Great Eights

8!

The past couple of weeks we have spent several hours watching old home videos. It started out for one of our school projects but has morphed into one of our favorite activities. It’s nice for me, because it allows me to wrap my head around how you, my dear Austin, are eight years old. These nights I’ve watched you as a chubby baby learning to walk quickly to being a silent toddler, learning to talk slowly. I’ve fallen in love again with that babe who always had a train in the hand and besides screaming in the hospital when you first met Oliver, has loved having a little brother as a buddy that follows you around for years. It allows me to watch that ever intense face take in the world around him with his brow furrowed and his tongue out, turn it over, think about it, and now has something to say about it.

I love talking with you and hearing about the world as you see it. “Mama, all I need after I graduate college is a jeep and a tent.”

“Mama, after college, if you still have this fifth wheel, could I have it? I think I’m going to go traveling.”

“Mama, I have big plans. I want to go to all of the continents after we go to Africa.”

“Mama, if I could design a place in the woods, it would be a big garden for animals. It would have big gates to keep people out so they couldn’t cut down the plants or trees but the animals would be able to open the gates and I’d sit in my glass porch and watch the woodpeckers and the deer and a funny little cub climb the tree.”

“Mama, someday I want to have a bedroom that is in a tower that is surrounded by windows so I can hear the birds. And when Oliver wakes I will turn down the sound on an IPad and give it to him so I can still lie there and listen to the birds.”

“Mama, someday I am going to be a congressman and make rules that say that people cannot cut down any more trees.”

You go on and on about how the world needs trees and animals and why would anybody want to take that away and at the same time you have the exact same furrowed brow that you had when you were two and pushing your trains around the track. You lose yourself into your thoughts and I am so lucky when I get a glimpse into that world as it is not a part of yourself that you share easily.

People describe you as “soulful,” “zen,” “deep.” All of these are true. You are also wild and active, especially when you have a bike under your feet. You love to learn how to jump and are thrilled you can now get the back wheels off the ground too. You are planning on running a 5K and you never seem to think that that will be hard. Hiking is an activity you ask to do and I’ve never seen you say no to a “flip” off a diving board. When we move home you are trying to decide between “track, finding a bmx team, or soccer, but I really want to run more triathlons” and it’s a struggle that you sit and talk about for 30 minutes because these things keep you up at night.

Growing as a family is an incredible experience because we have you as the heart of this family. Before popping your headphones on in the morning you come around giving hugs and let your brother lie on top of you as you rub his hair. The other day I got sad as you and I argued which is something we very rarely do. It was the first time you’ve seen me cry and though in actuality I got “teary” you describe it as I was sobbing because as you said, it was surprising to see me cry. The argument was based around me wanting to make sure your birthday was perfect for you and not quite sure if I had been able to. The next morning you came and snuggled up saying, “Mama, I am sorry we had an argument, but can I tell you one thing? Not every birthday has to be perfect.” With thoughts like that in your eight year old head, I am so thrilled to get to know you even more and see the thoughts you share in the coming years.

I can only imagine what the next eight years will bring, but I will just keep the camera rolling so it doesn’t go by too fast and when it does, we can all come together, slow down time, and watch it together. Our days, perfect for us.