A few days ago, Malia was laying in a Boppy pillow on the couch. I had to use the bathroom, so I hollered out for my husband Aaron to keep an eye on her while I left. I came back a few minutes later, and Aaron was holding her. She was whimpering a bit. Before he had a chance to tell me what happened, my oldest son Lil’ A shared, “John Paul (our youngest) knocked Malia to the floor. " You read that right, to the floor, our hardwood floors, from the couch, at four weeks old.
I called John Paul over, he got a stern talking to and crying apologized to his baby sister.
A phone call to the pediatrician had me convinced Malia didn’t need immediate medical attention. Four days later, it appears she is just fine.
Yesterday, we were in the playroom. Being the smart and efficient mother that I am, I have a pack and play for Malia to lay in, so I can pay attention to the boys and we can all be downstairs together. Lil’ Aaron went about the task of collecting toys for Malia to play with, gently placing in her make-shift crib rattles, blocks and little toys for his little ‘Mia’. Just as I was delighting in the sweet moment, John Paul ran up and threw a foot long plastic ‘Lightning McQueen’ car into the crib for her. Only thing is, he threw it in, and it whacked her in the face. The car is as big as her.
And just now, while typing this here blog post, John Paul (are we noticing a theme here?) tried to jam a cheezit in his sister’s mouth, convinced she was hungry.
Being the little sister to three big brothers is not for faint of heart.
Frankly, I’m not sure this sweet lil’ lady is going to survive her newborn/infant stage in my house of boys. This stuff constantly has me on high alert, and as you can see, I am not exactly doing a smashingly swimming job of ensuring her brothers don’t hurt her.
But the thing is. They don’t want to hurt her.
Quite the opposite they are completely and totally obsessed with her. This girl gets more kisses, more love than you can possibly imagine.
You see, the other day, I walked into our room and little Aaron was laying next to Malia on the bed, singing her songs. One after another, he only stopped because I made him because we had to leave.
Joseph, our middle child asks to help me with her bottles and burping each and every time I feed her in his view.
John Paul lets me know the second she is crying. “Mia cryin” he says with urgency. He gets frustrated with me if it takes me more than a few seconds to get to her. John Paul, the big teddy bear can’t stand to hear his sister uncomfortable.
Yesterday, they went to my parents house. Right before they left, little Aaron made me promise I would send pictures. Send pictures of his sister, because he didn’t want to leave her, even for a few moments.
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I was talking to my big sister the other day. Though she is expecting her sixth baby, her older ones are on the opposite end of the spectrum. They are well into the teenage years and have begun (GASP) dating. We were talking about how to navigate our children through that phase, how to help them understand the importance of protecting their purity, while still allowing them to date and develop healthy relationships with the opposite sex. I had remarked to her that in some ways, in today’s culture, I think it’s much easier to raise girls who are willing to ‘wait’ or demand respect than it is to raise boys. She said it depended.
It depends on if our daughters really understand their worth.
Because understanding their worth is essential to helping them choose young men who will do the same. We both discussed how our husbands will be essential in helping our teenage daughters to understand that. We discussed the important role of fathers…
To tell our daughters they are beautiful.
To tell our daughters they are good.
To tell our daughters they are worthy of authentic love.
I believe that to be true- but I also believe my sweet Malia will have an extra bonus.
She has three brothers who love her. I am hopeful they will tell her she is beautiful. I pray they will protect her from accepting anything less than what the Heavenly Father wants for her.
And if she ever doubts just how loved she is…I’ll show her this picture, a picture caught on a Monday afternoon, of her brother speaking to her so gently singing her “You are My Sunshine” for the twentieth time.
And I will remind her, just how priceless she really is.
In the eyes God.
In the eyes of her Mother.
In the eyes of her Father
And, of course, in the eyes of her brothers.