Thirteen

Christmas day, 2010.

My little girl is 13 today.

A bonafide teenager.  (Even though she has looked and acted the part for much longer.)

I could use this post to tell you how amazing she is, but I think you all know how I feel about that kid.

So instead, I have been thinking about what I wish for Thyra, on this occasion, as she enters young adulthood.

Firstly, as a mom, I understand even if I don't completely love the idea, that these years are years of independence.  Of learning to navigate the world on your own.  I hope that even as she desires freedom from us, and a chance to spread her wings, that her need of God only deepens.  That she continues to understand that she requires His guidance to get safely through all the experiences and challenges the next few years may bring.  I hope, as her mother that I will always point her in that direction and support her spiritual growth.

I wish for Thyra a deep abiding confidence in who she is and what she believes to be true.  I hope she never wastes her time or energy in trying to win the approval of her peers or boys, but instead knows a true longing to be approved of God.  I hope she comes to understand that those who truly love her will love those same qualities in her that God desires.

I hope she never loses the value of hard work.  It's easy to give up the interest in working hard when there are friends seeking your attention, and boys to flirt with and all sorts of activities on the social calendar, but I hope she never abandons her work ethic for pure fun.   I wish I had kept a little more of that in my teenage years.

That being said, I hope she has lots of amazing experiences in the next few years and enjoys this time of her life as much as possible.  The responsibilities of adulthood come upon us too soon, and I truly hope she takes full advantage of this brief, but special time in her life.

I hope she always understands how incredibly special she is to me, and to Gavan, her brothers and to our families.  Sometimes, when there are little kids around requiring constant help and attention, it is easy to overlook the capable bigger sister.  I hope she always knows that we are here for her always, that her needs are no less important and that she is so special to us.  Our family feels incomplete when she is not with us.

I love this daughter of mine, with every fibre of my being, and wish her the absolute best as she turns thirteen.

Wow.

Playing with her little brothers in a lovely April Snowstorm.

Kisses for Tosh

She might be 13, but she still loves to be silly!  She bought these mustaches on her recent trip to Victoria.

The "Lanny McDonald" and the "Fu Manchu".

Off the list.

One of the few goals I want to accomplish is to have both boys fully potty-trained before the baby comes.  With Malachi not potty-trained until he was three, I didn't know if this was realistic, but luckily in our home we have a severe case of "Monkey See, Monkey Do" going on, and Kashton has nicely followed along in his brother's footsteps.  They do have one little odd difference:  Malachi insists on using the regular toilet, and Kashton prefers the potty seat.  They have gotten to be experts at setting up the toilet, exactly how they like it, and Kashton has to flush every time, whether he goes or not.  

We still have some things to work on, such as night-time training, but for the most part I am pretty pleased.  And you can probably tell from these photos, that Kashton is pretty pleased too. 

In the dark

My little son stirred in his sleep tonight. I heard him let out a few little cries, and went in to see if he was waking. He had gone to bed with flushed cheeks... from fever or teeth or perhaps just chapped from winter's harsh wind.

Like so many mothers before me, and so many to come, I laid my hand against his forehead in search of clues to his discomfort. Content with the feel of it, my hand travelled to cheek and then chest, hoping to comfort him back to deep sleep.

Under thin pajamas and the tiny arc of his ribs, I could feel the steady thumping of his heart against my hand. A single organ, working tirelessly, without pause, to fulfill its solitary duty of pumping life through an unimaginable network of veins and arteries, keeping my child alive.

In that instant, the simultaneous terror and miracle of life was before me. With one hand still on my sleeping child, the other sought out the swell of my belly, feeling for the stirrings of another child I have yet to meet. Another child with beating heart - miraculously alive within me and already terrifyingly precious, yet still unknown.

With all I think I know and believe I have learned, with every formative experience of my youth and adulthood, it is truly this gift of Motherhood that has acted as a revelation to me of the true mystery and immensity of life; as though a heavy curtain were peeled back, revealing a night-sky full of glittering stars.

Boys are gross

Upon smelling something kinda foul:

Me: Who's poopy?  Kashton did you poop?
Kashton:  I'm not poopy!
Malachi:  He's not poopy mom, I just tooted.

and then after a little pause and with a big smile on his face

Malachi: smells like stink!


Pleeeeeeeeeeease let the next one be a girl... and a really dainty girl at that.

Finally

We have success....

(well most of the time!)


Malachi is doing super well and basically potty-trained last week.  It took some Buzz and Woody, Thomas, and Lightening McQueen undies to inspire him,  but he is doing really great.   We have left the house for hours at time, and he has stayed dry.

We still have some nighttime/naptime issues to sort out, but I'm not really in a hurry.  For now, I'm excited because what I really hope this means is that by January I can actually sign him up for an unparented class or two.

We did some crafts today and it was really apparent that there are some things that my 3 yr. old is ready for that my 2 yr. old is absolutely not.  (Malachi finger paints,  Kashton eats paint.  Malachi puts glue on the paper, Kashton puts glue in his hair.)

Winter

makes me want to do two things:

Bake or Nap.

(and not because I like baking so much, I just like eating the product.)

What it is

It is

Exhilarating
Terrifying
Exhausting
Worrying
Blissful
and mostly
Nausea-inducing

to be pregnant again.

But like they say, it is what it is.