Two thousand, twelve was the year of dreams come true.
I had the opportunity to attend a conference for educators right after I found out I was pregnant with Baker. The guest speaker was a National Teacher of Year recipient. She was a phenomenal teacher with a powerful message - all of the students we teach, no matter how bratty, or smelly, or snot-nose are someone's dream come true.
I hadn't told a soul in the auditorium that I was, in fact, carrying my dream come true. I teared up during the presentation as thought about how long I had been dreaming of my sweet Baker Boy.
I thought back to my childhood caring for Lucy, my favorite Madame Alexander doll. She was my baby. And as only a four year old little girl, I was her mama. I fed her, changed her diaper, read to her, taught her ABCs and 123s, rocked her to sleep. I imagined she was a real baby and I was a real mommy.
Lucy was soon replaced with real, live babies. Sisters and brothers who needed me, as their big sister to teach them how to play "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" on the piano and cook brownies in their Easy Bake Oven, hold their hand as they crossed the street, read Three Little Pigs umpteen times before finally drifting off to sleep alongside them in their baby bed.
I had the opportunity to attend a conference for educators right after I found out I was pregnant with Baker. The guest speaker was a National Teacher of Year recipient. She was a phenomenal teacher with a powerful message - all of the students we teach, no matter how bratty, or smelly, or snot-nose are someone's dream come true.
I hadn't told a soul in the auditorium that I was, in fact, carrying my dream come true. I teared up during the presentation as thought about how long I had been dreaming of my sweet Baker Boy.
I thought back to my childhood caring for Lucy, my favorite Madame Alexander doll. She was my baby. And as only a four year old little girl, I was her mama. I fed her, changed her diaper, read to her, taught her ABCs and 123s, rocked her to sleep. I imagined she was a real baby and I was a real mommy.
Lucy was soon replaced with real, live babies. Sisters and brothers who needed me, as their big sister to teach them how to play "Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star" on the piano and cook brownies in their Easy Bake Oven, hold their hand as they crossed the street, read Three Little Pigs umpteen times before finally drifting off to sleep alongside them in their baby bed.
As my friends and I played pretend, they were Miss America, or Reba McEntire, or a teacher, or a doctor. But me, I was always a mama. I named my babies, all four of them. When we played pretend. I always had four - two boys and two girls (the me today has a wee little bit of a panic attack at the thought of four babies).
Then I got married to the love of my life. And we talked about babies. We discussed who they would look like. Would they have my brown eyes and long legs, or would they have Brian's beautiful smile and olive complexion? We discussed possible family names, and where they would go to school. But we were having so much fun just the two of us, we decided to wait a little longer. We still hoped for a baby. A little Bell Boy, or a mini-me.
Dreamed and wished and planned and prayed.
And then, our prayers of a baby, our dream come true, were answered.
Two thousand, twelve.
The year our dream came true.May two thousand, thirteen be your year of dreams come true.
Happy New Year.
And what a perfect, beautiful dream come true he is!
ReplyDeleteAgreed! Thank you friend!
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