My baby

Oliver

This was yesterday after his nap, his sister was still sleeping from the hangover of her first slumber party and he paraded out of his room proud of his dressing abilities. Not one thing was put on his body in the right direction.

Oliver

Shirt = backwards. Pants = backwards. Underwear = inside out.

Being three is all about DO IT MYSELF. But he’s still little enough to fold his body onto mine in a bear hug or ask to be carried from the car to his bed when he’s tired.

Oliver

I love my kids so much. Their willingness to try new things and their stubbornness to grow up. I’ve been reading some of my favorite books to them lately and catch myself tearing up near the end. I just love this season with them. The Not-too-old-Not-too-small age of wonder and innocence. Their questions constantly have me scrambled for just the right amount of information to help them grasp a concept.

Oliver

With most things in life I’m constantly battling the insecurities of doing enough, doing it right and balancing my expectations for the outcome. When I’m not overrun with concern or worry, when I remind myself that I can’t control it and that worry is the main joy-stealer of my life … I look around and notice what’s right in front of me.

Oliver

And I keep going.

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