monstauffer – Page 66 – Today's Legacy

So my precious Abi turned Three. She was my Vacation Bible School baby. And every year we have the challenge of celebrating Abi – outside of the excitement of VBS.

This year we celebrated before the long week of joy and exhaustion began.

Abi,

You’re three now. And even as you continue to get older, I know you know that you are my baby. Yes, of course there’s Hannah who is my actual baby right now. But you know far too well that you will always be my baby. You will always be the one I have to exercise self-control to keep from spoiling. I can’t help it! You look like Daddy. And those blond curls… oh and those blue eyes. Here, just take my checkbook and spend all the kids’ inheritance now. 😉

Abi, you know Mommy loves you so. Yes, I tell you ‘no’. Yes, I still expect you to work hard around here. And no I’m not going to baby you. But there is a special place in my heart for my blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty.

You are still a bit lost in your reckless two’s, even though you’re three now. You recklessly ran head-long into the road to save falling sticks. You recklessly dance and sing through the house, running into an intruding counter-top or piano seat. It’s hard to be small. Oh and then when those eyes turn a bit gray… oh child, we run for the hills then. But when they’re that crystal blue you’re back to your normal self. Funny how God gives us the warning in your eyes.

And while you have this passion that overtakes you (many times in the form of fits and screaming-matches at the above-mentioned intruding objects), your laugh is utterly to die for. And those puppy-dog eyes. Did I already mention those? My goodness, girl.

Your personality is on the bloom. Your enunciation is still a bit shady. Sure glad the commentator steps in sometimes. But you sure take my breath away sometimes when you bust out some crazy homeschool byproduct intelligence – like that time you painted an “A” and told me it was the first letter of your name. “Why yes, Abi, you are completely right!” And then I picked my jaw up off the floor. Or that time you matter-of-a-factly rattled off colors while passing by pictures on the wall. Yep, I picked up my jaw then too. I’m sure once your enunciation works itself out a bit more out will poor a whole world we never realized was right in front of us all the time.

Abi, you are my wild child. You dive headlong into dirt and jump in puddles in your church shoes before I can get out a reminder to keep your shoes clean. You paint your chair and the back of your hands because you are too curious for your own good. And everything still goes in your mouth because life should be experienced to the full. Oh my little Abi, you are my unpredictable bundle of delight. And while you learn hard lessons many times, I sure do admire how you throw yourself into life without reservation.

And even while you’re in mid-sentence explaining how big you are, I love it how you still want to snuggle in for a good book and share your blanket with Daddy while watching a movie.

You bless us so much, precious girl. We couldn’t adore you more.

So hats off, sweet Abi. Hats off to another wonderful year ahead of us…

A year of Ms. Three!

Overwhelmed by love for you,

Mommy

Well it happened. I switched her pumpkin seat out for the convertible carseat. And as I was preparing to wrestle that seat into safety, a little lump welled up in my throat.

She’s getting so big.

It may seem a little whimpy, but it is real.

She’s getting so big.

Abi’s third birthday has come and gone. (I promise I’ll get that birthday post up before her next birthday… er maybe before she moves out.) And while Hannah is “Mommy’s baby” … so is Abi.

There’s this little part of me that holds the bittersweet memory… sweet little blondie in my arms. Oh she had her flaws – she would be in no one else’s arms…. EVER. But it was just my Abi Grace. Those piercing blues.

And look at her now.

I see Abi in Hannah’s eyes.

And I see a Rachael I struggle to remember in the wake of her four year old personality. She really was tiny once, right? It’s hard to remember what the normal felt like.

So maybe that’s why Hannah moving to the convertible seat comes with a little sting.

I know how quickly she’ll soon be forward facing.

And then in a booster.

She is my Joy.

And I have learned that Joy comes with some bitter moments at times too.

Just like retiring the little patten-leather church shoes. Size ones come with a slight laugh. They’re so not going to happen anymore.

That little squishy stage has slowly rippled away. 10 and a half pounds at birth has melted into a long, skinny busybody.

Thank You, Lord, for Hannah’s Mommy-clinging times. Thank You, Lord, for those quiet nursing moments when she lets me just stroke her strawberry locks. Thank You, Lord, for that smile only Mommy and Daddy can get out of those beautiful browns and open-mouthed squeals. Thank You, Lord, that she still comes to find me on those knees, sharing her delighted exploration finds.

Thank You, thank You, Lord…

it helps this Mommy let go

…and install the next seat up.

– I love you, my babies. From four on down to the floor. [And my extras ; ) ].