Spy kid

The camera was not ready for me when I took this picture, but the spy kid was.

So it's over-exposed and that's fitting for this phase of life right now: Ambrose gets really into things he loves lately and I can't keep up.

Reason No. 7,426 why I enjoy being a Mom.

As we were pulling up to preschool today I said, "Ok bye Ambeasty, I love you!"

To which he sighed and answered in a very sincere tone, without hesitation, "Yeah, I love you too mom, as big as a quesadilla and SPACE!"

Woah.

From the heart.

I hope no one minds me sharing something personal. I'm feeling a little emotional because four years ago this very hour I knew it was time to push. I had been through 24 hours of absolute hell. I would never wish 24 hours of hard pumping petocin on my worst enemy. I have never felt so out of control in my life. Ambrose Carl Robertson finally came out screaming. He screamed for the next four months. He challenged my every waking hour and even the very few minutes I got to sleep each night.

He has challenged me every single day since then.

In the very best way.

Not a day over these last four years has gone by that I haven't lost my patience with him, not a day has gone by that I haven't had to resort to threats or time-outs to get him to finally cooperate, not a day has gone by that I haven't been the center of attention in public in a bad way....

and I am so grateful. I know you saw that one coming since I am a mother and we say things like that, but it is totally true.

If you really know Ambrose you know he is pure magic. All my dear friends have a crush on his charming little self and tell me gushing stories about the hilariously wise or ridiculous things that come out of his mouth after a day of him playing at their house. All his teachers at church or swim lessons or the old preschool we used to go to praise his manners and how smart he is. If you know him you have probably had to scold him, but you also LOVE him.





He is special. He can be hard to deal with. He gets better and more reasonable the older he gets. He is emotional. He is absolutely wonderful and so perfect just the way he is.

I'm sad to say that in my lowest, most vulnerable, stressed-out, tired moments I have wondered why Heavenly Father trusted me with such a huge spirit. It makes me cry to type that, but it's true. He's so much more than I am equipped to handle sometimes, but I am so honored to be Ambrose Robertson's mother. I know something amazing is in store for him and I will do my best to help him get there. Even if it makes me look like a frazzled mom in public now and then. Even if it humbles me on a regular basis as I have to recommit over and over to not lose my cool again and again and again. Even if it takes every ounce of my patience.





Ambrose is a wonderful gift and I am so happy he is mine! He's one of my dearest, closest friends who loves me unconditionally always. I'm terrified for the day he finally holds a grudge. Each morning he greets me with the most cheerful embrace and creative plans for the day. Smothers me in kisses. A fresh start.

Anyway, I think if I have learned anything up to this point in the long, winding road of being Ambrose's mother it is that labor with him was so hard and overwhelming with no end in sight (I was at a 3 for 22 hours with the contractions off the chart.), but I knew when it was time to push. I can never compare him to what other kids his age do, or what a magazine article claims this week, or what some new complicated hoops some pop culture parenting book claims I have to jump through OR ELSE are because it never, ever, ever works. The only things that do are following the spirit, not ignoring my intuition and making prayerful decisions as a family unit.

And above all, I've got to be there for him. He's the best and he deserves that much and more.

Happy Birthday my baby boy. I am so grateful you are mine! Thank you for teaching me so much.

I love you I love you, my dear boy I hope you know how much I crazy love you.