Jare

Overthinker. Overfeeler. Overhelper. Overwhelmer.

Everything with this kid is over the top. He's my oldest, so I didn't realize that anything he did as a child was strange. He walked at eight months. He spoke in sentences by the age of two. He ran away from home when he was eighteen months old. He liked to throw his shoes out the window of the car as we were driving. No car seat known to man could hold him in. His favorite place to "hang out" was on top of the refrigerator. He sought out elderly people to hold their hands and talk to them.

Jare is always getting comments on his school papers like, "Just a little more effort and this would be an A." "This isn't your best work." "You're capable of more." Yet he always manages to be on the honor roll. He usually breezes through standardized tests no problem, and he's an amazingly gifted writer. Jare knows what it takes to get by, and does what is required so that he has time to make plans.

He always has a plan. His plans are always much more improved over what I can come up with. He always has ideas and questions. He likes to make me think, way too hard. He loves his enemies and prays for them which despitefully use him.

I don't deserve him, but I do realize how lucky I am to have him.

They say that your first child changes you beyond recognition. It's partly true. All of my children have changed me beyond recognition, but Jare was the one who turned me into a Mommy.

----- If you liked this post, why not subscribe to email updates or the RSS feed?