This Cup Overflows: M and P turn 3: Dear Mac

Say it isn't so... these teeny, tiny babes have turned 3. The first birthday was bittersweet, the second they still were my little tots, and this third birthday has turned my babes into kids!

LOOK at this:

They've grown and changed so much in just this year. What fun personalities they keep sharing with us. What a ride we've been and are on with you two!

Mac,

Sweet, sensitive, and compassionate. You apologize when you are the one hurt. You ask 'you okay?' when someone is upset. You love Cars, Planes, Toy Story, any type of truck, CARBS in any form except with cheese, sweets (of course), playing Temple Run on dad's iPad, wrestling, safari animals, loud music, playing instruments, and so SO much more.

You don't like cheese, most vegetables, meat other than chicken tenders, being rushed, transitioning from screen time...

You have a sweet language all your own...
moof = movie
cuddles = covers (you ask for 'cuddles' every night as we tuck you in)
okay = yes
any 'L' sound is pronounced with a 'w': Paiswey, I wuv you
colors are Cars characters: red is McQueen
tars = Tarzan

We sing 'Life Is a Highway', 'You'll Be In My Heart' (Tarzan), Jesus Loves Me, and 'You've Got a Friend In Me' (Toy Story) every night after bedtime prayers. As I sing the 'Tars' song, you close your eyes and start to drift to sleep.

You have a completely sensitive soul. I love it when you're sweet and snuggly, but I also fail to be patient with your sensitivity when it isn't sweet or snuggly. I embrace all of you, and I am so thankful you're my sweet son.

This year you learned to walk again. Seeing you in that horrid body cast was a living nightmare. When I look back on the decisions I was lead to make about whether to even take you to the doctor, I am so sure that the Holy Spirit was with me. He protected you from further harm until I could come get you and take you to the doctor. From there we we got x-rays and then raced to the children's hospital ER.

You've yet to walk on Christmas Day. You were a late walker, and last year you had a spiral fractured femur. We all cross our fingers for a Christmas Day where you can walk down the stairs and fully enjoy the festivities.

I wasn't ready to enroll you in any program after our December. I had anxiety leaving you anywhere or with anyone for a while. You shared the anxiety. The first time I took you to the Y childcare, I spent more time in the hallway and checking on you than I did working out. I asked each of the staff about the other kids ages, activities, and your well-being. I was completely overprotective, but I didn't care. I still don't. You bet I am on top of your care and sometimes over respond when you fall.

I'm not at fault, but I struggle with feeling responsible for the pain you've lived. I didn't know to look into group activities, first aid certified teachers, or be overly involved in your whereabouts while in the care of a program. I'm sorry, Mac. This isn't the first or the last time I'll stumble, but it kills me to know I chose wrong in where to put you. It is my job to protect you, and I will be your champion always. After living this, I know better.

In our time at home we decided to potty train. The first go around we sent the girls to Nana's house. You weren't interested at all. You sat in pee and weren't phased. When we went to the potty we were both in tears by the end of the day. I waited about a month, and you initiated wearing underwear. You've done really well from there, and you even trained at night after a few months.

This summer you went to a program a couple days a week. It's at the same school where you now attend preschool. The teachers know me well there also. You love all your teachers. You have art, music, PE, crafts, snack, and play time. I am so thankful for this school to help us recover.

Before I start to get too teary, I will sign off. Thank you for these three amazing years, and I am so
excited to be a part of the molding of where your journey leads.