This is just a quick little update - she's 5 - that's right, 5 months old today. I swear I do not know where the time is going. Poor little girl caught her first cold, and she's really trying to keep her chin up. She'll be smiling, then all of the sudden she'll cough and then just start bawling. I feel so bad for her! And I feel so bad for me, too. She was up 5 - that's right, 5 times last night because of her nasty little cough/cry cycle. And she takes her pacifier for a few seconds before she realizes she can't breathe from her nose, so then she drops it and starts crying all over again. I'm tired. She's tired. Can't we all just go to sleep now?
I did catch her being really sweet this afternoon, so I decided to break out the camera and capture her happy little self - doing her new trick, even if it was just for a few minutes.
Seven years ago, my life changed forever. On November 5th at 3:14am, my view of the world shifted in an instant. His very first breath completely transformed my identity. He didn't know it, but he gave me the gift that I treasure most of all. He made me a mama. His mama. And I am so completely honored that God chose me to be Andrew's mother. He really is something else...
Andrew's first few months of life were pretty tough on me. I quit my job and became a stay at home mom. BIG transition. He was a fussy infant, to put it mildly. He screamed if I wasn't holding him. And it had to be me. Not Daddy. Not Granny. Not Auntie - not anybody else, just me. That wore me out. Big time. And when he cried, I would cry, (chalk that up to being a first time mommy) so I held him. Alot. And we cried together many times in those first few months. But then, right around 4 months old, his disposition suddenly changed overnight. He became the most easy going, happiest little guy you'd ever meet. He would go to anybody and was more than happy about it. He laughed easily (still does) and often. By his first birthday, he was very close to walking and was obsessed with doors. He would just open and close them, over and over and over. He didn't care at all what was inside the door, he just liked making them open and close. 
When my little guy turned 2, we had moved to California for the year. We had so much fun there - took that little guy all over the Bay Area. I knew he was smart - he could recognize every letter of the alphabet before his second birthday. He was obsessed with trains. We lived really close to the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) and every time he'd see one go by - he would get all excited, point and yell "FREIN, FREIN!!!!!" He also really liked trucks. And he didn't quite know how to pronounce truck correctly. He replaced the "tr" sound with the "f" sound. That was super fun when we were out in public and he would see a truck, and yell: "Ooooooooh, f*ck! BIG F*CK!!!!!" Needless to say, we got some strange looks from some folks, but a few smiles too. He was becoming more and more independent. He wouldn't cuddle with me to save his life. He was far too busy for that nonsense. So at night, when he was sleeping, I would go into his bedroom, lift him out of his crib and hold him while he slept, just so I could get some cuddle time in with my little man. 
By the time Andrew turned 3, I was pregnant with Livie. We had (sadly) moved home from Cali and were back in our house. During his third year - I began to realize just how incredibly stubborn he could be. Potty training him was not easy. He didn't see why he needed to change what he'd been doing his whole life. He was content to poop his pants until the day he died. But finally, with a sticker chart and the promise of Thomas the Tank Engine trains, he caved and decided to officially become a big boy. He also became a big brother for the first time. Before Alivia was born, I spent alot of time talking to him about his role as a big brother. I explained to him what an important job it was to be a big brother. He needed to be gentle with her. He needed to protect his baby sister and keep her safe. I talked to him about my older brother, and how much I love him and how Livia would look up to him just as I look up to his Uncle Clinton. I also told him that he was very special to be because he was my first baby, and my only son. I still tell him that. And if I don't tell him often enough, he'll ask me if it's still true. 
When Andrew turned four, he had just started his first year of preschool. I was so insanely proud of him - to see my baby boy in a classroom. With friends and a teacher and the constant projects he worked so hard on. They were so darn cute! But it made me feel a little sad that he was growing up so fast. I'd always looked forward to watching him grow. When he was a newborn, I would just look at him and try to imagine him at the age of 4. What would he look like? What would be his favorite things? What kind of personality would he have? And here he was, four - in the blink of any eye. What happened to my baby? I never expected to mourn. But in a way, I did. He was transforming from a baby into a little boy. But, oh, how he made me proud! He began to learn how to write, and started leaving me love notes. The first one I ever got from his was on 
When Andrew turned 5, he had just started his 2nd year of preschool. I absolutely loved the school he went to because he learned so much. He was always coming home asking me if I knew about this or that. He just had such a desire to learn, and sometimes he would blow me away with his capability to absorb so much information. He was still just as social, if not more than ever. Andrew made friends wherever we went. Literally. And still, loved to laugh. He definitely inherited my sense of humor.
When Andrew turned 6, he had just started kindergarten. This was a brand new school, and I wondered how he would feel about being in school full time. He went from going to school 3 days a week, for 2.5 hours each day - to school 5 days a week, 6 hours each day. But, the big - huge - deal for him was that he got to ride the school bus. I'll never forget that day when I walked him up to the bus stop for the first time. When the bus started to come around the corner, I thought he was going to explode, he was so excited!! He'd been asking to ride a school bus since he was two, and now, finally it was really happening. I helped him get on the bus, and then stepped back off, and watched my life drive away, in the hands of some woman I'd never met until that moment. I didn't follow the bus, I wouldn't let myself. I told myself this is just the first of many times I was just going to have to let him do it on his own. This is a part of the process. That day, when he got off the bus, he literally ran to me and gave me a huge hug. Then proceeded to tell me all about his day as we walked into the house. I held his little hand in mine and looked down at him chattering away and again my heart swelled with pride.
Now here he is at the age of 7. I swear, he'll be taller than me within the next couple years. I know, I know, that's not saying alot, being that I'm a borderline "little person." But I imagine watching your child outgrow you proves to be quite a shock for any mother. Even for the 5'11" giants I know. (
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