A Quarter of a Year

Yesterday Shav celebrated his 3 month birthday; and by celebrate, I mean that he drank milk, slept in his cradle, pooped, fell asleep in his swing, watched his brothers, spit up, needed his spit-upped-upon clothes changed, went for a ride in the car and then the stroller to get to Josiah's choir class, sat in my lap during class, smiled, went with me to a girls' night out with my friends Julie and Misty, was the perfect gentleman during our fine Italian feast, fussed some on the way home until I stuck my pinkie in his mouth for him to suck on, had some snuggle time, fell asleep peacefully, among other things. Just another great day in the life of Shav, but a day that made me stop and reflect on who this amazing little creature is.

My dad took Shav to his office tonight to weigh and measure him. I was trying to shove the rest of my dinner down my throat before I headed off to a meeting, so I was grateful to stay here at the house and hear the official report when Dad and Shav returned: 13 pounds, 5 ounces, and 25 inches long.
Shav is fully into the stage of babytalk, and I delight in the times when he becomes very verbal and babbles and coos. Simply adorable sounds!
He's also intent on watching what's going on. No longer willing to stay in his swing or the playpen while the rest of the family eats supper, he wants to be in on the action. The other day, I set him in the bouncy seat on top of the counter so he could see me as I moved around the kitchen. He looked like a spectator at a ping-pong tournament, his little head swiveling as I passed him first one way and then the other. Back and forth I went, and back and forth his eyes followed me. He probably rubbed additional hairs off the back of his head with all that friction.
I have always loved our little boy clothes and all the various shades of blue found in dressers and closets around here; but with Shav, I'm also enjoying the new clothes that we've been given for him, many of which feature the "new" colors of brown and green. Although blue IS my favorite color, it's nice to see more than just blue when I open the armoire in his room.

Sometimes when I'm tucking him in bed, I start to lay him down in his cradle, then have to raise him up again so I can give him another kiss or two before really laying him down. He's so precious that it's hard to let go of him sometimes. I cherish these days of him being so small and fitting into my arms so nicely, of knowing that four to six times a day I get to sit down and nurse him and savor the feel of his little body. I know these days won't last forever; they fly away on wings that I didn't even know existed. Here I was thinking that this stage is a snail, but really it's an eagle: flapping strong wings and quickly moving out of sight.

I was thinking these thoughts recently as I read Patti's excellent post about holding our children. The mental picture she includes of a mother and son in a hospital bed is truly powerful. I can't gather all my sons into my arms this moment; but I can tiptoe around to each of them, feeling their breath as they sleep, giving them another kiss, thanking God for another day of life for them.

And especially thanking God for the three months and a day He's given us with Shav.