Routine.

Ben,

One of my very favorite things about staying home with you is enjoying our quiet mornings together.  A few days a week we have places to go and things to do, but the other few days allow us to set our own pace.  I realize these mornings are probably short-lived.  There will soon be more mouths to feed and activities to scurry off to, but for now I treasure these mornings- just Ben and Mommy.

You wake up happy almost every day and play by yourself in your crib for a while.  I make my bed and my coffee and read my Bible while I listen to you reading and talking and singing to yourself over the monitor.  After you've completely woken up and are ready to get going, you start yelling, "Maaaaaa!"  I always stand out in the hall and loudly ask, "Where is Benjamin?  Bennnnnnjamiiiiiin?  Where are you?"  You make lots of noise and giggle and laugh until I throw the door open and yell, "Oh!  There you are!"  You jump and jump and jump out of excitement.

You hate being changed, so I always end up singing or doing something silly to help distract you.  Every morning.  I'd think by now you'd get used to the fact that you really do need to be changed first thing, but you still fuss about it every single time.  You are way too busy to be laying still first thing.  I sing "Good Morning, God" and "This is the Day" and "Before My Feet Hit the Ground."  Now you're old enough to say, "No, no, no..." until I skip to the song you want to hear.  (What a stinker.)  If we don't have anywhere to go for a while, I let you pick out what you're going to wear.  This is always fun for you and amusing to me.

We wander out to the kitchen (you still walking a bit like a drunken sailor as you find your footing). I put you in your highchair and you drink your milk while I make you eggs and "peanut butter bread" and cut up your fruit.  Usually I just want to kiss all over you because your bed-head is so irresistible and I've missed you so much all night, but you have little tolerance for that.

"Good Morning America" hums in the background, and you usually ask to call Daddy or Gramma or Grampa on speaker phone to say "good morning."  You never have much to say, you just like the comfort of listening to them talk to you while you eat your breakfast.

While I wash the dishes and rinse off your tray, you pull on my pajama leg and say, "Maaaa!  Maaaa!"  You are ready to read, want to put on your boots, and need to show me something all at once.  The day begins.  I can't think of anyone I'd rather spend it with than you.

Love,

Mommy