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.