Yesterday at church Chad gave Lincoln his baby blessing. It was a special day, and I was so glad that my parents and my brother and his wife could be here for it. I was experiencing a full range of emotions about this day.
I was excited to give a motherly contribution, and sewed Lincoln a pair of white pants to go with the shirt I bought. He was too big for the blessing outfit that Mason wore. In fact, I used a white fabric scrap for Lincoln's pants, and barely had enough to make pants to fit his chubby thighs and tummy. I was cracking up as I tried to squeeze him into them. I was holding onto the waistband of the pants, jiggling up and down as Lincoln slowly slid into them, as if he were a pillow getting stuffed into its case.
Chad spent a lot of time thinking about the blessing beforehand. He felt more nervous about this blessing than with the other kids...an inner pressure to give a special blessing to match this special boy.
And there was a small part of me that was melancholy, remembering Riley who passed away a few days before his baby blessing. We actually had his memorial on that Sunday, and the luncheon at our house that day was nothing like the one that I had planned.
Mostly, though, I experienced a beautiful peaceful feeling. Gratitude for this amazing baby with which our family has been blessed. Love for my husband, who gave a perfect blessing that touched the hearts of everyone present. Those in the circle witnessed Lincoln stare at his father through the entire blessing. And when the guys returned to their seats, Lincoln just smiled peacefully at Chad, as if he knew what was going on.
And the joy of being surrounded by extended family.
We celebrated the occasion with talk and laughter, and delicious Mexican chicken salads, Cafe Rio style. We saved room for churro cupcakes and rocky road brownies. Chad and I played board games with Adam and Heather, and I had a giddy outburst of joy at the thought that they now live close enough to do this all the time.
And Lincoln would not cooperate when I tried to get a decent picture. He did, however, flaunt his impressive tongue skills.
Bree went home with my parents, since she gets to go with them for a special vacation for a couple weeks. I miss her. Just the other day as I was on the phone with Adam, he heard me say, "Oh don't do that Bree, honey...Oh...I guess he likes it." We were cracking up. The house is a little quieter without her.
It's good for Mason to be free of Big Sister's shadow for a while. He's been displaying some serious deprived-middle-child symptoms lately (we're talking tantrums galore), so I'm taking this opportunity to give him lots of extra attention. It doesn't take much. Read a few books. See Winnie the Pooh at the theater. Go to "Mac-nock-Donalds" and get a kid's meal (when I ask him if he wants a burger or nuggets, he tells me which toy he wants). Grant him complete control over what to watch on Netflix. This is the stuff of a three-year-old's dreams.
And the week is off to a great start.