Letter 42

Dear Shea,
Sweetie, you are a foodaholic. I'm pretty sure your dreams look something like a Katy Perry music video and it's starting to show in your waist line. Tonight, we had spaghetti for dinner (a favorite when Papa is at school for the evening... since it's not his favorite). I can always count on you eating your weight in whole grain noodles, but tonight you out did yourself. Ha!
I wasn't planning on writing you a letter about this, but I was inspired after revisiting your high chair. Having got you and Linc cleaned up and ready for bed, picked up the living room and packed another box for the move (That's right! We move in less than a week to our new place- more on that later, I'm sure), I finally made it back into the kitchen and started laughing when I stood over your seat. I had completely forgotten about your diaper in the high chair. Yup. diaper. When you finally declared that your belly was full and let me know with the flick of your wrist in the air (gotta love sign language with a toddler who won't/can't talk!), I found that you had stuffed your diaper with food. Talk about a to-go box!


I love you Shea... and your confetti spaghetti.

Letter 41

Dear Lincoln and Shea,
A week ago (oh my! Has it really been a week already?!), we enjoyed our annual tradition of knocking on neighbors doors and asking them for candy. That's right, Halloween. It's strange how strangers will just open their door and give you candy. For FREE. It's also kinda sad that you always get candy. What if it was normal to get either a "trick" or a "treat"? Actually, don't think about that; there would be groups of kids screaming on some small porch because they were denied their fun size sugar lump.
I love Halloween because, no surprise here, I love dressing up. It's fun being anything you want for a day! Although, it's not always something I want to be.... Papa and I have a tradition that started our first Halloween married. We decided to alternate each year on who would get to choose the costumes. The first year was kind of unanimous, since we both wanted to be Adam and Eve (though, it was technically my pick).

The second year, 2007, I had a big ol' belly and played the prego card, demanding that I get to pick the costumes, again (your papa is so good to me!). And, of course, it was only appropriate to go as the bun in the oven and the bun maker!


In 2008, Papa regained his rights to choosing the costumes, and this time he had the task of dressing a third body. So fun! We went as the CUBS CURSE. (Go White SOX!)
Pat was Steve Bartman, I went as the 1969 black cat that circled Ron Santo at Shea Stadium in 1969 (where the Cubs blew a nine game lead) (Side note: I love that this happened at Shea stadium... considering the following year we would have our own little SHEA!)



In 2009, I got the opportunity to dress our party of FOUR! Loving themed costumes, we went as the "Wizard of Oz" crew. Linc, you were my tin man, Shea my not-so-courageous lion (especially at only a month old), papa was our scarecrow (though he was too scared to actually join us. read: had to work) and I was Dorothy!


This year, 2010, we went as the NFC North. As in, their literal mascots. (Notice Papa always picks sports related themes???)
Pat was a "Meat Packer", Lincoln a "Lion", Shea a "Bear" and I was a "Viking". This year was one of my favorites because my little boos where able to enjoy it! Lincoln, you were walking/ running to the doors with your treat bag wide open. Shea, you wanted to walk (but let's face it sweetie, you are still slow and there was candy to be had) but were mostly content eating what candy you had picked up in the first three houses. Ha. The weather was perfect (50's) and we were with great company. All in all, a great day!



To both of my Halloween genes, I love you!

Letter 40

Dear Shea,
You love the vacuum. I'd like to say that's because I am bringing you up in a godly fashion and you're learning from my example to be a keeper of the home (Titus 2:3-5 Baby!), but I think it's just the lights that attract you. Not to mention, your fundamental need to take out every toy in the toy box is not easily disguised by your great interest in domestic duties.
It's also possible, you are in war with the vacuum. Every time I pull it out, you come waddling into the room and follow me with every to, fro and overlap stroke. Sometimes, you get into a staring contest with the machine; I wait, with great amusement, but eventually determine the Bissel is beat and move around you. Other times, you'll sit down exactly where I am about to vacuum next. Perhaps you'll be a social activist when you are older (?); because, I swear, the way you own that small square footage of carpet beneath your bum is like one who owns a tree they have chained themselves to.
Actually, now that I think about it a bit more, maybe you hate the vacuum. Wait a minute, that can't be. You are my daughter aren't you!!?

Bloom for the vacuum... I love you!

Letter 39

Nevertheless he left not himself without witness, in that he did good,
and gave us rain from heaven, and fruitful seasons,
filling our hearts with food and gladness. Acts 14:17

Dear Lincoln and Shea,
There is something special about fall that makes it so easy to fall in love with. It's weird how I can love leaves only when they are dying and falling to the ground or appreciate crisp breezes when they are accompanied by the smell of pumpkin patches, left over corn in the mazes and hot apple cider. Of course, it could be the smell of Halloween candy and the reintroduction of pumpkin spice lattés (or anything pumpkin.... donuts, pancakes, muffins, pies, shakes....mmmm) that really woo me. Either way, this season brings a sense of welcome nostalgia for all the fall activities my parents had for me in autumns past.
Even though California didn't really have all four seasons, we still managed to have annual pumpkin carvings, bobbing for apple nights, and leaf piles to welcome the colder temperatures.
A lot has changed in the last 20 years, but I'm glad that tossing leaves into the air and filling little bellies with candy corn (and, gasp! pumpkin peeps! Why didn't peeps know they should have been year round favorites when I was little? I had to wait for those cadbury commercials to air before I dared dream the stores had stocked up on my favorite marshmallow treat) is still tradition. It's still the time of year where we pull out our cozy sweatshirts and fuzzy boots and spend time crunching leaves beneath our feet instead of time. We wait in anticipation for the Macy's day parade to march (literally) down Times Square with the oversized balloons and fancy celebrity guest with sparkly mics. OKAY, maybe you two don't have that anticipation yet, but I will teach it to you as we build the tradition of watching the said event together. Even as I write this, I can hear a highschool football game going on just down the street; another reason for fall fever, football. Of course, the best part about fall is spending it with the ones you love and acknowledging God as the author behind such beauty.

Hoping to install a love for fall,
I love you

Letter 38

(WARNING! graphic photos in post)

Dear Lincoln,
We shared an ambulance ride yesterday. The ride itself wasn't that bad; it's the before and after events that were a bit difficult. You, Shea and myself were beginning our bed time routine with some tickle torturing (Normally this is Papa's pleasure, but I keep the tradition alive on Monday and Wednesdays when Papa is in class at Marquette). Shea was squealing as she attempted to climb up the couch away from "the claw". You, in a deep cackle, ran away from me and threw yourself against the back of the couch. I've seen this happen again and again. Usually, you fall to the side into a pile of pillows. Other times you fall into my lap, and sometimes, you even fall off the couch. I knew none of those things happened when I turned my back to you and grabbed Shea. I heard this deafening crack and cringed. You had hit your head on the table. I held my breath and forced my head to turn in your direction. I heard your cry before I saw your face. Then I saw blood. Nothing could have prepared me for your face and your obvious fear. I grabbed Shea and put her on the floor and then scooped you into my arms and ran to the kitchen. The blood had already soaked your eyebrows and was flowing from a deep gash. Shea cried. You cried. I repeated over and over that it was going to be okay. I repeated it over and over because I needed the convincing.
I grabbed a towel and held it to your temple. I frantically tried to call 9-1-1. I knew you needed stitches and that we had to get to a hospital asap. Your crying continued and my panicky fingers made it difficult for me to make the call (stupid new phone!) but eventually I was telling a dispatcher of our situation. Within minutes rescue had arrived and the lights on all the trucks halted your crying. I called Grandma O to follow me to Aurora with Shea and asked Grandmama and Master Gramps to meet us there. You went easily into the hands of the EMT's and they stopped the bleeding and loaded you into the "cool truck". I filled my Mary Poppins bag with any magical thing I could, dressed Shea and then handed her off to GrandmaO as she pulled in.
When I stepped into the ambulance, you had been given stuffed animals and were acquainting yourself with the truck.

When we got to the hospital the nurses did their thing and you did yours: act adorable while they talked to you and scream when they tried to touch you.

Even I had a difficult time trying to get you to calm down. We looked at books, sang songs, ate M&Ms and Skittles, but it was only after I kicked everyone out and we worked on Bible verses that you regained composure.
When they put on your wrist band with your information you played with it and I used it to make small talk. When I asked you what it said, you told me it was for Monkey Joes! HA! Ironic. The only association you have with wristbands is jumping around.

When the doc came in, he said you were going to need 4 stitches. Yeah right. You won't let someone come near you with a pair of scissors for a haircut... there was no way that was going to happen unless they literally knocked you out. He looked at the gouge again, nodded and then requested Dermabond (the glue) to be brought in.
After struggling to keep an anesthetic on your gaping cut, and then struggling to bear hug you still while the doctor glued you shut, I was quite exhausted! The nurse offered you a popsicle for being so good and I laughed at how relative that term is. We walked out of your hospital room and into the waiting room. Just like that. A rite of passage complete.

Your Papa and I spent a little more time with you that night saying prayers before putting you to bed. I don't think we've ever felt more grateful for you.
As I write this, I'm overwhelmed with how much I love you!

(Lincoln this morning)

Next time we're tickling and "splitting our sides" let's not "split" anything else, okay sweetie.
I love you!

Letter 37

Dear Lincoln,
It always amazes me what habit or word you will chose to copy from your papa and I that we unintentionally teach you. Sometimes, it even scares me. I am often reminded, only after I say something that I wish I had not. And though I am afraid you will pick up my wasteful words and practices, I am also most grateful. When I see me, spilling out of you, I am able to work on correcting the both of us.
James 1:23-24 talks about a man who looks in the mirror only to walk away and forget what he looked like. I can be like that. Read the word, study it, save it to memory, only to find myself walking away from that reading without being a "doer" of what I have read.
But knowing that you are a reflection of me, makes me want to be a better reflection of Christ. When I worship in the house or drive to the store, I want to give you something worth imitating.
I say all of this to you today because of something quite simple. When going to blow your nose, you wanted to use the tissue just like papa. Neither him nor I had given any thought or direction on this particular habit. You simple studied us, and wanted to be like us.
It's so very humbling. And exciting.


In this picture: Pat was doing a wii fit workout and after having watched him several times Linc decided that he too would work out... by grabbing a wipes container and standing on it like Papa.

I love you my little light weight that imitates

Letter 36

Dear Shea,
I wanted to let you know that you had a fabulous first Birthday Party!! It was a little over two weeks ago, but I wanted to make sure you knew how adorable you were and loved by so many!
I decided mid-summer that I wanted you to have a cupcake party. You are so sweet and those cheeks are so cute they are practically edible. Plus, I fell in love with a cupcake 1st b-day bib and got a little carried away with the theme =)
I decided to make you a dress. I don't know why. Probably because I saw the cupcake material at Hobby Lobby and figured it'd be easy. Ha. Even if it wasn't, I knew it would be one of those gifts that came from the heart and made your day a little more special.



Of course, you're the one that made it cute



Papa and I gave you your big-girl car seat for your birthday and you loved it! The first few times we went somewhere in the car, you fell asleep immediately. Ha!



On the day of your party, we packed the house full and let everyone "Oooo and Ahhh" over you. We had a cupcake decorating area and your incrEDIBLE cupcake cake on display.



We ate food and you opened presents



Then you blew out your first candle



and ate so much cupcake I think you turned into one



After all that fun, it was right to the tub



and into warm pj's, with cupcakes, of course.



I guess you could say you "took the cake" "tu SHEA"

I love you my little one year young!

Letter 35

Dear Children,
It has been exactly one month since my last letter. I suppose I could let myself feel guilty about this, but truthfully, I know it will likely happen again. Plus, you two have been wearing my out so much during the day, that I just kick my feet up and snuggle with papa or a pillow as soon as you two are tucked away for the evening; and I'd take that over a letter any day. There is so much to tell you both though, I couldn't let any more time lapse.

Shea! You are walking. everywhere. The first week of August you started taking a few steps every few days. By the first week of September, you were up to 13 steps and the day of your b-day party (a week before your actual birthday) you were at 30+ steps. It has been so fun to watch you become independent. A week after your birthday (gosh this is a lot of calendar marking! Ha. I suppose I'm trying to make up for not having filled in your first year baby book... oops.)you walked outside for the first time. Yesterday, I kept finding your paci in the living room. Which, was odd because you only use it during naps, so it's always in your crib. After picking it up for the third time, I decided to put on my detective coat and solve the mystery of the moving pacifier. It didn't take long. A few minutes after I put the paci back in the crib I saw you walking down the hallway toward your room. You usually help yourself to toys and books so I didn't think much of it. But as I rounded the corner I saw you with your hand deep through the crib slates feeling around for something. Seconds later you had your pacifier in hand. You turned around and seeing me, raised your hand as if offering some special sacrifice. Then you walked right past me back into the living room and threw it on the ground. Such a silly girl!

Lincoln, you are growing in every possible facet; language skills, sweetness, height and even mischief. Yesterday, you managed (to my horror) to get into your medicine box and take everything out. You lined every q-tip and band-aid into a straight line across your bedroom floor... all during your nap time. Oh brother! But, you made up for it this morning when I woke up sleeping beauty style. I was lost in deep sleep when all of a sudden I feel something wet and slobbery on my face. I open my eyes and your adorable face is inches from mine. You had kissed me. I smile. "Come on Mama. I want some milk honey."

The two of you are SO much work and SO worth it.

As I'm writing this, I've realized that spending time telling you both about how you are such a delight to me, is not only good for you (down the road), it also brings nourishment to my soul. After disciplining and training all morning, it's good to soak in the precious moments of life that you two bring.

For all the affection in recollection,
I love you!

Letter 34

Dear Lincoln,
This week I felt like you had a quota of "sweet sayings" you had to reach because they were flyin out of your mouth. I wish I would have been writing them down for safe keeping because I've already forgotten a few of them. Here are some that I remember all too well.

My personal fav, was when you had to go to the bathroom and you told me you had to go potty and "number four". Priceless.

After picking up a penne noodle, you put it up to your lips like a megaphone and yelled "I luuvvv you Maaammmmmmaaa"

Holding up half a french fry, "Hey Mama! I loved that french fry!"

I also love how you have started calling me "honey".
Lincoln: "I want some chocolate milk please mama"
Holli: "Okay honey"
...morphed into:
Lincoln: "I want some chocolate milk, okay honey?!"
Holli: "Ha. Okay!"

You also follow every statement with "mama" to make sure I know you're talking to me. This can make for some awkward statements...
"You do not get your underpants wet... mama!"
"You do not throw tantrum or you get disciplined... mama!"

There are a few more, but I find it difficult to write them out, because it's your inflection and diction that make simple statements funny. I'll try to get a video next time...

sweet without skipping a beat, I love you!

Letter 33

Dear Shea,
My poor baby girl, you are sick. And I don't mean like your brother sick; who tried to eat a fly earlier today. Last week you had a fever just under 104 degrees for a few days. Your whole body was SO hot. Every time I went to get you out of your crib you felt like flat iron that had been left on all night. One of the symptoms that developed from being so hot, was a heat rash. You were like a red spotted dalmatian, especially with those sad puppy eyes. It's probably a good thing you weren't born during Bibical times, because you'd be pronounced a leper and isolated from the town. Instead, you were just isolated for Anthony's first b-day party. =)
I spent a better part of the week on the phone with Dr. Rocco, at the walk-in clinic, on the internet looking up hives, and doing my best to keep you comfortable. Any mother knows, we just want our babies to feel better quickly and we all do whatever we have to do to help them.
I'm praying you trash the rash.

I love you polka-dot princess!

Letter 32

Dear Lincoln,
Your Papa and I love holding you and Shea in our arms at the same time and announcing proudly how we are holding "our two kids!" Sometimes I think that the World Resource Center is going to call and ask for a supply of cuteness to be given back as we've so greedily split it amongst the two of you. That cuteness was all the more evident when I was putting you down for sleepy time. You grabbed your lovey and toad into your loving grip and said, "my two kids." I realized then that grinning from ear to ear wasn't just an idiom, as I felt my face smiling that richly. I nodded and kissed your forehead goodnight. As I closed the door you said, "I love you too Mama." Knowing I hadn't said I love you, and that you were merely speaking out of habit, I closed the door praying you would always know my love, even without declaration.

I've got winning bids, on the cutest kids, and I love you!

Letter 31

Dear Shea,
Today while at the park you were playing in the sand; so amused by it's texture and enthralled in it's mass. You kept grabbing fistfuls with your pudgy hands and slowly letting the grains trickle out through your fingers. The harder you squeezed the faster the grains escaped. A picture of time.
Here you are only days from 11 months. I've known you for 20. It's amazing how fast life really does happen.
James 4:14 says, "... What is your life? For you are a mist that appears for a little time and then vanishes."
I pray for you sweet Shea. As I consider the fragility of human life, and how dependent we need to be on our heavenly father, I pray that you will become a woman who spends her time wisely. Who seeks God in all things and desires to please him. Don't hold unto this life too tightly, it was only slip though your fingers. Rather, cling to your heavenly Father and desire to be like Him.

I love you sand hand Shea!

Letter 30

Dear Shea,
You took three steps today. It was amazing. I've been watching you cruise around the house for over a month, waiting for this day. I don't know where the courage came from, but it's getting stronger everyday. Yesterday, while you were holding on to the bookcase you gave me your infamous one-handed-wave and then let go of your second hand. You stood there standing and smiling for what seemed like forever. Today, I was holding your hands and walking around the house with you when I slowly moved my hands out from your grip and let you continue your stroll without me. The magic number was three. You did a few two steps and perhaps technically a four step, but for the most part you maintained three solid steps before sitting down. I feel like today was a defining moment, an intro, to toddlerhood.

Let the good times roll (or run!)
Either way, I love how you rock your walk.

Letter 29

Dear Lincoln,
Let's get this "potty" started! It's about time I sit down and write about this week. =) Friday night, Papa and I went to the see a movie and afterward headed to Walmart to fill our cart full of candy, juices, toys and (drum roll).... toddler underpants! I stayed up till 1:30 am (bad idea!) reviewing key notes from our training guide and making sure I had everything ready. Saturday morning, Papa took Shea over to Grandma and Grandpa O's house while you and I locked ourselves in the bathroom and began our potty boot camp. It was hard. Very hard. I was nervous, frustrated, tired! and worried you were just imitating but not learning. I let the title of the book (Toilet Training in Less Than a Day) put too much pressure on me. Plus, I was getting lightheaded from using that high pitch soprano praise voice for three hours (and I'm sure those sugary drinks we were throwing back didn't help either). Even so, you were wonderful; quite the trooper. Sure, you threw a tantrum around the 4th hour and itched to get out of the bathroom, but overall you were great. Within that first four hours you learned all that your crash course had set out to teach: run to the toilet, pull down your underpants, sit on the potty, wipe, pull up your underpants (though you needed help with this every time) flush and wash your hands. Who wouldn't be pleased! Your only handicap was not getting to the potty in time. We went though 6 pairs of underpants that could have been saved given 4 more seconds. You went potty twice, successfully, pooped, and napped two hours without an accident.
Day two, however, was more difficult than the previous. Papa took Shea to church so we could avoid any kind of traumatic experiences that would scar your potty training permanently. It's a good thing too, because I'm convinced you had stored everything into your short term memory. I grew increasingly frustrated and so did you. I could tell you were disappointed in your inability to hold your urge to go before you got to the toilet and I tried not to heavy that load with my own disappointment. I had spoke so highly of this book and I knew others were waiting, earnestly, for the show and tell or crash and burn of this pedestal. I prayed for the fruit of the spirit and stacked your fruit of the looms in the bathroom as we took two steps forward and one step back. By the end of the day, something clicked. You not only knew "wet bad", "dry good" and the mechanics of using the potty, but you had figured out the timing.
Today is day five and you are having rare accidents (Three in the last three days but two of them were more my fault... taking you to the park and not getting you back to the house in time, etc.).
I'm so proud of you. You are proud of you too, which is sweet. Every time you run out of the bathroom you clap and gleefully inform everyone of your business. Ha!
Of course, with this new territory comes new discipline. You've already started coming out several times after you've been put to bed saying you have to go potty. So sneaky! You've also sat down and pretended to go potty followed by a, "I wanta sum cannndy!" Talk about behaviorism to the MAX. Ha.
I'd take that over potty training for another month (or more!).
All in all, I'd say this was a pleasant experience, of course, that's in hindsight...

To my trained tinkler, I love you!

Letter 28

Dear Lincoln,
It's been said that a picture says a thousand words...

I love you my little "glass-act"!

Letter 27

Dear Lincoln,
There is so much that I can write to you about with our vacation last week, and yet, I've neglected to sit down and do so. I keep thinking of the car ride (you did really good) and specifically of you and your monkey. It's been your lovey for quite some time. I'm thankful you're not super attached to it, in a way that would handicap you from your normal routine if you didn't have it (I've heard such stories of mom's desperately searching for some toy or bear so that their child will take a nap), but you did cuddle up with it (as best as one can sitting in a car seat for 5 hours)to fall asleep. At one point you put your lovey in the cup holder like it was riding sidecar. It was adorable. Anyway, that is what I was thinking about today and I wanted to tell you.

I love you chunky monkey!

Letter 26

Dear Lincoln and Shea,
You can tell the days I'm tired and anxious for my head to meet my pillow. I call it the 6:59 vs 7:35 day. Those are the days when I tell myself only 6 more minutes until bedtime and it's 6:54. Then there are the days when I can't get enough time with you two; it's 7:35 and I'm wondering why you have to go to bed already... We are up at the Hobin (my parent's lake house in Rice Lake, WI)and it's even easier to do away with any kind of schedule. There's something about being on the lake and watching the sunset or making a bonfire and getting out marshmallows, that make ending a day the last of your priorities. Today was an 8:30 day.

awake for my sake, I love you!

Letter 25

Dear Lincoln,
I think we need to talk about the way you eat an apple. It's strange. I never assumed that one would have to teach their child how to hold an apple ergonomically correct,(gripping the top and bottom with your thumb and middle finger, using index finger for support and rotating, of course!) but apparently this is not born knowledge. You like to take a different approach. A "just get to the core" approach. Literally. You eat from the top down. It makes me laugh (and cringe) everytime. What I do love about you eating apples, is the song we sing during the process; the Johnny Appleseed song. When I was in Sunday school we used to sing it before snacks. I think it was also one of those VBS things you can't really get out of your head.


To the apple of my eye, I love you!

Letter 24

Dear Shea,
It is said that you shouldn't cry over spilt milk. I beg to differ. What if it is pumped milk? What if I labored over getting the milk available for you, spilled it and had nothing to offer; surely there is reason to cry? Reason or not, I have cried for this very thing. You were only a few weeks old and I didn't realize the bottle I had prepared for you wasn't sealed... I thought you were gulping it down, but it turns out your bib got most of the nutrition. When you cried. I cried.
Today was not as dramatic. Today you got a hold of Lincoln's sippy cup and somehow pried it open. I found you splashing in your creation. If anyone cried, I think it was Lincoln.

To my thrill spill Shea, I love you!

A letter to my husband: scattered thoughts for you today

Today, on a humid July afternoon, I look at the calendar date and sit thinking of the man whose eyes hold me and smile undoes me. Today is our anniversary. Four years.

It’s only been four years, but the young girl he met and married is someone else now. He's made me a woman: forced me to grow, matured me, pruned me. I think of our vows; we've had many "worse,” yet have always made it "better".

I asked him one time if he would have stayed with me, had he known we thought so differently on things. It's a trick. He can't say yes. It would crush me. He can't say no. It wouldn't be the truth. He answers perfectly. "I didn't love you as much then as I do now." His answer gives me goose bumps and misty eyes. God knew what he was doing bringing us together.

He knew my thick and yet weak skin would need him. That he was the only man who could break me and love me doing so. Thank you Lord for this man.

Patrick has taught me that a marriage isn’t made up of love letters. The words that matter most are the ones that we live. Our marriage isn’t made up of love letters, but it is one.

I've never believed that you could marry the wrong one. God is too big. But I have learned that you grow into being the right one. I wasn't the proverbs 31 when he married me, but God can get me there.

I will sit and watch our wedding video today. It’s a tradition. One I look forward to every year. It makes me laugh and cry and think and thank God.

I pray our marriage will bring ever increasing spiritual significance and glory to our Heavenly Father.

Thank you for being a husband with honor and integrity. For loving me beyond reason. For always being my best friend. I love you.

Letter 23

Dear Lincoln,
Tonight it was raining in buckets. You and I enjoyed, as we do for most storms, sitting in front of the sliding glass door watching the rain fall. A couple of times I would open the door so I could hear the pounding of the rain and breath in its smell. Every time, you would jump up and beg to go outside. Out of habit, I told you that you had to have your shoes on to go outside. As soon as I said it, I realized that this permitted you to go outside. While you struggled to find your shoes, and I struggled to find my sense of humor, I debated on whether or not to let you out into the monsoon. Moments later you were pulling on my shorts and pointing at your feet. You had your shoes on. They were on the wrong feet, but that only made it more perfect. I opened the door and followed you out onto the wet cement. I stared at our art work from a few days prior as the colors smeared and disappeared with the rain's beating. You touched your toes. "Wet." At the first roar of thunder you quickened to the door. I laughed. Then we found our places back in front of the closed sliding glass door again.

My thunder boy wonder, I love you.

Letter 22

Dear Lincoln and Shea,
Fireworks were tonight. I am exhausted. There were so many sweet moments in the midst of chaos and a zoo of people, that I wanted to take a minute (and honestly just that) to say that today wasn't taken for granted. I paused and appreciated not just the fireworks, but being with family and friends and our growing love for one another.
Lincoln, I love how you were scared of the "booms" from the fireworks, until we started calling them drums. Shea, I love how you would not fall asleep prior to the fireworks regardless of what I did. I also love how you stared at the sky with your big eyes when the show started and then let them close into the deepest of slumbers. (I moved you from the blanket, to my bjorn, to the car, out of the car to the changing table... and still you slept).

To both of my little firecrackers, I love you!

Letter 21

Dear Shea,
I'm so glad you're a water bug. I admit, it's hard to tell that you like the water, being that you don't smile at all while in the pool... but you don't cry either; and that's a pretty good indication you're happy. Today I took you to Gina's pool with Kendal and Anthony. Grandma and Grandpa O borrowed Linc for the day, so it was a great opportunity for a mother daughter date. I had originally planned on going to the public pool, kind of like a practice run with just one kid, but it didn't work out. (Honestly, I don't know how they can charge a parent $5 to sit in a 1 foot pool) Oh well. We had a great time at Gina's, and as expected, I thoroughly enjoyed spending the whole day with you. You just cruised around the pool in your floaty and pinched at the water with your fingers. This may not seem very memorable to others, but I know all too quickly you'll be grown up and crazy in the pool and I'll look back quite fondly at days like today. Ha!

I love you water daughter!

Letter 20

Dear Lincoln,
You are such an "All-American-Boy!" That or I'm just a fast food mom. Anytime we drive by Wendy's (and occasionally McDonald's) you yell out, "I want two fries!" You're really saying you want french fries, but I usually give you two at a time...so I think that's where the two fries call originated. Since we're generally out and about for other reasons, I deny your request and we move on. But, on Sundays, your father and I like to pick up lunch after the church meeting, so it's almost guaranteed that you'll get french fries. French fries aren't exactly the healthiest thing for you to eat. In fact, I question if there is anything healthy about them.
Because of this, one time I decided I was going to make you sweet potato fries, only they don't get crunchy from baking, and deep frying them sort of defeats the point.
As horrible as traditional fries likely are, your smile when you're allowed to eat one (after you've finished your also unwholesome heavily breaded chicken nuggets) is priceless. And kind of worth it.

You're my guy (with the fry) I love you.

Letter 19

Dear Lincoln,
You're my dancing queen. Ahem. Uh. Dancing dynast? I'll blast the music and you will come running up to me begging to dance. And when I get tired and need to sit down, you'll beg again.
You've always been like this; in love with dancing and music. I remember when you used to move to the microwave going off. Ha! I have a video of you bobing to the beat of your musical mirror at nine months old. Since then, you've showed a love for music through singing and instrument. Admittedly, I could do without the 10am drumming, but I'll wait a few years before letting you know. For now, I'll do my best to cheer you on (and keep it under 15 minutes).
One of my favorite things about your love for music is your dedication to mimicking others' dance moves. Your papa is excellent at show casing this. He'll do the most awkward dancing just to watch your imitation.
This week while I was practicing some hip hop (yes, I'm in a hip hop class; remember this when you're older and you don't think I'm cool) you were emulating the moves and doing pretty darn good too.
You get this from your father. He can write music, play practically any instrument, sing, etc. I karaoke. And my enthusiam is far greater than my talent (I proved that this week as well)!
I look forward to your next performance.

I love you leapin' Lincoln!