on being seven.

my baby boy.
seven.
it baffles me and blows my mind that seven whole years have gone by since you were put into my arms.

every year on your birthday i think there is no way you can get bigger.  smarter.  wittier.
but you do.

i look back on our pictures from the past year and what seemed so big at six seems so sweet and little compared to seven.

there are a million thing i want to remember and share about you.  stories and memories.  quotes and comments.  all the things that so encapsulate who you are at the moment.  because every year i look back on the memories i've recorded from the previous years and i think, "wow.  that was him.  when did that change?   when did he grow out of that?  become who he is now?"

there are so many things i miss about your baby and toddler and little boy years.  but i adore and embrace every new thing that comes our way.  the truth is, i like who you are.  don't get me wrong.  i love you.  but even more than that, i like the person you are and the person you are becoming.

you are an amazing big brother.
you adore your sister.  and she adores you.
you are helpful and patient with her.  kind and comforting.
how in the world would i have had a baby without you?
you wanted a little baby brother so badly, but God knew just what he was doing when he gave us Lucille.
you are protective.  jealous for her affections and attentions.  smitten in a way i could have only prayed my children would love each other.
you two are the best of friends.  and even though nearly six years separate you, i pray this love and friendship continues to thrive.

you are independent.
you are self-reliant and self-motivated.
you can play in your room for hours.  i mean HOURS.
building legos.  creating worlds.  transforming piles of boxes.
you are a leader in some ways and an excited supporter in others.
you tend to make good decisions.
you like rules.  and order.
you are punctual.
but at the same time, methodical and s-l-o-w.
meal times are a challenge because you would think you were eating a five-course feast with how long it takes you to finish your plate.
school continues to be a joy, and i am so happy with our choice to continue to homeschool.
i am exhausted.  but still.  content.
your favorite subjects are science and history.
you like to save them for last.
so much like mama.
your writing has improved dramatically.
you are adding triple digit numbers.  regrouping in subtraction.
sometimes you'll make comments about something we've learned in medieval history or biology and it just blows my mind how much a little mind can store.
the highlight of your week is enrichment classes and church.
you LOVE church.
you love jesus.
you pray every day for some big things in our life.
you are so faithful.  so hopeful.  so full of courage and trust.

there are so many things about that remind myself of me.
you like to get up early.
"so i have more time for activities, mom!"
you remember everything.
you are extremely literal.
you prefer the company of a few close friends to large groups of acquaintances.
you always eat the stuff you don't like on your plate so you can save the best stuff for last.
you greatly dislike when things are not "fair."

there are so many things about you that remind me of your daddy.

the way you can create the most amazing things out of nothing.

your elaborate imagination.

your uncanny ability to make the shortest story into the most involved and complicated tale.

your cheery attitude even when things are the bleakest.

your charm and your sweet smile that melts me even when i'm at my wit's end.

you are always up for anything.

a twenty-eight day, 6,000 mile road trip?  no problem.

getting the baby out of her crib and feeding her breakfast so i can get ready for work?  piece of cake.

finishing a day's worth of intensive school work in just under three hours so you can have a play date?  child's play.

you adapt easily, you rarely complain, and although you may protest slightly when you would prefer not to do something, the only real discipline issues we have with you are when it comes time to eat your vegetables at dinner.

you have seen me at my worst, and still you love me.
you have sat terrified when i screamed on my knees after one ill-fated phone call in march.
you have taken care of me and your sister when i sobbed in bed with post-partum depression.
you have been patient when i have felt completely at loss with myself, let alone all the looming responsibilities that come with being a wife and a mother.
you remind me that all this... stuff... really just doesn't matter.
that Jesus loves us.  that he has saved us from our sins.  that he heals our hurts and mends our wounds.
and that a child's love is the most beautiful and accurate depiction of Christ's unrelenting forgiving love that i have ever witnessed on earth.

my swee'pea, you are a gift from heaven.
you make me smile, laugh, and jump for joy.
you complete this family and fill my heart with gratefulness.
God was so good when he gave you to me.
you have been what i was desperately needed this past year.
a sweet boy who sees the optimism when life looks bleak.  who prays nightly that his papa will get better and that his Uncle Jay in heaven will know how desperately we still love and miss him.
what i had with your uncle can never be replaced, but the joy i see in the budding relationship between you and your sister is such a sweet reminder that God knew my heart needed both a son and a daughter.

my mama heart is so proud to call you my own.
seven is going to be a beautiful year for you, my son.
Happy, happy birthday, to my most favorite little boy in the whole wide world.