Wednesday, 11 November 2015


I am in complete shock that when we wake up tomorrow morning the blonde ball of mischief and shenanigans, who sleeps beside me each and every night and who I lovingly refer to as Thing 4, will be two years old. Two?! Cue the typical responses: 

How did that happen?

Where has the time gone?

Yada . . . yada . . . yada

blah . . . blah . . . blah

But yeah, my baby boy is turning two tomorrow and as exciting as this is, it kind of makes my heart hurt. I love the fact that he is growing up because, in all honesty, the alternative is something I never want to experience, but I hate the fact that no matter how many pictures I take, or how many blog posts I write, or how many nights I cuddle up to him while he sleeps and try to soak in all of his adorableness, or how many hours we spend lying on the living room floor building Legos or playing trains, I will forget. I will forget how he smells when he comes straight out of the bath and I wrap him up and have to show him what picture is on the hood of his towel. 

It's the ducks! Quack . . . quack 

Look, it's a boat!

I will forget the sound of his laugh when he thinks I am about to catch him as he tears through the kitchen with a pen or marker in his hand. I will forget how cute he is when he pulls a chair up beside me saying: I help, while I am making dinner or washing dishes.I will forget how it feels when he wraps his little arms around my neck and I kiss him over and over again just to hear him squeal with laughter. I will forget the look of excitement he gets on his face and how he pats his chest when I ask him who he is:

Nee . . . Nee
(me . . . me)

I will forget.

And that sucks. 

I have been blessed with a gift, the gift of writing, but during moments like this, on the eve of Leif's second birthday, that gift feels far too inadequate.Words cannot capture what I want to capture - the way he looks, the way he smells, the way he sounds, the way he runs, the way he cries, the way he nurses, the way he kisses, the way he jumps and the way he feels. Words cannot express how much I love him, or how much I enjoy spending my days with him. Words cannot stop time or even make it slow down just a tinch, just enough for me to soak it all in before . . . gasp! . . . he becomes a two year old and I no longer have a two-under-two crew. On top of losing my baby, I am even losing my beloved catch-phrase. This is too much!

So, Leif, know this: I tried. No matter how busy my day was, or how difficult you were being (truth be told, Bud, you are difficult) I tried my best.Where words fail, I pray my actions will speak volumes. I pray that each kiss, each laugh, each story, each game, each lesson, each walk, and each hug we have shared will have a lasting impression on you; so much so that will never, ever forget just how much your mama loves you.

Happy Birthday, Thing 4!

I absolutely adore you!