you were a blues brother for halloween.  you were jake. anyway.  when it came time for pictures at preschool a few weeks ago, you mentioned wanting to wear your "blues brother tuxedo" because you looked so handsome in it. at first i didn't know what to say.  because while you WERE handsome, it's a tuxedo.  and you've got to really commit to that look.

but the more i thought about it, the more i realized that you are 5.  and if you want to wear a tuxedo to your preschool picture, then so be it.  and it fits your personality really, really well.

up to this point, you've never really experienced anyone being critical of you.  or your clothing.  your name.  nothing like that.

you have an incredible class of sweet, sweet kids.  the boys in your class are kind, gentle little souls who don't yet think about clothes.  or what's cool.  or what's not.  they're just interested in playing soldier.  and tag.  and playing chase.

so wednesday morning, we put your tuxedo on.  and as you stood in the mirror looking at yourself, you turned to me and said, "momma...how do i look?"

tears sprung to my eyes.  i told you that you were as handsome as ever.  and that i was so excited about seeing your pictures.  i just knew they would be superb.

when i posted this picture on facebook, i got this response from my friend allie.  first...let me give you a background of allie.  she is one of the most unique people i know.  she is kind.  and gentle and totally and completely non-judgemental.  she is soft in spirit.  she makes everyone she meets feel welcome and important.  and she has a heart unlike anyone else i know.  if you grow up and are kind like she is, i will have done my job.

she said this,

you will be so happy for letting him wear this - like forever.  i hope he keeps this sense of individuality forever.  i love the most that he is not the least bit worried about looking like everyone else.  what a kid.  

and then your aunt blakely wrote,

i have to agree with the above post.  he is an individual.  and being new in the pratt family...if you think about it, all the pratts are individuals.  i'm grateful that i'm a part of such a family.  

yes.  yes, yes, yes.  one million times yes.

there will be a time when you wish that you were someone else.  you'll wish you were more like some friend of yours.  you'll wish that you had his parents.  or his car.  you'll wish you had an xbox like some other kid.  or you'll wish that you had their athletic ability.

basically, what i'm saying..is that there will come a time when you don't like something about yourself.

i remember this well.  all too well really.  i remember dating a guy in college.  (NOT your dad).  i remember being in abercrombie with him.  and i remember him looking up at one of those girl models and saying, "wouldn't it be awesome if you were that thin?".

it won't make sense to you now, but those 9 words crushed me.  like you wouldn't believe.  i was at a point where i already didn't like who i was.  but now.  someone else was insinuating that they too, would like for me to be different than i was.

those scars are still there.  if i look too closely in the mirror, i see that girl. the one that whitney told me was "just a shell of the hannah" she knew.

i say all this to tell you that at this point, i'm so proud you like who you are.  i'm so proud you are comfortable in your own skin.  i pray with all that i am, that you continue to feel this way for as long as possible.

i pray that you know that beauty is found on the inside.  NOT on the outside.  i pray that you know God made you with purpose.  and that you are EXACTLY who you are supposed to be.

there are so many people in this world who will tell you these things.  come to us when you are doubtful.  ask for our advice.  ask what we think.  what we experienced.  what we KNOW to be TRUE.

at the end of the day, i think i should just remind you to surround yourself with good people.  people who put others first.  people who really understand to be kind to everyone...because as that old saying goes, everyone is fighting a battle of their own.

when you're 35 and have children of your own, you'll understand my words better then.  you'll understand that i would move mountains for you to be happy.  i promise to spend my life doing what your father and i think is best for you and your brother.

i love you.  and i'm so incredibly proud to be your mommy.

xoxo,
mom.

dear mom and dad.

dear mom and dad, 

i need you to know something.  

it hit me recently.  and has continued to itch right at the back of my head.  i can feel it.  it's there.  and it's persistent.  and until i get it out, it's not going to stop.  maybe granny has something to do with it.  probably.  that's probably it.

anyway.  

at 34, i'm more aware of this fleeting life we live.  how short is really is.  how we can be gone in a mere minute...a second, even.  

and so this has got me thinking. 

if something happens to me.  or you.  i need you to know something. 

let me back up.

me, growing up, was pure hell.  i know.  i lived it.  

and now, as a mother, to imagine my child as depressed as i sometimes (read: most of the time) was...it's heartbreaking.  i can remember that note you wrote me, mom.  i couldn't have been 10.  where you said that there would be times when i was sad.  but you wanted me to understand that people loved me.  so many people loved me.  

i mean, age 13 to 18 couldn't have been fun.  it's amazing you both (and spencer too) didn't put me up for adoption.

so i just want you to know, that now, at this very moment of my life...all is well.  all is wonderful.  

perfect?  no.  of course not.  nothing is perfect. 

but it's as close to perfect as one could get.  i am loved by the three boys in this house.  

i have no idea how i am here.  how this worked out for me.  because i didn't do anything to deserve it.  i know that.  and i'm aware of that.  so i'm extra thankful at this point.  

thank you for never giving up on me.  for never throwing your hands up and shouting, "we are done with you."  for never rolling your eyes when i career hopped ten/twenty times.  thank you for valuing the job i have now.  

you have given me a childhood that i could have only dreamed about.  and if i can be half of what you were to me...to pratt and max, then i've succeeded.  

i love you both.  

hannah.

library card.

i remember taking Pratt to our library for the first time. And asking if he could get his own card. And I remember they told him he had to be older. I swear they said 10. But no. Apparently they said 5. 

because today we were there and we tried to log onto the new 5-12 computers. But my card didn't work.

So we asked why. The librarian told us that it was because he was 5...and needed his OWN library card! 

Yes! So that's what we did. he had to sign it and everything. It was so awesome. I would be lying if I didn't admit that I teared up a little. 

here he is. signing the card. 

This is what I like to call the "click smile". He like winks and smiles and clicks. It's weird and hilarious and awesome. All in one.

When the librarian told him to smile for the camera, he did this. And held it for like 2 solid minutes. Long after she said, "okay, sweetie. I got it."

he's growing up. And he's so proud of his new card.

dear pratt.

my dear sweet, kind pratt,

listen.

sometimes i harass you about your non stop talking.  and how it literally takes you 30 minutes to spend 3 dollars at the dollar store.  i give you a hard time about how you always want to wear your nike/reebok/walmart zip up jacket and pant suit instead of jeans and button ups.

but i would not change anything about you, child.

i realize now at 34 that God really does make each of us how HE thinks we should be.  i guess i should say that i realize it about myself, finally.  you, on the other hand...well, i have thought you were perfect since september 13, 2008 at 5:35 pm.

i feel like sometimes you get your needs met only after max's have been met.

in part, that is because he's younger.  and usually he requires more help than you do.  you're very capable at 5 years old.  i'm fairly certain that i could leave you for a week and you would do a better job at parenting than i would.

but also because i worry so much about max.  about when we will hear him really talk.  about when he will stop throwing small fits because he can't get his words out.  and so because of this...and lots more, i find myself giving him more time...being more patient with him.

and as a result, i am harder on you.

for that, i am sorry.

so, so sorry.  and i promise, that i WILL do better.

in all my years, i have never seen a better sibling than i see in you.

you are max's biggest fan.  his biggest cheerleader.

lately you've started saying, "max.  race me.  race me to the door."  and then proceed to act like you're running as fast as you can.  only it's like a slow motion movie.  you're all throwing your head this way and that.  and flailing your arms about.  but you're actually moving at a snail's pace.

but max has NO idea.  and so he's pumping those little legs of his.  laughing hysterically.  trying so hard to beat you.  and he does.  he hits that door before you do.  and then you fall to the ground in defeat.  and shout, "max!  you did it!  you won!!!"

it's then that you look up from the ground...at me.  and you smile.  and it's a secret that only you and i share.

in that moment, my heart feels like it might burst from my chest.  i am the happiest i can be.  i'm proud.  i'm hopeful.

in that moment, i realize how God loves me.

i don't ever want you to think that it's one sided.  i hope that when you're 35, you'll remember back to when you were 5.  and max was 2.  and i hope you remember how every single morning, max wakes up and when he and i hit that bottom step, he shouts out, "aaaaaaattttt!?"  he looks for you.  he wants to know where you are.

it's you he wants to sit with before bedtime.  it's you he wants to share a blanket with.  it's you he wants to play with.  run with.  laugh with.  it's always you.  and it will always be you.  i promise.  i know.  because i would ALWAYS pick sugar over anyone else.

so pratt, thank you for the brother you are.  thank you for the son you are.  the grandson.  for the friend. the cousin.  the nephew.

you get it.  i could go on and on.

i think you're stronger than superman.  and i think you're faster than lightening mcqueen.

i love you to the moon and back. and i'm so blessed to be your mommy.

xoxo,
mommy.

soccer practice.

pratt's first soccer practice was tonight. 

awesome. it was awesome. he did his own hair. and chose his clothes. 

I really think he will enjoy soccer. He's good at it. 

For lunch we had chick fil a on hot springs. Tomorrow starts preschool and Mother's Day out. I'm so excited!!

adventures.

the morning we took max for his evaluation in little rock, my friends holly and Brandon watched Pratt. I dropped him off at like 740. am. 

holly took him to preschool at 9. But prior to that, he had so many adventures. 

he fed the ducks. Played with their dog. He learned how to use a duck call. He used a metal detector...AND found an old skeleton key. oh. And played with rattlesnake eggs. 

needless to say, he has asked to go back to their house like 25 times. 

we are so blessed by good friends. 

news.

yesterday we got news that will forever (or at least for the next many years) change our lives.  alter our lives.  keep us on our toes.

well, more like keep us on our knees.  in prayer.

as many of you know, max doesn't say much.  he doesn't have much of a vocabulary.  he sporadically says words.  but he doesn't have a base vocabulary.  he doesn't have 10 words that he uses daily.  he doesn't really even have 2.

he babbles.  and he rhymes.  but nothing is ever clear.

so we took him to a school in little rock where they specialize in apraxia.  which is what we've thought was going on with him for a while.  first his slp mentioned it.  then i researched it...watched some kids who had been diagnosed with it...and voila.  deep down, this momma knew.  i knew that's what it was.

you might be wondering what apraxia is.  here is the definition.

childhood apraxia of speech (CAS) is a motor speech disorder that first becomes apparent as a young child is learning speech.  for reasons not yet fully understood, children with CAS have great difficulty planning and producing the precise, highly refined and specific series of movements of the tongue, lips, jaw and palate that are necessary for intelligible speech.  

from what i understand, "praxis" means planned movement.  so apraxia means without planned movement.  i think.

anyway.  the therapist was incredible.  she did two formal assessments with him alone.  and then brought clint and i in to talk to us with max.

she basically said that he was really young...but her gut tells her it's apraxia.  because he has such a limited vocabulary.  he only makes a few sounds...over and over again. she picked up on the m sound, n sound...and a few others.  but it's random and spontaneous.  and he won't do anything or any word on command.

i was terrified they would label him with any of the labels you can imagine kids without speech get labeled.  but she insistent that his receptive vocabulary was right on target for his age.  and that he understood everything said to him.  he just couldn't get it out.  his expressive vocabulary is not even what a 12 month old child has.  it's severe.

she basically said he had verbal and oral apraxia.  the oral part has more to do with his mouth.  the way he holds it.  the way he drools a lot.  that way he chews.  the way his little mouth works.  the verbal part is strictly his speech.

thursday night i prayed that no matter what they told us, i would accept it.  because knowledge is power.  i was terrified they would say there was something wrong...but that they had no idea what it was.  our experience was just the opposite.

she wants to have max attend therapy there 3 to 4 times a week.  intense therapy.  with a slp who is specialized in apraxia.

and then next year...when he turns 3, she wants him to be in the preschool there.  it will be from 8 to 3, five days a week.  he will receive global therapy along with preschool work.  while that's a lot for me to swallow...since pratt will be starting kindergarten...i know that this is the best thing for him.  and i pray that he will someday know that his being away from me for that long killed me...but that we did it for him.  we did it so that he would lead a normal, happy, fulfilled life when he was 25.  if i had my way, i would keep him here forever.  right beside me.

as i've been researching for ways to help him, now that we have a firm diagnosis...i came across this video.

and i've watched it 10 times.  and cried each time.

but it's what i, as max's mother, it's what i feel. it's my prayer.  it's what i hope for him.

for those of you who have kids who have never struggled, consider yourself lucky.  and say a quick prayer for the child who has.  for his or her parents.  for their worry.  for their sleepless nights.  for the blame that they put on themselves.  for the tears that fall daily.

i know that max will talk one day.  i know that he will speak clearly.

but right now...in this moment, i worry.

i worry i will never hear him say, "i love you, momma."

i worry that he will never tell pratt that he's an incredible big brother.

i worry that i will never see him stand on those church rafters and sing vbs songs.

i worry that he will never be able to call my mom on the phone and say, "hi cookie.  it's max."

i worry that he will never be invited over for sleepovers.  i worry he will picked last for sporting events.  i worry that he will cry.  and hurt.  and wish that he were anyone but himself.

but for now, i'll put all that behind me.  and i'll work every.single.day at making his life easier.  and helping him get to where he needs to be.  and if that means selling all our possessions...i'll do it.  i'll do whatever it takes.  i'll remind myself that he is healthy.  and happy.  and that is all that matters.

because at this point, i'm his biggest fan.  and his number 1 advocate.

go hug your babies.
thanks for listening to me ramble.

so hard.

one of my most vivid memories of pratt is when he was almost 2.  maybe one and a half years old.  he was sitting on the counter.  right above the utensil drawer.  we had his plate, bowl, cup and utensils out on the counter for dinner.

he reached over, picked them up and named everything on the counter.  then moved on to, sink, towel, stove, banana...

clint and i just looked at each other.  we knew he was young.  and that it was impressive.  but still we thought maybe it was what all 1.5 year olds were doing.

then came the letters, the alphabet, numbers, colors, shapes, etc.  he's never stopped.  he hasn't stopped in 5 years.

he is, hands down, one of the brightest children i know.

i thought it was normal.  and maybe (if i'm being totally honest), i thought it was a wee bit because of me.  because i'm awesome.  i mean, i devote my entire awake time to talking with him.   feeding him.  loving him.  so surely he's awesome because i'm awesome.

rolling your eyes?  i know.  it's gross.  but whatever.  it is what it is.  and as with all things superficial and ridiculous and self centered...it ends bad.  so just wait.

then came max.

who showed me that good sleep couldn't be taught.
and colic wasn't gonna be stopped.
and that you can't force a kid to talk.  even if you withhold his juice because he won't say juice.

no.  max taught me that pratt wasn't a result of me.  or my parenting.  pratt was a result of genetics.  period.  he is who he is.  sure.  i read lots of books.  and we watched videos.  and we talked.  but he's what God meant for him to be.

not because of me.  but more like....in spite of me.  i heard that somewhere.  maybe khalil gibran?  can't remember.

anyway.

max has taught me things i never knew.  not even after one kid.  not even after all i learned from pratt.

max has taught me that good things come to those who wait.  that being first isn't necessary.  and sometimes it's not even fun.  he's reminded me that it's okay to get messy while eating.  that it's okay to open your mouth while it's still full of milk.

he's reminded me that it's good to stop and smell the flowers.  that it's a good thing to celebrate each step.  no matter how small it might look to someone else.

he's reminded me that everyone (even if they don't look it) is fighting some battle.  EVERYONE.

more than anything else, he has taught me patience.

because there isn't anything quite as difficult as listening to a therapist tell you that your baby just "needs more multisensory therapy" while your 5 year old won't stop talking.  won't stop asking questions of you...over the therapist...while you can see out of the corner of your eye, your 2 year old looking at you...quiet as a church mouse.

you want to scream.  and cry.  and throw something.  because you would give anything to just shut the five year old up.  and make the 2 year old scream something.  something like, "i love you mom." or even just "mom".  anything.

and then as quickly as the anger came...you feel guilt.  because what in the world are you mad about?  praise Jesus that the 5 year old is healthy.  and happy and CAN talk.  and the 2 year old, while mostly nonverbal...IS healthy.  and happy.  and it could be different.  and harder.  and it's just not.

and so you sit on that miniature kids couch.  dealing with all this.  wanting to cry. wanting to yell for your mom.  but instead, instead you shake your head.  and say okay.  and act like you're cool.

being a mom is hard.  so damn hard.

pratt.

a few things pratt has said recently.

please keep in mind he is four.  four, people.  four.

"momma.  i know what i want to take for snack.  artichokes.  everyone can have their very own butter dish.  with their own artichoke.  those kids will wov that, momma."

preschool.  he's talking about preschool.

i offered up a biscuit with jelly on it.  and his response:

"no fank you.  i prefer honey."

yes.  prefer.  he's 4.

so dang funny.  so, so funny.

dear pratt.

dear pratt,

in one year, you will start kindergarten.

what the what.

i don't even know.  i can't even process it.

just yesterday i was here with you.  clipping your fingernails.  shaking.  crying because i didn't want to hurt you.

and now?  now?!  now i could put you on my back and max on my shoulders and literally ride out a hurricane on the roof of this house if i needed to.  nothing about parenting scares me anymore.

you know why?

because of the three boys who live in this house.

because of your daddy.  who has supported me from the first day.  the day you were born.  the day you were handed to him wrapped in that hospital blanket with that baby hat on.  the day we brought you home.  the first time he left me here alone with you so he could go to work.

somehow he knew i could do it.  long before i ever had faith in myself.  he saw how strong i would be. and how capable.  and he trusted me.  (he's crazy, apparently).  he saw my heart.  and knew it was good.  even when my body was tired.  and my mind had almost shut down.  even through my sadness...he knew i was a good mom.  and a good wife.  and that i would pull through.  he forgave me of my meltdowns and never reminded me of them.  to this day, he acts like i pulled it all off with perfection.  (nothing, and i repeat nothing could be further from the truth).

because of your brother.  who showed me that no two children are alike.  and no matter what plans you have...sometimes...most times, you have to alter that plan a little.  he showed me that i actually could dig deep and find the patience of Job.

he has reminded me to stop and smell the flowers.  to slow down.  to hug.  and love.  and praise.  and sit.  and just be.  be still.  be kind.  be patient.  be forgiving.  he's taught me that sometimes it's okay to do it differently.  it's okay to look different.  act different.  talk different.  just to be different.

i've been reminded not to judge.  and not say, "well...my kid will never fill-in-the-blank".  he has been the best little brother i've ever known.

and then...then there is you.

the little boy who made me a mom.

the child who made me realize very quickly (we're talking like 2 minutes) that i would beg to stay home with you once you were born.  we were sitting in the driveway.  in maumelle.  and i said to dad (with fear in my voice because i didn't know how he would respond): "clint. i can't put him somewhere.  i just can't.  i was made to be a mom.  i can feel it.  i want to stay here with him.  please.  please say you agree."

he did.  he overwhelmingly agreed.  and that was the beginning of the rest of my life.

you gave me confidence i had only tasted prior to your birth.

your existence was proof that i was strong and good and whole and complete.  that i could finish something.  not just something, but a life.  a real life.  a child.  a perfect child.

it was a reminder that i wasn't a failure.  nope.  not at all.  far from it, actually.  for the girl who had quit that memphis teaching job after less than a week.  the girl who had quit medical school in only a year.  that same girl...that girl had given life to a child.  and that, pratt...is remarkable.

you showed me that i'll make mistakes.  that i'll accidentally clip the top of your finger off...but that you'll live through it.  and forget about it.

you proved that left alone with me...for days at a time, we can make it. we can make it in target.  we can make it in the library.  we can make it anywhere.  at any age.  at any hour.

you were my cheerleader when all your little brother did was scream.  and cry.  you would laugh.  and talk over him.  and remind me that the my life wasn't over.  it wasn't ending.  and that this too shall pass.  you did with only maybe 2 mentions of his colic.  remarkable.  because i think i complained about it ten (read: one hundred) times a day.

you showed me that i'm able.  and tough.  and smart.  and a chef of baby foods.  and a teacher.  and a nurse.  and a doctor.  and a therapist.  and a maid.  and so many other things.

more than anything else though, you proved to me that i am strong.  and my recognition of that, has given me the ability to teach you to be strong.  i hope that you see that in me.  i hope that you see that i will stand up for what i believe in.  even if it isn't popular.  or easy.

i'm rarely intimidated these days.  my social anxiety is basically gone.

and it really is because of you three boys.

i love you.  more than i love library books.  and peanut butter.  more than i love new pens and highlighters.  more than i love a new bar of soap.

thank you for being my first child.
for being a perfect, textbook first child.

thank you for loving me.  and loving our time together at home.  this is a job i wouldn't trade for the world.  i love it.

and i love you.

xoxo,
mommy.

hot springs.

the weather was so pretty yesterday that the boys and I drove to hot springs to visit cookie. 

we walked around downtown. had lunch at angel's. and then played at the country club park. oh. and had ice cream at the condo. 

all in all, a perfect, beautiful day.

days.

we have been spending so much time at the library and in our front yard lately. the weather has been in the low 80s. Yes. In August. Crazy. But true. We've loved every minute of it.

front porch.

today Pratt and I visited on the front porch while max napped. 

sometimes he will ask me little questions just to be talking. sometimes they are things like, "momma. I wonder why ladybugs are called ladybugs...but they are really beetles. What are your thoughts?"

But today. Today is was a good one.

"Momma. What do you love about this house of ours?"

so I told him what I loved. 

his list included: cicadas. crickets. the trees. The long driveway. Our front porch. Max. and his red ear slider turtle. 

as we were sitting and visiting, we heard a baby bird cry out. 

without missing a beat, he says in his best baby bird voice, "are you my mother?!"

yes. Quoting the book. I laughed and laughed. And then he laughed. And loved that he made me belly laugh. 

he also asked me to unlock the window so he could roll it down and wink at the drive through girl today. So there's that. and it's depressing. 

what's not depressing is that my first born has one more year with me. At home. 

Times like these I realize how great being a stay at home mom is. Because I've never missed a single thing. Granted, I'm nuts. But still. I saw it all. And that feels so good. 

life.

every single night when i get into bed, i think, "i should go get on the computer.  and blog.  because i haven't in so long."

but each night, the bed wins.  for several reasons.

clint is in it.
the sheets are cold.
the pillow is cold.
there is a book/show waiting on me.
the more sleep i get, the better mommy i'll be.

i have about 8 minutes right now.  because my children are eating popsicles and watching word world. so i'll do a quick update.

life is good.  we are happy.  and healthy.  and thankful.

max is the funniest kid i've ever known.  his receptive vocabulary is exceptional.  his expressive...well, we (as his family) can understand him.  and his speech therapist, jessica, she gets him.  but anyone else...it's tough.  he rhymes words.  he does EXACTLY what i did on old home movies.  there are few consonants.  mostly vowels.

but he's healthy.  and okay.  and if this is all we are dealing with, we are golden.  and i've become very aware of that lately.

he is becoming so independent.  he loves to brush his teeth, wash his hands, brush his hair, eat with a fork/spoon.  i'm fairly certain he's left handed.  (just like his two grandfathers).  and i think he's got an ear for music.  (just like his daddy and grandfather).  he is the sweetest baby i have ever known.  and he's also the most spoiled.  because he is held to a totally different standard than his big brother.

i know, i know.  that's bad.  but whatever.  they are two totally different kids.

max loves pratt more than anything in the world.  when he wakes in the morning, he immediately asks for "at".  and looks for him.  and walks around calling for him.

pratt is awesome.  smart.  talkative.  kind.  funny.  still loves anything bug/animal related.  he is such a great helper to me.  such an incredible cheerleader for his brother.  i'll catch him randomly clapping his hands for max or screaming, "go max!"

the way they love each other makes all the colic worth it.

pratt starts his last year of preschool soon.  and he turns 5 right after that.  crazy.  how is he that old?

i would have 5 children if i didn't lose my mind so much there in the beginning.

these are my favorite years.  i love 2 and i love 4.5.

i love my days at home with them.  i love how long they sleep these days.

it's just all good.  it really is.

tonight.

for as long as i can remember, when i see an ambulance, i say a silent prayer in my head for the person it is picking up or delivering.  i pray for the doctors and nurses who will see the person.  for the family who is worried.  etc, etc.

when pratt was probably 2, i shared this with him.  and from as early as 2.5, he would say a small prayer with me.  or he would say, "you go momma" and i would pray.  and he would say "amen" at the end.

today when we were leaving the library, an ambulance pulled up behind us.  and pratt heard it.  as we pulled over to the right side to let them pass us, pratt said it, "momma.  we should pray."

i asked if he wanted to.  he didn't.  i honestly don't know that he ever really has done an entire prayer alone in these situations.  maybe he has.  i don't know.  i said a small prayer.  he ended it with amen.  and that was that.

today as we were headed to eat dinner in little rock, we saw a cop flying past us.  pratt asked if we needed to pray.  i said no.  that it was a cop, not an ambulance.

he insisted that we needed to.  so i did.

we ate.  as we were leaving, i took an extra minute to let max step down from the sidewalk to the parking lot on his own.  this is one of his pt goals.  he's not stable with his balance and so this was a HUGE deal.  he scooted over to the side as much as he could.  and then he did it.  he dropped one foot and turned and dropped the other foot.  he took off running so proud of himself.  and i, like a crazy person (or like a cheerleader mom who is so dang proud of her little boy) screamed with joy and kissed him and hugged him and told him how proud i was.

i put him in the seat.  pratt hopped in his seat (behind me driving).  and clint got in his seat.

we had barely pulled out of the parking lot when a truck came out of nowhere and slammed into the passenger's side of the car in front of us.

like, a max of 20 feet in front of us.

i watched the entire thing happen.  like it was in slow motion.

and all i could think about as i sat on the phone with 911, was how clint didn't have his belt on yet.  i think he was reaching for it as the wreck happened.

it would have been his side.  he and max.

as we sat there for 15 minutes waiting on help to arrive, i couldn't quit thinking about the typical stuff.

how short life is.
how small my children are.
how worried i am about stupid stuff.
how had i not been patient...not waited on max...how that could have been us.

as we sat there...as clint helped the man and his wife that had been hit, i heard pratt's small voice behind me.

"momma, can i say a prayer for them?"

tears filled my eyes as i said yes.

and his prayer...best i can remember went like this...

dear God, please be with that lady up there.  please hold her and love her and let her know that you're with her.  i know she is scared.  i would be scared.  thank you for my mom and dad.  and for max.  amen.  

it wasn't until i was driving home that i realized how big pratt is.  how grown up he is.  and how what we do really does affect them.  how what we say really does matter.

i've got to start listening to better music.

and i've got to start giving more to those i encounter.

because apparently the little guy who sits behind me in the car really is paying attention.

go hug your loved ones.  life is too damn short.

staycation. twenty thirteen.

last year we went to the bahamas. this year we headed to hot springs. if you asked Pratt and max and Anderson they would say this year was almost as fun. I'm not sure anything will ever top the Atlantis. 

we played put put. went for a boat ride and a swim in the lake. ate at rolandos. breakfast at ihop. hit up magic springs and crystal falls. had dinner at blue monkey grill. the boys all went to bed fairly early while we adults visited on the porch. 

the weather was absolutely perfect. windy. cooler at night. it was honestly a great vacation. 

We are so blessed with the fishers. We love the four of them so, so much.