When Your Baby Is No Longer A Baby

Things are slowly beginning to take on a new and different shape around our home.  The cupboard no longer has a shelf designated for just sippy cups.  Smaller bowls with cartoon designs have been replaced by a stack of small fruit nappies.  There is no longer a diaper bag just inside the door ready to be grabbed as we slip out the door.  And there are no booster seats or high chairs pulled up to the table.

Even the toys are taking on a different form.  Each room has its own collection of Lego, stacks of books and various forms of building toys and trucks.  Gone are the Mega Bloks.  There isn't a Little People bus to be found.

Although the shapes of things have changed and roles are beginning to alter as each of the boys grow older, there are some fundamental parts of our family that will always remain the same. The twins will always be the oldest, or 'the big boys' as I call them. Sweet Evan will always be our very middle boy. Nicholas, our most determined boy. And Dylan is our baby.


A few weeks ago our baby turned 4.  Just like all parents we asked ourselves how so much time had passed so quickly.  He's so clearly not a baby any longer but there is still just enough little in him to help take the sting of his growing up away.  We celebrated with his choice of birthday supper - spaghetti and meatballs.  His brothers gave him our traditional simple birthday gifts - chocolate bars.  He was a happy little boy.

My sweet boy, Dylan, is quick to smile, spreads his love around freely with hugs for people when he greets them, and he is always excited to head out to do something.  He tells me he loves me at least 15 times a day.  He loves big.  He expects everyone loves him in return.  He plays hard.  His biggest fear is squirrels.

And each night when it's time to be tucked into bed, I stand just outside his bedroom door with his little arms wrapped around my neck.  He calls out good-night to everyone in turn and waits for the response he clearly anticipates. He almost always includes his beloved pets Kacy the dog, Minnie the cat and Red Bandit the guinea pig. Then his little head snuggles in to my shoulder, his thumb pops into his mouth and he tells me one last time he loves me as I carry him into his bed. 

Even though the number of years say he might not be a baby any longer, he will always be my baby.  

A Stolen Moment

Sweet Dylan, my baby.

Big blue eyes with the longest eyelashes that brush his soft cheek.  Soft blond hair that once hung long in wispy curls now cut to reflect the boy he is becoming.  Rosy full lips smile sweet and plant warm kisses.  Lanky in leg and arm, he stands tall.

He is a boy who deeply loves all within his world.  Each day he tells me how he loves me, often he folds me in a close hug while telling me so.  He fully expects we return the love and basks in being doted on by his patient older brothers.  And they do.  And we all do.  Because he is our Dylan.

But please do NOT try to make him do what he has set his mind against.  Then you will meet the stubborn Dylan that hides beneath a blanket or sits sullenly showing you only his back.  A boy who feels love so deeply also feels hopes shattered just as deeply.

Recently a busy morning began with Dylan visiting a JK class in preparation for school days in the fall.  Attending his brothers' doctor's appointment followed where we sat waiting an hour.  The early afternoon was spent helping Daddy in his workshop.  A boy, still only three, full of life, sometimes needs a rest on a day so filled with busyness.

Eyelids drooping, thumb found its way into his mouth.  Sleepy Dylan refusing to lie down or sit to read a story.  Resistance beginning to waiver, allowing me to snuggle him close against my chest while standing and swaying a rocking rhythm perfected from many days practice.  My off-key rendition of 'Hush Little Baby' sung as a mantra echoing many nights gone by.  It is a version of the lullaby only my children appreciate.

Arms trembling with the holding of him.  Legs cramping from the swaying.  Back aching from the weight of him.  Voice cracking with the singing on repeat.  Until his lovely eyes flutter closed to rest in slumber.  Until his frowning face relaxes into sweetness.  Until his body softens into mine.

I stay holding him close and remember him daily sleeping in my arms: the snuggles and cuddles, the nursing, the days when I was his world.  Sweet, sweet memories cherished in every mother's heart.

Some days mommy knows best and has to push hard to meet her little ones' needs.  This day it was to
help him fall asleep.  And in the toiling through the refusing and crying and complaining and pushing of it all, mommy got the best reward - a moment stolen from the past.  A stolen moment of rocking her sleeping baby.

A Boy and His Dog - Day 26

We are greeted in the driveway before we even leave the van.  Three black and white dogs, still puppies, jump and bark their welcome in a frenzy of wiggling bodies and wagging tails.  Opening the door slowly, pushing them back with the bulk of metal, clears just enough space for me to enter the throng.  I try to pet each black head individually even while the noses another is between my hand and my mark.  After a moment, I feel I have successfully made contact with each ball of energy and hope they are slightly calmer before opening the sliding van door to let Dylan out.

It never works.  

Opening the door while Dylan is still strapped in his car-seat, the puppies stand waiting expectantly while I unclasp the buckles.  As soon as he is free of his seat, before his feet even hit the ground, he is swarmed.  When he was smaller, a little less sure of himself, he would hide behind my legs.  Now he is in command.  He tells those dogs to stay "down!".  Once the commotion of wagging tails, lolling tongues and rooting noses subsides, we begin making our way to my parent's house.

The short trek from van to house can often be distracting for a boy of three: Papa on the tractor, cats to catch, a toy to retrieve.  Always there is Missy.  She faithfully walks alongside him, leaning her head against him wherever he stops hoping for another pet, another hug.  I love watching them together, two peas in a pod, full of energy, affection and fun.

Missy has claimed Dylan for her own.  She tolerates his rough loving play.  She sits waiting expectantly for him to come back out the door.  She follows him wherever he wanders whether on a lead or freely beside him.  She loves him.  She is loyal.  She forgives him for leaving for long spaces of time; he forgives her the neediness she oozes.




Click here to see the rest of my Write 31 Days series:  Simple Gems

Thrifting Fun Re-Discovered

For the past 8 1/2 years I have found myself to be in a bit of a rut.  A lovely, life-giving, nurturing, amazing rut, but a rut none the less.  During these last 8 1/2 years, I have been pregnant, breastfeeding and continuously carrying a small person on my body.  And these have all been done simultaneously.

Life is a little simpler now that I have only Dylan for most days.  He's going to be 3 in a few months so some things, like getting dressed beyond yoga pants and a t-shirt for example, are a lot easier.  I actually strive to wear things I LIKE, not just things that are clean or breastfeeding accessible.  Some days I even have time to put thought into both my outfit AND my accessories.

I've also been trying to use some of my new found time to continue sorting various area of our home that have been neglected for awhile.  Our bedroom has been one of these areas.  I was sincerely surprised when I discovered a box of my jewelry stashed on top of my armoire to keep it out of reach of tiny hands.  I had forgotten about it.  Sorting through it was like opening a wonderful, unexpected present!  It was a walk down memory lane as I recalled acquiring most of the items and how much I enjoyed wearing them.

But in truth, I was really rediscovering just how much I enjoy pretty things.  In a house full of little's with all the many needs that come with little's and their sticky hands, there hasn't been much of me left to focus on unnecessary pretty. 

Another fun thing I recently rediscover - THRIFTING.  How fun is that!

A couple of months ago, after dropping off a van load of donatable goods at Value Village, I decided to go in and do some browsing.  It was my first time in the store that had opened sometime in the last couple of years.  I had previously donated there, but had never gone in. 

I was in need of a new wallet as mine was tattery and starting to split.  I was specifically looking for something not black and I found a deep red one.  So I also bought this pretty purse to put the new wallet in.  Since I no longer need to take a diaper bag with me everywhere (yay!!), a slightly bigger purse is ideal for me right now to slip water bottles, snack cups and a couple of toys into.

Cute new shoes!!

I've since made another shop in the store and these are my favorite find yet:  cute new shoes!!


Recently Luke and I went out for an evening of just the two of us that consisted of dinner out and listening to a band a friend of ours plays bass in.  I wore my new shoes.  We shared a table with another friend, Alanna, who just happens to be the wife of the bassist.  I was so pleased with myself (really, it was just my new shoes I was so pleased with) that I made sure to point them out to her.  She's actually the one who has inspired me to enjoy thrifting again.  She's also the very lovely author of the blog, Selfbinding Retrospect, where she does a Thrift Blitz that I'll be linking this post too.  Hop on over to her blog website to see all the treasures she finds. 

Joyful Exuberance

Chubby 2 year old feet pound the hallway floor ahead of me.  No pitter-patter in this house.  Always loud.  Always fast.  Always joy in motion.  

Outstretched arms reach for walls just beyond the touch of your straining fingertips.  Making contact would only have slowed you down anyway.  But solid, sweet hands flutter regardless, feeling the wind created by your own speed.  Speed.  You feel so fast, so free.  An unquenchable squeal escapes as you turn your head to look over your shoulder.  As usual, you are checking to make sure I am following your lead.  Crinkled nose.  Sparkling blue eyes. Open-mouthed grin.  How could I possibly resist following?  

Lifting my knees in a march-style run designed purely to make you laugh; I bend my elbows and pump my fisted hands in a matching rhythm.  Just as I predicted, you find me irresistible.   Turning mid-stride, it is only by some miraculous maneuver that keeps you from tumbling backwards as you launch your small, wriggling body at me.  It's with a practiced reflex that lets me catch you midair and swing you above my head, laughing with you at your exuberance.

Bursting through the doorway together, we have completed the trek once more.  This dance we do down the hall with you in lead, me at your heels. It is a ritual of sorts really.  One perfected by the repetitive trips made daily to the bathroom at the end of the hall. 

It's one of those mommy-moments I never forethought in my daydreams of baby-bearing and rearing and all that would entail.  But it is a moment worth celebrating with each and every child born.  YAY you!   And it is no matter that together we visit that tiny room in our house countless times each day.  Every time we do it means you are a big boy now, all grown up and big enough to use the potty on your own, EVERY time!

My Days of Tomorrow

There was nothing that stuck out significantly to indicate that this night's established 'tucking-in' would be different from any other night.  The floor of Evan and Nicholas's room was finally clear of toys and after lighting the Cars stoplight nightlight, I pushed play on the CD player to hear the introductory notes to the theme song of their bedtime story CD.  I wished both squirming boys 'sweet dreams' mixed with 'I love you's' while giving multiple snuggles.

Turning off the overhead light I slung Dylan into his customary place on my hip and made only a feeble protest at taking him with me down to James and Morgan's room.  It's not that I don't want the munchkin with me, it's the busyness that trails alongside him I could sometimes do without.  To say he is distracting is an understatement.

Entering their room, I immediately knew Morgan was upset.  Only their sleepy faces peered at me from their mounds of handmade quilts, overstuffed pillows and various plush and hard toys.  While James's eyes lit up with pleasure at seeing his baby brother to say 'night-night' to, Morgan's red-rimmed eyes threatened to spill unshed tears.  Dylan pushed away from me wanting to be swung to the floor, forward momentum immediately propelling him in his climb up and over Morgan so he could get a drink from the nighttime water cup sitting on the bed shelf.

I stepped up onto the ladder for the top bunk and brushed a kiss across James's cheek. His skinny arms twined around my neck to hold me close so he could return the kiss and nuzzle his cheek against mine.

"'Night mom," he said.  "It was a good day today.  What took you so long?"

"I had to help your brothers put some things away,"  I answered.  "Dylan and Nicholas dumped out the Lego and dinosaurs."

Pushing at my legs, the small whirlwind informed me it was his turn to say good-night to James.  I stepped sideways off the ladder as Dylan's compact body slipped up the ladder like he had been climbing since birth.  Lowering myself to sit on the edge of the mattress, I rubbed my hand along Morgan's slim back as I leaned over to kiss his cheek.  His beautiful brown eyes filled with emotion blinked tear-soaked lashes.  He glanced at me then quickly away causing a few rogue tears to escape and trickle down the cheek I had just kissed.  He turned his face into the pillow in an attempt to hide the emotion.  Morgan's sensitive soul often causes his heart to hurt.

"Morgan, my boy, what's the matter?"  I asked him.

Inhaling deeply, he bit his lower lip before answering.  "I was just thinking tonight about when we grow up.  What are you going to do when we grow up?  I mean...", he paused, his big eyes turning to me with absolute anguish in them, "...someday we're going to grow up and then you'll be home all by yourself all day.  And dad is at work all day.  And you..."  another pause as he buried his face in the pillow again.  The next words were muffled by both the pillow and the emotion he couldn't contain. "You'll be alone all day and you'll have to do all the work yourself.  We won't be here to help you."  Looking at me again his long, dark lashes had matted together, the tears still brimming.   "And I just don't know what you'll do when we're all grown up!"

I ran my hand down his soft boy cheek.  Our bodies shifted as Dylan clambered between us, his elbow caused my glasses to shift sideways and his knees dug into Morgan's chest and arm.  I adjusted my glasses back to their rightful position before scooting Dylan off of Morgan.  Dylan began burrowing into the blankets, his feet bumping the wall and his head colliding with Morgan's shoulder.  I gently brushed those heartfelt tears from the cheek of this sensitive child and cupped my hand under his chin to turn him to face me more fully.  My mind fast-forwarding to days where floors are free of Lego, laundry piles have dwindled, to-do lists are checked off and the walls ring only with echos of laughter and screeching.

"Morgan," I said as I lowered my forehead to lean against his, "those days are a long time in the future.  We don't need to worry about them just yet."  But even as I said the words, I didn't fully believe them myself.

A long heart-to-heart kept our heads bent close until we finally brought our quiet chat to a close by lifting our burdens for the future in prayer.  He gave me a small smile, his eyes now drooping heavily with sleep.  I tucked the blankets more snugly around his shoulders before straightening myself to do the same around James's sleeping form.  From the doorway I looked back over my shoulder to make sure both sets of eyes were closed.  Turning out the overhead light, I left them sleeping peacefully to discover what trouble Dylan might have found when he left the room ahead of me.

I can only trust that there was soothing balm for Morgan's hurting heart in the words and prayers we spoke.  I can only pray that he always remembers those precious moments when we shared our worries of the future together, even if they were in the midst of chatter, busyness and bumps.  Because sometimes it doesn't matter what else is going on, there is a heart that needs tending to right now.

May those lonely days of the future never be fulfilled.  May the days of the present instead be as full of laughter and noise and dirty clothes and laid aside toys that the gusto of five boys bring with them.  And may all the fullness of life today spill forever over into my days of tomorrow.

My Sleeping Baby

His face is transformed from mischievous cutie to that of an angel.  His cheeks are soft pillows for his long, blonde eyelashes to rest on.  His even breaths in and out are rhythmic.  His hands are pliable in their relaxation; fingers gently curled.  His warmth seeps through his sleeper into my skin.  There is tranquility in holding my sleeping baby. 

From the moment I hear him awake in his crib until I finally place him there again at night, his motion is constant.  He is 15 months of energy and life and love and kisses.  He has four big brothers to keep up with.  He has so much world to explore.  He has conquered the climbing-of-the-chair, so he stands on them triumphantly.  He touches EVERYTHING his little arms can stretch to grab; if he can't reach it, he simply climbs up to get it.  He thinks what he does is ever-so-funny, so he does it again, and again.  He sits in the middle of anything his brothers are doing; literally in the middle.  He empties the recycling bin onto the floor repeatedly.  He helps.  Oh my, but he loves to help.

And then finally, at the end of the day when he has tired from touching and climbing and laughing and doing, he lies still on my lap for a moment.  Sometimes he is still long enough to fall asleep.  In that moment I don't care that the dishwasher still has to be filled and put on, or that the floor still needs to be swept, or that lunches still have to be finished, or that a load of folded laundry still needs to be put away.  I just sit.  I watch him sleep.  I absorb his baby warmth.  And every challenge of the day is forgotten because I am holding my sleeping baby.  I am content.

A New Beginning

It's been a long time since I've been here.  What can I say, life got busy.  A big part of that busyness is the newest addition to our family.  Meet Dylan - our fifth wonderful son who is now 13 months old.

Dylan riding his favorite toy.

For a long time now I've been wanting to get my fingers back to tapping on the keyboard; putting in print these fabulous musings I write in my head each and every day.  Yet, I don't think it is befitting to continue to write something titled Michelles4boys.  Still, the overwhelming need to get this started can no longer be denied.

There is a chaos that comes with a large family.  I am the first to admit that organization, routine and scheduling are probably my weakest traits.  Let me tell you, chaos is magnified many times over when a young family like ours is left to run according to its whims.  However, we are on a mission to change that.  Out of the chaos we want to initiate some very necessary changes that will bring more harmony within these walls.  For me, part of that is taking some time to reflect and chronicle my view of this world in which I live.

I keep telling myself that I will begin writing again when I get that done or this sorted.  But I no longer want to wait.  I am ready NOW to begin something new, even if this isn't the best time to start something else in my already busy life.  While I accept that our lives will always be full with so many little people to care for, I am hopeful it will be a little less tumultuous as we move forward with our quest to redirect the ways of our family.

And so I welcome you to my new home, Simple Bounty.