Sweet Jake is ten months old!!
This past weekend was super busy with two birthday parties and a beautiful bridal shower but I didnt forget to snap photos of jake!
The life of a ten month old:
♥ Enjoys destroying his sisters toys and laughing about it.
♥ Earing toilet paper
♥ Eating any food we throw on his plate
♥ He has officially weaned from nursing (after many tears from me!)
♥ He crawls like a maniac, walks with his push toy, but hasnt shown much interest in taking those first steps
Tomorrow we will celebrate our sweet girl turning three!
Today we celebrated with family and close friends! Ryan and I are grateful for all the love our daughter is given from the ones we love. Rylee truly enjoyed herself and spending time in the bounce house.
Personally, I love birthday. A birthday not only celebrates another year of life but also celebrates the future. We weren't ever sure of the adventure we would be on when our strong willed daughter entered our life. Ryan and I are forever changed. We enjoy celebrating her special day and still can't believe our girl is three!
I've packed Rylee a backpack plenty of times. A bag for sleep overs at Nana's, a bag for Disney, a bag for the beach, a bag to go shopping with daddy.
But I've never written her name in her backpack. She was always with us. I know of every item in her backpack, the true love of her bunny packed safely inside, and which snacks she would eat first. I know which bag she prefers for different trips.
I wasn't prepared for this morning when I wrote her name into her backpack for she'll be backstage for her big dance recital tonight.
"Rylee's"
It was strange. And I just stared at her name. Because I blinked, time is racing by and she really is growing up. No matter how much I plea for this time to stand still and let me soak it all in, she is growing.
Seeing her name on the inside of her made me think of the life she'll oh too soon have that won't always include me. From starting school to growing up and becoming a bride.
As I collect myself, wipe tears away, and put snacks into her bag, I think of the little girl she is becoming.
I pray her sassy attitude will ward off any bullies and her kind heart will hug those in need.
I pray her strong willed personality guides her into doing grand things and her sense of humor keeps her grounded.
I pray her love is felt and cherished by others and never taken for granted.
I pray she stands strong in this big world and offers a hand to those having a hard day.
Her sweet name, written in black sharpie, startled me and pulled me back to look at the big picture here. While some days I am wishing away her time as a wild toddler, I have to remember this time is so short.
One day she'll be writing her own name. Not me. And when that day comes, you'll find me in a corner a blubbery mess.
He has just started self feeding. Mashed potatoes were on tonight's menu and without hesitation he inhaled them. He left evidence of potatoes all over is face, hair, clothes, and that dang hard to clean high chair. I fight this high chair every night to be clean. I lose the battle often because of the too many nook and crannies and the too self to clean for another messy meal.
So I sent us all outside, high chair as the main event, and washed the many meal fed high chair in the front yard.
As cars passed by, I couldn't imagine their thoughts of the spectacle they were viewing. A swimsuited toddler running around with a hose singing the same verse from the little mermaid, a sweet baby in a walked on the side walk eating leaves from a bush, and a tired frazzled half soaked momma scrubbing a high chair.
Maybe the young teenagers received their monthly dose of birth control. Maybe a soon to be momma promised she'd never do that! Maybe I gave a momma of littles a brilliant idea or a veteran momma tipped her hat off to me.
As I dragged us all back inside and placed the shiny high chair back into place, I stared out of kitchen window and laughed. What kind of mother do my neighbors think I am? What do they see? What the heck do they hear?
Do they see me pause for a few moments when I take put the trash? Can they tell I'm absorbing those few moments as "me" time?
Do they hear the chaos of mornings when the rush of the needs for chocolate milk, breakfast, and nursing hit the table at once?
Do they see all my awesome dance moves through Rylee's window? They must be jealous of how I dip my sweet daughter and make her giggle.
Do they hear the songs of a lullabye at midnight and see the figure eight sway of my hips, as I soothe our youngest back to sleep? Maybe the 19th round of hush little baby soothes them into dreamland.
Maybe they catch a glimpse of my frustration when its taking 19 minutes to gather two littles and there things for a trip to publix.
Do they feel the mommy guilty that floods through my heart every night? The doubt that fills my head and my promises to make the next day better?
Do they hear the hilarious stories my daughter shares with me on walks? Do they mind she always picks a yellow flower from the same yard, walks along decorative bricks as a balance beam, and screams lousy when she sees the yard of animal statues?
Do they hear my prayers? They must because they are loud and hard. Maybe they pray also for a long nap time.
Do they see my scramble for kept up laundry, cleaned dishes, and meals made?
Do they hear the laughter of a sweet boy and his silly faced sister?
Do they feel the warmth of tears that string down my face what I'm having one of "those" days?
Do they smell the weekly baked goods my daughter and I bake? Maybe they hear the giggles as we lick the bowl.
But I hope they feel the love I have for my family. I hope they hear the laughter and the I love you's. I hope they think I'm a mother who tries her best and forgives when failure hits my front porch. I hope they see how deep my love runs but understands when my patience aren't always full.
I hope we all look to our neighbor mommas with a kind heart. Being a mother has been my grandest yet toughest job and yet there is nothing better then a smile from the car passing by. Reminding me its OK. Hard days will be smothered by sweeter memories and when that high chair is covered in another round of mashed foods from a oh so cheerful baby.
