During the past few days, I’ve been a weepy mess. Why? My sweet little baby boys are growing up – way too fast. We’re celebrating their THIRD birthday today!
When I was pregnant with them, I promised my husband I would not find out the gender of the babies. This went against every fiber of my control freak soul. I’m a woman who has to plan everything, and know everything.
The only REAL drawback to not knowing the gender? I felt like I really didn’t KNOW my boys until they were born.
I worried about them from the minute I found out there were two. I was assaulted from all sides by what could go wrong. To calm my nerves, I turned to prayer, my husband, my dear friend Kaye, and my Internet support team.
They burst onto the scene in the wee hours of the morning, with a fast and furious labor that scared Brett to pieces. I was thrilled to have two beautiful, healthy babies, and even more excited to finally be the mother of boys!
In those first few months, and even the first year, it was hard to separate them in my mind. In a chronically deprived state, it seemed as if I had one very cranky baby who cried all the time, nursed all the time, and rarely slept!
As the fog cleared, and I regained my footing as a mother, the boys distinctly individual personalities began to emerge.
Thomas is my Tiger Cub – smaller, but with a temper to rival my own. I was worried for a long time that I was going to be ‘that mom’ – the mother of a biter. Thankfully, he outgrew it, and never bit anyone but his brother.
He walked first,talked first, and tends to be the more emotional of the two. We call him the bloodhound around here, since he’s always talking about smelling something!
Adam is my entertainer, no doubt about it. He took his own sweet time with walking, probably because he was busy taking all of life in. Around my house, you’re most likely to see him doing something, anything, to make folks laugh. Whether it’s climbing on the back of the couch, or putting his live caterpillars in my bed for a nap, he delights in making me smile.
He’s not a prolific a talker as his sister or brother, which makes me appreciate the things he says so much more. My favorite? “I wub you, Momma”. He loves to sing, so you’ll hear him parroting songs that I sing around the house. He’s not as cautious as his brother, which leads to a few more accidents.
As they move from babies to little boys, I look toward their future, and think about what I want for them.
The world today isn’t filled with role models, unfortunately. In our family, we try hard to be counter-cultural, and I expect more out of my sons than to sit around watching TV, drinking beer and burping, as is commonly depicted in the media today.
Instead, I pray for virtue and strength for my sons; to be like their father, and treat women with genuine respect, and to be wonderful fathers. In the back of my mind, I hold on to the hope that one of my sons would be blessed with a call to the priesthood. Call me crazy, but this would be one of the greatest honors I could imagine for my children.
What kind of saint does a rough and tumble, adventurous, fearless, athletic future priest need?
Saint Michael, of course. He’s the perfect example of strength and masculine Christianity.
In our home, this is also one of our night time prayers.
Saint Michael the Archangel,
Defend us in Battle. Be our safeguard against the wickedness and snares of the Devil. May God rebuke him, we humbly pray, and do thou, O Prince of the Heavenly Host, cast into hell Satan, and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world, seeking the ruin of souls.Amen.
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