A letter to Boodge on his first birthday

I wanted to write something for Boodge first birthday, and it came to me that I wanted to write it to him, so it took the form of a letter. I have good intentions to do this every year--and you know what they say about good intentions....it's the thought that counts. That's what they say, right?

Anyway, good parenting intentions is a post for another day. Today, it's my son's first birthday, and I am celebrating with all of my spirit and love. Who knew it would feel so good? So, here is the letter. Hope you all enjoy.

Dear Boodge,
You are one year old. I had no idea how elated I would feel on this day, how proud and grateful. One year ago, as we waited for you to come, your father and I had no idea what to expect. We were both excited and apprehensive, but only had a vague sense of why. We needed to meet you—we couldn’t wait to meet you. And meeting you has been the most wonderful thing that has happened in both of our lives so far.

There will probably never be another year of our lives together that will be more physically intimate for you and I—maybe even so intimate altogether. So much of this year was spent holding you, rocking you as I watched your eyes slowly droop down to sleep, nursing you and listening to your sweet breathe-gulp-breathe rhythm, carrying you to soothe you when you were hurt or scared, or just needed to see what was happening at my level. I’ve wiped your snot and your drool and your pee and poo, even your vomit, and had all of them on me at one time or another. I’ve lifted you to look at cars, goats, flowers, photos, magnets, mirrors, CD players, plants, people, buffalo, and every other thing that captures your interest, which is everything from what I can tell. I’ve become so familiar with the heft of your body, the feel of your little hands on my skin, the softness of your belly. I love all of this so sweetly, and much as I can't wait to see you grow more independent, I will also miss it.

I read this year that once you have children, you enter this strange relationship with time. You want to freeze so many moments and just feel that happiness and beauty, forever. But also, you can’t wait to see what comes next. I have felt that so much. Your father and I have shared so much delight over you, so much laughter, and you will see from the thousands of pictures and videos we’ve taken that we wanted to stop time so often. I want to burn it all into my memory—the Mad Dog nursing when you were a newborn, the jumparoo-Riverdancing in your little orthopaedic shoes, the downy feel of your head, the way you crawled like a seal at first, the shriek in your giggle, your favourite babble words “Ogoi, ogoi, oyaaa, oyaaa, ajugajugajugajug, DA! DA!” But I know it’s futile, that I will forget. There is just too much that has happened, already.

This year has been intense for all of us. Your father and I have changed and weathered a lot—but that pales when I think of the changes you’ve accomplished. You started out this wee floppy thing, with nothing but your, and my, instincts to rely on. Now you are a little man, walking, talking, dancing, playing games with us, waving and smiling like the Queen of England from your stroller, flashing your mischievous eyes. And you did it all with such cheerful grace. One thing I learned from you this year is that we all have a natural, amazing capacity to grow and learn in exactly the way we need to, if we just trust the process. You never thought to doubt the process. I hope I can help you hang on to that.

I hope I can hang on to that, and to allow you to grow into yourself, nurturing who you are and helping you discover what makes you thrive. I feel so blessed to have been given the chance to raise you, to show you through this world. You are nothing short of amazing. So happy birthday little Boodge. And thank you, thank you, thank you for coming to us. Here’s to a long life together.

Love,
Mama