Monday, July 13, 2015

All of You (Eleven Months)

We celebrated 11-months on the beach!

Mercy,

The worst part about your birthday approaching is every day I think I'm doing my best to soak up every precious, simple moment — but when I lay my head to rest at night I still find myself wistfully thinking about the hours with you that just slipped through my fingers. I can't tell you how often I pour my heart out in grateful prayer for you. You are my sunshine. You bring me every joy. I have always wanted to be a mom, but becoming your mom has lived up to every expectation I ever had for motherhood.

Saturday, June 13, 2015

Dada, Papi, Dad (Ten Months)



Taking pictures of this little mover sitting still has become nearly impossible. But she's still as cute as ever.

Mercy,

The first few months of your life you were undoubtedly a mama's girl. I'm still your go-to for comfort, but the last few months you have developed a fun bond with your dad. Every evening when we hear the front door open, your face lights up when you see dad's smiling face pop through. You immediately abandon whatever it is you're doing to chase him down the hallway.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

Discipline and Laughter (Nine Months)

My beautiful 9-month-old

Mercedes,

Some time in this last month you were being naughty. Nearly impossible to believe, I know. But I made the grouchiest face I could summon and I scolded you. It didn't work very well. Much to my surprise, you laughed at me. And, a few days later, much to your delight, I scolded you again.


Wednesday, April 15, 2015

Beautiful Baby (Month Eight)

My beautiful 8-month-old smiling at Nana

Mercy,

You are a beautiful baby. It's a biased opinion that I have no shame admitting. Others often comment on your beautiful eyes. They are large, expressive and a steely shade of blue. Not to mention the long lashes you inherited from your dad. I admit I've taken dozens of photos of your lashes while you sleep. I'm not alone in my opinion. Strangers often gush over you, too. And, the flirt that you are, you smile and promptly — bashfully — burry your face into my shoulder.

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