Saturday, June 4, 2011

6 months heart explodes

Pretty much the best and worst thing to happen to humanity. On one hand, nobody can function correctly without the appropriate "pinch" of it. On the other hand, it causes all sorts of problems. Like puberty. Then, pregnancy. Or like ME, weeping at the thought that one day my babies won't need me to put blankets on them at night. (Because I'm not a creeper like in Love You Forever. I'm not the mama who drives to my son's house, unstraps the ladder from the roof of the station wagon and climbs in his apparently unlocked window so I can rock him, singing a lullaby. I'm not that mama. YET.)
Yes, I'm blaming estrogen here.

Today (yesterday by the time I finish this) my "tiny" love is 6 months old. Not many people care. I don't mean that in a pity-me or any other sort of way. It's like telling people it's your XX-year wedding anniversary. You pretty much go, "Oh! Congrats..." and then go back to checking facebook and getting dinner ready. Unless you're this tiny love's mama. Then you look over at his chubby delicious cheeks and beautiful, God-sculpted smile and the estrogen damn near creates a supernova of warm fuzzy baby-loving intensity.
Watch out, world!

(Yes, I know that STILL only like four of you know Hunter's birth story. And I know, by how loudly you're all clamoring for the details, that like only four of you really care and maybe a couple more are mildly interested. Whatever. It bothers me that I haven't told you because I'm trying to be consistent with how I ooh and ahh over each child. I'm already failing, LOL. 'Cause you're not getting that story today!)

Dear little Hunter,

You are so sweet. You are truly a good-natured child. The skinny, womb-folded version of you gave way (soooo quickly) to the current plump version of you that causes estrogen supernovas in all the women in our lives. You eat like every meal is your last. Strangely I'm not getting any thinner because of that, so please don't be so very different from your brother that you take all the water and leave the calories 'cause I was banking on the passive weight loss!
Your knuckle-dimples make me cry (everything makes me cry) because they are fleeting, special, squishy. Your toes are like little caterpillars. Your eyes light up like a Christmas tree whenever someone acts foolish for your sake. Your smile explodes when Jack talks to you or runs around like a crazy person to entertain you.
I stop and close my eyes when I hear you babbling in the other room (I stopped doing that when you babble in the car, trust me...) because I want to take that moment and somehow fold it into a little square...a Viewfinder disc for later, complete with smells and sounds and feelings. I LOVE my life with you, with Jack, with Daddy. You are evidence of the fact that life goes by so fast that I can't catch up.
I hold you and feel your super soft skin and already notice how weathered my own skin is. Am I really nearly 30? How does that happen to a person? That's so...decidedly grown up and irrevocably adult. I am so happy that I have given this world two great lights so far, you and Jack. I'll do my damnedest to raise you to be wise and committed to God.
Hunter Cole, I love you. I love love love love love you. I love that you're here and that the Lord has given me all these hours with you. Sometimes I'm shaken with fear, knowing that bad things can happen to anyone, good or bad, Christian or not, and I squeeze you and your brother and Daddy, praying that I never have to go through losing any of you. It would be too hard to breathe.
Happy half-birthday, sweet one. I will sleep now and cuddle you in a few hours when you crave mama and milk and warmth and all things safe.

Love, Mama.

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