Hello, Boyhood!

Summer vacation is FINALLY here and we are so excited for what these months will bring! Truth be told though, I am struggling with one part of it: my sweet first born will be turning four in just a few short weeks. When Pierson was a newborn, we received a beautiful plaque from one of my husband's friends. It read: "Nonsense. Young boys should never be sent to bed. They always wake up a day older, and then before you know it, they're grown." -J.M. Barrie

Well, little did I know how true of words these were. I feel as if we brought him home yesterday and here we are...saying goodbye to his toddler years! So for parents with babies, this one's for you. If you have a toddler, wonderful! People tell me, "The best is yet to come," and while I'm convinced they say that just to be empathetic and sweet, I have found that my heart loves my children more each day. I don't know how that's possible, since the love currently residing there is so powerful, but I'm hopeful that the moments ahead of us are going to be just as beautiful. 

I'm often asked what I love about the ages and stages of my children. I've said it before, but I will never believe anyone who says that "two is the worst." I'm sorry if you've had a different experience, but our son was so much FUN at two. My daughter, who is the prime of two currently, is continuing this fact for us that this age is just magical. So what's three? I've written a post here before called, 'In the Trenches with a Threenager,' and I meant every word. For a few short (felt like never-ending) months, Pierson was r-o-u-g-h. The tantrums, the whininess, the complaints and the indecisiveness. But when those moments passed, out came the sweetest, most endearing and polite child I could have ever prayed for! This kid has been saying 'I love you' on repeat, explaining to me all the reasons why he loves his house, his pets, his new bunkbeds (thank you, Walker Edison Furniture!!!) and his family. He's always said great prayers, but now he lays in the bottom bunk, and goes into such great detail about who and what he is thankful for. With the days passing quickly, he seems so much older, so much more grown. A few nights ago we snuggled together and with a flashlight, did numerous shadow puppets on the bed above us. He giggled so loudly and then wrapped his arms around my neck as he said, "Mom, I love you SO much." So guess what? Now I am convinced... three is my favorite. 

But wait, two is my favorite too! And I loved the newborn stage, the baby stage, the twelve month stage, so perhaps after all, I have just loved it ALL? Moms of older or grown children, right now you are nodding with me. You might also be thinking, "This lady is a little crazy, but she's right. Every single stage you will love your children more and more." Pierson's toddler years are almost gone. He looks forward to turning four and has been asking repeatedly for a sleepover in his new bunkbed with the cousins. He loves all things Avengers and can't wait to have a 'Captain America cake and balloons,' (his requests.)

Parents who fear the 'threenager year,' please don't. People will tell you that the terrible two's are hardly survivable and that three is even worse. These years, they are so fleeting and in the blink of an eye, you will be holding your almost 4-year old saying, "Where did this time GO?" I remember his crib and I remember lying silently beside it when he was a tiny babe falling asleep. The transition to a 'big boy bed' came so fast, it was the month after he turned two. His twin bed felt so enormous to me and when I saw him there, sitting proudly in the middle of it, I held back tears as I cheered him on. Over the last year he has been a huge fan of Peppa Pig and in the cartoon, she has a bunkbed. "Maybe I can get a bunkbed, Mom!" he would say. When the opportunity arose to work with Walker Edison, I couldn't pass it up. And when the box arrived on our front porch, I thought Pierson was going to lose his ever-loving mind with excitement. Within two hours, my husband had it up and ready to be slept on and I thought, "Here we go again. Hold your tears back, Mama." 

Life looks different now. My children no longer need me the way in which they did as babies, but you all know this. And they do still need me to read them books and sing them lullabies. They need me to cuddle under the covers (or for my daughter's sake who Lord help me, hasn't been transitioned to a big bed yet)--in the rocking chair. They need me to pray with them and teach them, walk beside them and laugh with them. June 15, this awesome kid is turning four, but my heart is open wide to the adventures that await with this new and exciting age. I'll hold tightly the years behind us, and I'm giving a huge HELLO to his boyhood. 

*A sincere special thanks to Walker Edison Furniture for this collaboration and your beautiful bunkbeds! We are so in love!!*

Why I Stopped Telling My Son to be Big and Strong

Do you remember being small and wishing you weren't? (Okay, I'm tiny and desperately 'wish' to be even 5'3,'' but in this case I mean small as in young.)

In fifth grade I fell in love and wished I was old enough to date (WHAT?!?) In middle school, I wished for my high school years. Enter freshman year, where I found myself wishing to be a senior. I wished for a cell phone, for my drivers license, to be allowed to screw up royally (which trust me, I did), and then what happened? I just kept wishing.

Senior year I yearned for college. I wanted freedom and to land it big (which I didn't), in the horse racing industry. Cool, so I moved to Kentucky as SOON as I graduated high school. I enrolled in classes, decorated my dorm and got a job at Churchill Downs. Did my wishing stop?

You bet it didn't. I met a boy, quickly wanted to marry his dapper self, and three years later, wished for a baby. Well, God gave me a son and this son is the one who has made me want hit the giant red EMERGENCY STOP button on my life. Is that a thing?! It needs to be!

At not yet four, my son almost constantly uses the phrase, "When I get big and strong..." It is after all, what the standard motivational mantra has been:

You need to dinner because it will help you be big and strong.
You should play outdoors. Run, jump, have fun! It'll help you get big and strong.
Get good sleep.
Drink more water.
...Someday you'll be big and strong!

BAM! Enter a child who dreams about a time when he is no longer small. Is that mantra entirely to blame? No, his dad is 6'4'' and a strong dude. Of course our son wants to be just like him! He sees his Daddy mowing the lawn (and has been trying to help since he's been able to walk), building a giant playhouse with his bare hands (and a lot of nails!) He loves to help me bake, but isn't 'big enough' yet to crack the eggs into the batter. His mind constantly thinks and creates, but doesn't feel 'big enough' to put all of that into a physical product. Recently he looked up at my husband and said, "Daddy, I can't wait to be as tall as YOU!" My sweet man bent down, held his face and said, "Buddy, it's okay to be little right now. It's okay to be small," to which our son obviously disagreed.

We've all done this. We still do this. Here I am, approaching thirty and I wish I didn't look it. I wish not to have the dark circles, the mom skin, the mid-length hair refusing to grow, the bushy eyebrows, the (insert whatever you want to change here). My entire life I wished to be older and look at me now; I fear aging, I wish I could go back in time, I wish my twenties weren't almost OVER.

If time could be frozen, I would consider doing it. Momentarily. To just bottle up and keep on a shelf, all the magic of these fleeting childhood years. But I suppose that in itself is another wish, isn't it? And perhaps we should just stop wishing for a while, and focus on being present. 

My son, you are already so big and so strong. You are so perfect, just the way you are. Life, it is so good right now. You're leaving Toddlerhood and will soon be embarking into Boyhood. You ARE big and strong, so please just be YOU. The baby that I wished for, the boy that I will eternally adore.