One last thought for the night

Sometimes I wonder why I bother bathing Tommy, I mean sure he would eventually start smelling, but as far as being 'clean', it is an utterly impossible feat. He just can't seem to NOT get dirty. If I were being honest, I'd say it is actually pretty cute, but when I'm tired or have already bathed the child four times in a single day, it gets a little old. (and bibs don't work, even if he does keep it on)

Tommy loves to count, 1-10 he has mastered, to 15 is pretty good, and 20 gets pretty randomized. Eden prods him along, and the three of us together make a musical chorus of counters---tommy and I harmonizing with Eden on second soprano, doing her own separate part. It usually turns into a cacophony of numbers, with the accompaniment of giggles. The stair well is where we practice.

Tommy is amazing, everything comes so naturally to that boy. every. single. thing. His development has been seamless, perfectly flowing from one point to the next so quickly and silently that you don't even notice the change until you realize he is counting or speaking in complete sentences before 2, or climbing and sliding by himself---imperceptible progression, until it literally slaps you in the face, and looking back you realize you have no idea when it all happened.

Tommy sat through every second of the primary program, eyes transfixed on the children. Eden's primary program was flawless; every child having their part memorized, each song heartily sung. Eden was adorable, she not only mentioned one thing but two. She said, "I can follow God's plan by saying prayers, and by being nice to Tommy." I loved watching her up there singing with the other children. She is growing so much, spiritually, physically and emotionally. Up until now Eden's development has always been so choppy, each milestone being reached awkwardly, through struggled, diligent work.

Eden's development has always been WORK. every. single. step. Nothing has come naturally to Eden, not eating, not pooping, digesting, sitting, she never crawled, running, climbing, speaking, interacting, being present, NOTHING. However, I feel like her progression is finally streamlining, like she can finally breathe while enjoying being little, that she can move and interact without having frustrated meltdowns. I'm finally beginning to shed some of the fear I carried around about pushing Eden, not ever knowing what it would ignite, and who was responsible for the explosion. I would struggle knowing if I was to blame for her outbursts pushing her too hard, having unrealistic expectations for her , where the line was between what she could handle, her age, and what was 'appropriate'. Eden has also started sleeping through the night, without all the night terrors and frequent wake/sleep episodes of screaming/crying. I feel like I can finally breathe.

With Eden I can literally see every inch of movement forward, and backwards. The good news is, she is beginning to come into her own, to tell stories that flow, to run, climb and slide, to have real meaningful conversations with others, to make friends on her own accord (that are NOT adults), she is understanding more fluently the norms of behaviour, why we don't do certain things (like show our underwear in public, or why we have to wear underwear in the first place (something i absolutely despised as a child :) ) , Eden is beginning to spontaneously laugh from external stimuli like songs, or something Tommy said. Eden used to get this look on her face, a distant sideways glance, like she was not present like the rest of us are present, sometimes the smile would melt into laughter, but it was all internal, she lived within her own realm; those sideways glances are becoming fewer and far in between as she transitions to here, to the present, to us, to me.

The joy I feel when Eden laughs at a Raffi song, or silly faces Tommy makes, or when she, of her own free will, climbs unassisted on the playground, or interacts appropriately with a child, is great; my joy at times is overflowing. Nothing has been taken for granted with Eden, not her digestion, her sleeping, talking, gross motor skills, recognition, general health, nothing. As Eden points at clouds, telling me she how she wants to jump up and touch them, that they would feel like dogs' hair, soft and fluffy, or her many stories of Peter and (insert girl name here) as they go tromping in the meadow with a duck, cat, and bird to eventually hide from the wolf who lives in the deep dark forest, as Eden begs me to tell her the story of Peter EXACTLY as it happens in the story she's heard a million and one times, correcting me along the way (she has it memorized, I obviously (according to Eden) don't), the ability Eden has to sing along with a group, her new found grasp on verbalization, being able to articulate the things her mind has forever registered----

...all of these things that would pass by without a second glance from an outsider, all of these things are miracles, miracles of the highest and grandest design. Miracles that teach me everyday that I am not the only one rooting for this girl, trying my hardest to help her fully develop every talent she has been given, hoping with more hope than I can possibly hold, that she will reach her full divine potential, I am not the only one invested in Eden or her future. I am humbled everyday by Eden's hard earned progress, not only for the progression itself but for all the inherent meanings and difficulties within it.

Eden is a miracle, my miracle. She keeps me grounded. She makes angels real, miracles obvious, and above all reminds me of a loving Father in Heaven who not only blesses his children, but meticulously watches over them with the loving care that only a parent can give.