Letters to My Boys - March 2013

Because one day I will forget these moments and because one day I want them to know how much I loved these little days with them . . . I've joined a little blog circle with my friends. We're writing notes to our children every month. Because they are important to us. Because these days are fleeting. Because maybe, just maybe, one day I'll laugh at the chaos, the messes, and the memories.

Check out Carolyn's letter to here daughter here.



Boys - my rambunctious, crazy boys,

In one split instance my mommy heart is shattered into a million pieces of hope.

Most days you drive me crazy. Most days you drive each other crazy. Cason has learned to bite. Why did he pick up that defense mechanism? Because a particular big brother has a strong affinity for snatching every toy out of his little brother hands.

Our ears ring with "Don't knock him over! Don't hit him! Don't slap him in the face! Don't hit him on the head with that car! Don't bite! Don't take that toy out of his hand! Don't! Don't! Don't!" until we're all frazzled.

I'm sure you're just as tired of hearing it as I am of saying it.

Many days I lose hope that you'll ever be kind towards one another, that you'll share play time and toys without bickering, that you'll be great friends.

And then in one fleeting second you show love. Cason leans in for a kiss on Cannon's cheek. Cannon rubs Cason's back and says "It's okay baby." when he's crying. Cannon brings Cason a toy to play with UNPROMPTED. Ya'll hold hands in the back seat and giggle at each other.

And my mommy heart swells with joy and I pray that a gracious Abba grows a second of tenderness into a lifetime of brotherhood.

I love you boys. You still can't hit each other (when I'm around), but I love you very much.

Mommy