Little man turns 7

24173905_10156757647668906_1207327525275820917_oToday Little Man, aka, JP, Jonathan, Peezy, or Click-Clack Paddy Whack (don’t ask…)turns 7! I remember when I found out that we were expecting him. I freaked out and, embarrassingly, not in a good way. We had eight kids and I felt like we should be done. Silly, silly girl…I should know better than to think. LOL I found out that I was pregnant and I was kind of mad. We were charting and there really wasn’t any way that it should have happened, except that it did. I went in for an early ultrasound because of some weird clotting issues and they couldn’t find the baby. There was nothing. I immediately realized how much I wanted that little baby and I was devastated. They told us to come back in a week and they would check again, it might just be too early. I was 100% convinced that I had lost the baby and that it was my fault. For the next week, I lived in the dark side. I couldn’t get out of bed and I just kept crying. We went back in the following week for the ultrasound and I just laid there with tears streaming down my face. I knew that she was just going to confirm what I already knew…but then she turned the volume up and there it was…the heartbeat. I looked at the screen and you could see the distinct little lima bean baby wiggling around in there. I swore then and there to never take my fertility for granted and to that I would joyfully welcome any children into my heart that God blessed us with. The ironic thing is that shortly after Peezy was born, I developed fibroids that basically incapacitated me and I had to have a hysterectomy. He would definitely be our last little one. Let me tell you, I thank God everyday for the blessing that is Jonathan. In a house full of teens and tweens and hormones and angst, his funny little self is not only welcomed, but it is needed. He basically has the entire family wrapped around his little finger and keeps us entertained. The funny thing is that he is a very old, little boy. There is a wisdom that is there that just can’t be explained. He is always pushing to be bigger and I keep begging him to just slow down. My little man.

So this morning, I was sitting in my bed, reading the daily readings and he saunters into my room. He is wearing this lopsided grin and looked at me expectantly. “Happy birthday Buddy! How does it feel to be 7?” He says, “Pretty darn good. ” I am trying not to bust out laughing. I said, “Are you too old to come over here and give me a big birthday hug?” “Course not Mom,” he says. He climbs up on the bed and I pull him in for a big hug. I was holding him and I flashed back to that very first day. My mom and Brian had gone home for some dinner. Brian had planned to bring the kids over to meet the newest Hough later that evening. We had no idea that while I was laboring, we had been hit by a major ice storm. With the exception of my dad, who popped in on his way home from work, nobody could come to visit us. I remember laying him on the bed and unwrapping his blanket. I just looked at his little feet and tiny fingers. I couldn’t imagine a world that he didn’t exist in.  As I was patting his back, my mind back 7 years ago, he says, “Mom, I feel as if I should tell you something. I am going to fart.” Moment gone. I dissolved into laughter and so did he. Hugs from mom and giggling about farts, this is what it is to be a seven year old boy.


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