It's His Birthday

He is so excited.


Beyond excited.


In fact, he couldn't contain himself from 


waking at 5:30 this morning


and waking the girls (before I realized what was happening)


to get his gifts and bring them to our room


to open them.


I said please, not until 6:30.  Go back to sleep until 6:30.




They all went to their rooms.


But the chatter.


The giggles.


The countdown of the clock every few minutes.


Kept me lying in bed, unable to get a little more sleep.




This baby boy that made me a mom


is becoming closer to a young man every day.


It's really unbelievable to me how fast it has gone.




As a baby he came into the world with a strong personality.


He was declared failure to thrive because he was retracting his tongue and not 


getting any milk.


He was convinced it didn't work and he would arch back and 


cry that newborn cry.






I grew up with allergies and asthma and was so determined to 


breastfeed my kids.  I was instructed to pump 8 times a day and to wake him 


every two hours regardless to feed him.  This was our routine for the first six 


weeks of his life.  The first six weeks of my new motherhood.




Any idea of me being in control, or having a sleep schedule was out the window.


For the first time I realized wow, I can want something to happen so badly and 


give my 110%, but if this other person doesn't want it, it just won't happen.




He continued to have colic for eight months.  It took eight months for me to 


finally say, "Ahh, now this is what I thought being a mom was supposed to be 


like."  I had no idea what I was getting myself in for. 




He came three weeks early and I worked till the day before I had him.  


I was so worried about giving birth I read nothing about taking care of the baby.  


I thought it would be instinctual.  Only it wasn't.


It SO wasn't.  




From the get go, this boy changed me.  


He has taught me probably more than I have him.


He made me a mom.  


Made me turn to the Lord in ways I'd never known I needed to.


He has brought me to my knees in prayer more times than I can count.


In doing so, he has taught me to be more like Christ and has taught me a bit


about my own stubbornness, my own pride.





He has such passion for whatever is his latest interest.


He'll argue every positive part of his case, 


making sure to point out the things he knows you


especially like so that you'll be convinced it's a great idea too.






He is determined and works hard when he's set on something.


I get that.  I'm like that too.  


But along with this our personalities can clash and he can exhaust me.


And then there's just the boy being boy stuff.  


The need to break things, to bounce, to taunt.


On my first date with my husband he said, 


"You didn't have a brother did you?"  He could tell.


Nope, I didn't.  So there are things I just don't get.




But my son is teaching me.  


He is teaching me to get excited at sporting events.  


He is teaching me it's ok to laugh at arm farts.  


He is teaching me I need to hug him more, especially since he's no longer a 


snuggler like his sisters. 


But I also need to muss up his hair and be rough with him 


as a way to show him I love him.  


I need to still read out loud with him and enjoy the things he enjoys.  


I need to really listen to him when he's telling me about the latest little gadget 


that makes no sense to me. 


I need to be a part of his world.  


And I pray fervently every day that the Lord guides my husband and I in


molding him and channeling every bit of his energy, boy-ishness, and passion 


to be a warrior for Him, 


to become a mighty man of God.


I pray most of all that he'll seek after God and love Him above all other things.


Happy Birthday to my big boy who is 9 today!


I'm linking this to picture me {im}perfectly because in so many ways I have been an imperfect mother, but through it all I have been humbled, I have been broken and through this Christ is molding me to be more like him every day.