8 & 5

Gracie turns five in April. Sandis turns 8 in August.

I’m caught, wondering exactly when it was that my babies grew into such remarkable young children. Their legs are no longer bowed, their faces no longer cherub, and I’m caught. I’m caught wondering when exactly they became so beautiful, so striking, so affective.

I sneak in gazes at my Sandis and I can imagine him another 7 years from now with gangly legs, mussy curly hair, and freckles spattering across his perfect nose.

Gracie doesn’t mind me staring (well she does, and she isn’t sweet about it, but she does like being admired, so if you pose your stares in the correct format, you can stare all you like.) I imagine her at Sandis’s age with thick brown hair cowlicked with curls all about her head and deep brown eyes accentuated by her two perfect pin-prick dimples. She is what is referred to as petite. Before Gracie, I hadn’t any idea exactly what petite referred to. (Smaller than me.) Now I understand that it means a cross between “little” & “short”. And in being more than a little little and more than a little short, you are perfectly proportioned “petite.”

My kids are quite possibly the most beautiful children in the whole entire world (no offense to all you other mothers.)

When embarking on the journey most often referred to as “motherhood” no one ever told me that children only grow more beautiful with time and love grows exponentially with each birthday celebrated.

How awesome is that?