Happy 2nd Birthday, Everett!

Tonight when I was putting you into bed, at the very last moment, you wrapped your arms around my neck and placed your head to sweetly on my shoulder. You sighed softly and said, "My mommy." I was so taken aback - this wasn't something you had ever done. So of course I answered, "My Everett", and you replied, "My mommy", and we did this over and over again. About ten times in total. Then you leaned your body down, motioning that you were ready for bed.

I laid you down, my memory flooding with the moments of being in labor with you, exactly two years before. My Everett.

I am overwhelmed by how tender you are, how unbelievably sensitive and outspokenly sweet you are. You are all boy, with the yelling and the stomping and the throwing balls at all the furniture in the house. But then you are also my Everett, telling me my dress is beautiful (true story - every single time I wear a dress, he says, "Mommy dress beautiful") and noticing when I actually fix my hair ("Mommy take shower? Mommy, what with this hair?"). You are a mountain of a person - so full of life and love and goodness, that I am convinced that the world is a precious place, just because you are in it.

I can't believe you're two today. This second year of your life has been teeming with adventure - you took your first steps the week of your 1st birthday, just a few days after moving into this new house. You started "school" and hated it so much it made both of us cry. Thank goodness you realized how much fun it can be when you let your teachers and friends love on you. You learned to throw a ball and a frisbee and swing at the playground and run fast. You broke your leg. That really sucked. But we watched you heal and it made both my muscles and my heart stronger, carrying you and caring for you. You are a person of great boldness and courage and strength. I couldn't be prouder of you, little son.

Your favorite things these days? You love bagels. Fire trucks. Dinosaurs. ELMO. The color green. Playing outside. Riding on the golf cart. When Dad gets home from work. Wearing your hat backwards. Wearing Nikes. Eating waffles. Balloons. "Flying" with Dad. Reading books before bed. Fruit snacks. Bird watching! And a million other things, because you love a lot. You're the best thing in my world. It's such a privilege being your mom.

I love you so much, Everett. Happy 2nd Birthday, my boy.

P.S. - My mushy thoughts on Everett's 1st birthday.

Happy Birthday, Stevie!!!

You are so wonderful! And so worthy of celebrating.

You are a gift to our family and truly the person I most admire. You live your life, both the big and small circumstances, with consistent integrity, optimism and belief. You've brought my life an overwhelming series of joy and love. And our little boy is a reflection of you, both literally (!!!) and in his thoughtful, energetic spirit of strength. You are a rock. You are funny. You are easy to be with. I love you and am so happy to celebrate another year of STEVIE!!! Happy Birthday, my love! xox

Turning 28.

I am sort of caught up in this poem today, as I contemplate my 28th year.

"Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean -
the one who has flung herself
  out of the grass, the one who is eating sugar out
  of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and
  forth instead of up and down -
who is gazing around with her
  enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and
  thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open,
  and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention,
  how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down
  in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how
  to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?"
- The Summer Day, Mary Oliver

I've been sort of electrified and maddened by the echoing question, "what do you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?"

What is it? What am I doing? What do I want to do? What am I doing?

Well, I'm pretty certain that I want to celebrate. I want to drink champagne and I want to ride atop a jeweled elephant. I want to make my sisters feel my love. I want to cook up a storm and force feed the entire city of Atlanta. I want to sing with my son at the top of our lungs. I want to smell the peonies from my wedding and I want to bury my face in the lush grass of my backyard. I want to tap dance on the stage of the first broadway show I ever saw. (though I don't actually tap dance.) I want to give a certain high school bully a wedgie. I want to lounge on a hammock with my husband and watch the sun go down, reminiscing about all our past adventures. Because they are my favorite memories. I want to take hold of all the sinew, dreams, will and fiber of my being, and I want to give it all away. I want my life to matter. I want to touch the world with my intent. I want to be raw and vulnerable and strong and tall. Gosh, I so want to be tall. I want to make a difference and I want to do it while I'm holding the hands of my loves to the right and to the left. I want to walk into the future, ready, hopeful, good-humored and tireless. I want to harness this wild, precious gift and make it matter.

To many things to wish as I blow out my candle? Well then.

Today I turn 28. Watch me go.

Happy Birthday, Little Son.

I can't believe it. I really can't.

You are one, my dear boy. You are a whole year old, 365 days. Those days have been FULL. For both of us. For all three of us. You have cried every single day for a year. You have napped. You have eaten. You have snuggled. You have discovered and awakened to new elements. You have grown. You have rolled, wiggled, crawled, stood tall, and now you are just shy of a walk. I'm sure your swagger will make me proud (AKA make me cry.) You, with the rotund thighs and the pouty lips and the humor in your eyes and the crinkle in your nose. I could kiss you all over, and oh, I have. I HAVE. But still, it's never enough!

You have four healthy, happy, inclusive grandparents that adore you. You are so lucky for that, dear one! You have a zillion little cousins that think you're the cutest. You have two parents who swear you're the best child on Earth. Even when you pull mommy's hair and interrupt daddy's work calls and throw your food on the floor. We love you so much, we are buying you a whole house with a lawn where you can run and play to your heart's content. You have traveled the country and the world and you have lived to tell the tales of gelato. You love chicken, hate spinach, refuse bottles, welcome juice boxes and oatmeal and waffles, and you most certainly live out loud (literally - you are LOUD.) You love to be silly and you know that you are funny and I love that you are already confident. You are a little wary of people you don't know, and I admit, I kind of love that about you, too. You don't just take to others immediately. You are careful, cautious, and you really think about what's happening around you. There is no getting anything past you! Believe me, I've tried. You always manage to find my iPhone, my hair, my last bite. You are very good.

You have changed my paradigm. You came in like the great awakening, and now I am forever defined by you. It's crazy to think that after 27 years of my living one way, the only way I knew how, you came to me and spent the past year etching your expression into my life. You are forever to me. Me and your Dad. We are going to love you endlessly, until the end of our time. And even then, I will still love you. I'll bend the rules of eternity.

I'm so proud to know you, little son. You are a powerful person. You are strong and gentle all at once. You are so special, so sweet, so good, and you always will be. In the years to come, you will understand so much. But you will look back on your life and have questions about things. Just know this - my prayer for you as you enter your second year is that you may know how very, terribly loved you are. That you won't be able to deny your worth. That you will be overcome with excessive affirmation, endless encouragement and a parade of truth and kindness all around you. My love for you is fierce and overwhelming, but is is a mere shadow of the passion that our savior Christ has for you. Lean into Him, always, little son. Learn His language, the way He speaks, and listen closely. You will always have peace when you seek first His opinion. I can promise you that.

I can't promise that you will like the outfit I dress you in today.

While you're still little, I'm the boss. And the boss likes you in blue onesies.

I love love LOVE you.
Mom