Warning. This could get a little sappy.
Today, 4 years ago, I had a baby. A teeny tiny, 6 pound 12 ounce baby. That teeny tiny baby has now grown up into an opinionated yet curious, stubborn yet loving, insightful little boy who loves nothing more than garbage trucks, Hot Wheels cars and building Lego airplanes. While I sometimes stop and think “where did the time go?”, I’m still a parent of a little kid – wondering if I’ll ever be able to answer the unending stream of “why?” that comes from the backseat. It’s hard to remember that just four short years ago, this was what he looked like.
While probably not something you care about as a reader of the blog all that much, I wrote down awhile ago that part of the reason I blog is that it creates almost a journal of things happening in my life at a certain point in time. One day, when he’s sixteen (who am I kidding, probably six) I’ll look back on this and smile. That’s the only person I am writing this for – me, twelve years in the future. The me who won’t remember this happened..
Or remember how this year was the year that the little guy learned how to skate. He learned the “number” in his name, or at least the first one. You may not remember how everything is a “great ‘deee-ah” or that mama is the best. Won’t remember when he was up all night for ear infections but then seemingly made it all OK when he cuddled up to you – OK, you may remember the no sleep part, but not the other part. You won’t remember that tonight when he went to bed you sang him “his song” and that he cried for you to come back and give him an extra hug and kiss. You won’t remember how secrets are only secrets if he forgets about them. You won’t remember that he grabs your hand in parking lots and stops what he’s doing sometimes to be nearer to you. That everything can be solved with a bowl of Macaroni or a trip to Donalds. Remember that to him, there is no cooler thing than a walk down the toy aisle, even if it’s “just to look”.
Sure, I’m hormonally pregnant with baby #2 at the moment, due in about a month so I may be glossing over the hard parts of the last few years. Actually, I may not remember anything of the next few years of my life, me, since you’ll be so sleep deprived. But know that today, on his 4th birthday, there is no one on the planet you’d rather have as your son. That’s actually something I’m 100% confident that me and twelve years in the future me will have in common. Let’s hope the 20 some odd pounds from this pregnancy are not.
So, little man, thanks for being my kid for the last 4 years. You’ve taught me to have more patience, more admiration to enjoy the littlest of things (the dentist is fun, you get toys afterwards! Syrup makes everything taste better!) and to not be such a cranky old lady. Your “my mama is the best, the berry berry best” refrains are my favourite thing to hear belted out on your guitar – because, let’s face it – you’ve not yet mastered all of the words to Twinkle Twinkle or the Mixy Mixy Spider.
Happy 4th birthday little man, and happy 4th year as a mom, me. I hope that future me reads this with a misty eye and can remember all the great things – and completely forget the bad ones – that make up being this guy’s mom.