Boys, I know right now as you (up in heaven) watch me write to you, you're probably interested in what it is that I want to talk to you about, here in 2010. I'll tell you, boys. I just can't wait to play ball with you. I know it's going to take a while. First, you have to get here. Then, you have to grow. Rather, I have to grow you. After you learn how to sleep more than 2 hours, snuggle with mommy for more than 2 seconds, and walk more than 2 steps, I'm going to take you out to a park, or to the backyard of the lovely cottage I'm sure we'll be living in (or will we still be in this one bedroom apartment?), and I'm going to play ball with you.
"Which ball", you ask? Why, all of them.
I'll bring a soccer ball, a football,
a baseball, a tennis ball, a kick ball,
and more likely than not, a disco ball.
And we're going to play. Heavens know we won't play the technically correct way. But that's not what is important. We're going to have the most lovely time ('lovely' is more of a term I'll use with your sweet sisters, we'll have a ROCKIN' time). We'll have the most rockin time playing ball. There is a good possibility that your sisters will be playing with us, boys. You'll have to learn to be patient with them, and give them turns. There is a chance they'll be good at ball. Maybe even better than you. My guess is that they'll be playing hide and seek, and daydreaming about the lovely bedtime stories I'm going to make up, and won't be too incredibly interested in playing ball with the 'stinkies'. (They're referring to you, boys. I'll talk to them later about respecting their siblings.) I hope you are always good to your sisters. Don't worry. I'm sure to remind the ladies to be good to you. Oh, and do be patient when we pull out the disco ball, and put on our flowing skirts. And you must join us in only a few dances. Don't worry. I'll be sure that you are taught the macerana well.
The days when we go out and play ball will be nothing short of magical. Of course you'll have afternoons when your wonderful father will take your hand, walk you out to the field, and you will have wonderful times, just the boys. You'll probably love those afternoons quite alot. Afternoons free of flowers, of frills and of the pastel colors I plan to adorn your beautiful sisters and myself with.
I know from first hand experience what good company your great father is. He'll love creating memories, and playing with you boys.
But I promise- you'll never have a bigger fan than me.
I could thumb wrestle your father for the title of biggest fan, but there's no question who would win that short battle. He comes in a very very close second. Maybe one and a half. Alright boys, maybe it's a tie.
When you get to school, sometime playing ball becomes less fun. I don't care if you never play a 'real' ball game in your life. That is, after we have our fun play dates when you finally join our family. I know I'm jumping the gun, boys, but all I'm really trying to say is that I can't wait to play with you.
Soccer and disco ball alike.
We're going to have a fabulously rockin' time.
Hopefully it won't be too long till you get here,
ps- your father drives me crazy when he corrects my spelling.
When he corrects your spelling, just try to be patient with him, boys.
Ok? Ok. Love you.