Hendrix, you're FOUR!

Dear Hendrix, 

HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? You are four years old! FOUR WHOLE YEARS! As if I needed more reasons to be an emotional mess, you've gone and become KID. 

The past year has been amazing. Three was so good to all of us. You are smart and funny and wild and perfect. Every bit of you is so perfect.

This year has been my favorite because you started asking so many QUESTIONS. You are curious and smart, and just hearing the things you come up with is unreal. You'll come up to me and your dad randomly and just say things like, "Hey mom, hey. Can we talk about Bigfoot rea-yee quick?" "Can we talk about fire ants for a sec-nick?""I've got a pwan, can you tell me about ice?" And, I'm telling you what, kid. That is the coolest thing. Your dad and I can finally hear all the amazing things going around in that gorgeous brain of yours. 

You are the sweetest. Seriously. You have a way of saddling up next to me, your dad, or Roscoe and just making us feel loved. You still crawl up into my lap and let me cuddle you. Oh, I wish that would never end.

You are doing so great in preschool. You've made friends, you are doing great "work" and you have even taken a nap during nap time! All in all, it's heartbreaking for your mom and dad, because we're having to come to terms with the fact that you're growing up. It's the worst and the best at the same time. We're so proud of how easily you've made the transition, but we're also left feeling like, "What? You don't miss just being home?!"

You care so much, about everything. As you learn more things, you are making connections and having revelations, and it's wonderful. You have such a super hero heart. You want to right wrongs and save people who are in trouble, and I can't wait to see what you do with this little life of yours.

Here's to the past 4 years, Hendo. You've made them the best of my life.

xoxo, 

Your mama

september 2012

october 2012

november 2012

december 2012

january 2013

february 2013

march 2013 

april 2013

may 2013

june 2013

july 2013 

 august 2013

september 2013

For past birthday letters: 3 Years Old, 2 Years Old, 1 Year Old. :) 

My guy.

We've been gearing up for the next big step around here: preschool. PRESCHOOL. It seems crazy. My little guy isn't so little. He's a true kid, who asks every preschool director during his interview if they'll be "yearning about dinosaurs this year?" 

Roscoes big "bubbah", who hears his brother crying and who says, "Hey, I found this binky in there, think my yittle buddy needs this?!"

My little genius, who spends hours talking about the elusive Sasquatch, the mighty Ant, the amazing Spider-Man. 

Hendrix is thrilled to be taking this next step, and honestly, so am I. I'm ready and I'm not. I'm thrilled and I'm terrified. The truth is, parenting is as much about holding as it is letting go. Hendrix is going to shine and learn and play and become more himself every day. He is unafraid and secure

And I am so proud.

the boys are sleeping in our bedroom. sunlight is pouring in through the blinds and dancing across their perfect faces. i'd take a picture, but it would be a sin to wake them.

half the time i feel like i'm barely making it, finding myself still in my pajamas in the afternoon, not knowing what we've eaten all day, except for doritos and cuties. there's a lot of forgiveness in parenting. there has to be. you realize it's 3. you go make mac and cheese, and you sit on the floor and hold your babies tight, because they're growing by the second and there's nothing you can do to stop it. they're just going to keep growing. and it's the worst and the best in the very same breath. and because tomorrow is a new day. so, as long as you vow to put those little babies first? you'll be doing just fine.

One

My Dear, Sweet Coe Baby,

We've got one whole year under our belts, kiddo.  I don't know how it happened, or why it happened so fast, but here we are.

I remember when I was pregnant, I wondered how on earth I could manage loving another person as much as I love your brother. And then, I met you. I saw your perfect face for the first time, and it was over. You fit into a small part of me that I never knew existed. You, my perfect boy, were always meant to be mine.

I wish I could put into words how strong your tiny spirit is.  I knew you before I laid eyes on you.  You have this curious, unabashed, vibrant human inside of you-- an old soul.  It's amazing to see you interact with people and things. You do everything so carefully and consciously. You operate on some other plane of existence; it's mesmerizing to watch.

 Coe baby, every mama says it, but you are gorgeous. You have blue eyes that hold the world in them. Your hair is more red every day, and I sure hope it sticks. But if it doesn't, I know you'll rock what you've got. Everybody stops me to tell me what a beautiful baby you are. I soak it all in, because, I worked pretty hard on that face of yours. 

You are straight magic, kid. You are in a constant state of exploration. You have always been awed by music. If you hear a song, you stop, cock your little head to the side and take it in, keeping time with your toes. Sometimes I catch you in a room playing with a stream of sunlight. I'm telling you, MAGIC.

Being a mama to an infant is intoxicating. You are the center of someone else's world, and feeling so needed is terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. But, already, you are separating from me, pushing me away so that you can do what you want. It's heartbreaking, honestly. Each day you become less and less a part of me. But, more and more, you're becoming you. The little man I see emerging is truly something.

Too soon, you won't run to me for every scrape and bruise, but I'll always be here waiting in the wings. You're on to great things, my love. You, with your little smirk and sweet laugh. You will forever be my little Coe baby. Right now, you're sleeping sweetly in our room next to your big brother, who is your moon and stars. As I finish this, I'll crawl into bed and wrap you up in my arms. Tonight, you're still my little baby, and I'm the luckiest.

When I say I love my boys, I mean to say that my heart breaks for every perfect inch of them.