Birthday Boy

We say that we love our children all the same, but I don't think that's entirely true. 

I think that the way we feel about each individual child is different and set by a huge variety of factors- birth order, temperament, sweetness, spunkiness, curiosity, sense of humor, intelligence, compassion, the list goes on and on and on and on. 

That doesn't mean we love one more than another, we just love them differently.

Yesterday my Carl turned 7 years old.

I cannot believe that he is now a big 7 year old boy.

He's all about playing baseball and basketball, and now enjoys watching sports (in person and on TV).  He loves to ride his bike and build legos, and still plays with cars, boats, and trailers like he did when he was two.

But he's also learning how to make armpit fart noises and has an opinion about wearing sports clothes more often than not.

He's getting bigger.

Carl was born during a year in my life that was full of change.

We'd sold our first house (the house that I LOVED) so that Mark could build us a dream home.  I think that was how Sarina learned about the emotion sad- I cried everytime we pulled into the driveway of our house after we signed the papers to sell it. 

We moved into a modest 2 bedroom rental house across town.

I stopped working full time and starting consulting so that I could be with the kids more (yay!).  But had to learn how to work for myself- no sick days, way less pay, and keeping customers happy...

It was also a time when Mark was working tirelessly to build us a new house. 

Mark's Grandma Mable joined Grandpa Carl in heaven.

And my dad was battling colon cancer.

I remember sitting in the room with my dad while he was getting his doses of chemo.  How weird and sad it felt to be pregnant while my dad was having poison pumped into his body.

Carl came into this world 9 weeks before my dad left it.  Carl's sweet stoic little face has always seemed like an old soul to me.  He was a constant source of joy and affection when I was so sad and feeling so old-almost 30...

I packed him to work with me for almost a year, while the historic district in Steilacoom was in such turmoil that we had to stop issuing building permits for several months to straighten it up.  He was happy and content the whole time he was at work with me.  Of course once he was old enough to eat something (he NEVER took a bottle) I was able to leave him with his daddy and big sister.

He's always been easy to please (except when it came to a bottle) and full of love and light. 

He was the little boy who would sit quietly at my side for an hour in the waiting room of the Thurston County Building Department, playing with his matchbox cars, perfectly content.

He didn't talk much until he was almost 3.  But his little face lit up like the sun when something made him happy.  He absolutely glowed and you knew exactly how he felt.

Now he's all about dumping out his 300 marbles (maybe I should have thought about that gift a little more before giving it) and armpit farts, and wii games, and sports.

But I'm so thankful he still needs a good snuggle every now and then.  That he loves playing catch with his daddy more than anything in the world.  That he still adores his big sister- who leads the way for him.  That he plays well with his little brother.  And that he delights in his crazy, sassy baby sister. 

Every night I thank God that I get to be his mama.

I am so lucky.