Calling for daddy

Lincoln,

Your vocabulary is growing. Every day you repeat a new set of words.

“Where sissy go?”, “I pick up”, “Hole me”, and “High five!” are among the favorites.

But the word you say the most is daddy.

It is the first word you say in the morning, even when I come in to get you. For awhile, every adult you saw was daddy.
If you hear a loud car driving, you always think it’s daddy coming home. You smile and walk to the front windows repeating “daddy, daddy, daddy” all the way. If you fall and get hurt, you guessed it, daddy.

You spent the night with JoJo the other night & she gave you a bath. You got scared and started to cry. JoJo said you cried out for daddy.

The best is when I catch you being sneaky. Trying to climb onto the kitchen counter, opening the pantry door, or throwing toys in the trash. When I smack your sticky little hand, you cry as if the world is ending and yell for daddy whether he’s home or not.

It’s pretty much your default word.

You might think I’m jealous.
I’m really not.

Most of the time I find it endearing. It warms my heart to know you love your father so much. Rightly so. He throws you in the air, cuddles with you on the couch, and lets you and Neala eat mac-n-cheese for breakfast. (Mommy doesn’t let you do that.)

You know your daddy loves you. That he will scoop you up with his big strong arms and comfort you, talk to you, spend time with you.
Yep, he’s a pretty great father.

Last year was tough for me.
The demands and pressure that accompanies four small children has, at times, given me feelings of overwhelming sadness and anxiety.

Funny how God uses small, seemingly insignificant things to speak to us.

The other day when I heard you cry for daddy, the famous lightbulb went off in my brain. I needed to cry to my “daddy” for help more than I had been. I needed to lift up a prayer to God, my Heavenly Father.

Your constant call for daddy reminded me of what should be my default. The last few months I’ve been so caught up in all my responsibilities. I neglected to do what I absolutely know to do. Call for help.
I could keep thrashing around in the water, barely staying afloat. Or I could cry for daddy to pick me up and throw me in the boat.

He won’t get tired of my calling for him, and won’t ignore me.

Because He is always ready to scoop us up in his big strong arms and offer comfort.
Yep, he’s a pretty great Father.

Letters to PawPaw at Christmas

Last year our family started a Christmas tradition. We wrote a letter to PawPaw, tied it to a balloon and released them to “heaven”.

The four of you are still too young to write your own letter. But I don’t mind writing them for you.

Dear PawPaw,

I’m three now!
I’m silly and caring and love to sing loudly. If you tell me something once, I remember it forever. Since I’m the oldest, it’s my job to boss Lincoln around and help feed the twins. Mommy says I’m a hard worker, just like you.
If you were still here, mommy says we would get into a heap of trouble together. She says I’m a “threenager” because I can cop an attitude faster than you can blink.
At night I pray for JoJo because she misses you so much.

Love,
Neala

Dear PawPaw,

Boy do I wish you were here. I get in trouble all the time. I’m curious and active and can climb anything in 2.8 seconds. I love taking things apart and I’m obsessed with the vacuum. If there’s food on my plate, it’s not there long. I shovel food into my mouth and ask for “mo” before mommy can get her own plate ready.
Even though I’m a typical toddler and into everything, mommy says my personality reminds her of you. She cries sometimes when she watches me play because I make her think of you.
You went to heaven before I was born, so we’ve never met. But I’m pretty sure we’d be best buds.
Love,
Lincoln

Dear PawPaw,

I only weigh 14 lbs, but don’t be fooled. Despite my peanut appearance, I’m sassy and strong. I’m crawling and almost sitting up. I will grab anything within reach, including but not limited to, hair, jewelry, paper, and Jack’s face.
Mommy says I would have been your favorite because you always rooted for the “little guy”. Well, I may be a little girl but I ain’t afraid of nothin! I crawl towards the vacuum, flip over my boppy, and even manage to squirm out of the buckle in my bouncy seat.
I’m not saying any words yet, but if I could this is what I’d say:
“What’s Neala doing? I want more food. Grab another bib, I’m about to spit up. Let’s play! Is that a squirrel? What are you doing? Wanna roll on the floor together?”

Mommy says I’m just like you PawPaw. Small, but mighty.

Love,
Emmy

Dear PawPaw,

My life is so great right now. My eyes are deep brown and it makes all the ladies swoon. I grin and mommy’s heart melts. Anyone who comes over to help instantly falls for me. Probably because I am the best cuddler in the Midwest. I’m laid back and the best sleeper of all the kiddos. If you were here we would totally take a long nap on the couch together.
Yep, my life is pretty great. The only thing missing is you.

Love,
Jack

I just blinked

ONE.
Such a tiny number. I never thought much of ONE. If I find one penny on the ground, I will often keep walking. Things purchased for one dollar are often cheap, fall apart easily and don’t hold much value. One ice cube in my water glass does not make that much of a difference.

But on 12-22-13, ONE tiny girl changed my life forever.
One little cry came out of her mouth and I was instantly smitten.
One look at her beautiful face and everything I’ve ever known or wanted or dreamed changed.
In one moment the love I felt for my husband deepened to a place I never knew existed.

One cuddly bundle makes the sleepless nights tolerable. One bright eyed face looking around makes me cry and laugh at the same time.

She doesn’t even weigh 7 pounds yet, but when I hold her I feel the enormous weight of responsibility. One little life, helpless and completely dependent on me, serves as a reminder that my one life is dependent on God for strength & wisdom.

One doesn’t seem so small to me anymore. In fact, one sweet girl has filled my heart to overflowing.

I wrote this a few weeks after you were born.

And then I blinked.

They told me this would happen. They told me time would fly.

I didn’t believe them the first few months. Smacked in the face by motherhood, I couldn’t imagine you as a big girl. I only saw you as a feisty newborn who didn’t sleep very well. Sadly, some of the first few months of your life I spent wishing the days would go faster. Looking ahead to the days when you would be older, more independent.

Now here we are, your third birthday. You’re still feisty as ever. You are beyond independent, which makes me laugh and cry at the same time.

Neala, mommy is so proud of the little lady you are becoming. Helpful and caring, bossy and chatty, I see the beautiful mixture of your personality. You have your daddy’s energy and intelligence.
“Daddy, are you going to work to make money for my piggy bank?”
“I’m so appointed (disappointed), Linky won’t play with me.”
“I had fun at the Fall Festival, I’m going to post it on Facebook.”

You have my humor and sass which is both frustrating and entertaining.
“Mommy, why you ask Jesus to take the wheel?”
“I’m tired. It’s been a long day.”
“Lincoln poops, daddy and mommy poop, the twins poop. This house is just full of poop.”

A few days ago I put you down for a nap and watched you fall asleep. Snuggled up next to you, I held your tiny hand with chipped pink polish. I tried to memorize how the soft brown curls of your hair fell around your neck, your innocent face staring at me asking for “The Three Bears” one more time. I watched as your curious blue eyes became heavy and you drifted to sleep.

You are no longer my only child. You are one of four kids now, which means sharing time and cuddles and attention.
But you were my first. You were the one who burst my heart wide open with love and joy and all the feels.

I love you sweet girl. Happy birthday.

Letters to Little Feet. Stories for my children… And you.

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Author Archives: linguita79

Calling for daddy

Letters to PawPaw at Christmas

I just blinked