YOU

The Babe is nearing the 2 1/2 year mark.

This is an important landmark for parents.

It means you have survived the first six months of the terrible twos.

No one will hand you an award or pat you on the back over the cleverness of your survival, but you will know, and as you wipe the sweat from your brow and pause from scraping spaghetti off the ceiling, you will give yourself the fortifying pep talk of "Only 6 months left, only 6 months left."

At least, thats what I did with the Bear.....who was an angel until he hit the 3 and half year mark. He was our late attitude bloomer.

Then came Cubby....

who blasted all milestones and usual norms out of the water. Spaghetti on the ceiling? Ha! Mere child's play. Who thinks the camera should go for a swim in the toilet? Who wants to scream bloody murder for an hour for no reason? Who wants to spend every minute of the day finding new ways to die with creative flourish?

Cubby made me want to google the addresses of authors who had written the parenting books on my shelves. I wanted to find out where they lived so I could confront them, parenting manuals in hand, and hit them over the head with it. Plan B was to just ding dong ditch Cubs at the door....but he was too cute to leave behind. His eyes were too blue. His freckles were too....freckly? Ugh. I couldn't get him out of my system. So he stayed and we endured and just as I managed to pick myself up off the ground, shake the dust off, and pull forks out of the electrical sockets, I was pregnant with child numero tres...round 3.

Not to be outdone...our Babe looked at Path A and Path B, shook his head and whipped out a machete and began bushwhacking his own path.

While most 2 1/2 year olds ask for apple juice and a bubble bath and cheerios, our toddler asks for coffee, hot showers and parfaits.

If I lose him at the playground, I don't bother with the usual kiddie areas, I find the most complicated, dangerous area of the equipment, typically found near a sign reading something like "Ages 8+ only" and there I find him. My son. Curly hair, big brown eyes, irresistible chin dimple, bossing around twelve year olds and hanging upside down from the monkey bars without a thought for the 6 feet of open air beneath him.

Babe usually takes home the biggest prizes at the end of the day.

Beach Day Award for Most sand in a body crevice? Babe.

Publix Award for Most wine bottles knocked off the shelf in a single swipe? Babe.

Library Award for Best use of shelving for purposes of escape/possible espionage? Babe.

Parking Lot Award for Most heart stopping moment of the year 2012? Babe.

Party Award for Most downed cups of discarded wine when no one was looking? Babe.

I love you little Babe. You drive me crazy and I don't think I could ever kiss you enough.

You drink a cup of hot milk with a shot of coffee every Saturday morning. You ask for a parfait every day. You OWN your brothers. Does it matter that they are two and three years older than you? Nope, not one bit. Your right hook puts theirs to shame.

The way you pray....is one of the sweetest things I have ever heard.

Your cuddles.

Your cheeky grins.

Don't even get me started on the way you giggle.

Or the devastating perfection of your cute little booty. It is ode worthy my friend. Ode worthy.

As per usual, I can't drink alcohol during the terrible twos because I am nursing someone else younger than you....BUT if I were to raise a toast three weeks from now...

 Babe, I could almost 100% honestly say that I am a bit sad these six months are behind us and only six months remain.

I say almost because the small percentage still cleaning the urine off the bathroom MIRROR, replacing toothbrushes, and liberally spritzing the bathroom with bleach would SLAP me silly for wishing those six months back.

Only six months left....only six months left.... who am I kidding?

Broken

I've been wanting to sit down and write for a while. I have so many things to share. Everything is stockpiled onto shelves in my brain and they are begging to come down and play on the page for awhile. 

But with this large brood, I have had no time for writing. I am busy cuddling, laughing, playing, cleaning, cooking, creating memories, and raising boys after God's heart....which reminds me... 

Boys, I started this blog a few years ago for you to enjoy years from now. I have left out a lot of the best stories. They were posted on facebook or written in your quote books, but never posted here. This space is where the big stuff landed. And today, I carved out a bit of time to tell you what's been rolling around your Mama's head these past months as we made our second cross country move of the year. 

Boys, you are a tsunami. A tidal wave of epic proportions headed towards me with maximum destruction in mind. You have wreaked utter havoc on my life. You have annihilated my peace. You have tossed my career goals out the window.  You have brought utter ruin to my waistline. Our bathroom is an unspeakable horror.

I am more than ok with all of the above.

In fact, I thank you for it.

Wholeheartedly.

Thank you, for ruining my life....so that I could have LIFE.

The stuff listed above ...that is just the tip of the iceberg.....want to know what you really broke?

You broke my selfishness in pieces.

You shattered my vanity.

My pride? I don't even know where you left it...but last time I looked at it, pride was gasping for breath.

Self righteousness? 

My need to judge others silently in my head?

Greed?

Oh sweet boys, I tucked those in jars years ago and hid them deep in the darkest crevices of my heart. You found them. You brought them out. You smashed them to pieces on the ground. The foul odor of them rushed up to greet me and I could not escape them. You stood there watching me, wondering what I would do with the mess you uncovered.

I never knew the depth of my sin, until I saw it reflected back to me from the blindingly bright mirror of my children.

Wether it was the morning at the museum when Cubs let out an exasperated, "DAMN IT!" or when Babe scolded a toddler at the library in an all too familiar voice with the words, "FOR PETE'S SAKE JUST SIT STILL FOR TWO MINUTES AND DON'T MOVE ANYMORE." Or that time when I sat you boys down to teach you about sharing the gospel with others and not a minute passed before the Bear said, "Do you do that too, Mom? I've never seen you do that to anyone." 

No matter how hard I tried to focus on you boys and your hearts and your upbringing, you always turned it around, flashed the mirror in my face, forced me to look at myself. 

You forced me to surrender the ugliest parts of myself to Jesus.

Thank you.

When I graduated from college I had a few books in mind.... things I would write...ways I would change the world.

I didn't do any of them.

Instead of bringing change....I am changed. 

When I tried to impress God's words on your hearts, you turned around and impressed them on my heart.

When I wanted to parent you from a corner of fear and anxiety, you broke free and taught me to parent you with courage and bravery and trust in God. 

You....

and you....

and you....

and you....

being your mother, is one of the greatest honors of my life.

If all I ever do is serve you. 

Wash your feet.

Be brave alongside you.

Love Jesus beside you.

Well, thats more than I ever dreamed of.

No matter what my waistline looks like these days, being my ugliest before you has led me to the beautiful freedom of grace and mercy...

and that makes it all truly lovely.