2 years. 2 months.

It has been awhile, oh Blog o' mine. Many moments since July 31 have warranted a post--some marker to later remind myself of these days, but I just haven't done it.

But today is special (not that every other day isn't). Today is my middle child's 2nd birthday. She's beautiful. She has crystal blue eyes and hair that is growing these sweet little baby curls in the back. Some days I want to just freeze time. She's affectionate and snuggly, and very very opinionated. Over the last couple of weeks, she has most certainly reinforced the "Terrible Two's" reputation--temper tantrums that can only be left alone, a ready "NO" regardless of the question, and a general contrary spirit that is immensely frustrating to all of us. But she's so cute.

The girl talks. A LOT. She's anxious to communicate, and you can almost hear how hard she works to put words together into the complex sentences she's surprisingly able to construct. "Mommy...I want...go...Rachel's room...Rachel...say...noooooo," in her tiny little voice, with her most serious expression, wagging her finger and nodding her head all the way. It's cute. She repeats Rachel without letting her even complete her own sentences sometimes (Rachel says, "Carly! Don't coffee me!").

We tried to move her to Rachel's room a few nights ago. It didn't go well. At all. We even pushed the beds together so it would be like she's sleeping WITH her sister, but to no avail. I was anxious, because we need the nursery for my growing fat baby boy, but we will just have to figure out something else for now.

AND speaking of my fat baby, I never have posted about him! Yesterday was his 2-month birthday! I can't believe he's that old, but at the same time, I can't believe he's that young! The kid was 9 lbs 5 oz at birth, and he has not slowed down at all. He's so much bigger than the girls were at this age that I forget how young he really is (I find myself picking him up like he's a 4-month-old and then remembering that he's not quite so steady yet). He's a cute one, too. I think he looks a lot like Carly did, but I can see Rachel in him often, too. It will be fun to watch him grow and to see who he resembles most. Of course, like the other two, it seems he will have blue eyes like their father. But I'm in love with those blue eyes, so I consider it a good thing.

Labor and delivery were not so different this time. I thought he would come a little faster, but he didn't (of course), and, as providence would have it, he was born in the 8:00pm hour, just like my other two. Weird. He was 9 days late--9 extra days of a pregnancy that could not have been slower.

I struggled emotionally after Carly was born. For the entire first year I struggled. But I feel great this time. I can attribute that to many things. For one, I am in a better place spiritually than I have ever been. When Carly was born, I was at a low. I struggled with bitterness and resentment toward my husband, and it took that year for the Lord to reveal truths to me that ultimately humbled me and allowed me to experience real love--from God and from my husband. Secondly, my little fat baby is SUCH A GOOD SLEEPER. I think getting adequate (or anywhere close to adequate) sleep makes a really really big difference in my (anyone's?) psychological health. Carly nursed all night long (almost) for her entire first year (almost). Once I put her down at night, I never knew when or how often she'd be up again. But James (did I say we named him James?) has been a sleeper from the beginning, and already he has a lovely routine of taking a good, hard, solid 3-hour nap every single afternoon, and going to bed (sleeping HARD) sometime during the 7:00pm hour, not waking again until 2:00am at the earliest. Even if he wakes up for some reason, he has no interest in nursing, so I'm totally off the hook. Neither of my girls have been this way. Rachel was a great night sleeper, but not daytime. Carly slept just okay during the day, and terrible at night. James...I prayed for you, dear sir--that you would just SLEEP. Praise the Lord!

And finally, I think the biggest reason I feel great is because I felt so HORRIBLE during this last pregnancy! Almost from the day I found out I was pregnant, I felt awful. I didn't have morning sickness, thankfully (and I know some of you probably stopped reading right there because of how unfair that is), but this boy killed my back. I had sciatic nerve pain the whole time (to the point that walking reduced me to tears at times), and by the end, I thought my pelvis would shatter and my hips would be permanently dislocated. I felt completely debilitated to do the simplest chores around the house. I didn't cook dinner. I never cleaned. It's a wonder my family survived. Of course, my husband was the hero--I think he barely survived.

I cannot capture all of the joyous details I've skipped over the last 3 months, but I can definitely say that, while I am a tired mommy, I am blissfully tired. This has always been my dream--to be a mommy. I work hard. I have learned to be more organized and more productive. I feel accomplished to accomplish what would seem so simple, were I not juggling three little kids along the way.

And while my kids make me crazy most of the time, I try to realize how quickly time passes, and how I will long to return here, if only for a day, when my kids are grown, and I try to cherish the everyday moments and freeze them, if only in my mind's eye.