Eight
He's eight. It was eight years ago today when the timeline of my life was severed and I took my first breath as a mother. His mother.
My Trey is so handsome. So tall and grown up. That mother-breath catches in my throat every so often as I look at him and realize that he's a big kid now. Really, truly big.
And while his bones stretch Heavenward, those huge hazel eyes and long, thick eyelashes have gone nowhere. Chicken legs, boat feet, ample belly, beautiful smile with aaaalmost two new adult teeth up front.
He considers himself an adult and many times jumps to the conclusion that he can and should be allowed to make life decisions for himself. Like what to eat, when. Or how much sleep he really needs. Or in attempting to parent his brother.
That's been fun.
Just the beginning, I know.
He is curious to a fault, wanting to be in on every conversation and completely take over any decision-making processes. The questions. Oh, the questions! He just must talk. At all times. He must.
Super-sharp mind with a steel-trap memory and a love of organization. He has become a crutch for me, as either age or stress kills off more and more of my brain cells. Training up the next generation of Type A, I supppose.
Loves baseball and basketball, yet still adamantly refuses to participate on a team.
Yes, we continue to deal with fear and anxiety issues. There has been little, if any, improvement since this time last year. Honestly, it's probably gotten worse. Praying hard over what to do about this.
And praying that Trey will recognize the freedom that God could offer him from his fears. He knows a lot about the Bible and about God, believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is real, but has yet to grasp that God is the God of Trey, not just of nature and other people. It will come. And as analytical and stubborn as Trey is, it will only come when he's good and ready.
Cause that's how Trey works.
It's strange, really, this kind of in-between phase we find ourselves in. Trey is getting older and coming out of that little-kid realm.
Claims he doesn't want to watch cartoons anymore. But still watches them.
Doesn't like to play with toys. Except when he does.
Has asked me not to use "baby" words with him. The only example he could give me was "tummy". OK, babe.
Snuggles, begs for someone to sleep with him, cries when he doesn't get his way, refuses to go underwater at the pool, still sleeps with stuffed animals and a blanket. And so part of him is still a little kid.
But.
He's learning and growing and his mind is starting to figure stuff out about life. And as our hard-wrought shelter over him begins to crumble, we are trying our best to explain why the world is as it is. And where true hope can be found.
Anyhow.
Trey loves board games and has a closet full of them. This is another take-charge outlet for him and his control-freak organization skills. He is good at board games, and gets extremely upset when he loses. Talks all kinds of trash when he wins.
Can get the giggles at the drop of a hat, and usually because of some weird thing Aden says. It's true, there are moments when Trey seems to really, I mean really, like his brother.
Is obsessed, I mean ob sessed with the weather. Constantly asks to check the weather on our phones, and if we'd let him, would spend hours watching weather patterns all over the globe. Uses his grandparents' phones to text me pictures of weather maps and offers his expert predictions as to what the next few hours will hold for us.
If the kid needed to make a career choice now, he would elect to be an atmospheric scientist. Can't use the term meteorologist because, according to Trey, all meteorologists are on TV and that would just be a living nightmare. So he wants to study weather for a career. It would suit him well and he would love every moment of his job.
Must spend any money that should happen to fall into his possession. Pronto.
Asthma and food allergies still in full swing. Poo.
Is an excellent cleaner upper.
Is diligent to check himself for ticks after every outdoor excursion.
Loves dancing, taking videos, swinging, swimming, talking on the phone, reading, staying up late, making his own breakfast, being bossy, and hanging out with his grandparents.
Could absolutely not be loved any more than he is.
Oh, my Trey Isaiah. Eight years old? Really? You are growing into such a fine young man, and just a cool person all over. Sweet and smart and funny and inquisitive and oh-so-complex. The handprint of God is on your life, and we are more convinced than ever that He has such a special purpose for you. We pray for this next year of your life, that you will draw near to the Lord and embrace every opportunity He gives you to live abundantly. We love you more than you'll ever know. Happy birthday!
My Trey is so handsome. So tall and grown up. That mother-breath catches in my throat every so often as I look at him and realize that he's a big kid now. Really, truly big.
And while his bones stretch Heavenward, those huge hazel eyes and long, thick eyelashes have gone nowhere. Chicken legs, boat feet, ample belly, beautiful smile with aaaalmost two new adult teeth up front.
He considers himself an adult and many times jumps to the conclusion that he can and should be allowed to make life decisions for himself. Like what to eat, when. Or how much sleep he really needs. Or in attempting to parent his brother.
That's been fun.
Just the beginning, I know.
He is curious to a fault, wanting to be in on every conversation and completely take over any decision-making processes. The questions. Oh, the questions! He just must talk. At all times. He must.
Super-sharp mind with a steel-trap memory and a love of organization. He has become a crutch for me, as either age or stress kills off more and more of my brain cells. Training up the next generation of Type A, I supppose.
Loves baseball and basketball, yet still adamantly refuses to participate on a team.
Yes, we continue to deal with fear and anxiety issues. There has been little, if any, improvement since this time last year. Honestly, it's probably gotten worse. Praying hard over what to do about this.
And praying that Trey will recognize the freedom that God could offer him from his fears. He knows a lot about the Bible and about God, believes beyond a shadow of a doubt that God is real, but has yet to grasp that God is the God of Trey, not just of nature and other people. It will come. And as analytical and stubborn as Trey is, it will only come when he's good and ready.
Cause that's how Trey works.
It's strange, really, this kind of in-between phase we find ourselves in. Trey is getting older and coming out of that little-kid realm.
Claims he doesn't want to watch cartoons anymore. But still watches them.
Doesn't like to play with toys. Except when he does.
Has asked me not to use "baby" words with him. The only example he could give me was "tummy". OK, babe.
Snuggles, begs for someone to sleep with him, cries when he doesn't get his way, refuses to go underwater at the pool, still sleeps with stuffed animals and a blanket. And so part of him is still a little kid.
But.
He's learning and growing and his mind is starting to figure stuff out about life. And as our hard-wrought shelter over him begins to crumble, we are trying our best to explain why the world is as it is. And where true hope can be found.
Anyhow.
Trey loves board games and has a closet full of them. This is another take-charge outlet for him and his control-freak organization skills. He is good at board games, and gets extremely upset when he loses. Talks all kinds of trash when he wins.
Can get the giggles at the drop of a hat, and usually because of some weird thing Aden says. It's true, there are moments when Trey seems to really, I mean really, like his brother.
Is obsessed, I mean ob sessed with the weather. Constantly asks to check the weather on our phones, and if we'd let him, would spend hours watching weather patterns all over the globe. Uses his grandparents' phones to text me pictures of weather maps and offers his expert predictions as to what the next few hours will hold for us.
If the kid needed to make a career choice now, he would elect to be an atmospheric scientist. Can't use the term meteorologist because, according to Trey, all meteorologists are on TV and that would just be a living nightmare. So he wants to study weather for a career. It would suit him well and he would love every moment of his job.
Must spend any money that should happen to fall into his possession. Pronto.
Asthma and food allergies still in full swing. Poo.
Is an excellent cleaner upper.
Is diligent to check himself for ticks after every outdoor excursion.
Loves dancing, taking videos, swinging, swimming, talking on the phone, reading, staying up late, making his own breakfast, being bossy, and hanging out with his grandparents.
Could absolutely not be loved any more than he is.
Oh, my Trey Isaiah. Eight years old? Really? You are growing into such a fine young man, and just a cool person all over. Sweet and smart and funny and inquisitive and oh-so-complex. The handprint of God is on your life, and we are more convinced than ever that He has such a special purpose for you. We pray for this next year of your life, that you will draw near to the Lord and embrace every opportunity He gives you to live abundantly. We love you more than you'll ever know. Happy birthday!
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