Where did you get your funny?

Oh Kyra Mae, 

I have no idea where you got your funny from. You are all or nothing. You are meltdown or funny face. You fight hard but you love harder. You have me wrapped. You are smart like your daddy and emotional like me. We've decided this has potential to be a dangerous combination. You have super curly hair that is rarely tamed and in the humidity, Shirley Temple has nothing on you. You love reading and puzzles and snuggling. You have grabbed on to the role of the youngest and played it well. You love your sister with a fierceness that I pity anybody who dare breaks her heart. Hell hath no fury like a Teagan with a Kyra Mae as her sister.  You dance to your own beat but you have two left feet and are our constantly bruised and beat up kid. You are passionate. You know what you want and typically will stop at nothing to get it.  You bring such laughter to our lives. I even have to watch myself when you are doing things you know you shouldn't because it's often funny. You love hugs and kisses and you love to be tickled. You despise having to go try and potty if you don't have to go right that second. You always come home with a sandbox of sand in your hair on pretty days. You share the brightness in your eyes that Teagan has. You are barely one size away from her in clothes because you are physically your daddy made over and are taller than some of the kids in her class. People rarely believe me when I tell them you are merely 3.  Our relationship had a rocky start. I feel like I've spent a lot of time making up for the bonding I feel like I deprived you of in the first year. I think I'm partly at fault for feeding into your youngest child mentality. I admit to babying you some. I admit to doing things for you because it's just a little bit easier that way. You get very upset if you don't do things right immediately and if it doesn't work the first time you get yourself worked into a tizzy. This has been a tough one for your daddy and I. We recognize the frustration and sometimes we are really good at cultivating persistence and perseverance with you during those hard times and sometimes we are terrible at it. We aim for more good at than bad at. I just ask that you be patient with us. I pray that you know how much we love you. I pray that in those times of frustration that we are able to show each other Jesus and grace, oh, so much grace. 

We love you. Forever and always. 

Tea for two.

This little girl of mine, she isn't so little anymore. I hear myself starting to say the words, "don't rush it" and "your time will come" more often than I'd like. Her smile lights up the room. Her eyes can tell you every answer to the universe. She has concern for what others think but she still stays true to herself. She reminds me at night to braid her hair so it won't tangle for tomorrow. She asks questions about friends overseas and how certain cultures believe certain things. She prays for their hearts, that they will learn about and love the Jesus she does. She is sassy and easily distracted. She is kind. She loves to sing, and after a lot of persistent practice, has taught herself to snap and whistle and she beams when she does. She tries to mother Kyra Mae which doesn't always go over well. She is rarely without a book or high heels. She likes to accessorize and asks to wear lotion on her face like mommy. Occasionally I curl her hair. She loves dresses. She loves chapstick and cannot wait until we let her have a tube with color. She challenges me. She pushes my buttons and tests my patience. I say, "seriously, kiddo?" quite frequently. Her heart is tender and is easily bruised. There are times where my words are the ones that bruise. She loves deeply and forgives quickly. 

There are times when I cringe for the times that will come as she gets older. I sometimes grow weary for things that will be. For when the reality of a fallen world smacks her in the face. When the kids in her class are not so accepting of her personal style. When the world starts to tell her to just give up or move on to something else when the things in life or life itself gets hard. When her heart gets broken the first time by a friend or a boy after loving them deeply and possibly forgiving too quickly.

Then I rejoice. I rejoice at the fact that God gave her to us. He gave her to me to be her mommy. To be blessed to capture that smile and to be the one to look into her eyes to find the answers she may not want to tell me. I rejoice that there will still be times she wants me to sit on her bed and braid her hair before she sleeps. For the times I won't be leading her into prayers but that we will pray together and her words will be without prompt. I rejoice that she has personality. I rejoice that she has started to seek perseverance now and hope that it will be something we can continue to encourage in her. I love how she loves her sister. I know there will be a realistic version vs. the romanticized version of their relationship that I see but their genuine love for one another makes my heart burst. I am anxious for those relationships that cause her heart to break. I am anxious that she is going to go through the phase that all girls go through where parents are no longer the heroes of their story. However, I hope that at that time I won't want to be her hero and won't pretend to be able to fix it. I pray that Josh and I are able to love her and direct her to the cross, to the real hero. I pray that when the time comes that loving her well as her mommy will be what I am equipped to do. And I am blessed to fill that roll, both now and later. Forever and always.