our g is three

My little Sugar Boy,

How can I possibly find words to describe what you mean to me? How much I adore waking up to you crawling into bed with me in the morning asking for your back to be tickled? How much it means to me that you, perfect little you, belong to me? There are not words, my boy. I don't have them.

It seems impossible that when people ask you how old you are and you respond, "Ta-ree!" and hold up those perfectly formed three fingers, that you are really THREE WHOLE YEARS old. You are a boy now, and I really can't believe that I am a mama to a boy-- no baby left in you at all anymore.

When I say "boy" what I really mean is that you are this whole little person-- a boy that is not going to be mine forever, and that I am beginning to see you a little bit more as the person you will become. How can I even explain what I am trying to say? It is this sort of realization that I am raising a person, and you hitting the age of three has made me so aware of the kind of person that you are.

Georgie, you are such a good little person. And I don't say that to pat myself on the back. Yes, I have done my best to help you learn to be a good boy, but the truth of it is that you were born good. You have a pure, kind, gentle soul. You are calm and easy to please. You like to be a good listener and you feel sad when you know that you have made a bad choice. When you know you have done something wrong you beg to go to your room to "think about it," and it is one of my most favorite things to eavesdrop in on you in your room saying things like, "First I threw the ball in the sink, then I turned on the water, then I spilled the water on the floor... I thinked about it, Mommy!" And then you come out and tell me what you thought about and we talk about what you will do differently next time to be a good listener. Sometimes it is hard for me to take these little talks as seriously as you do, and I have to stifle laughter and try to reinforce your active little conscience.

You are such a tender big brother to our baby. You love LOVE her and want to hold her and make her smile. You don't like it when she is sad and can often be heard trying to calm her (you use the Portuguese words that daddy always says and it is so sweet to hear you whispering, "Calma-te, Baby" over and over to her). She is your "Pearlengy" (long story), and I hope you will protect her and love her always.

One of the best things about you at this age is your sense of humor. You say funny things constantly and you love making us laugh. And for every one thing you do that you know is funny, there are dozens of things you do in all innocence and sincerity that are equally hilarious. Like when you told me your green smoothie smelled like a leaf, or when someone in church used the term "PPI" (stands for personal priesthood interview) and you exclaimed, "Ewww! We don't have pee-pee EYES! We have pee-pee BUMS!" loud enough for way too many people to hear. I love that you asked if Jesus rode in a balloon from his "toop" (tomb) up to heaven, and I love that you used the word "drowsy" to describe how allergies made you feel.

And of course, my boy, you are still 3. You are an exceptionally good little boy, but you definitely do have your moments of just being 3. You made an attempt to throw your first full blown temper tantrum in the car a little while back, and I really couldn't take you seriously because you are so not a tantrumer. You screamed and wailed and got so frustrated that I wasn't talking to you. I pretended to get a phone call and said into the phone cheerfully, "Oh hi! Yes, I don't talk to people who are screaming. I only talk to people who talk. Okay, bye!" And then your cries stopped and you sucked in some air to get control of your little voice and started whimpering to me about why you were upset. And that was that. You haven't tried it since. You are pretty easy to reason with and explain things to.

You have gotten more assertive with other kids (good thing), and you don't always share as readily as you used to (not a good thing), but you can usually be talked into making the right choice. You cry when we leave Nene and Papa's house pretty much every time, and you do not have a lot of patience with being teased when you have just woken up. You occasionally like to throw things thisclose to your baby sister just to see if we will get upset about it, and you make messes wherever you go. This is all part of you at three, and to be honest, I kind of enjoy your challenging moments. It feels good to be able to give you those hugs after a time-out, or to go from I-have-had-it-up-to-here into the soft, sweet place where you say, "I am sorry, Mama" and to know that it is all just part of helping you and me both grow into the people we need to be.

Please don't turn into a monster as a teenager to get back at me for being such a nice little boy, okay?

I love you, George. With my whole soul.

Mama

And now, some photos from this little boy's birthday celebrations (there were at least three). I am not really the kind of mom who picks themes and spends hours in decoration preparation and invites people over for a perfectly coordinated and beautiful party. I am just not good at that kind of thing, I guess. But, despite the lack of those details, our boy was celebrated and happy, and we had fun sharing him with some of our dear friends and family.

The morning of his birthday started off with a couple of surprise visitors and gifts. My Grandma and Grandpa stopped by with a card (complete with three "tickets" inside) and a present, and then one of our neighbors came over with a quilt that he had made just for George.

At lunchtime we met up with my BFF and her little boys at Chuck-E-Cheese. George had been there once before (about a year and a half ago) and he has talked about it since, so we thought it would be fun to just go let the boys play for a few hours. As you can see, G's skee-ball form could use some work-- overhand throwing is not very effective when there is a glass panel you have to aim under.

My boy and me.

The boys were in a trance watching Mr. Cheese and his friends on stage. And then we used a few tokens to get our picture drawn in one of those little machine things and the results were so funny every time. Look at the boys. Cracks me up.

That night we kept it simple. We opened presents with just our little family and then headed to the theater to see "Toy Story 3." Georgie's favorite present may have been the DumDum suckers he got that you can see him sucking on here. These three people are my besties.

After the movie we came home and sang and ate the space cake that I had made him at his request. It wasn't that yummy, if you must know. I love the concentration that it takes him to hold up those three little fingers just right.

A few days later we had a celebration with John's family. I so love the extra blowing help coming from Logan in this picture.

And the festivities continued until we had our final birthday hurrah with my family when they got back in town from their summer vacation. After his other cake not being very tasty I decided to go with chocolate cake and frosting this time and just make it into a basketball all-star jersey. Not super pretty, but G loved it and it tasted good. Again, notice the concentration on holding those fingers up right.

Here we are, our little happy family celebrating the big brother turning three. I am the only person in our family who knows how to look at the camera and smile, apparently.

More summer celebrations coming soon...

oldest

My dear sweet beautiful boy,

You are sound asleep in your bed. I just went in to see you and you stirred when I bent down and kissed your face. You opened your eyes and when you saw me you smiled, sat up, held your arms up to me and said, "Cuddle, Mama." I gave you a short little hug and then you plopped back down in your bed, fast asleep. The next time I see you, you will likely not be my only baby here anymore. I have been up since 2 AM with contractions and now that it is about 5:30, they are getting more and more intense and your daddy and I need to head to the hospital. I want to wait until you are awake, but since I need to get some IV antibiotics in my system before the baby comes, I feel like we should go now. Oh my boy, I feel a mix of emotion in leaving you now. I am so excited to see you become a brother, to watch your tender heart grow for this little baby, and I know you will be such a kind, gentle brother. But I also wonder if you will feel confused and a little hurt that our attention will now be a little more spread out. I want you always to know that you were my first little love, and there is a sacred spot in my heart that has been carved out by you and you will always have it. I love you, little boy. So, so much. You are my little hero.

Mama

a letter to my baby

(looking handsome for church this past Sunday-- first day in Nursery)

Dear Babykiss,

For 40 weeks and 5 days while I carried you in my womb people told me to be prepared because along with a healthy dose of dirty diapers you would also bring with you a love that I had never felt before.

But guess what, little boy? Those people were wrong. The degree that I love you to is perhaps higher than I have ever felt before, but the feeling of love itself? It was familiar to me. I had felt motherly love before and when it came to me again at our first real-life meeting I was expecting it.

First came my little sisters. When my first little sister was born I was only 9 years old, and the feeling of love that grew in me for her was the biggest thing I'd ever felt. I remember wondering if it was normal to love someone as much as I loved her, and my little 4th grade self got up in the night to care for her and bring her to bed with me (we shared a room). With the next two little sisters the feelings were multiplied and I recognized that I loved those little girls with the same kind of love that a mother has for her children.

Then there were the orphans. You will come to know that before you were my child I claimed dozens of motherless babes as my own. At the time I recognized that my love would be the closest thing they would get to a mother's love and I wondered if I loved them enough. My heart was filled with love to bursting at times, but I questioned the authenticity of it—did I really love them like they were my own? I didn't know the answer until I had you. I know now that I truly loved those little forgotten ones as a mother loves her own flesh and blood. The feelings I felt for them are the same kind of feelings I feel for you.

So the point of all that was just to say that the love that has grown in my heart for you, my first baby, has not been surprising to me. I was expecting the ache that comes from loving someone so much that you would give up your whole world to see them happy. I knew that feeling. I had felt it before.

But there have been dozens of other feelings that I have met with over the past year and a half since your arrival that have completely taken me by surprise. Feelings that I wasn't expecting or ready for. Feelings that have caused me to feel both joy and pain, feelings that have brought me to my knees in both gratitude and pleading.

This past week you turned 18 months old, and in our LDS culture that age brings with it a certain rite of passage known as Nursery. You walked into Nursery class with slight trepidation, but then went straight for the "twos" and didn't even flinch when your Daddy and I left. You stayed the entire two hours without any hesitation. Before becoming your mother I would have never guessed that you going to Nursery would be cause for a minor breakdown, not in you, but in me. I kept myself together, but I cannot believe the overwhelming feeling that comes with letting your first baby go off on his own (so to speak). I wondered if you were sharing the toys, I wondered if you would need your diaper changed, I wondered if the other kids would be nice to you. These feelings were all new to me and I couldn't help the thought that you are growing far too quickly. I don't think I will ever be ready for kindergarten.

(your first Nursery artwork-- the big dark circle is a mirror)

Then there is the peace that has come into our home with your presence. I never before knew the feeling of wholeness that has settled in my little life since you joined your Daddy and me. Instead of a couple, your life made us a family and the tranquility that I feel in our home when it is the three of us is such joy to me.

There is a routine we go through at nighttime when we are putting you to bed. In the beginning your Daddy is with us, but by the end it is usually just me putting you in your crib. We say a prayer with Daddy before he leaves, but I have also gotten into the habit of saying an additional prayer after I lay you down. Baby boy, I hope you can feel the power that settles into your room as I pray over your crib every night. It is, again, a feeling that I hadn't experienced before you came. I don't even know the right words for it, and all I can guess is that there must be an intensity that comes when a mama prays over her babies, a depth of pleading that can only exist in that relationship.

There are so many other new feelings, Little One. There is the effusive pride when you demonstrate a new skill, the irrational gratitude when I can tell you have had enough sleep or when I know you have a full tummy, the worry for your well-being that never ever goes away. Maybe most of all, there is the constant and earnest supplication that you will grow up to be a good boy and that I can be a good enough mother and teacher to you. I have never wanted anything more than that, and the force with which I want it is almost overwhelming. I promise to you, Baby G, that as I try to make sense of all these new feelings and emotions, as I continue to get used to the fact that there will always be something else for me to learn about being a mother, I will do so knowing that, like your picture from Nursery taught you, you are a child of God first and He will always help me know how I should best care for you. That is the only way that I can trust myself to be your mother. I love love you.

Mama