A letter to my “middle” child…

My Dearest Burke Thomas,

I have to write this letter because I failed, miserably, at documenting pretty much anything from your first two years of life. Your big brother has a detailed baby book, every date, every milestone is there, along with cute antidotes and even every single baby gift we received. Typical first kid. Your sister’s baby book is a little less full, having come only 17 months after her brother, but there are the important dates, first step, first tooth, first word. And then you, my little Peanut, arrived just 21 months after sister. Like everything since, you came when YOU wanted to, on your terms, and we’ve all been along for the ride since. I would use the excuse of juggling three kids three and under, but the truth is, it wasn’t the juggling so much that prevented me from ever opening your baby book. No, it was the LIVING, the enjoying, the loving.

You see, something finally clicked when you came along. It took you, my Sweet Boy, to show me the way. I don’t know what it was…that you were my tiniest (so funny now, since you are my biggest!)…that you screamed in pain for months on end and all I wanted to do was make you better…or maybe it was just every thing about YOU.  Your smile and your laugh, despite the belly issues. The way you would simply light up when any one of us spoke to you. Those big blue eyes and the big giant dimples. But I just got caught up in YOU. Every single thing about you made me happy. Your siblings loved you so deeply it hurt me to witness. Even your big sister…I was so worried, she was such a momma’s girl and she still loved her milkies, I was afraid she would be jealous or resent you. I could not have been more wrong – that girl loved you so fiercely. She still does. We all just enjoyed you so much, we loved loving you, watching you grow, just having you (finally!) in our family.

I may not have the slightest idea when you rolled over, but I can promise you we all cheered (Mary the loudest!). And your sense of humor…my goodness, I had no idea a little toddler could crack a joke, but as soon as you could talk, that’s what you did. And I think that’s about when we started calling you our middle child, which is funny, because you were the baby for just over 3 years. But you just fit the role. Peacekeeper, jokester, friends with both your siblings (who often “fought” over you), you needed (and got!) the most attention – and, of course, the empty baby book. I do wish I knew the date of a lot of those  things….but I am so glad I was too busy enjoying you to stop to write stuff down. Even thinking about them now…I can picture your smiling face when you first stood up, so very proud. And your big ol’ diaper butt swishing side to side when you crawled. Oh that smile when you had only those two bottom teeth! GAH! I can’t even stand how much I love you and the swell I feel thinking about these things.

I always tell you that you make my heart happy – it’s true. Even now, as you approach 3 1/2 and you play with little legos like a big kid and go potty by yourself and you’ve mastered so many of the milestones…my heart aches when I look at you. I still don’t know what it is about you, I guess it’s all of you. My Peanut Butter, my Rotten Potato, My Burkie Turkey, my Sweet Boy, and now, officially, finally, my middle child. It’s a role you were destined for….because for all the love you received from us when you were born, you have given it back a million times to your little brother. Above all else, you are the most generous with your love. It is a trait I hope you never lose. We are all so very lucky to have you as ours. And your squggles – please always give your momma squggles and hugs and kisses.

There is not a single moment I would change, even if I haven’t written one of them down. Thank you a million times for being you, my sweetest Sweet Peanut.

With All My Love, Momma