Dear Bo, Six...

I don’t know why it’s such a surprise to me each time I write this letter that you are another year older.  It is though.  So yet again, I find myself shaking my head saying, “I can’t believe you’re 6.”  Six.  The infant years are behind us.  The toddler years are behind us.  And now the preschool years are behind us.  We’ve entered the grade school years.  If I think of your life in seasons, I can almost hyperventilate thinking that only the middle school years and high school years separate us from the empty nest years.  What they say about time is true…it keeps marching on.

I was so anxious about the start of kindergarten.  The thought of you being with people who did not love you unconditionally, who did not give you the benefit of the doubt, who did not know your idiosyncrasies…it terrified me.  When I looked at a list of things you should know before kindergarten…well, many of them I was unsure about.  Ironically, it wasn’t the academic stuff that panicked me, but the things like “open your capri sun and lunchable by yourself” “button and unzip your pants by yourself” “wipe by yourself”.  These things kept me up at night!  Silly mommy.  You’ve done so well.  You love school.  You love not only learning, but all of it…recess, your friends.  And from what I can tell from feedback from your teachers…you’re kind and a good friend to your classmates.  That makes my heart soar.  You can be the best student in the world, the best athlete, the best everything…but ultimately I want you to be kind to others.  School (heck…life) can be a hard place…but it’s less so when people are kind to each other.   They also say you’re an enthusiastic learner…I’m so glad about that.  There’s a lot of learning to do (long beyond your school years); enthusiasm will help!

You have mostly passed through your love of trains phase and have crossed into Lego devotion.  You love to build.  You like to build with instructions, but mostly you like to make your own “inventions”.  You’re creative and persistent with your Legos.  You go to a Lego class and love it.

You are a great bike rider and also like riding your scooter.  You aren’t really into sports, but you do like to hit tennis balls with Daddy.  You like to draw and color (only since kinder started!).  You love to read, be read to, sing, and make up stories (and listen to other people make up stories!). 

You are a good big brother.  You and Kate warm my heart together.  Sure, you get frustrated with each other and argue and bicker sometimes.  But…when you’re on, you’re on.  You hug, and say kind things to each other, and play together well.  I worshipped my older brother and had such a sweet relationship with him when we lived at home, I love seeing that in you two. 

You have such a sweet spirit, Bo.  I pray that your heart stays soft.  You are eager to please, tender towards others’ feelings, and just so expressive with your love.  You can be hard headed and defiant, too…can’t we all?  But mostly, I would just describe you as enthusiastic, kind, full of joy, and loving.  Our nighttime routine is to sing “I’ve Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart”, pray, tell a story, and sing “Jesus Loves Me”.  Every time you sing about the joy in your heart, I think how true that song is.  You are just joy personified.  As a momma who has struggled to embrace joy, it’s a beautiful thing to witness.

I love you, son.  I’m so glad that of all the little boys in the whole world, God gave me you.  

 

Katie Bug, It's your third birthday...

      I expected the changes that came with a second child when you entered this world three years ago today, but I never could have imagined how many twists and turns the last 3 years would take...death, cancer, career changes, moves, personal awakenings, the redemption of relationships.  In many ways, the mother that held you three years ago is a stranger to the mother chasing after you now.  Mercifully, what felt like a world being turned upside down, was really a world being turned right side up.  Some of these events merely coincided with your arrival; others were inspired by it.  When I look at you, I'll always be reminded of faithfulness, mercy, grace, and redemption. 

     You are sweet, with just the right amount of ornery.  You are curious and smart, loving, downright funny, full of spunk, and impossibly loved.  Mothering you is an outrageous blessing.

      You are right in the 50th percentile for height and weight.  You have a preference on what you wear, and if you don't want to wear something, you call it "scratchy".  You talk a lot.  Like, a lot, a lot.  You say the "fr" sound for "tr" (fruck for truck, free for tree), the "k" sounds for "t" (tate for Kate), and the "y" sound for "l" (yori for Lori).  I adore it.  You love to color and write (and can hold a pencil quite well!).  You love baby dolls and are getting into dress up (but are very selective about the dress up clothes you wear--can't be scratchy).  You want to play in my makeup and are just all around girly.  Your favorite color is pink (you are very interested in what everyone's favorite color is).  You get really obsessed with random stuff (lately it's been rocks and bars of soap and miniature anything).  Your favorite stuffed animal is a stuffed cat that Mimi bought you, aptly named Cat-Cat.  You love the Corolle doll I bought you for your first birthday.  It's "well loved" (i.e. filthy), and you call it "dirty baby".  I bought you a Corolle doll you can wash for Christmas.  It's clean so you call it "church baby" or "pretty baby". 

     You love Bo...most of the time.  You can really give him the business when you're not happy with him, but mostly you want to do just what he's doing.  This means you like legos, Paw Patrol, Peppa Pig, ninja turtles, and rescue bots.  I'm interested to see what your taste is when he's not at home to influence it this fall when he goes to kindergarten.  You love your daddy.  You are so excited when he's home and just generally crawl up in his lap whenever you want.  You like to get him to play dress up with you and are super frustrated that he doesn't fit into a princess dress. 

     I'm pleased to say that you're really a momma's girl though.  You usually want me to put you down and give you a bath and almost always ask me to "snuggle with you" at bedtime. 

     You are such a firecracker, feisty girl of mine.  Words we often use to describe you are:  pistol, firecracker, spunky, hot mess, and "something else".  But you have this tender side that shines through at exactly the moment it needs to.  You are really the most illogical mix of tough and tender...in fact, the only person I have ever known like you is me.  It's a strange, redemptive blessing seeing me in you.  In discovering you and loving you, I've rediscovered and learned to love me.  The Lord is so creative and kind to teach me self love through you...He must have known it was the only way.  I pray we help you channel all that determination and independence into being just who you were created to be. 

     Katherine Morgan, you are a million blessings wrapped into 30 pounds.  Mothering you and your brother is a joyful, hair pulling, fun, crazy privilege.  You are absolutely adored.  Happy birthday.  I am so glad you arrived three years ago.  We'll never be the same.

{Your first week}

 {One year}

{Two years}

{Three years}

 

Dear Pop-Pop, Here I am again around my birthday...

Last time I felt the urge to write to you was a little over two years ago.  There's just something about your glory day and my birthday that impresses you so strongly on my heart.  I turned 37 on the 12th.  Your 29th glory day was on the 5th.  I've been thinking about you so much.

Last time I wrote, I was so bothered that you missed so much.  That you died when Daddy was so young (a few months shy of 37).  That there was so much of us you missed out on.  That there was so much of you we missed out on.  That your oldest grandchild was in the 7th grade.  That your youngest were just toddlers.  I've struggled a lot with that.

But when I wrote you last, I didn't know that that very spring, we'd find out Daddy had advanced prostate cancer.  That we'd use words like "probabilities"and "incurable".  That Daddy's oldest granddaughter would be in 6th grade.  That his youngest would be a baby.  That I would be 35 with a new baby and a 3 year old.  That I would arrange babysitters and drive to doctor's appointments and hop on flights to doctor's appointments.  That I would read thick books with lots of medical jargon.  That I would call anyone who could give me information.  That I would be bone tired from being up with a baby and muster the energy to read, to research, to pray.  I learned more about Daddy at 36 then.  That he loved you fiercely, which is how he soldiered on through your death while transitioning a business, farming, raising 4 young kids with Mother, taking care of Granny, and being a big brother to his siblings.  That staying busy was essential to survive heartache.  That pouring himself into business was a way to feel productive and in control when there was so much around him spinning wildly out of control that he could do little about.  (Oh?  Am I projecting?)

I learned that while there was a lot you have missed, your life was not cut short.  Your life was fulfilled.  In the early days of Daddy's diagnosis, I was in the rawest stage of denial.  I couldn't sleep.  I had one obsessive compulsive thought that would not stop..."This can't happen.  It's not real."  I spent many hours, days, weeks reading medical literature, contacting medical facilities, talking with doctors trying to find a "way out".  There was none.  And true to my nature, when I exhausted my abilities (as menial as they were) and satisfied my mind that I could not change it, I went into acceptance mode.  And strangely, I felt a weird peace that I'm so glad has continued.  It is this...Daddy has a great life.  He is married to a woman he adores, and she knows that.  His wife loves him like crazy in return, and he knows that.  He is living his dreams of owning land and cattle and running businesses with his two sons.  He has two daughters who dote on him, and now he even has six granddaughters to pick up where we leave off.  He has six grandsons, four who share his last name, 3 who live on his land.  He loves his community and works to make an impact there.  He loves his church and invests his time there.  He has strong, deep friendships.  He has hobbies that he actively participates in.  He is a blessed man.  And the best part?  He. Knows. It.  I heard him say to each doctor he met, "I have so much to live for."  He is not a man who has overlooked his blessings.  He's not a man who hasn't been told "thank you" "I'm sorry" "I love you" by his friends, his children, and his wife.  He's not a man who has untold "thank yous" "I'm sorrys" and "I love yous".  We all know.  And I couldn't (and can't) help but feel really peaceful that when he takes his last breath (be it in 10 days or 10 years), that the sum of his years will be a life fully lived, not a life cut short.  A life FULL.  A life FILLED.  A life fulfilled.

So I guess I want to say I'm sorry.  I rushed to judgment about your life cut short.  While I'll never stop selfishly wishing it was longer so I could have known you more, I'll spend less time dwelling on what it wasn't and instead be thankful for what it was...full and filled.  We can talk more about it on my glory day.  Until then, know that I love you and still think of you.

Dear Bo, Your fifth birthday letter...

Five years old--such a milestone.  The year you will start kindergarten…and your little world will expand to things outside of our family of four and our home…outside of the things we choose for you to experience.  I am so simultaneously excited and apprehensive about that.  I am struck this year, even more than the previous four, by just how good we have it.  By just how simple our life is.  By how much control we have over what you are exposed to, what you hear, what you see, and how this year will be our first experience on losing that little by little.  Struck by how this is the last little window of time when you can be 100% kid---nowhere to be, no responsibilities or obligations, just a little 5 year old boy who can spend his day in his jammies playing legos, swords, watching cartoons, eating goldfish on a whim.  About what a blessing it is to be able to bear witness to these things 4 days a week. 

If I could go back in time, I would tell myself to chill.  To calm the heck down.  To worry less about my career.  To worry less about your language and social development and exposure to great preschools.  But then I think about the blessing of being able to afford a great nanny for you and a great speech therapist and the huge blessing of being able to define the terms of my career now so I can maximize my time with you and your sister.  And I think about how bright you are and how much you like to learn, and I wonder if we would be where we are without all of that worry and relentless persistence I’m notorious for.  It’s the age old motherhood question…are my children as they are because of me or in spite of me?  A little bit of both I presume though I’ll never know.  About the only thing I know about motherhood for sure is that it is done out of the fiercest, rawest, most desperate love imaginable.

We are just crazy about you, Bo.  You are so darn lovable.  You are quick to smile and giggle.  You are still so affectionate.  You pass out hugs and kisses and sit in our laps and hold our hands.  I dread that changing the most as you start school.  You are verbal about your love, too.  You say ‘I love you’ and ‘I missed you’ multiple times a day unprompted.  You are so much like your dad that way.

You are particular and a kid who likes to know the routine and stick with it.  You ask everyday what we’re doing and remember which day is for what (church, daddy staying home all day, preschool, etc.).  You have in your mind how something should work/go and when it doesn’t, you get very, very frustrated.  Most of the growling is gone (your previous go to method for expressing frustration), but you still get very upset.  Your little heart races and you are just exasperated.  You like to do things “right” (your idea of it any way), and when things don’t go your way, you’re quick to give up.  Son, I hope we figure that out together.  I see so much of me in you in that way.  I look back on things I really wanted that I gave up on because I didn’t measure up (in my own mind).  If I can work on your heart with one thing this year, it will be to stick with it, and to be easier on yourself when things don’t go exactly as you have in mind.  There are so many life experiences waiting for you to just enjoy; not because you’re the best at them, but because they are inherently enjoyable.  I want those things for you.

Notwithstanding your love of routine and predictability, you have been an absolute champ through two moves this year.  You have slept wonderfully in both houses, have started a new school with ease, have jumped into a new routine, have transitioned to a new Awana program, new Bible classes as we’ve visited different churches.  I could not be more proud and relieved at the way you’ve handled it all.  It reminds me that ultimately, our little family is your world.  And if we can keep that constant and healthy for you, things happening outside of that will have a gentler impact. 

You are a big kid.  I shake my head at the 5 pounder we brought home who took forever to get on the growth chart and stayed in the 10^th percentile.  You are solid.  You are built so much like your daddy, right down to your flat feet and especially your hands.  You have so many of his mannerisms and expressions.  You furrow your brow the same way and carry yourself the same way.  You have a head full of hair and a contagious smile.

You are intuitive.  So much so that it worries me a little.  I was an intuitive child, and I’m not sure it boded well for me.  You pick up on our moods and internalize them often.  If I’m frustrated or angry about something that has nothing to do with you kiddos (work or something else), you pick up on it and ask me if I’m happy with you.  Sweet boy, I hope to work on your heart about this too this year.  It’s great to have an intuition about other’s feelings.  You will be a better man with empathy and compassion.  But people will have feelings and say things and act out, sometimes at you, when it really won’t have anything to do with you at all.   I pray I can channel your intuitiveness into a positive thing and help steer you to a place where you don’t internalize too much. 

I had one of the sweetest moments with you recently.  We read The Giving Tree together.  The story goes that a little boy loves to play with a tree by his house, and the tree loves the little boy.  The tree cheerfully gives and gives to the little boy and the little boy takes and takes until the tree thinks it has nothing left to give, as it’s been reduced to a stump from giving so much to the little boy.  Yet in that moment, as the little boy has grown into a tired aged man, all he needs is a low place to sit and rest.  When I finished, I looked up, and your lip was quivering and your eyes were full and the tears started falling.  I was shocked that you would pick up on the sweetness and profoundness of the story.  I asked you what was wrong, and you kept saying that the boy just kept taking and there was nothing left of the tree.  You were so upset about it, and it took awhile to console you, but we had the sweetest talk about it.  It was such a special moment for me because meaningful books and you are two of my favorite things, and in that moment, they intersected.  You have such a soft heart, son.  A soft, beautiful heart.  I love it.  If only I could protect it…

You love to be tickled, to read, to sing songs and be sung to, to play with Brody and your other cousins, to visit the farm, to do anything with Daddy, to play with Kate (you are such a good brother), to sit in my lap and sing/read/watch movies with me, to play pretend anything, to make up stories and games, to play legos (but not build the items in the directions…you prefer to make your own “latest inventions”).  You love to watch Ninja Turtles, Rescue Bots, How to Train Your Dragon, Planes Fire & Rescue (earlier in the year, it was Paw Patrol and Peppa Pig).  You love playing with your sister, but you have a very specific idea of how she should play with you.  You’re hands on.  You like to build train tracks, car tracks, Lincoln Logs, marble runs, and anything Lego related.  You’re not much for writing or coloring. 

You are all little boy now.  That was true at 4, too, but it’s even more so now.  I love it.  You are so fun.  The things you say and want to talk about delight me.  When I think of you, I think of how much you delight me for no other reason than being just who you are, I think about how much joy you bring to my life, and I think about what pure grace you are to me.  Mothering you and your sister is the most significant thing I have ever done and will ever do.  That God would allow me the privilege remains a mystery.  I can’t wait to see what this next year brings.  Whatever it is, we’ll face it together.

I love you. (To the moon…and back.  To infinity…and beyond.)


 

Dear Kate, Your second birthday letter...

Two?  Already?  I feel like your first two years have flown; they have been full of so much transition.  When I look at you, you represent to me something so huge; it’s hard to even put it into words, but I’m going to try…

I never imagined I would have a daughter.  I was scared to even hope for it.  I’ve never been that good at being a “proper woman” (whatever that means), and I knew that God would not entrust me with a little girl to mold into a “proper woman”.  I was far too deep a thinker even at an early age, always preoccupied with serious things it felt like.  I wasn’t a good “girls’ girl”, but wasn’t really a “guys’ girl” either.  I always felt a little awkward, a little out of place.  I’ve always had ambitions that weren’t very feminine.  I’ve tried to be really good at “girl things”, but my heart hasn’t really been in them.  I couldn’t imagine that I would be anything but a disservice to a little girl.  But the most amazing thing happened…He believed in me and gave me you.  And loving you has somehow made me love me; something I’ve failed to do for far too long.  And loving you has made me love being a woman and has even made me realize I’ve put far too many quotation marks around being a woman.  I’ve realized I love, love dressing you and doing your hair.  I love making your room sweet and feminine.  I love painting your toenails and fingernails and pretending to put makeup on you.  I love playing baby dolls with you and telling you you are beautiful.  I’m looking forward to molding you not into a “proper woman”, but into the woman He created you to be.  And in the process, I’m finally giving myself permission to embrace the woman He created me to be.  You inspire me so.

You are such a beautiful little girl.  You are petite and blonde and have beautiful blue eyes.  We have to work for grins and giggles, but they are delightful when you indulge us.  You are skeptical of people and don’t dole out affection without some time and thought.  You are a little sassy sometimes and a lot feisty most of the time. 

You love your brother but can be harsh with him, too.  You do a mighty mean, “No, sir” if he’s displeased you.  You are not the best sleeper.  You insist on us staying in your rocking chair until you’re asleep in your crib.  You’ve slept with us many times, forcing me to eat my words on that topic. 

You love most anything your brother’s into (trains, planes, swords).  You also love babies (real and play), Bubble Guppies, Frozen, and playing with your pretend kitchen.  You like to climb, hang on things, and you are quite the talker.  You will try to say almost anything and already speak in short sentences.  You like to sing, but it has to be your idea (as is true with most anything where you’re concerned).  I love your sweet voice.  You clasp your hands when we pray, and it overwhelms me with gratitude that you’re mine.

I love you, sweet girl.  I have no idea how to mother a daughter.  I have no idea how to be a “proper woman”.  But I absolutely adore you, and I’ll stay on my knees looking for direction on how to help you be the amazing little lady He created you to be.

 

Dear Bo, Your fourth birthday letter...

 

Happy 4th birthday, my little preschooler.  I can’t believe you aren’t a toddler anymore.  I have loved your toddler years.  I’m so excited to see what this year will bring though; so many people have said “4” is a fun year! 

Your language just amazes me.  You have come so far.  You say the funniest things, too.  If I described you in just a few words, they would be funny, happy, and loving.  You are the most loving little boy.  You constantly hug us, kiss us (and rub it in!), want to sit in our laps, and say “I love you” and “I missed you” when we return from work.

Your transition to primer at St. Andrew’s has been wonderful.  You were headstrong the first several weeks about getting in line and keeping your hands to yourself, but then you fell in step.  You have lots of friends, and the teachers are fond of you (and you are of them, too!). 

You love your sister and are such a good big brother.  You have taken this whole big brother thing in stride.  You refer to her as “baby sister”  “baby Kate” or just “my sister”.  It’s so sweet.  You’ve gotten frustrated as she’s gotten more mobile and into your things, but mostly, I think you’ve enjoyed a playmate.

You adore Jeanne and her family, and you love going to the farm.  You love going to church and seeing Mrs. Amy and going to children’s church.  Your favorite friends are Jack, Simon and Evie (from school), Beau and Jayleigh (from church), Caleb, and Claire.  You’re a social little guy (like your daddy). 

You get really frustrated when you can’t do something or something doesn’t go your way immediately.  You growl, cross your arms over your chest and pout.  We’re working on this.

You have gone through a lot of phases of things you love this year.  Your devotion to Thomas remains, but it has lessened.  You transitioned to a Team Umizoomi obsession, were quite into all things Cars, and now are into Planes. 

Your birthday party was so bittersweet this year.  You have such a neat circle of people who love you—the Vanderpools and the Tomlinsons especially.  There are so many families with littles your age that I took for granted that I’d raise you with…the Roberts, McPhersons, Bensons, Browns.  To see them all in the same place celebrating you for the last time was a sweet moment.  You have been loved so well here, Bo.  So well. 

You bring me indescribable joy.  Your blue eyes, thick head of hair, precious hands, belly laugh, easy affection, loving words, and strong spirit slay me.  If I made a list of all the qualities I wish my son had, I could never have listed all that you are.  You are beyond my imagination.  That you are mine is a gift I’ll never stop thanking Him for.

I can’t wait to see what 4 will bring.  1, 2, and 3 brought more than I knew to hope for.

 

Dear Kate, Your first birthday letter...

One year ago today, you introduced our family to pink, and we'll never be the same.

Maybe it was your temperament, or maybe it was me being a more relaxed second time momma, or maybe it was a result of flat out necessity (I suspect it's a little of all 3), but you transitioned into our family with such ease (please understand that's not to say it was easy).  Your brother was accepting of you from the start.  He surprised me by vascillating between indifference and adoration.  Occasionally, he'd ask us to put you down or insist on sitting on the boppy while I nursed you, but mostly, he didn't miss a beat when you joined us.  Hearing him call you Baby Sister/Baby Kate and say, "Awww....she's so cute!" are among some of my favorite memories this year. 

Those first few weeks are so precious to me.  We had lots of help from Mimi and Lori and her girls.  Of your first 6 weeks, I think we got to see Mimi and Pop each one.  They were and are over the moon for you, their "little caboose".  You will no doubt be spoiled rotten since you are the youngest grandbaby on each side.  Your older cousins are so sweet with you and fuss over you. 

You were such an easy nurser, and I nursed you for 11 months so we spent lots of 1 on 1 time together, especially in the wee hours of the morning.  I tried to soak it in, as you may be my last baby.  I hope I don't soon forget the sweet little sounds you made nursing or your hands up over your eyes and face.

I spent a lot less time documenting this year than I hoped.  But I tried not to beat myself up because I was truly enjoying it.  I rocked a little longer in the evening instead of obsessing over organizing pictures or blogging.  And sometimes just collapsed from the tiredness that comes from having a 3 year old, infant, and full time job.

Your first year was full of transitions.  We said good-bye to sweet Mary, had career changes, had some personal awakenings that changed our course and some harsh reminders that mortality is real....so many distractions that I sometimes worry your infancy year was overshadowed by grief, worries, and decision making.  But I know so many of the changes/awakenings will result in a stronger family for us so I try not to dwell on it.  You have been a bright light amid it all.  A reminder that He makes all things new, that the circle of life is beautiful, even if brutal.  There is nothing that can bring a smile and perspective like a sweet smelling, smiling baby girl.

Your brother made me a momma, but you have made me a girl momma.  I have enjoyed so much monogramming bloomers, shopping for smocked clothes and pinafores, buying mary janes and tights, and finding matching bows.  There is such a sweetness and tenderness baby girls bring, and you have brought that to our home.  It is God's grace to me that I now see baby dolls intertwined with trains and trucks.

You make me want to be a better woman, a better role model to you and your peers.  You've made me rethink body shapes and self image and women's roles.  You've made me think hard on issues I've never really much cared about.  I want so many good things for you and want so much to shape you with a healthy self image so that you can avoid so many of the struggles I've wrestled with .  I'm realizing that teaching you to be kind to yourself means I need to start being kinder to myself.

Thank you for so softly landing in our family.  Thank you for sharing us with your big brother.  Thank you for being a snuggler and loving to rock; it was my best therapy many days.  Thank you for being drawn to Pop and giving him smiles and kisses when he needed them.  Thank you for being drawn to baby dolls and reminding me of so many fun days playing dolls with Aunt Lori.  Thank you for giving sugar readily, for grinning so wide, for singing after we've stopped, for bouncing when you're happy, and for shaking your head wildly when you're simpled out.  Thank you for inspiring me to be better and kinder.  Thank you for reminding me that even when it feels like things are spinning out of control, that they're just things and relationships are what really matter.

I shook my head in disbelief when God graced me with Bo, and that He's doubled my graces by entrusting me with you will always amaze me.  I lathered you in Baby Magic last night, rocked you to sleep, inhaled your sweet scent and watched you rub your silky blanket, and thought, "My goodness.  I have a daughter."  I did the same thing countless times the first week you came home.  May I never stop being mindful and grateful of the blessing of mothering you.

Happy birthday, Katherine Morgan.  I love you so much.



{1 week}

 



{1 year}

2012 Highlights...

{January}

Cotton Bowl at Jerry World

A visit from the Browns

{February}

A trip to Austin and stay at the Hyatt Lost Pines

A day trip to our beloved Aggieland

A visit to the Cole's

{March}

Finding out it's a girl!

Taking off a few days for March madness and chilling

A visit from the Pratts

Spending tons of time "driving" in our cars


Moving to a big boy bed

{April}

Easter at the farm

A trip to Albuquerque to the zoo and aquarium

Potty training

{May}

Mother's Day at the Canadian River Music Festival

Graduating from the Mom-Pop-Tot class at ADGC

A visit to the Browns

{June}

Baby shower for Baby Girl

Jones family celebrating Baby Girl

{July}

Watching the Canyon parade (followed by an awful bout of salmonella)

Watching Bo become a big brother

Welcoming Baby Kate

Lots of visits from Mimi and Pop

{August}

A visit from the Browns

A visit from the Coles

A weekend at the farm

{September}

First day of school

A visit from Donna and Zac

Saying good-bye

Another trip to Albuquerque to the zoo and aquarium (this time with Baby Sister)

A trip to see the Cole's

{October}

A visit from GranDa and GranNana

Baby Sister's first day of school

A trip to Aggieland to see the LSU game and to celebrate our 12th anniversary

A visit to the Pumpkin patch

{November}

Seeing Santa

Thanksgiving and Bo's birthday with cousins at the farm

3!

{December}

More celebrating!

Lots of Christmas outfits and pictures

Christmas as a family of four

Santaland

Polar Express with our train obsessed little guy

Christmas at the Farm

Our cup runneth over this year!