Dear Remy, 

This has been a busy week. Mommy has been to the baby doctor twice, the blood doctor once, and the hospital once, just to make sure everything is ok for Baby Brother. 

Before you were born, it occurred to me that you’ll never really know me as I am, now. By the time you’re old enough for me to be more than solely “mommy”, I’ll be a completely different person–older (inevitably), wiser (hopefully), still not “cool” but not nearly as ridiculous as you’ll think I am in about a decade or so. 

One day, though, you might be proud to know that your Mom completely [mostly] overcame her fear of needles by having to have her blood checked repeatedly during her mid- to late-twenties. It’s all part of growing up, I guess…or all part of having a blood disease. Or both. Probably both. 

It’s by the grace of God that we continue to grow and change–physically, mentally, spiritually. Neither you nor I are the same as we were on this date last year. That’s mercy, though it may not always seem like it. 


Yesterday you were rummaging around on a bookshelf, then brought me what you found–a book by Solzhenitsyn. I always knew you’d have good taste in literature. 


You’ve discovered how very fun it can be to shake your head “no”. It’s both hilarious and a little trying. The best, though, is when you do it after you’ve approached something you know you’re not supposed to bother. You’ll look at it for a second, shake your head and whisper “no”, then walk away. Don’t ever lose that skill. It’s more important as an adult than as a pretoddler. 


We went yard sale-ing today, as we usually do on Saturdays. You are mostly gracious as we haul you in and out of the car. Hopefully someday soon you will catch on to how fun it is. 

We found you a water and sand table for $5. You had to take a nap as soon as we got home, but Daddy and I couldn’t wait for you to wake up so you could go play with it. Daddy filled it with some river rock and water and your gardening toys. You played out there for quite a while, while Mommy sat with you and soaked her feet in the water side. 


Tonight we had spaghetti for dinner (which you have never shaken your head “no” to.) I didn’t get a picture of you with handfuls of noodles hanging out of your mouth, or you getting so much tomato sauce on your face that it was still somewhat orange-tinged even after your bath. I’ll reenact it for you someday, though. Pinky promise. 





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