The line

My brother Keith and I were discussing discipline yesterday. Keith brought up the line analogy. "You know," he said as he took a bite of the food we have both been gorging on in recent days -- graham crackers with peanut butter, "that some kids are very content to stand way back away from the line you draw in the sand."

He was talking about Isaac. About his compliant nature. About his incredible listening skills. When I tell Isaac something he either says: "No thank you" (which comes out more like "no-do-do") or he says "otay."

Don't get me wrong, Isaac is not perfect. He gets quite upset whenever we come in from outside. He can get rough with his brother. He can choose to disobey. But for the most part, he sees the line and says: "Yeah, not going near there."

Keith wiped his mouth with a clean burp cloth sitting on the counter and went on. "Then there are some kids who go up to the line. They toe the line."

He was referring to his daughter Charleigh. It's hard to tell as she is still quite young, but she seems to fall a little more to the toeing-the-line sort than the stand-way-back-and-wave-at-the-line sort. She's agreeable but quite determined.

I nodded and then smirked. "So," I said. "Where does that leave Elijah?"

Keith smirked back as I answered for him. "I think Elijah is like 'I see that line and I'm jumping over it!'"

Aaaaah Elijah. My teddy bear. He is such a smooshy, snuggly, goofy, silly, loving, ball of fun. I look at him and see the word miracle all over every bit of drool he deposits onto his shirt each day.

But Elijah thinks my lines are just suggestions. He does not think that I am drawing my lines in a good place whatsoever. He really disagrees with their location. And he is determined to jump over them with style.

Have I told the readers of this blog lately how much I love my boys? Sometimes I feel hesitant to say it in case someone who has been unable to have children is reading this blog. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings or cause anyone to feel like I am rubbing my boys in their face.

But it's true. Adopted. Biological. It doesn't matter. I look at them and can tear up in a matter of seconds with incredible love. I love my nieces and nephew. I loved Brianna as a little girl. But the love of these two little boys does not compare.

I have realized it is because it is a completely selfless love. I do not get up in the morning wondering what I will get from them. Even my husband, my best friend, is someone I love for somewhat selfish reasons. If he never contributed to the relationship, our marriage would not be one I enjoyed being in.

But my boys, I love, because they are my boys. I remember hearing everyone tell me that they couldn't explain that love. And I can't. But I love them.

I love that Elijah tried to suck my face last night when I brought him into bed with me after what appeared to be a bad dream. He was looking for his pacifier and misjudged where it was. I love Isaac's big smile. The way he will walk by you and just say "Hi Mommy."

My love for each boy is so different and so unique. JB and I look at Isaac. We love his sweet spirit. We love the funny things he says. This week he has started saying: "All righty guys," in response to my requests. I peeked around the corner the other day as Elijah was disobeying, turning on the TV. I watched as Isaac gently moved him out of the way to turn it off. "No, no, lijah," he whispered and went back to his cars.

Isaac is a studier. An observer. He's careful. He's gentle. He has begun to tear a bit of rosemary off JB's bush and say: "Rodemary Mommy" and then smell it, just like he has watched JB do, every time we go outside.

Elijah, on the other hand, would prefer to take off the rosemary and eat it. That's just how they are. While Isaac will bend down to look at a stick on the ground, Elijah will pick it up and swing it over his head. Isaac is soft and tender. Elijah is loud and rough.

Elijah is the one though that wants to sit on your lap for at least ten minutes when he gets up. Isaac wants a book. Or a car. Or something to do together.

And I love that about both of them. I love them with my whole being. I am so unbelievably blessed to be their Mommy -- even when my day is hard and overwhelming and I feel lost amidst a sea of diapers and toys and arms (and cold noses) wrapped around my legs.

Thank you Lord for these two incredible blessings. I pray the same for the other women reading this -- waiting for their miracle to come to pass.

Cilck here to read this post as it originally ran on my Daily Blog.