When I look at you

Dear Ashton -

When I look at you, I see your long, blonde, baby fine hair. It curls in at the ends. I see almond shaped eyes the most beautiful shade of green, and a dimple that resembles mine, only still hidden by your mountainess cheeks that lay perfectly atop your little, round face. I see your curiosity as you explore this big world around you, trying to figure out how to take things apart and put them back together again. I see an engineer in the making.

When I look at you, I hear your laugh, it comes from the bottom of your belly and fills up my whole heart. I hear you softly utter "I love you, too, mama," as you close your eyes and go to dream. When I look at you, I hear your two year old voice repeat words, and sentences even kids twice your age can't say. And I hear the short songs you sing to me, that don't really say anything at all but they say everything at the same time.

When I look at you, I see you play "fighting"with your brother, running toward him, lifting your leg, and shouting "hi-ya!" (Where did you learn that, by the way?) I always brace myself for the cry that will come afterward, but I'm usually pleasantly surprised to hear that deep, one of a kind laugh, come from so far down in your belly, right into my heart, once again. I hear you roaring your biggest "roooaarrs," and so sweetly asking "bubba, are you alright," when your brother has taken a fall.

When I look at you, I see you jumping up and down at the bottom of the stairs when daddy and I pick you up from daycare. I hear the excitement in your little voice as you shout "mommy, mommy, daddy, daddy!" When I look at you I see the love that you have for both of us, and we only hope that we are giving you all that love back, and more.

When I look at you, I dream. Of who you are, and who you will become. But I know one thing for sure. You will always be my special boy, and I hope to always be [one of] your special girl(s).

You see, I look at you a lot. When I'm with you, and when I'm not. It makes me happy, and it makes me sad, but mostly happy. Only sad because I crave your presence, and miss you when we're apart. So I look at pictures, on the computer and in my mind. And I think of how fulfilled I will be when we meet again. It heals me, When I look at You...

Dear Austin

Dear Austin -

At 3 and 1/2, monster trucks and race cars are a big part of you. But they are nowhere near as big as your young heart. Genuine is the one word I would use to describe you, if I had only one to choose from. In a soft voice I hear you whisper "Mom, I love you," followed by an innocent grin. And in a startled panic I hear you declare "I'm so sorry," even when there's nothing to be sorry for. "It's okay bud," is what I hear you tell your baby brother, when something is not going his way, and I hear the excitement burst out of you when you shout to daddy "Gravedigga just flipped ova!", while laying next to him on the couch using his leg as a race track.

One of the things that made me so happy to be a mother, and more specifically, your mother, was that you needed me. To change your diaper, to feed you, to carry and hold you. As you grow, you still need me, but less and less. You're a big boy now, no more diapers for you! And you can feed yourself as long as there is food in front of you. I'm thankful that you still need me to carry you, and hold you. Ironically, I need that, too. Not a day goes by that I don't lean in to kiss you at every chance I get, or brush your shoulder as you run, or jump passed me just so you feel my touch.

Austin, you have shown me a love that I've never ever known before. And without you, I never would have. I love everything about you, from your green eyes, to your silly expressions, all the way down to that big old first toe that looks just like your daddy's (sorry). I love that your little heart is just as sensitive as your beautiful skin. And I mostly love that God has blessed me with such a wonderful son.

To Remember

They fade away so quickly. What once put a smile to my face, or a flutter in my heart is no longer even a memory. I can't recall what they said, or the face they made, or the real reason I laughed..or yelled, or cried. But they are so worth remembering. And I feel bad that I forgot, and like a piece of me is missing. I mean, there are things that I will never forget, and things that we will never forget. However, in three and a half years so much has already dissolved, that I can't afford to let anything else go. I started to write things down on my scratch paper at work. Sitting at my desk in my grey cubical I would think of things that I would tell them as they aged, things that I would write to them in their scrapbooks, and best of all the funny things they said and did. Then I lost them. The pieces of scratch paper; tear stained scratch paper. With the memories that I really wanted to remember, what I wanted them to know about eachother and about themselves, and what I wanted them to know about my love for them. I am great at drafting ideas in my head, and less fortunate when it comes to putting them on paper. So the time is now. To hunker down, and even when I'm {tucker}ed out; it's time to write it down, and remember, and enjoy my children forever. To relfect on what it is that makes me so proud to have two very different, blonde haired, green eyed, left handed, sweet hearted, mommy loving boys. They are worth not only talking the talk, but walking the walk. Scratch paper wasn't working, so I'm going to give this my best shot. I'm going to remember, and they are going to know who they are, and their journey getting there. Because it's all going to be right here. The memories are all going to be right here.