Last weekend Braeden and Emma and I watched some family movies from when they were babies. It always makes me happy. It makes them happy too. I look over at them and they have huge smiles on their faces.
After, Braeden asked me if there were things about them now that I never would have guessed back then.
I thought about it and oddly, there aren't. The only one I could come up with is that I had no idea I would enjoy them as teenagers as much as I do. I think I believed the stereotype that teenagers are rotten and to be endured when in reality, I really like teenagers.
In their essence though, my children are the same as their cherubic toddler counterparts.
There are videos of Braeden being Braeden. He doesn't just sing (everything from Broadway show tunes to songs he learned on Barney) but he also dances and gestures elaborately. His face is expressive and he makes jokes. Also, I loved the way it was clear that he adored his dad. He still does.
Braeden was the ringleader of the action in the videos. Even when the camera was focused elsewhere, you could hear him singing or chatting.
I also loved seeing the way he interacted with his sister.
About a week ago during choir--which he and Emma have together--Braeden texted me, "I wish you could hear Emma right now." He thought she was singing beautifully. Also, last night he told me of his genius move of having his sister proofread his paper. He thinks she's wonderful.
I think he is wonderful.
I love you, Braeden.
Emma was quieter in the family movies. She had a smile that, like now, could melt ice. When Adam, who usually was doing the camera work, would ask her a question, she listened carefully. Before she had any words, Adam would talk to her and it was plain to see she knew exactly what he was talking about. She'd watch Braeden from a bemused distance. Sometimes she'd join in his game and other times she'd do her own thing. Like now, she was her own little person.
When Emma was small she named everything. Her all time favorite stuffed cat was immediately named Sally. She also had Inca and Chinta who were beloved.
Last night I was downstairs, writing on my laptop and she was upstairs in the school room, writing on a desktop computer. I kept texting her to give me names for my characters.
I could have walked upstairs and been in the same room as her but as I've said before, texting Emma is a highlight of my life. Her gift with words extends into her text messages.
The older Emma gets, the more I like her (and I started from a place of liking her a whole lot).
I love you, Emma.
When he was a baby, he was hot or cold. Happy or...not. He still is that way. There is never anyone as miserable as Mark when he is miserable and when Mark is enthusiastic about something, it's best to just get out of his way.
He was a tenacious baby who moved at full speed and experimented. He'd put a dishtowel over his head and crawl at full speed until he had terrific crashes. He spun in circles in the dark until he banged into his bed (he lost a tooth over that one). Now his experiments are thankfully safer for him but maybe not for our electronics...
When Mark was cranky as a toddler, the best thing to do was get on the floor and wrestle with him for awhile. He still loves to be physical whether he is tearing through the house with a nerf gun or snuggling. When Mark was a baby, I was homeschooling his older siblings and he'd do things like fill the toilet with Lego bricks. He still likes to work magic with Legos--and he is still not a huge fan of school.
I am looking forward to Mark as a teenager. (And bracing myself just a little bit.)
I love you, Mark.
Do I love my first born, my only daughter, or my ginger baby best?