FOURTEEN!

Nathaniel,

You’re halfway through 8th grade and several inches taller than I am now. I remember 8th grade much more clearly than you’d think possible at my age, and when I think back to some of the things I did and thoughts that went through my head, I cringe. I think you’re probably more mature than I was at your age, though -- or maybe you’re just a little more reserved. You certainly don’t SAY much, for sure. YOU’RE A YOUNG MAN OF MYSTERY.

I don’t want to make it seem like I think you’re hiding things, because I don’t. I just think because you’re clearly an introvert, and a teenage boy, you’re naturally quieter around me. You have a really small, intimate group of friends that seems to consist of three or four guys AND one girl. She’s a year ahead of you in school and we haven’t met her yet, but she’s kind of your BFF. So, there’s that. DADDY AND I ARE INTRIGUED.

I’m so proud of you for the way you’ve just handled all of your schoolwork in middle school. You come home every day and tackle your assignments and studying, and your grades are top-notch. We never have to badger you about doing it, and you’ve already set a course for your future by declaring an interest in engineering at the high-school level. You’ve got the math and science skills you need (which you didn’t get from moi, no surprise), and I’m so excited to see where the next few years take you.

Sometime over the last year or so you kind of maxed out on playing with your siblings. Now your default is lying on the couch upstairs with three things: your pillow, your blanket and your iPhone. OH, AND THOSE EARBUDS. I’m slightly worried that your earflesh is going to grow around them. Like, permanently. You don’t even take them out to talk to me … you just hit Pause.

Fourteen is super-old. In case you didn’t know. It’s only four years from 18, which is the age I have to officially let you go and send you out into the world, flesh-embedded earbuds and all. I’M NOT READY. For a couple of years after you were born and Daddy was on the road almost full-time, it was just you and me against the world. And even after Nick was born, for a year or so there, it was still mostly you and me with Nick just along for the ride. Now you’re so darn independent and I literally have to look UP to you when I’m standing next to you … it’s so weird. In case nobody’s told you, you’re not a toddler anymore. All this growing happened without my approval or consent, and quite frankly, I’d like to take a moment and turn back time.

In the absence of a magic wand, I just want to tell you how proud I am to be your mom, what an amazing young man I think you’re becoming, and that I always, ALWAYS want you to come home for Christmas. I’ll be lonely without you, my Christmas baby.

I love you,
Mommy

Twelve!

Nick, 

Today, you are 12. TWELVE! I think I wrote my last birthday letter to you on your 8^th birthday. Can that be right? I’m not sure; I’ll have to go back and look to be positive, but I think that’s probably right.

I’ve wanted to do it every year, but when I sat down to do it on your 9^th, and your 10^th, then your 11^th, I just couldn’t. What I would have written would have been, “Buddy, Daddy and I are doing our very best. We love you so much. Love, Mommy.”

It was a really rough few years, buddy, I won’t lie. I mean, I don’t have to, because I know YOU know it, too. It wasn’t just hard for you, me and Daddy … it was hard for the entire family. And your teachers. And sometimes, like, general passersby. We tried a Christian counselor and, later, a psychologist. But in the end, after a lot — a LOT — of compromise and a lot of patience — EVEN MORE OF THAT — we’ve finally come out the other side.

I’ve never doubted that your heart is solid gold. You’ve always shown moments of tenderness that astound me, and you’ve been a wonderful big brother to Amelia since the day she joined our family. You continue to show her the most attention, play one-on-one with her the most often, and be the most proud of her accomplishments of any of your brothers. 

Your temper DOES occasionally still get the best of you, but those times are now the exception rather than the rule. You’ve adjusted to middle school better than I ever dared hope, and you are a real social butterfly — you constantly ask to invite friends over to our house and you’re always being invited somewhere, whether it’s a weeknight or weekend. 

You’ve also really come into your own on the soccer field … I’ve lost track now of how many seasons you’ve played with Hoover Soccer Club, but you possess a real natural gift for the game. I love watching you play every Saturday and I’m so proud whether you score, assist or simply play your heart out each week.

I can’t tell you how proud I am of the wonderful young man you’re becoming. You’re a natural leader and my hope and prayer is that you use that gift in the most honorable ways. I can’t wait.

You’ve come a long way, baby.

I love you,
Mommy

Five!

Amelia,

Neither my heart nor my head can believe that today, you are 5.

You’ve been counting down the days to your 5^th birthday for at least two months now. You seem to think being 5 is your destiny — although you said just the other day, “I’m weally going to miss being fo-uh. I’m awfully good at it.”

  

Let me tell you what it’s like being your mommy. Have you ever heard someone described as someone else’s “shadow”? Well, THAT’S YOU. You follow me so closely at all times that if I stop quickly, you bump into me. When I go to the bathroom, you follow me and stand at the door. (If I don’t lock it, you come in. If I lock it, you stand there and jiggle the handle, asking if you can come in and/or how long it will be until I come out when am I coming out why am I taking so long I am taking forever I’m never coming out.)

While I put my makeup on in the morning, you sit between my feet on my bathmat. You know my routine so well that if I haven’t moved on to my hair by the time the Today show theme song comes on, you tell me I’m running late. (And you fuss at me if hairspray lands on you, EVEN THOUGH YOU’RE SITTING DIRECTLY BENEATH ME.)

When I leave for my walk every night, you beg to go with me and get a wobbly lip if I say no. I often let you do the first mile with me, because it’s so hard to say no when you’re so desperate to go that you’re willing to walk a mile in princess flipflops because they’re the only shoes you can find, and you come home with a huge blister — but you don’t complain because all you wanted to do was go on a walk with me.

You’ve inherited my love for animals, and you still talk about our cat Scout, who we lost a couple of years ago. You bring him up a couple of times a week even now, and you talk about how you’re going to have 10 cats and 10 dogs when you grow up, and “they’re all going to get along.” That’s why I call you Snow White.

Your very best friend is Bayla Stocks, the dog that lives behind us. You ADORE her to the moon and back, and the feeling is mutual. I’ve told her mommy Rebecca that she can never move, never ever ever, because I don’t know how you and Bayla would go on. (I really don’t.) I’ve never seen a purer love than the love between you and Bay.

Four years and 364 days ago, we’d consumed TRUCKLOADS less baloney and yogurt in this house than we have now. We had far less pink and purple in our lives than we do now. And had nowhere near as much fun as we have now. You complete us.

 

Happy 5^th birthday, baby girl.

I love you,
Mommy

Twelve!

Nathaniel,

You’ve reached the age where I can distinctly remember that I considered my own life to be very “difficult.” Like, middle school really stunk. I thought 6th-grade math was really hard, I’d accidentally gotten my hair cut into a puffy mullet, and friendships with girls my age were really complicated. 

I’ve been worried about you entering middle school, about how you’d adjust to such a big campus, whether you’d have trouble making new friends, if you’d be able to earn really good grades in accelerated classes … It turns out, you’re doing just fine. But you do this thing that I’m told is totally NORMAL where you only speak like 10 words a day to me, so you know, BE PATIENT WITH ME WHEN I WORRY.

One thing I love about you is that even at 12, you haven’t lost your keen imagination or your sense of play. You still love to line your Unifix Cubes up on the table, and you’ll play with them for hours. I have no idea what you’re doing with them, but it’s definitely imaginative play. And you love to play with Nick, Jake and Amelia – particularly Amelia. You give her piggyback rides, shoulder rides, you swing her around, tickle her … and she begs you for more until YOU cry for mercy.

We’re so much closer to the end of our time with you at home than we are to the beginning. I think about that a lot, and it brings tears to my eyes. Two-thirds of our time with you as a full-time son and brother is over … I can’t believe it. (I’m making a mental list of colleges that are within a 30-minute drive of our house.) (But don’t let that sway your future decision in any way.)

In just a few months we’re scheduled to leave this house for a new-to-us house just a few blocks away, away from the only house you’ve ever known, away from the house where Daddy and I brought you home from the hospital, where I rocked you every night in the rocking chair and laid you down to sleep in your crib. I know we’ll manage it, but just thinking about all of the memories that I have to pack up of you – my firstborn – to take with me, well, it takes my breath away.

My middle-schooler, my Boy Scout, my partner-in-crime … I’m so proud to call you my son.

I love you,
Mommy

Ten!

*Backposting to Saturday.*

 

Nick,
 

Today you turn 10. Double digits, as you put it. Or, more accurately, “It’s the most important birthday of my entire LIFE. Double Digits, Mommy. I mean, I MIGHT NOT MAKE IT TO TRIPLE DIGITS, SO THIS IS IT.”

Yes, finding the drama in any situation has always been your greatest strength, honey.

 
Well, it’s second only to your intelligence. You’re almost startlingly bright … every teacher you’ve ever had has said that about you, although you see absolutely no reason whatsoever to apply yourself academically. You blaze your own trail, you do. When I’m not busy finding it downright maddening, I find it positively admirable.

 
I’ve always been more of a follower, but you’re a leader. That’s great, too, except you ALSO want to be the leader – not the follower – in the parent/child relationship. You’re quite bossy, you know. Daddy and I have worked really hard over the past 10 years to find our footing with you, and I’ll be honest: we’re not there yet. You’re making us WORK FOR IT.

 
Did you know we’re not, like, professionals at this? We may have a whole slew of kids, but it’s not like we know what we’re DOING. Sometimes we look at each other and go, “WHAT DO WE DO NOW?” Basically the four of you are just products of Our Best Guesses.

 
And you can see how well THAT’S going.

 
What I’m trying to say is, we’re doing the best we can. I love you with all of my heart, and you’re helping me grow as a mom in ways I never knew existed. You challenge me, you make me laugh, you make me proud, you keep me honest, you make me look forward to the future.

 
You’re worth it. You’re worth all the work, and more. 

I love you,
Mommy 

Three!

Amelia,

You have brought a light into our lives – ALL of our lives – that none of us could have imagined.

When you walk into a room – well, you rarely walk … you run – you bring with you an energy that cannot be ignored.

You squeal with joy, you crinkle up your nose so that it’s the perfect companion to your impish smile, and you steal the hearts of everyone within striking distance.

And then you immediately ask them for boloney, a cheese stick and a yogurt.

I’ve never known a little girl who loves both princesses and dirt as much as you do. The messier the meal, the better, as far as you’re concerned.

Now, you DO love a good wipe. But not before getting as much yogurt, melted chocolate or cereal milk all over your person as is physically possible. 

Where do I start with you and your love for animals? To say you’re obsessed with Scout would be an understatement. You call him your “best fwiend.”

You won’t leave the house without giving him five minutes of hugs and kisses, and he’s waiting at the top of the stairs for more when you come home. If he’s not right there, you hunt him down.

And Maisy? Our backyard neighbor? You love that dog … you love to feed her treats and leftover hamburger and chicken from your plate, and if Daddy would let her move in, you’d bring her over tonight. 

All of us would give up a limb for your affection. You give it pretty freely – ON YOUR TERMS. You love to bestow hugs and kisses … when you feel like it. You love to cuddle and watch TV … when it suits you.

You love to tickle, wrestle and ride piggyback … when you’re in the mood. And of course we all eat it up with a spoon. 

Are you spoiled? Possibly a thousand percent. We just hope you can hide it long enough to marry well.

You are the sun, the moon and the stars to the five of us. Well, six if you count Scoutie, and I know you do.

Happy 3rd birthday, my sweet girl. You’ve given us three years that have exceeded even our wildest dreams. 

I love you,
Mommy

Six!

Jakey,

You are 6 and you blow my mind every single day. No lie.

You and I are in the middle of reading the Bible together from start to finish. We’re in the middle of the Old Testament in the Jesus Storybook Bible, which is both your speed AND my speed. You are so hilarious with your questions as we move through the books, and you want to read as many chapters as I can make it through in one night. Right now Noah’s Ark is your favorite story, but you thought it was SUPER-COOL when God parted the Red Sea.

You have more energy in your right thumb than I have in my entire body. You swing your plastic nunchuks around while you watch TV. You bounce on the trampoline for 30 minutes without taking a break. As a matter of fact, you jump on and off of anything you can whenever you can; the arm of the brown sofa is black from the bottoms of your feet. That is not hyperbole. It’s actually black. 

You are SO friendly … you’ve never met a stranger. You make friends no matter where you go. The pool, the store, you talk to store clerks. Somehow you’re an extrovert born to two introverts, and it’s hilarious to us. You’re really affectionate … a couple of weeks before school was out, you sidled up to your teacher and kissed her arm during class while she wasn’t really paying attention. She was so surprised, she turned and asked, “Jake! Did you just kiss me?” And you said, “No … YES.” 

 

Your affection for Amelia drives her NUTS. You won’t leave her alone. She has smacked you on the head, in the face, on the arm, kicked you in your private parts … all just to get you to quit hugging her or kissing her. But you won’t give up. You love to snuggle and you particularly want to love on Amelia. She loves you, but you are OBSESSED with her. It makes me laugh and laugh hard.

You’re the same way with me, except that I crave it. I love that you hug me and don’t want to let me go. I love that you want to curl up in my lap and put your head on my shoulder. I adore the feeling of your hand in mine as we walk across a parking lot – even though Amelia (at 2) refuses to hold my hand most of the time, you still reach for it. I don’t know if you’ll ever NOT feel like my baby. And that’s okay with me. 

You’re kind of like a human Golden Retriever. IN OTHER WORDS, PERFECT.

I have no idea what Daddy and I could possibly have done to inspire you to be the incredible little man you’ve become. You are unintentionally funny, intentionally kind, insatiably curious and irrepressibly fun. God broke the mold when He made you, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. 

I love you with all my heart, my little Golden Retriever.

Love,

Mommy