It was his third day of life, I think, when the midwife came over and he weighed in too low.  We were going to go furniture shopping for the new house that day.  It was my third baby, my third boy, my third one to wear the same outfits and be buckled into the same car-seat.  I knew what I was doing.  And she told me that that was exactly what was going to make this hard.  I remember the patterns and the rhythms, but they were new to my son.  I needed to listen to him, respond to him, look at him, sit with him, hold him, slow days down for him.  This third baby of mine was on his first time at life. 

I remember rolling my eyes a bit, only inwardly I hope.  But I sat in my bed and took in my baby.  I unzipped his sleeper and unbuttoned my shirt and tried to slow down to just be with this brand new life.  I read, napped, and snacked with him on my chest.  It didn’t come naturally but ‘fake it till you make it’ has always been my parenting strategy anyway.  And he cuddled and slept and fed and bounced back by the next week’s check-up. 

But I checked the box.  I congratulated myself on doing what he needed.  And I moved on. 

Fast forward a few years and my now four-year-old son became a big brother twice over in a week and a half.  Suddenly there was a baby and a toddler and the boy, still in the midst of figuring himself out in the context of his two big brothers, wakes up very much a middle child.  Not big enough to be one of the bigs.  Not little enough to be one of the littles.  Not loud enough that I noticed.  I didn’t take enough breaths to notice.  I didn’t listen to enough cries.  I didn’t have enough hands.  Or eyes.  Or laps.  Or arms.  Or sleep. 

Jesus, I hope it’s not too late.  I hope I haven’t failed him.  I hope he finds his voice, the one I have silenced too many times.  I hope he sees its power and influence in his little world.  I hope His Father redeems all that’s been done and all that’s been left undone.  Lord, could you slow days down for me so that I can slow days down for this boy that I love?

Emerson*4

The sound of Lego being moved around on the table in the ever-ongoing hunt for just the right piece is my lullaby.  Feelings of maybe-I-shoud-start-thinking-about-supper almost bring me back to consciousness, but a long day and just the right amount of sunshine make me burrow deeper into my corner of the couch and what just might be my moment to drift off.  The rare and treasured times when all three kids are playing flawlessly together make my heart swell, even as my eyelids are too heavy to open and take it all in.

Still on duty, even as I doze, I slowly come to with the soft words of the littlest one bubbling to the surface.  Groggy, I don't react instantaneously and Emerson steps in.  "Lachie, Mommy is asleep.  You have to pee otet?"  [Otet = toilet in his little brother's 2-year-old speak]  Emerson's voice takes on the exaggerated gentle cadence of an older one knowing that he is helping a little one and I breathe deeply, halfway between sleep and rapt attention on the scene I am picturing through still-closed eyelids.

"Come with me, Lachie," he urges and takes his brother's hand, leading him from his Lego rocketship creation towards the bathroom.  "Come pee otet."

The footsteps have gotten quieter now that they have reached the carpet in the hallway, but I hear that stool move across the bathroom floor.  Narrating as he goes, Emerson informs his brother of each step of the process, inadvertently warming my drowsy and delighted soul.  Using Lachlan's language, he helps him take his pants and "unders" [underwear] off and boosts him up to the toilet.  Ever so kindly he tells him good job when he pees and encourages him to get off the otet by himself.

By now Lachlan is giggling that his brother is doing this all with him and is happy to oblige as they work together to get the unders and pants back on - pausing in between as Emerson asks once the underwear is up: "Does your penis hurt?  No?  Okay, then it's on right."  That one is almost too much for me to continue the charade of sleep, as I make mental notes of the checklist Emerson presumably uses for himself as well.

A moment later they are back to join Niko at the Lego table beside me and the creative building continues.  Only now I am too giddy to go back to sleep.

Here are some pictures of this newly 4-year-old boy whose goofiness, gentleness, independence, and empathy we cherish in equal measure: https://www.flickr.com/photos/41705228@N08/albums/72157657488999075

My Little Dadoo

The indignation you feel when you are the only one not allowed to ride your bike to the park is passionate and all-consuming and deeply rooted in your need to be acknowledged.  Vehemently refusing to be baby, tag-along, or little, your cries of "dadoo" (me too) or "ta-da-da" (ta-da) speak volumes of your need to be seen, to be valued, to be loved.

And see you we do.  You look back at me as you climb the play structure steps, once-fluorescent sweater now caked with mud and once-gummy grin now lined with chiclet-teeth.  I see you wearing the skills and independence of two years proudly, venturing out with fragile confidence.

And value you we do.  You drag baskets of clean and sorted laundry to bedrooms in which they belong, grunting as you go.  As I pick up the trail of socks you leave behind, I marvel at what I am learning of you, even as you are learning it of yourself.  I value your independence and willingness to help, your sense of order and rightness, your quick-thinking and sense of humour, your love of books and of the outdoors.   

And love you we do.  You nearly doze off in the warm sun on a lunchtime drive home and my heart swells as I catch a glimpse in the rearview mirror.  My warm fuzzies bubble to the surface in the form of giggles - both mine and yours - as I try to rouse you, only to watch you now let your head lean farther to the side and pretend to sleep.  You can't quite pull it off as you sneak a peek to see how I will react, both of us trying hopelessly to maintain a straight face.  

Lachie, the One who made You delights in You, and we are so thrilled that we get to too.

To 18-Month-Old Lachlan

My son, you are rockin' the 18-month-old world of discovery these days!  And it gives me great cause for laughter, for groans, and for expectation to be party to these discoveries of many kinds.

First there is the realm of trouble-making discovery - an exciting realm for you, to say the least.  You can unpack entire cupboards in record speed and you hear the sound of the dishwasher being opened from the farthest corners of the house.  You narrowly escaped great injury when I walked in to the kitchen to find you pulling the handle of a pot of boiling water from the back element of the stove toward the edge, a feat you had only accomplished by first wrangling a chair out from under the table, pushing it across the room, and hoisting yourself onto it.  You've given me practice at cleaning up a potpourri of basil, turmeric, and cinnamon from the floor and fishing your most-loved teddy out of the toilet.

The realm of self-discovery has been going on much longer and, yet, it is still mesmerizing to behold.  While it began early with exploration of fingers and toes, you are now discovering language and communication.  You are attempting words like 'mama,' 'dada,' 'sock,' 'baby,' 'ball,' 'car,' 'milk,' and the extremely important 'cookie,' grinning when you see that we understand.  And you are realizing that you also understand us, as you are eager to show that you can do what we ask when we say 'go get your bear' or 'go give Daddy a hug.'  You get beside yourself with giddiness when you become aware that your big brothers are deliberately trying to get you to giggle.

My favourite realm right now is discovery within family.  I cannot help but treasure up the moments when you are figuring out how you fit in to us.  Your eyes light up when the shenanigans of your brothers can include you, because when you are 'kaboofing' with them on the bed, we can all feel how perfectly you belong.  Watching you recognize that for yourself is a powerful thing for a parent.

To know that you are so confident, at this young age, that you are always in the centre of our love for you brings me to my knees before Jesus as I seek wisdom to parent in a way that you can remain secure in that love.  And it simplifies my own Father-daughter relationship as I remember that there is nothing I have to do or be that could put me any more at the centre of God's love as be watches me 'kaboof' and chuckles to Himself contentedly.

First Birthday

Lachlan, my son,

You look so big as you earnestly "tell" me about what you are playing in the tub.  And so small as you snuggle into me when you are overwhelmed.  So big as you eat a whole piece of watermelon, holding the rind like this is no big deal.  And so small as your new toddler carseat seems to swallow you up.  So big playing cars together with your brothers on the floor, them already starting to argue with you as though you are one of the guys.  And so small clutching your bottle as you lie in my arms at night.

I watch you let go of the couch and balance, right on the brink of walking on your own yet still hesitant to take your first steps.  And I feel like I am watching you on the verge of so much more.  On the cusp of another year that will bring growth and development in abundance.  A year that will snowball into another and another and suddenly you will walk and talk and climb and discover and run and bike and read and build and learn.  Suddenly and also not so suddenly at all.  

I pray that as we sometimes lead you and sometimes follow you, we would guide you right to the cusp of the fullness of our awesome God and let you jump headlong into His love and grace and peace and joy and discover for yourself the amazing person He created you to be.

Love, your Mom

The Case of the Missing Stuffie

Places I looked for Baby Bear Blue:

kitchen 

bathroom

L's room 

boys' room

living room

dining room

our room

back landing

behind kitchen door

behind L's door

L's laundry basket

behind bathroom door

in the tub

behind boys' door

boys' laundry basket
back patio

garage

stroller

downstairs

kids' dishes drawer

kitchen sink

fridge

pantry

Niko's backpack

Time spent:

22 minutes

Place found:

Toes

Gloriously much depends upon

these perfectly pudgy toes

emerging contentedly from cozy

resting deeply in vulnerability

Not the Parent I Want to Be

Last night it took your tear-soaked stuffed animal against my face until I felt compassion and I'm sorry.  I want to jump out of bed at the first sound of your distress, but I don't anymore.  I'm so tired.  I'm tired because it's been 10 months of getting up at night.  I'm frustrated because you've been so inconsistent.  We seem to finally make some forward progress only to take steps backward for no discernible reason.  Trying to comfort you in the middle of the night when I don't understand your issue and I am at my worst has left me exhausted.  Feeling like I'm failing at comforting you in the middle of the night when I don't understand your issue and I am at my worst has left me emotionally drained.  At 2:30 in the morning when you've been screaming for over an hour I am not the parent I want to be.  I am angry at you.  When you finally collapse into my arms and stroke my lips with your fingertips I know that you need me.  When you sigh contentedly and slowly doze off, I know you are secure next to me.  But when you are awake for the third time at night, I feel bitter.  And ashamed that I am not the parent I want to be.

Psalm 8 with Significant Poetic Licence Taken

Psalm 8, because Lachlan will be 8 months old tomorrow.

O Lord, our Lord, 

how majestic is your name in all the earth!

You have set your glory above the heavens.  

From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise, 

to silence the grumpy and prod the lazy.

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers, 

the moon and the stars, which you have set in place, 

what am I 

that you are mindful of me?

Yet 

you have crowned me with blessing after blessing.  

You made me the mother of three;
three of the precious works of your hands.
I will praise your name in all the earth.

Thank you that they are each a unique creation of yours, 

fearfully and wonderfully made.  

I praise you 

for how Lachlan is growing and learning, 

almost sneakily, 

as we wake up to find he can do more things each day.  

As he reaches milestones like getting teeth, eating solids, sitting, 

interacting, rolling every which way, standing, and trying to crawl, 

do not ever let me forget 

that my role to teach him about you 

is so much more important than teaching him physical things.

I need grace for the moment 

and greater grace every hour, 

as a try to parent as you would have me parent.  

O Lord, 

our Lord, 

how majestic is 

your name in all the earth!

Gifts

This vacation has been so wonderful.  We've been struggling so much with Niko lately, that it's been great to have this time to enjoy him.  Of course we didn't leave all the behavior issues at home, but we've also seen so much awesome in him!

One thing that has been quite amazing is how many times Emerson and Niko have turned to us and thanked us for something about the trip.  Unprompted and heartfelt thank-you's.  They have really enjoyed themselves.  We've heard "I don't ever never want to leave this place" a lot in the past few days.  Watching them take in each new surrounding and just light up has refreshed my heart.

The boys' goofiness has also made us laugh a lot.  My favourite lines of the trip:
Niko - "Excuse me Mom, when can we goof off?"
Emerson to the border guard - "We're going to Minneapowis....<pause>...He's not yistening to me."

It's also been increasingly obvious that we are so blessed by Lachlan.  He's so peaceful and happy to just be along for the ride.  He sleeps on command, eats whatever we put in front of him, endures fairly well in his carseat, and tolerates so many love-tackles in from his brothers.  What a great third kid!  I feel like he couldn't fit into our family life better.

And Bernie.  The more time I spend with him, the more I am reminded of what great friends we are.  I just love hanging out with him.  Holding hands and walking through the mall.  Discovering our kids as they discover together.  Watching "Lost" in the hotel hallway.  Driving miles and miles of highway.  He is my match in so many ways.

Thanks be to God for his indescribable gift.  2 Corinthians 9:15