Meet the Bear: Part 4 || A Loy Family Video

This is part four and my favorite section. Isn't Brandon a genius at pulling your heart strings? This final section sums up the last two months of Boston's first year. The final song in the film, Don't You Want to Thank Someone, is the song that played as Boston was born. As always, thanks for watching and participating in the joy we receive from these two boys.

Photo by Janie Koike of Life Writing Photography, shared with permission.

To view parts 1-3, click here.

Meet the Bear: Part 3 || A Loy Family Video

This is the third part of Boston's First Year: November 2015 to February 2016. Our Boston Bear is 6 - 9 months old. He starts crawling and the boys play together. August looses a bit of his baby voice and  composes longer sentences. His growing vocabulary is a delight.

Thanks for watching. For other films in this series, click here.

Meet the Bear: Part 2 || A Loy Family Video

Here is Part 2 of our Boston film, spanning July to October 2015. Boston is 2 to 5 months old here; August is 2.5 and in the thick of potty training. (Insert hair-pulling emoji here.) The summer was long and hot and sticky; we splashed in a lot of water and took a lot of early morning walks to the park. I also bought a lot of bags of pebble ice from our local Sonic. Anyhow, enjoy this little collection from our days with our sons.

For other films in this series, click here.

Meet the Bear: Part 1 || A Loy Family Video

Meet the Bear documents Boston Wilder's first year with us. The end product is over an hour so I will be posting it in four parts here this week. Every time Brandon makes a film, I am overwhelmed with appreciation for his talent and this beautiful life we have together.

Thanks for watching. Let us know what you think.

Because These Days are Fleeting || Spring 2015

I hope to remember...

These days of newborn you are so snugly and intimate.

We wrap you in blankets passed down from your brother, your father, your uncles, your mother.

You curl up in my arms and nuzzle onto my chest until you find the perfect spot. Your head may be buried in the crook of my arm or stretched back so I can gaze at your face. If your arms are not swaddled, you gather them under your chin in a fist as another layer of comfort. 

We pull you close to our chests with your legs folded under like a frog.

We hold you tightly and you sleep to the rhythm of our heartbeat.

I hope to remember that you and I were once lazy and snugly and close. 

It's late afternoon before your dad arrives home from work.

The windows are open at the autumn air. 

You and I are on the floor in your bedroom. 

You are playing with your plastic tool bench. The one your cousin, Jackson, lent you. The one that promotes short but enthusiastic play from you. 

You stand and walk into the hall. You pull the big black bag of throw pillows out of your way. You reach your curious hand behind the laundry on the hall and grasp a screwdriver. 

You return to your room with a triumphant smile. 

Turning the toy over, you find the holes concealing the screws from sight and prying child hands. 

You insert the screwdriver and do your best to turn the screws loose. 

Perhaps we should be purchasing plastic, age-appropriate tools for your Christmas present this year, young craftsman. 

Because These Days are Fleeting || Summer 2014

I hope too remember... 

Slow backing up steps as he moves towards my lap but not big enough to crawl in on his own

Joyful expression as he spots and points at the book Grammie put together for him until we "read" it

Chubby feet navigating their way around toys and other obstacles

Pointer finger outstretched accompanied by "t.t.t." sounds

Head on my shoulder as he drinks his milk

Neck thrown back in deep sweet sleep