Thursday, July 24, 2014

To Owen turning two

Tonight is the last night you will ever by my one year old. 
Every night, before bath, you sit (and pee) on your potty chair, then pull out the pot, dump it in the toilet, flush the toilet, close the lid, and put the pot back in the potty chair. Each time you ask me to pee on the toilet at the same time as you. So we sit directly across from each other as the bath water runs. The look of surprise on your face when you feel yourself start to pee is priceless. 
Lately, after you and Liza take your bath, Daddy has been putting you to bed while I nurse Liza to sleep. Tonight was different. I asked Daddy to please not put you to bed until I was done with Liza. Liza fell asleep quickly, as if she knew I needed that from her tonight. When I came into your room, you and Daddy were lining up your cars. You asked me to read a book to you. "Toolbox." It's one of your favorites. I sat down on the floor and you sat in front of me. I asked if you wanted to sit in my lap and you responded, "I sit down." And my heart proceeded to break. You are becoming so independent. You always have been, really, but even more so lately. 
When I finished the book and told you it was time to say prayers, you frantically began pointing out all the other books you wanted me to read. I stuck to my guns and told you we could read all those books tomorrow and, on the verge of tears, you responded, "Ahwww!" I often have a hard time holding back my smiles in moments like that. It's not that I'm happy about your being upset, of course. It's that you're so darn adorable.
I picked you up as Daddy turned off the lights and put holy water in your font. We all blessed ourselves and began saying our prayers and for the first time ever, tonight, you started saying them along with us. You weren't saying all the words, but it was clear that you were trying to follow along. I opened my eyes to look and there you were, eyes squinted, mumbling the words "Soul to keep."
When prayers were done we asked who you wanted to sing songs to you. "Mommy sing songs. Hold you." So I did. I held you tight as I sang "Rockabye Baby" and all the other songs you requested. I finally kissed you and blessed you and lay you in your crib before leaving your room.
Usually you go right to sleep, but tonight, as I was wrapping your birthday presents in my room, I heard you screaming out. I went in to see what was wrong and you told me "Airplane. Drop it downnare." The toy airplane you were sleeping with had fallen through the crib. I picked it up and gave back to you and you quickly asked that I sing "Bumblebee." I did and you covered your face with your pillow pet and that was that. That was my last moment with you as a one year old. A moment I will always cherish.

Big things are planned for tomorrow. Daddy is going to stop on his way home (he is currently on the morning shift and you like to tell me "Daddy work ALLLLL night.") to pick up a birthday doughnut for you. Then Nana is going to watch Liza while I take you to the mall for lunch and to finally ride the train. You are so into trains right now. That was the theme for your birthday party last Saturday.

Sometimes, like right now, I imagen you as a teenager and it makes my cry. Not because I don't want you to grow up; I do! I am excited for the relationship I think I'll have with teenage you. I cry because time is just to fast and life is just too busy and thinking ahead makes me remember the past. I can't help but cry because I will never get to hold one year old Owen again. 
I love you, Owen Beau Vegter. I hope you always feel that. I hope you never doubt that. You are such an incredible little boy and it is my joy to spend every day with you. 

Monday, July 7, 2014

I'm back

It's been about a year since I regularly spent time on this blog.
A lot changes in a year.

I have thoroughly enjoyed this past year. A year full of life and death; happiness and sorrow. It was a year I will always remember.  So many new members to our over-sized family in the form of sister-in-laws and nieces and of course my sweet daughter.
And the loss of my dear Nana.

It has been a year of growth and change. Learning to adapt to the different seasons of life. The seasons that seem to change with month, sometimes with the day. The hour even. More than anything I feel it has been a year of discovering purpose. My purpose as wife and mother to the family I have been blessed with. I won't lie- this job is hard. Some days, it's painstakingly difficult. But it also beautiful and rewarding and I wouldn't trade it for all the tea in China.

All this to say, I think I'd like to come back here. Wherever "here" is now. Lately I have felt this pull, an urge to write. To document.
Because I am forever growing. We all are, really.

Especially these two.

Won't you slow down, please? For the sake of your Momma's heart.

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