on the eve of the second anniversary of my son’s birth

henry turns 2 tomorrow. we don’t have his dr appt until next week, so i don’t have any stats, but i have some cute pictures of him and this letter i wrote. i love this little boy so much. its hard to accept that he has been a constant in our lives for 2 whole years, now. sigh.

dear henry,
i have sat down to write this post several times – to get all my thoughts out “on paper” – and i’ve been overwhelmed with all that there is to say about the person you are and the one you are becoming. so excuse me if this message is somewhat disjointed.

let’s get started. when you see an incline of any kind, you take it as a personal challenge. all stairs, ramps and up hill ground features are to be conquered. and not just once. but over and over and over for all onlookers and the hill itself to be confident in your ability to rise up and meet the task. you have started to ask for the attention of others with saying their names over and over as loud as you can. usually with dad (dahdi, dahdi, Dahdi, DAHDIDAHDIDAHDIDAHDI) or roy, which you pronounce more like “ray”.  you love ping pong and it is the first thing you want to do when you get to your dad’s office. you love to color, especially with green and brown crayons. and when you ask us to sit and color with you, you only allow others to use those colors, too.  today we are coloring. i take our roll of butcher paper and cover half the table so you can let your creative juices flow and you aren’t limited to the paper in front of you. you can color on every surface you can reach. and after you have completed your masterpiece you start to rip the paper from the table, piece by piece. it is so amazing how fleeting these moments are with you. now, i can fix the rips with tape. we can color on the paper over and over again and again.

you are such a happy, fun loving guy. you have the best smile and expressions and conversing with you is one of the most interesting parts of my day. you love life and you laugh freely. you have such pride when you complete tasks – like finishing a puzzle, putting away the wipes or throwing away garbage. you are unabashed about your love for your parents, and sometimes your sister. hey, let’s talk about that for a second. you love your sister and that means you want to be in charge of her. but sometimes she needs to eat when you when to hold her, or she is asleep when you want to give her the binky (which is so kind and thoughtful), but it just isn’t a good time. and you hate that. i don’t blame you. holding cora is amazing, we can all attest to that. but it is important for her to get her rest and for us to prioritize it. i think you are starting to understand where i am coming from, but i am sure we still have several bumps to overcome in the road ahead.

you are like most toddlers in that you have the ability to be the most amazing, well behaved nearly 2 year old there is. but you also have the power to shatter that image with a roaring scream, fist throwing and rapid kicking. and the speed with which you make the 180 degree transition can happen in a neck-breaking split second. but don’t let this mislead you – you are a wonderful boy. you are full of joy, boundless energy and the never-ending need to be able to do things how you want and on your own. i can totally respect that. its a trait i understand pretty well and i see it in both your dad and myself. and, honestly, i am content to have a “strong willed” child, since there isn’t really a better term for it. i want nothing more than for you to figure out who you are, what you want to be and what you are all about and pursue it headlong without ever looking back.

when i reflect on my own childhood, the silver lining of it is that i had parents who loved me, but i also had a father who provided me with endless support. when i wanted to do things differently (i.e. wrestle in high school), my dad was able to separate his doubt from his love for me. and i never felt anything but his pride. i want you to have that, baby. i want you to know that no matter what choices you make, if you want to be a sculptor or a banker, if you want to feed sick children in africa or work in the tech industry and live right down the road, i will be proud of you. and i want to do my best to separate my doubt from my love for you and my support of you as a person and who you are. because, bubba, i am already so proud of the little boy you are.

the depth, width and height of my love for you is vast. you hear me say it all day everyday. and you will be able to read it in little notes and maybe even these blog posts as you get older. but it is so hard to explain and depict in written words. it has so much more do to with the tiny moments of being that pass between us. when we eat breakfast together. when we snuggle on the couch to watch a show, play with the ipad or read a book. and it is my greatest goal to make you feel loved. to know you are wonderful just how you are. your being is marvelous, henry. and your immediate acceptance of the world and the way things are – your joy and delight in the simplest of pleasures – i hope you can keep those things despite your age, your awareness and your life experience.

i hold your little hands and hug your little shoulders and i look at your sister – roughly a third the size of you and i struggle with the idea that you used to be that small. it seems so impossible, it seems impossible to hold both facts – that you are small now and were once smaller- in my head at the same time. cognitive dissonance. i marvel at your perfection, too. the soft curve of your cheeks when i stare at your profile, the way your smile fills your entire face – and changes the look of all your features.

so many of my smiles begin with you, henry.  so much of the joy i have in life comes from spending my days with you and being a part of your life. thank you for all your love, hugs and kisses. thank you for your patience as i navigate through the path of parenthood. and thank you for calling me mama.

love, mama

 

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