We realized the other day that our kids were each born in a different season. Ani was born in the winter, Cameron came in the fall, Fritz arrived in the summer, and Adrian just barely made it in the spring. The day after he was born it became summer.

Every few months there is a fifth Sunday of the month. Those Sundays the Relief Society and Priesthood are combined. The lesson is something the local leadership feels is important for us.

I like the fifth Sunday lessons because it means I get to sit with Jamie. He’s usually not in the regular Sunday School class since he is a ward missionary and has to go to the investigator class most weeks.

It’s hard to get a decent picture of three kids. It’s near impossible to get one of four!

The other night we went for a walk around our block. It’s always fun to watch Fritz because he just has an incredibly obvious love of being alive. He reminds you just what is important.

At the end of our block there was a townhouse with their main door open. Behind the storm door was a cute little dog barking at us. Fritz stopped at the end of their walkway and started talking to the dog in a mix of words, babbles, and “woofs.” A little bit later Fritz stooped down to talk to a little bee as it buzzed from flower to flower.

It’s the little things I’d never notice or care about if it wasn’t for the toddler pointing them out that make life really fun.

Last night I changed Adrian’s diaper and discovered that his umbilical cord stump had fallen off. He was 6 days old. None of my kids have held on to those things more than a week.

Of course we don’t know where the stump went. It was there when I changed him the previous time. He was wearing a gown so it must have fallen out of his clothes. Somewhere.

We got Fritz’s first name, Frederick, as well as his nickname from my maternal grandfather. Fritz was due July 1st, but was not born until July 11th. After he was born my mother told me July 9th would have been that grandfather’s 85th birthday. Despite me being rather obsessed with birthdays, I did not know that. He had died long before I was born so I never celebrated his birthday with him.

Adrian’s middle name, Lloyd, was my paternal grandfather’s middle name. Adrian was due on what would have been Granddaddy’s 84th birthday, June 7th. Of course he held out until the 19th and so was born nearly 2 weeks after that. We only realized that Adrian was due on Granddaddy’s birthday after we had chosen his name.

Not only do my little boys’ names honor two of their great-grandfathers, their birthdays are very close to the one they honor. Kind of weird, but at the same time it seems meant to be.

The most amazing thing looking back on Adrian’s birth is that I delivered him myself. While I was pushing him out I naturally kept my finger on his head to see where he was the whole way out. Then when his head emerged I instinctively reached down to support him and to guide out his shoulders. I pulled out the rest of his body and brought him up without thinking about it. It was just all totally naturally and so incredible now to think back on.

Doesn’t our cradle look so much better this way?