On July 31st of 1999 I married the prettiest blue eyes I'd ever seen and thought I was the luckiest girl ever. A year and half later, I gave birth to another set of pretty blue eyes and became the luckiest Mom ever. Tucker, you were 40 weeks, 8 pounds 4ounces, and 21 inches of perfection, wrapped up in a tiny hospital blanket and cap. Twelve years later, you are still the picture of perfection, only now a 90 pound 4 foot tall version of perfection clothed in Nike and Under Armor. I can't believe how fast the years have gone and also how much we've done together in those twelve years.
We went strolling EVERY DAY, cruising the streets, the neighborhoods, the sidewalks until we'd waved at every neighbor, petted every puppy, and pointed at everything we found interesting.
We read books, cuddled up in the recliner with a sippy cup in your hand, cold can of Coke in mine. Ahhh, joy.
We counted dump trucks in the afternoon, pointing as each one passed the house, enjoying the comfort of our canopy swing underneath the tree.
We navigated the waters of fall football together, each of us jumping when we heard the front door slam, a sure sign that Coach was home for the night. We traveled to every high school in Cobb County, wandered through the stadiums, trekked up the bleachers with a diaper bag and a baby on my hips, and cheered on Coach's team until you drifted off to sleep to the sounds of the cheerleaders' chants.
We welcomed a baby brother and visited the hospital EVERY day until it was time to bring that new brother home. You introduced him to everyone at Wal-Mart and Kroger as Gigi, Lord only knows why.
We played on the deck and in the back yard. From tricycles to battery-powered cars to finally your first small bike, we raced and rolled the hours away, imagining dirt bike tracks and Nascar races in your future.
Then we moved, and you found new friends and kindergarten and baseball and flag football. You rode your bike without training wheels, went to birthday parties, and became Daddy's biggest fan and first assistant coach. You drew up plays for him and placed them all together in one big notebook to help him get ready for spring football.
And we moved again and nothing fazed you, not the distance, not saying good-bye to your first best friends, nothing. You took Jackson County by storm and made it your home and tackled challenges that some adults couldn't handle, let alone a 6 year old.
You wrote stories in school that made me laugh and gasp and swell with pride; you brought home honors on Awards Day for academic success and citizenship; you were baptized at church.
We brought home ANOTHER baby brother, and you took to him like a pro. You set the Big Brother bar pretty high and continue to do so every day. You babysit so I can get in a quick 5 miler, teach Tate about technology, and I'm pretty sure you deserve a t -shirt that says, "If mom says no, ask Big Brother."
We vacationed at the beach and I was thrilled to find that I had given birth to a person who loves the sun and sand as much as I do. We make new memories every summer at the best beach house in Destin, where you've gone from playing in the sand to riding the waves to bungee jumping at The Track.
And now you are turning twelve, breezing through middle school, soaking up all things history (your favorite subject), and mowing down batters from the pitcher's mound. And you are still Daddy's biggest fan.
I hope you know that we will always be YOUR biggest fans, and that on April 11, 2001, you were officially the most perfect thing I had ever laid these green eyes on.
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