Dear Lucy and Asher,
My cousin Amy and I were talking the other day and she told me how she steps into Annika and Trevor and Gavin's rooms and watches them while they're sleeping. She whispers over and over, "Thank you, God, thank you, God, for these wonderful gifts."
I love Amy for so many reasons, but mainly because I can so relate to what she says about motherhood - sometimes feeling totally overwhelmed with the dust over everything, crayons in the toaster, temper tantrums and exploding diapers. Underneath it all, she loves being the mom to those 3. As I do for you two.

Lucy, tomorrow you are exactly 2 and a half years old. Yesterday when you were under the water and I saw you I can not describe the feeling that left my core cold. It was a hollow in the middle of my chest and I couldn't get the sound out. Oh my baby girl, I love you so so so so so so much. I love you so much. You are feisty and volatile and impatient and random and sweet. You're just like me. I want to protect you and show you the world and love you and help you wash your hands 889 times because that's your new obsession. Today you had me in stitches because I opened the refrigerator and you yelled, "Oh, mommy! Chicken milk! Chicken milk!I want chicken milk!" I couldn't imagine what you were talking about until I saw the carton of egg substitute with a cute little chicken on the front. In the past two weeks you have really accelerated with your activity level (PHEW!) and your words!!!!!!! It's amazing and makes me feel like a 94-year-old hip-replacement patient after chasing after you all day. Some other things you've done lately:
- licked the DVD and rubbed it on your shorts to clean it, just like I do.
- told Asher, "Stop hitting me, Brother Bear! Mom, he's hitting me!" when he accidentally brushes up against you as his arms flail willy nilly
- giggle with Asher - I love to watch you two when you don't know I see you.
- pinched Asher's neck while at the same time saying, "Hi, Mama! Hi, Mama!" I know if I hear that greeting you're doing something you shouldn't be.
- Wear your size 8.5 too-big Diego and Dora shoes with your Cindowella dress
- told me the bread dough looked "sort of like ice cream"
- when you're bored, you pack your things up and go to the door, asking for Nina and Papa's house.
- surprise me by knowing the ENTIRE Veggie Tales CD by heart after hearing it 4 times
- tell me, "Stop that, mama, it is really scaring me." as I use the drill to put up shelving
- Tell me, "She pushed me!", referring to your dad, when he gently guided you to your room to pick up your toys.
- call Asher "Sissy", because when I tell him to say, "Hi, Sissy!" you think I'm instructing you to say it. I don't correct you because it's cute.
I keep telling myself that these days with you two so young are SO precious. I know I do alot of things wrong in motherhood but one thing I am sure I do right is truly appreciating every single wonderful day with you. Not a day goes by that I don't end the day with a feeling of gratitude to God for making me your mother. I'm a little too good at putting down the cleaning and reading you a book or helping you in applying all of your stickers in one spot.

Asher, oh, sweet little Asher man. You have lived up to your wonderful little name. Happiness, Gladness, that is what it means. You are such a happy little man. Just in the past few weeks you are wonderfully transfixed with the world around you. You want to grab everything and pull my hair while you nurse. You do this moan that sounds like a cow giving birth to quadruplets when you're content. You have some major separation anxiety and scream when you can't see me. I've felt bad the past few days because you and Lulu have been competing a bit for my attention. You sit in your bumbo with your arms flailing and scream until I pick you up. I thought the "hard" part had passed when you were about 2 months, but now I realize that as you become more and more alert and mobile I will have my hands full! I love it!
Turds - you're really good at filling your diaper with turds. I have thought you were constipated because I've never experienced baby-ate-regular-food turds that weren't in a colostomy bag. At about 2 in the morning I changed your diaper with one eye open. In the morning I came to pick you up and there was a huge turd right next to your head. It must have fallen out of the diaper and made a little home next to your sleeping little form as I was taking it to the trash! There you were, just grinning away, trying to see the turd by the side of your head. Your dad refers to our house as "the family barn".
I love spiking your hair and making you look like a little man. I adore having you for a son. You make our family so complete. I will always hold in my memory the sound of your first gorgeous little cry and your dad letting me name you. Oh, you were so beautiful.
Kiddos, I have been struggling lately with my faith in God. Does he even exist at all, or is the idea of Him just a result of some evolutionary need created by our small, finite minds? Does the belief in a stronger entity only serve to fill some basic biological human need? I am jealous of those who don't struggle with these questions; whose faith is solid.
Tomorrow is the day of the month you both were born. The day my world opened up, the day I began to see things with a selfless sheen. I think about the possibility of a loving God and each day I open my eyes and see your little faces staring back I can't help but feel like a fool to deny His existence.
I listened to this song (Download 08_maybe_theres_a_loving_god.wma)
and it just fit so perfectly how I have felt these last few months:
I'm tryin' to work things out
I'm tryin' to comprehend
Am I the chance result
Of some great accident?
I hear a rhythm call me
The echo of a grand design
I spend each night in the backyard
Starin' up at the stars in the sky
I have another meeting today
with my new counselor
My mom will cry and say
I don't know what to do with her
She's so unresponsive
I just cannot break through
She spends all night in the backyard
Starin' up at the stars and the moon
They have a chart and graph
of my despondency
They want to chart a path
for self-recovery
and want to know what I'm thinking,
What motivates my mood
To spend all night in the back yard
Starin' up at the stars and the moon
Maybe this was made for me
I'm lyin' on my back in the middle of a field
And maybe that's a selfish thought
and maybe there's a loving God
And maybe I was made this way
To think and to reason and to question and to pray
And I have never prayed alot
But maybe there's a loving God
That could be a foolish thought
But maybe there's a loving God
When I feel despondency kick in I look at your little faces and realize that God loves me more than I love you.
And that positively takes my breath away.
Mama