A Mother of Many's Confession

It took me 3 practice kids before I realized what a true blessing it is to hold Frankie long into the night, rocking him as he is sick, holding him when he needs me.  It is amazing to me how much love continues to grow within me:  when it seems your heart is bursting and full, there is room to love beyond what you believe is your capacity.

9 months

 

Baby Frankie.  My doodler.  You were rolling around with stinky toes and then crawling around after Christmas.  And then exploring the knobs and giggling when we looked at you funny.  And sucking down your bottle, except getting distracted by all the action at our house.

 

 

 

You were growing and growing, reaching for cords and sticking your fingers in outlets.  Grabbing for tiny legos and laughing, laughing, laughing when we told you no.  Eating whatever food we put on your tray.  Stuffing your face with Cheerios and almost choking.  Snuggling so sweetly while we read Goodnight Moon, or while we sang karaoke on your sister's new machine.  Or while your siblings played piano and Daddy read the paper on the big blue couch.

 

You were held in a fort of blankets and playpen.  You were protected by a team of 5 older housemates.  You were loved and loved and loved in a way that means the heart can keep growing wider and beyond the capacity than any human believes it can grow.

 

You were standing up after Daddy taught you, even though Mom told him not to teach you.  Just stay little.

 

You were eating spaghetti and gulping down a drink of water...and in the same night, standing up in your crib and crying for Mama, Mama.  And then when Dad picked you up, saying it finally, nine months old:  "Daddy!"

 

Oh how we love you, Frankie.

 

Love,

 

Mom, Dad, Tom, Lu,  & Jim