Three.March 17, 2011 at 6:28 am | Posted in milestones, motherhood | 21 Comments
My amazing, awesome O:
Three years ago, you gave me the greatest role of my life: that of being your mom.
I’ve been thinking of those days in the hospital lately, where you were so little and dark and quiet. The “la-la-la!” cry you had when you were hungry, so little and quiet. The moments where I cried from sheer relief that you were here, alive, in my arms.
And now? You’re a far cry from that little baby.
You’re big. Loud. Energetic. Independent.
You want to do EVERYTHING yourself nowadays. From the moment you get up, you are Mr “I! DO! IT!”
You make me wait at the top of the stairs until you make it to the bottom, telling me the whole time, no, Mommy, you stay upstairs and wait your turn!
You gather all the ingredients for your usual breakfast – the peanut butter, jelly, bread, and knife – and insist that you do it yourself. (Even though, I admit, I do guide your hand for the spreading part, because you haven’t QUITE gotten that the knife needs to be FLAT to spread something.)
You still insist on watching “Monkey” every morning, even though you know his name is George and he’s always very curious.
And now, instead of watching BOTH Curious George episodes in the hour we have before we leave for school, we watch Peep and the Big Wide World.
And, of course, you insist upon using the garage door opener yourself. If I forget and do it myself, you scream and yell until I close it and let you do it yourself.
You open the passenger side car door for me, so I can put your bags in the front seat, and then close it before you open up you own door. You can climb into the car and into your own seat, all by yourself.
That independence extends to school, where you hang up your own coat, put Bear and Maisy in with your naptime gear, and take off your boots all by yourself.
Ah, yes, you still love Bear and Maisy. Every day, I hear Bear wants to [insert something here!]
Bear helps you eat. He brushes his teeth. He cries when you’re sad, too. He needs kisses and hugs from both me and your Daddy, especially when it’s time for bed. He even gets to pick the book we read at night!
My favorite time with you is our nighttime routine. We read no less than three books on a given night. If we have more time? We read five.
And you’ve started reading the books to ME. I’m amazed by the fact that you know nearly every word in your favorites – even the big words. Even if you don’t pronounce them correctly, you KNOW them.
You still don’t LIKE to go to bed, and your daddy and I have to sit with you until you fall asleep, or you get upset and call for us. But I don’t mind that so much; it helps me relax, and I love to sit there, listening to your breathing and the classical music.
You DO love music – your daddy and I just taught you last weekend how to “raise the roof” and you love to break out and yell RAISE THE ROOF!
You love your toy trumpet and make us march around the house with you in a band.
You’ve charmed every one of your teachers at school so now they fight over having them in your room in the afternoons.
(I think it’s the grin and giggle when you play a joke. How your eyes crinkle at the edges, you get that cute wrinkle in your nose, and the smile seems to stretch on endlessly.)
I love how you treat your friends in your class; how whenever someone’s crying, you’re moved enough to ask them “What happened?” and share your ball. Or playdough. You have a great sense of empathy for others – I hope you always love people with your whole heart.
I wish I had the words to tell you how much I love you. It’s bigger and deeper and wider than the whole universe, it’s there all the time, and it’s too big sometimes for me to even handle. So instead, you’re just going to have to deal with my hugging and kissing you and telling you I love you all the time.
And keep telling me “I wuv you, Mommy,” and hugging me, and kissing me back. I can’t tell you how much those three words mean to me, coming from you.
Happy birthday, my gorgeous son. I love you to the moon and back.