a dwelling place: 13 months...

Here's the deal, Bud.

I've failed you so many times in the past 13 months. I lost count.

I feel this overwhelming desire to do exactly for you the way I did with your sister.

I kept up with her baby book.

You don't have one.

Like clock work, I would post a blog about her each month. Or write sweet memories for her to reflect on one day. I can barely remember when the 19th of each month rolls around.

Let alone to write sweet memories for you to reflect on one day.

It's different the second go round. And I suspect all the mamas know exactly how I'm feeling.

You don't have my undivided attention. But you do have my whole heart. Just like your brother and sister have my whole heart.

Time is moving faster these days. It makes no sense how that happens. I will never be able to understand it. Because most of the time, I am holding on for dear life and praying we don't spin off into orbit.

Since your birthday, you are walking better. Almost running, really. And you are talking more and more. It's genetic, I fear. You eat everything except mandarin oranges. That is the only food you have literally spit out of your mouth. Everything else is free game. You are drinking from a sippy cup. But, you still snuggle deep in my lap and have your night time bottle. I cherish these sweet moments. I breathe deep of the top of your head and instantly I am intoxicated with the aroma of unconditional love. I suspect I will always remember the way you smelled fresh from the bath and ready for bed.

You are still such a great sleeper and you wake up so happy. Contrary to what your daddy will say, you get that from me. With one exception, I need a cup of coffee before I grin in the mornings.

We are still living with Gigi and Papa. Every day, when we pull in the driveway, you start whispering Papa's name. You just love to walk right up to his recliner and play with his feet. But goodness sake, you are in to everything. And if we tell you no, you just do it anyway. So far, you have broken the blinds in the kitchen, thrown away your sister's iPod, ripped to shreds almost an entire pack of napkins, chewed on the kitchen sink drain, torn up all the Southern Living magazines, poured water all over the kitchen floor, dumped the toaster onto the floor, dug trash out of the can, and climbed atop the fireplace like you conquered Everest.

You have the sweetest personality. Your four-tooth grin melts hearts, that's for sure. You give the sweetest hugs and blow kisses.

You are wearing a size 6 diaper and 24 month clothes. You wear a size 5 shoe, which you can't stand. You would rather be bare-footed. I break a sweat every morning trying to get shoes on you. And now that it is colder, I can't just forget it and send you bare-footed to school.

You love to take a bath. And you love to play with your train or any round object that resembles a ball. You seem to use your left hand more, but only time will tell which will be your dominate hand.

One thing is for sure, as many times as I have failed you, I have told you 'I Love You' so much more. You are such a delight and I will never get over how blessed I am to be your mama.

You are such a thrill, sweet boy!