2012.

Just a few things I learned:

• Pricking your finger five times a day and cutting out carbs is a small price to pay for a healthy baby.
• Maternity pants are the best. They are missed.
• Swedish/Edmonds, 7th floor is my happy place.
• I CAN love another child just as much as I love Caleb.
• Colic sucks. No ifs ands or buts.
• My husband is gracious. He survives on less sleep and is more nice about it.
• Buying a new scale doesn’t necessarily mean the number on it will change.
• The first day back to work after maternity leave is bad, but you won’t die.
• Traveling with children reduces my fear of flying. Turns out I’m more afraid of them.
• When faced with the choice to have a girl’s night or not, never choose not.
• I have no idea how to deal with gray hair.
• An iphone doesn’t cure all problems in life, but it makes them significantly better.
• I need to make lists. I get a lot more done that way.
• I need to travel more.
• Having healthy children makes me feel like the luckiest person in the world.
• I want to write a children’s book.
• Sleep is a necessity, not a luxury. You will end up wearing two different shoes to work if you don’t get enough of it.
• I love the bond of sistership.
• Family has its ups and downs, but love remains constant.
• A good laugh can erase hours of tears.
• We can’t change those around us. We can pray, we can hope and we can love. God is more than capable of doing the rest.
• Caleb and Kenz have the sweetest, cutest, funniest cousins around.
• I am surrounded by love and it is really, truly all you need (so maybe I take back the above iphone comment).

I’ve learned a lot more than this, I’m sure. 2012 feels like a bit of a blur. I started the year very pregnant, had Caleb’s 2nd b-day, welcomed sweet Makenzie Kay, spent a few trying, but glorious months with her (truly, I miss them every day – colic and all), traveled to California, went back to work, juggled life with two kiddos, made new friendships, reunited with old friends, spent time in Spokane and Newport and on the river, learned of new additions to the fam, celebrated birthdays and the holidays … and so much more that I can’t even remember right now. See a blur.

I WILL always remember my daughter’s first cry, my son making me so proud as a big brother, family and friends who supported and cared for us, and our little family becoming whole. I will always remember tears in our eyes as we celebrated Papa Kelley’s life with family in California. And I’ll remember the karaoke that ensued. I will remember feeling really vulnerable and really strong, and the high and lows that each year is bound to bring. And I will remember that on midnight on Jan. 31, 2012, we were well. We had made it. And we had each other.

nine months.

kenzie lou,

before you were born i wrote a list of "hopes" i had for you. i thought i'd have to wait until you were a lot older to see if these would become reality. but at nine months, i'm surprised to say that i'm already seeing some of my wishes for coming true.

• you do love your dresses (or at least you tolerate me putting you in dresses), and you look pretty darn cute in them.
• you have eyes like your brother.
• you are indeed strong and sweet.
• you're not a picky eater.
• you let me do your hair.
• you are quick to stand up when you fall.
• you trust us to do what's best for you (i think).
• you have a heart full of gratefulness (as evidenced by your big smiles and laughter at the most simple things).
• you love your brother.

some of my hopes remain to be seen. like if you can make it through the teenage years without hating me. whether you'll appreciate your imperfections. whether you'll believe with all of your heart that God loves you.

so in the meantime i pray. and my prayers are equal parts thankfulness for who you are and pleas for who you will become. i dream about what your life with be like and ask God that it is a meaningful, beautiful, long and satisfying life.

today you are nine month you. you crawl and pull yourself up and stand. you can't sit still, you are smiley and giggly and you take good naps. you have four teeth that have caused us some grief, but we are getting past that. you babble and play. you splash in the bath tub. you kill me with your smile.

i'm excited for what tomorrow, the next days, the next years will bring. how you'll grow and change and who you'll become. i will always want so much for you, kenzie lou.

and then there's that hope that you will always, always know how much we love you. we do. and when i'm old and gray (or older and grayer, i should say), you will make me the happiest person alive if you can tell me that you knew the things that i will undoubtely be powerless to fully express no matter how hard i try. that every day you were cherished. adored. valued. treasured.

that you were absolutely loved.