There were two amazing little boys. Brothers of the best kind. They love and fight fiercely, argue, and play with great imagination. Sometimes when I watch them together, I’m so in awe of their vast differences. I can’t help but compare them, though I try not too – it’s a futile effort any way, because they are each their own individual little people, joined by the gene pool that created those big brown eyes, mile long lashes, and silly smiles. Yet still, I can’t help but take note of L.A.’s overzealous excitement about most everything when he’s in a setting where he feels comfortable – bookended by his reserved observation when he enters a new situation. Then I think of P2′s silly sense of humor and knack for entertaining, the way he sneaks off to quietly play alone for a while only to run back and start singing and dancing for all to see.
As they get older, I let myself start to imagine them heading out the back door together in matching uniforms to baseball practice, or rough housing around the back yard in the way that only brothers do. I look at them, and I’m hopeful that they will be best friends, that they will look out for each other, that they will always know that the other one is there for them. And sometimes, I let myself think back to the days when I was pregnant with P2 and so scared that I wouldn’t be able to love him the same way I loved L.A. … and though it seems like a such a silly thought now, in some ways it’s true. I love them each wildly and in such incredibly different ways. They occupy different places in my heart, (S.G. too – she just wasn’t outside this particular afternoon), but all those chunks love make my heart so, so full.
Mamas of two boys – I highly recommend the book I Love You The Purplest – it’s a steady favorite in our house, and we swap the little boys in the book to our munchkin’s names. The first time I read it to them, I choked through the ending, because the description of loving each boy was so intensely accurate.