It's been one of those slow, contemplative weeks. I feel God's presence very close. I love His strength.
The kids and I sprung for a picnic in the park one sunny afternoon while wispy clouds lazily floated through the sky.
Rotating seasonal clothes for the kiddos, I am always amazed at how much they have grown and how differently in size, personality, and preferences kids from the same family can be. I love their uniqueness.
I love that our oldest daughter is giggly, loves telling jokes to the point of insanity(her Papa's), is constantly reading or crafting or creating or drawing and hates math. I love that she's grown inches this past winter and I can see forward to when she'll be looking at me eye to eye. I love listening to her answer questions about the gospel, asking to be baptized, living out her faith. I love that she nags me to have people, neighbors, anyone over...
I love Andrew's sweet spirit. I love that he is thin and wiry and I can barely pick him up anymore, that every ounce of his thinness is muscle-ness. I love that every object is magically transformed into weaponry and our yard is littered with bows and arrows and spears all of the homemade sort. He told me the other day that reading is almost his favorite past math now, an enormous miracle of which I am in awe of. Such a long road its been that I feel like belting out a Hallelujah Chorus~!
Pig-tailed Ella Catherine is silly and happy and full of hilarious antics. I love that she converses easily with adults, asks me what big words mean and then adds them to her vocabulary, and asks to read. I love how she accentuates the last syllable of the last word in her sentences.
This guy. How could all of us not be head over heels in love with this fellow, grins and hollers, wet open mouthed kisses and sneaky sharp bites, hysterical laughter and funny cry with a pouty lip flipping into a big grin as soon as he's picked up. I love that he's currently a Mama's boy.
Aiden Christopher. Today I was reminded of a night four years ago that I spent sitting on a hospital bed, him in my arms. When I closed our door to the rest of the noisy hospital he was two days old and showing signs of kidney failure and we were overwhelmed with the multiple diagnosis being tossed our way. He and I sat together all night and prayed and sang praises to God, interupted only by nurses intent on monitering him. And here he is.
I often joke to Sean that if only our kiddos were mean and wretched or if only they weren't so cute it would be a lot easier to not have any more. Think I'm crazy? Just scroll up and look at that toothy grin and shining blue eyes. Resistance is futile, I tell you.