Back In Time

The past few weeks, okay, months, I’ve been participating in Throwback Thursday on Facebook. Throwback Thursday probably started over on Instagram, but to be honest, I decided to call it quits with Instagram when I started seeing all the same Instagram pictures on Facebook, anyway.

Yes, as a matter of fact, I love the run-on sentence.

So.

If you are Facebook friends with me, I apologize, because you’ve probably seen these pictures over there, but they are still so fun, and OH SO SWEET, and can we please stop time?

At a friend’s wedding. (2007)

Stevie was the Ring Bearer at McDaddy’s brother’s wedding (2006)

 

Melt my heart. (2007)

 

Stevie having fun in his Jeep (2008)

First Haircut (2006)

Watching a chick flick. (2005)

Sharing the Good News. (2006)

Ok, I need a tissue, now.

Really, can we stop time, pretty please?

Have a great weekend, y’all.

My First Born

Dear Stevie,

This time 11 years ago I was hopped up on adrenaline and magnesium. (ELEVEN years? How is that even possible?) I had just been presented with the most beautiful being I had ever laid eyes on. Within minutes, they whisked you away because you were born pre-maturely at 36 weeks.

We had your name picked out before we even found out we were having a boy, knowing that we would name you after daddy. The third. Your name is so fitting because, you, my sweet child are exactly like your dad.


At 11 years old your baby face is gone. Your little-round glasses are gone, and as of two weeks ago, your braces are gone. You have a beautiful smile that makes me happy on my worst day. You still play with that little tuft of hair and it rarely ever lays down on your four head as it should because you have twisted the life out of it.  That fact doesn’t seem to bother you one bit. Your face is shaped just like daddy’s and sometimes when you smile I catch a glimpse of that little piece of bone that sticks out ever since when you fell on the concrete stairs in Florida.


You talk loud and you talk a lot. It is one of the few traits that you took from me. You are methodical and analytical, and your mind amazes me. At two years old, you could name every make of vehicle on the road. At three years old, you could recite the entire Liberty Mutual diabetes commercial, word-for-word. You still have a wonderful memory, and I am thankful for that. I suspect you will never pass up an opportunity to ask a question, and I love that about you.

I am thankful that you are a great student. I am proud that your teachers brag about how respectful you are. And I feel blessed that you enjoy school so much, you never complain about getting up in the morning or doing homework. I love it when you reach up to push my hair behind my ear, and I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE when you jump up upon my lap to cuddle. I realize probably won’t happen much longer so I am trying to appreciate every single moment of it. And I won’t even get started on the MSAT (which is how I refer to your Middle School Attitude) because I’m trying to keep this light.  Stevie, you are such a delight to parent. You are growing into a thoughtful, respectful boy and I couldn’t be more proud of you.

Happy 11th birthday, my sweet boy. I love you more than you will ever know.

When All Else Fails, Drink More Water

So.

Yesterday, I mentioned that Alex was just coming off of some sort of viral nastiness in his throat.

Alex returned to school today, and I was hoping we had seen the last of the fever.

But alas, today at 11:56 AM EST, I received a call from the Middle School Health Nurse (my second call in two weeks, mind you!) informing me that Stevie was in the clinic with a headache, and yup, you guessed it, a fever.

In the amount of 101.

I rushed to the school to find my sweet boy looking pitiful. He immediately hugged me and I have never been so happy to be a stay-at-home-momma in my life. He was holding back tears and he whispered, “Mom, I’m freezing.”

Y’all.

Did I mention I hate having a sick kiddo?

It is my least favorite thing in the whole wide world.

So, my sweet, pitiful baby boy and I made the minute-drive home and I loaded him up on Motrin and Tylenol. Oh, and water, too, because if I learned anything from my stent /  bladder / UTI / kidney-stone drama over the past few months, it’s to DRINK SOME MORE WATER. So, all day long I was like, “Here, getcha’ another sip so you don’t dehydrate.”

It’s all I know to do.

Within an hour, his fever hit 104.1.

I went nine kinds of crazy. I quickly ran some cool bath water, and thankfully, after a few minutes in the bath water, his temperature was back down to 101. And so most of the day has been spent keeping track of the Motrin, and the Tylenol, the thermometer, AND THE WATER, don’t forget the water. And I’ll be so happy when this nonsense moves on to the next unsuspecting joker, because momma needs a break.

Or a medical degree.

Either way, I’m about to lose what little bit of sanity I have left. We have been back to school for thirteen days, and this fever crap is straight-up crazy.

And that’s about all I have to say about that.

Night folks.

A Letter To My Firstborn

As he walked past me, I grabbed on to his gray Nike t-shirt and pulled him onto my lap. He is too big for me to cuddle, but I cuddle him anyway. His lanky legs hang almost to the floor. I lean down and kiss him on the forehead, noticing his ridiculously long eyelashes. He is my firstborn. My baby boy. And McDaddy’s namesake.

Dear Stevie,

I wanted to take this opportunity to tell you that these past ten years have been the best years of my life. Back when I was 25, I thought I was in the prime of my life. I know now that I was so wrong about that. This motherhood thing? It is the most challenging job I will ever love. And you, my sweet boy, are the reason that Daddy and I became members of the Parents Club. We failed you in so many ways in those early years. We didn’t make you ”cry it out” at night until well after you were able to speak and yell VERY PLAINLY “Daddy, buddy, daddy, buddy” and the two of us sat on the bed in utter disbelief wondering which one would beat the other to your crib side. You didn’t come with an instruction manual, so we’ve had to pick this thing up as we go. When we carried you in the house for the first time, your dad sat the bulky car seat (with you in it) down and we looked at each other and said, “Well, now what?”

We knew nothing about raising a child. Thank you for being patient with us.

The years have flown by.

And I am dreading the next ones.

These next few years will be tough for me. (Not for daddy, because he handles stress and change like a normal, sane person.) I, on the other hand, will be a basket case. I can hardly think about dropping you off for your first day of middle school without crying. It literally seems like just yesterday I was in an uproar about taking you to Kindergarten for your first day of school. Once you enter that war-zone Middle school, I know the unchartered waters could, and probably will get rough. Soon, you will start to notice girls and undoubtedly one will break your heart. And then, so help me, I will want to pull every hair from her head for hurting my baby. There will be things that happen at school that you will forget to tell me. Or refuse to tell me. I just hope you know that you can come to me and daddy with anything. I am slowly learning that I cannot blow my ever lovin’ top each and every time you are wronged. But it’s not because I don’t want to. I am your protector. And your biggest fan. And I would lay down my life for you without hesitation.

Oh sweet boy, you are so intelligent, I often wonder if you are really mine. When we joke about home-schooling you, I have to laugh because you have knowledge about things I have never even heard of. And Lord knows the only thing I could teach you about math is how to calculate 50% off of a sale item because I am a whiz at that. I am thankful that you took more than your good looks from your dad.

You are a statistical monster and you don’t forget one single thing. EVER. At four years old, you could recite the whole “If you have diabetes, and you’re on medicare, you may qualify for a free meter from Liberty Mutual” commercial. Several people suggested that we record you doing that, and sadly, I never did because it didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time. Man, I could kick myself for not doing that. While I can’t remember what I had for lunch yesterday, you could probably tell me what you had for lunch seven months ago. And we learned a long time ago not to discuss anything important in front of you because no matter what you are doing, you are also LISTENING (you did take something from me, after all!)

You are kind-hearted and you love to laugh. You are a good friend and a child of the King. One of my proudest moments as your momma was the night you told me you wanted to ask Jesus into your heart. Because Daddy was deployed, I wanted to wait until he called so that we could discuss it together. You prayed right over Skype and your dad and I are so thankful that you made the decision to follow Jesus. As you enter this new phase of life, keep Jesus close to your heart. Love like Jesus. Consult Him when you are unsure about things. He loves you even more than Daddy and I do, and you will never go wrong keeping your sights set on Him.

You love the game of baseball and your heart for the game is unmatched. One of my favorite things to do is watch you play ball. I love that you are such a kind-hearted teammate. And I also love that you don’t mind me being your “team mom.” It is certainly one of the things I love the most about this season of life.

You are protective over Alex and you love to teach him things. He looks up to you, and I hope you keep that in mind when making decisions. The two of you love to play together and it makes my heart smile when the stars align and you jokers are getting along and laughing together. You take your role as big brother very seriously and I am happy about that. I have a confession: I often stand at your bedroom door and listen in on the conversation between the two of you. You talk about all manner of boy stuff. Farts. Lego’s. Cars. Friends. Dreams. Mini Figures. Baseball. Superheroes. And school. I hope the two of you remain close even when you are grown.

You are growing up everyday, but I love that you still like to play. I am dreading the day when you no longer want to do these things. Soon, you will ask to attend sporting events without me. And school dances. And you will no longer play with that little bit of hair (the bit that rarely ever lays as it should because you won’t leave it be – it even shows in that picture above, and below!) as you read, or eat, or watch television. I dread the day that you trade a matchbox car for a real car. And you trade a Big Nate book for a chemistry book, or Lord have mercy on me, a college handbook. Oh my sweet baby boy (daddy says I must quit calling you that!) I can’t hardly imagine that time.

Stevie, I am so proud to be your mom. Teachers have always commented to us about what a great kid you are. I am so happy to hear that. There is a reason I tell you every single day when I drop you off at school to do the right thing even when no one is watching. Aside from loving Jesus and others, it is the most important thing you can do. I love you and I want you to know I will always be in your corner. You can count on me to be honest and supportive and loving. And you can also count on me to go nine kinds of crazy on any girl that doesn’t treat you right.

I am only kidding.

Sort of.

As I count down these final eight days before you start Middle School, I do so with a heavy heart and a great big dependence on Jesus. He will be with you when I can’t be. And that comforts me. I know these next eight years are going to fly by, and there will be a lot of changes. One thing that will never change, my boy, is my love for you.

Don’t ever forget that.

Love,

Mom

Double Digits

It’s been ten whole years since you first came into my life.

TEN.

As in double digits.

Only it seems like just yesterday they placed your tiny wrinkled body in my arms while I was half-loopy from magnesium. And today, I can barely hold you on my lap.

I realize it might seem like I am bragging when I say this, but seriously, you are such a bright kid, Stevie. When you ask crazy questions and make serious observations about situations, I am reminded that of that fact. Just last night you told me that you had trouble sleeping the other night, so you began singing the South American countries alphabetically in your head, which is crazy to me because it’s not like we just sit around studying South American countries for a hobby. When we learned in Kindergarten that you are a gifted child, I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. Instead though, I thanked the Good Lord for your brain and your intelligence and I smiled thinking that daddy must have some seriously powerful genes because we all know he is the brains of this operation (which is evidenced by the fact that spell check just reminded me that I had intelligence spelled wrong!)  But in all honesty, that day wasn’t nearly as special as the day that you asked Jesus to come into your heart while talking with daddy on Skype. I was one proud mama that day.

I love that you are compassionate and loving, and it makes me smile when you take my hand to help me down the porch stairs in the morning. Fewer things on this earth make me as happy as I am when I look into those big, brown eyes and smile because you are my child. I only wish this whole growing up thing would slow down.

Enjoy double digits, sweet boy.

I love you more than you will ever be able to comprehend, even in that big brain of yours.