Ah, November.  The month of all things “thanks.”  This year, we have so much to be thankful for.  (For one, our major home reno project is finally complete…praise God and all the pilgrims and Native Americans!)

In all seriousness, though, we have truly been blessed this year.  A new home with a great yard to raise our zoo  family, flourishing careers, a sweet addition on the way, and our health, to name a few.

I’ve grown as a mom this year…maybe not in all the ways I would have hoped for, but I do recognize that this stage of life is shaping me and preparing me for what’s to come.  I’ve learned that it’s so very important to slow down and to tend to the little things.  We’ve been spoiled with an uber independent and smart little girl, and sometimes we have taken advantage of that fact…and we’ve certainly learned how that can really bite us!  Working from home has it’s obvious advantages and it’s not-so-obvious disadvantages.  It’s incredibly hard to separate work-time from off-work-time and perhaps the one who suffers most is the only one at home not required to work.

To my sweet, vibrant little girl,

Do you know how much I love you?  Really?  Because I do.  Even when I’m at the end of my rope and you’ve pushed me over the edge…my heart physically aches with love for you.  This might be the hardest…scratch that…this has been by FAR the hardest stage to parent you…and I know that’s partly my fault.  I have such high expectations for you.  Partly because you tricked me for about 2.5 years into thinking you were the most perfect, well-mannered child on the planet…and partly because I know you can and want to be just that.  But you physically can’t.  You are three years old, and you are your daddy and me rolled into a little ball of a girl.  That makes you equal parts baby, little girl, explorative, creative, clumsy, emotional, passionate, and stubborn.  Sometimes you just don’t know where to put all of those thoughts and feelings and the result is tantrums in the middle of Target and our neighbor’s threshold.  And me 3/4 of the way through a bottle of red.  (I’m only kidding.  Unfortunately, that’s not an option these days…)

I wish vehemently that I could record our days…all 24 hours…just to capture those little pieces of you that let me know that despite those wine-inducing episodes, you are mostly just right.  That we’ve done a good job so far and maybe, just maybe, you’ll grow into the type of person that we’d want to hang out with as adults.  Giving, loyal, gracious, loving, kind.  With a dash of wit and some leftover spunk.  You know those times I’m talking about.  Those times when I overhear your heart-to-heart at bedtime with Daddy…him lovingly but sternly letting you know he’s disappointed in your behavior for the day because he knows you’re a good girl and can do better than that…you starting to softly cry saying ‘I’m sorry I was bad.  I want to be good now.  Do you still love me even when I’m bad?  I don’t want you not to love me.’  SOUL CRUSHING.  But at the same time, reassuring.  (And yes, of course he cried and assured you that yes, you are always very loved.)  And then those other times where I hear you yelling from where I sit at my desk, “Dad!  Dad, can you come wipe me?! …..  Dad!  Come wipe me!  My poop is green like broccoli.  Yuck!”  I die.  DIE.  Or that time last weekend when we went to see Santa and you said “Oh mom!  Do you remember last night [last year] when me and Piper sat on Santa’s lap together?!  You do?  I loved that.  I miss Piper.  Do you miss her family?” (We just saw them the night before…and the night before that.)  You adore that baby girl more than anything…even when you’re dragging her across a room and accidentally shoving her into walls.  (Talk about equal parts mom and dad right there…)  And finally…at the dinner table last week when Daddy told you he was going to tell Santa not to bring you any presents because you weren’t being very good…your response?  “Dad.  Don’t give me those jokes.  Mom, dad’s trying to be funny.”

I can’t handle you in more ways than one, baby girl.  You are the light of my life.

And to you, baby boy in there.  How’ya doin’?  Thanks for finally giving me a break this week and letting me know it’s okay to eat again.  That was really kind right before my favorite day of the year to eat 🙂  You can’t possibly know how excited we are to meet you.  It’s really all becoming real now.  For one, you decided to pack on some ounces and show yourself through my clothes within the past week…out of nowhere, I’ll add.  I must admit, as unexpected as this 21 week baby belly is, I secretly love the constant reminder that you’re well on your way.  You’re definitely an active little man and I love feeling your little flips and flops throughout my busy days.  As ironic as this sounds, you are my calm.  I love to lay back and feel you move around and imagine what life with you is going to look like in a few short months.  Should I be scared?  Do me a favor…at least give me a good 2.5 years like your big sister.  At least.

(Thanks to my hubby for these very rushed shots of me and my Santa-picture dressed girl.  We’ll work on composition next time 😉

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

Now please follow the blog circle around to Bethany of Bethany Mattioli Photography for her account on Motherhood this month.