Letters to Avery: 7 years old

 Avery,

Seven.  It seems so old.  Like now that my youngest is seven, we've moved into a new stage of parenting.  Mostly, it's wonderful.  Every year, I get to see more and more the person you are becoming.  

I love watching you interact with other people. With adults, you are polite and engaging, and tend to have conversations a bit above your age range.  People are frequently surprised when they find you are "only 6." You easily make friends and with older brothers and a variety of life experiences, you tend to be confident with most people and in most situations. 

Last weekend, we were at Jack's baseball tournament, and I hadn't seen you in quite a while.  I got up so I could put eyes on your and the lady in charge of the tournament saw me looking around near the playground area.  She asked if I was looking for someone.  I told her yes, but nobody I was concerned about.  A few moments later, I saw you stand up from a picnic table full of 10-year-old baseball players (not your brother's team). You were shaking your arm and you told me you had just arm wrestled a bunch of boys.  Your friend (who you met only hours before), came up and said, "You did a really good job!!"  You didn't say much else about it until I asked you later and your casually mentioned that you had beat a few of them.  I told you having older brothers would eventually pay off.

I hope you are always proud of your strength and have a desire to excel at whatever fuels your passion.  You are talented and smart and beautiful, and I hope the world never tells you different.  But if it does, I hope your confidence in yourself is stronger than their lies.  

Daughter of mine, you take up a great deal of my attention, and 86% of the time that is lovely.  I once challenged you to predict how many times you said mom in one hour.  That was too lofty, and I'm not sure kindergarten prepared you for such high counting.  I started saying "Avery" every time you said "mom", and you were not amused.  You certainly are a test of a mother's patience, but I remind myself that being wanted so fiercely will be a phase not likely for future years.  And on the flip side, you love equally as fierce.  Oftentimes, you make giving affection a sport and when you maul me and tell me how much you love me, the feeling is hard to describe. Its untethered love, fervent, given without abandon, and for no reason.  It given because I am who I am, not because of anything I have done.  A child's love seems to get the closest to God's love for us, and you are a daily reminder of that.

Avery, you are not perfect, but you are perfect for our family, and I hope you know how loved you are. I hope your seventh year is your best yet.

Love,

Mom

Letters to Brady: 11 years old

 Dear Brady,

Happy 11^th birthday! Today is Saturday, just like the day you were born.  We were up early this morning, also like the day you were born.  This time, its for your basketball game.  Amazing how easy it is for you to wake up at 6 am for a game, but 6:45 for school is much more difficult!

You’ve had a great year all-around.  You’ve played more baseball and basketball games than I care to count, you’ve thrived at school, and you’re never short on friends to play with after school.  You are so well rounded and have many gifts.  I’m as likely to find you in the gym shooting a basketball as I am to find you curled up on the couch with a book.  One moment you are taking charge of a big group and organizing a game and the next you may be alone with your sketch pad drawing.  You’re quite the impressive artist and you could out-sketch me any day of the week. You are the ultimate hype-man and I love watching you while you watch your teammates succeed. Nobody is out of the dugout faster to chest bump at teammate after a homerun.   Regardless of how you are doing individually in a game, you always put the team above yourself, and I respect you for doing that so gracefully.

Your relationship with your brother continues to grow, and I am reminded how lucky I am to have two boys who love each other so fiercely.  Where we still have a bit of oil and water situation between you and your sister, I am thankful that you and Jack get along like gangbusters.  He looks up to you so much, and you’ve always been such a good brother to him.  Bummer for you, he may be bigger than you soon, so look out.

Brady, I love you this Saturday even more than the Saturday that you were born.  I am eternally thankful for the boy who made me into a mom.  Happy birthday.

 

Love,

Mom

Letters to Jack: 9 years old

Dear Jack,

Last year in single digits.  Phew, that went by pretty quick.  For a ornery baby, you sure turned out to be a dream of a kid.  You are easy, and sometimes the easy kid doesn’t get as much attention.  While your brother is thrusting his feet in my face every night asking to get his feet rubbed, it takes some extra effort to remember to give things to the kid that doesn’t ask.

This year, without much explanation, you decided to change your name from Jackson to Jack.  While I like the name Jackson (I named you that after all), I was happy to honor your request for a name change.  Coming from the middle kid who goes with the flow and likes to make people happy, I was glad to see you firm in your stance on something.  You knew what you wanted and you made it happen. 

Last week, I drove you to your baseball tournament.  I knew how much you were looking forward to it, you missed your last soccer game in order to go. It was just over an hour away. Only I drove over an hour the wrong way (FYI Eden and Erwin are not the same). We were now nearly two hours from your game, and when I told you how sorry I was, you simply said, “That’s ok mom.”  You had back to back games so we headed in the right direction.  I turned on your favorite podcast for the long drive (the least I could do) and heard your upbeat voice from the back, “Thanks for turning this on, mom!”  After being on the road awhile, I informed you that we should make it to the second half of the first game and your face lit up!  “Oh that’s great, I thought I’d miss the whole thing!”  You had every right to be annoyed with me for my mistake, but you didn’t make me feel bad, even for a moment.  You are so quick to forgive and you take no joy in other people’s discomfort.  I’ll take the lesson you taught me that day and try to be better myself (also the lesson about double checking GPS).

Last night, you were trying to decide what your last words as an 8-year-old would be.  You couldn’t decide between, “I love you dad” or “I love you mom” so you said, “I’ll just say, ‘I love you mom and dad.’”  If there is a sweeter kid out there, I sure haven’t met him. I love you, Jack.

 

Love,

Mom