Pookie

Yesterday, the unthinkable happened. My baby boy, affectionately known as Lukey or Lukey Pookie, turned two. That second birthday is always a hard one for this mommy because it has always marked the end of babyhood. While two is a wonderful and (most of the time) sweet age, it's always a sad moment when we kiss those fat baby cheeks and that sweet baby smell goodbye.

God did bless Luke with an extra-special birthday present...several inches of beautiful snow. And Daddy and Maddie got several extra hours at home to play and enjoy our baby boy on his special day.

At first it was all smiles. He was so excited to get his snow-gear on and head outside. He really is a happy little guy when he's free to explore and destroy without interruption or restraint. He's been a fun one to have around and is well-loved by the rest of us in our little family. We have shared a special bond as Mommy and baby, which shows when Daddy tries to hold, bathe, comfort, play...you get the idea. A Mama's Boy he is, but that's okay with me.

His dimples are a unique and manipulative gift. I have to be sure to discipline when I know it's necessary rather than passing by the moment, easily forgiving and forgetting the offenses of one so cute and adorable. I think there have been a few times, though, that this little monkey boy could have gotten away with murder.

He certainly keeps me on my toes. His first act as a two-year-old was to completely dismantle they keyboard of his daddy's laptop. Most of his time is spent making messes, climbing, and exploring places he probably shouldn't be. He's also become a big fan of writing on furniture and various other surfaces a pencil or crayon should never touch. But there's nothing I love more than when he puts his little hands on each side of my head and leans in to give me a wet kiss on the lips. And it MUST be on the lips. He will settle for nothing less.

Luke does seem to have somewhat of a reputation for crying a lot. I can't imagine where that came from. Well, now that I think of it, maybe it's the last two years of screaming everytime he's dropped off in a nursery, or perhaps it's the many late nights he's spent up with my accountability girls, refusing to sleep when he could be partying.


All I know is he has me wrapped around his little finger. And he loves some Elmo. So, we had to celebrate this special occasion with none other than one furry, lovable, little red monster.


As I think back on all the precious (and quick) memories of these last two baby years, and as I enjoy these temper and talking-filled days, I look forward to the sweet years ahead.

And I thank the good Lord above for making me Lukey's mom. There's no one else's (aside from a talker named Jack and an artist named Maddie) mom I'd rather be.

Happy Birthday, Sweet Luke.