December 28, 2011


I am in denial that Trevor is 11 on this day. I remember he was born on a Thursday, during an episode of Friends. Not that I was watching because I was in the middle of my first natural labor, but my doula turned it on just before I started pushing.

I remember that he fell asleep while I was pushing and then woke up to kick me the last few times. My doula told me to put my hand on my belly and remember what that felt like.

His forehead was wrinkly and his hair was strawberry blonde. He was almost Frederick. I'm so glad he's not Frederick. He is a perfect Trevor.

His ambitions are lofty. His personality looms large. He is loud and hyperactive in a very all-boy way.

He wrestles his stepdad like his life depends on it, and his NFL and college football knowledge has more than doubled in the past year. He likes Green Bay and Ohio State, respectively.

He achieves straight A's without much effort and his favorite subject is history.

He plays the trumpet for the intermediate school band and he practices every day. I am incredibly proud of his dedication to that and he is getting really good. He also has begged for years to play the drums. Unfortunately, in the schools around here, a child cannot play drums unless they have had 2 years of piano lessons prior to 5th grade. So this year, Bryon and I devised a plan for Trevor to play his beloved drums. I found a Yamaha electronic set with earphones. Perfect!

One of his pupils is bigger than the other, just like Nana. [Yes, it's been checked out and is just a unique part of who he is. The whacko.]

I was so proud of him when he started school this year, embracing his newness. He was unafraid and befriended children who were nice instead of popular. He doesn't embarrass easily and loves to tell stories.

His favorite color is green.

His favorite food is pepperoni pizza with extra pepperoni and a side of pepperoni.

He loves soda, but the child cannot tolerate the sugar or caffiene worth a crap. His metabolism is super sensitive to high fructose corn syrup, caffiene, and food coloring. We don't modify his diet too much (because we don't have a ridiculous amount of that in the house anyway), but soda is out 99% of the time.

He is an AH-MAZING big brother to the girls. He leads them. He teaches them, and he has patience for younger children in a capacity that marvels me every time I see it. When we go out places with family, Trevor plays with the infants for a while. Gently. Slowly. Quietly. I truly, truly hope that God grants him a wife and a very large family. Not only does he deserve some of the same chaos he has provided to Bryon and me, but he deserves all of that love in his heart.

His heart knows Jesus.

He made me a mama.

He is 11 and me? I am the luckiest.

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