Love For a Mother

Do you know what this is?
It is a dandelion but more importantly it is the love a little boy has for his mother.

Daddy brings me flowers occasionally. Just because.

Ian brings me dandelions. Everyone single one he can find, just because he loves me.

It melts my heart.

Just like it does to see him playing so well with Sage.
I figured there would be a period of time after school started when he would really miss Noah and the time they spent playing. To a small extent this did happen but in the last couple of months, Sage has gotten bigger and understands better and their play time has increased in quality and quantity.
Sage is very much a girl. She totally loved the purse and wallet section. Everyone heard her mourn when we had to leave.
Daddy remains her favorite person of all time.

Although, she has been known to find a substitute when he is absent and she feels in need of comfort.
All her teeth are in (minus the two year molars, but we are really hoping to wait until she is two to get them!). Good thing she loves a toothbrush!
That and rocking.
and rocking.
A friend did her hair (sorry for the pitiful picture) one day. She didn't seem to mind at first and it was a nice change but after an hour or so it started to hurt her head in that my-hair-has-never-been-made-to-go-this-way-before way.
Her stats are in from her 18 month check up. She is 22 lbs and 10 oz (that is the 20% for weight) and is 33 1/4 inches tall (80% for height). Tallish and skinny, our girl is.

She does things that, in my experience (read in comparison to the brothers), seem "early." She climbs on things. I didn't have to worry about that kind of thing before.

She knows what the remote is for and enjoys finding out what mayhem she can cause with it. Sage's first word is pretty much "uh-oh" although she will nod "yes" and "no" to things you ask.

She will put clothes down the laundry shoot if you ask. Or if you don't. Even if it's clean.

She always wants to be in mix of things.
Sometimes the boys want to be with me too.

All of my kids are daddy's kids. I really don't mind this. But it does make the times the kids show their love for me all the sweeter.

Case in point: A few weeks ago, I fell down the stairs and hurt my foot. Like really bad. I almost cried. The boys rushed around trying all they could to make it feel better. All things soft and cushy were instantly provided-pillows, favorite blankets.
And when the idea of icing it came up, one of them ran right up to get me a similac ice pack thingie to put on it.

They took good care of me. Because they love me.

In return I brought back some x-ray pictures that were also kind of pitiful.

I think this post was more for me than you, but I hope you see what I see: Love, for this mother, is her children.