Dear Boodge,
You are sleeping as I write this. We are gearing up for your birthday, cleaning house, setting up guest rooms, gathering supplies for the party of cousins, family friends, and grandparents that is about to ensue. Just before you fell asleep you cried because we would not give you candy from the machine at the grocery store, then cried all the way through two more stores until we called it a day and brought you home for your nap. As you cried, you sometimes said, "Mommy, I'm wei-woe." and I would respond, "I know sweetie, you are so wei-woe." It's your word for that kind of feeling--tired, jumbled up, nothing is right and you just have to cry. You do that now, you make up words and we adopt them ourselves since they are are often just right to describe something we have no words for. You say things like, "Mommy, in English we say 'pee, poo' but in Hugriach we say 'po, pa' and in Frgush we say 'maa, foo'." You say we need to read the "can-structions".
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| Almost a year ago, more two than three. |
I wish I had more words myself, to describe just how my love for you feels. You are three. Every time I write these (all three times) birthday posts I realize how much has happened in one year of your life, and I'm in awe of you. When we started this year you were stringing words together into basic sentences. Now you are telling stories, making up worlds. You talk pretty much non-stop a lot of the time, your body moving too as you chatter, running and building and figuring and telling. You tell me about the monkey in your lego tower, how he only ate the bananas when the tree said it was ready, but then he ate them all up and the tree didn't make any more so he went to sleep. "There was a Daddy named Sean and a Mommy named Katy and a little sister named Peanut and a big brother named Boodge Brookes," you said this week, flying back and forth on the swing, "And that's the story of us."
This is the year that our story changed, to add a little sister.
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| She adores him already, but he's not sure about it all.... |
You struggled with it a little, and I struggled with the adjustment too. But mostly, you did it with real grace, and the willing sweetness I love in you. You learned how to share me, and now you are learning how to share all your toys, with your little sister. She grabs your hair and puts your lego in her mouth. She wakes up and we have to come inside from the yard, or stop our cuddles. You don't like all that, but you love her, I see it. Sometimes your face lights up when you see her, and you stop what you are doing to give her a cuddle and a smile. She is part of all your games--you build her houses in your toybox, have her driving in your toy car road rally's. There's always a big brother and a little baby in your make believe families. You know she's part of us, now.
I saw you go through it, first trying to compete for my attention and pretend your sister didn't exist. Then a lot of tears as you accepted that things would not be the same. And then you stretched out and you grew, and you accepted your sister into your heart. You became a big brother.
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| Yep, she's cool. |
It didn't hurt that she regards you as her personal superstar. You learned to hold two things--frustration, sadness, and resentment alongside love and joy and protectiveness. Something has calmed in you now, and you've embraced the big boy role. You found the gift in the difficulty, and you turned it into new growth. It's not an easy thing to do. You're learning about your emotions, and sometimes they take you out of control, make you feel ugly. Other times, you can say to me, "Mommy, I'm SO mad!" or "I want some attention!" or, "Mommy I think I just need a hug. I feel a little wei-woe." And I'm so glad to hear it, and know how to help.
Sometimes you get scared. Your imagination is in full flower, beautiful to behold. I love hearing where your mind travels and what it brings back. But the limitlessness of it all still confuses you. You believe there is a wolf hiding in the dark shadows of our hallway. When you wake from your nap you run down the hall as fast as you can. Once after your sprint you climbed onto my lap where I sat at the computer, and looked back down the hall. "No wolf down there." you declared as you softened against my tummy, relieved. "No, no wolves," I murmured, kissing your head. I was just so happy to be your safe place for a moment, my arms wrapped around you, my nose buried in your soft hair. Happy to cuddle with my baby.
But you are not a baby anymore (of course you will always be mine, just like in Robert Munsch's "Love You Forever", though I promise I will not sneak into your house one day when you are a man and rock you in my arms while you are sleeping). You're a kid. A little one, but a kid, nonetheless. When we go to friends' houses, you are off with the other kids rather than staying with the grown-ups. You need your safe place less and less. That's OK, because you know I'm right here when you do. And I love watching you flex out those wings and fly away to discover the world in the way only you can. I love watching you become more and more of who you are.
Thank you for another precious year of lessons for me. Parenting you this year has challenged me to become a better person. I've learned to stand by you even when you are not behaving as I'd like. I've learned to hold patience and compassion for your intense emotions rather than take them personally. I've learned to yield power in order to gain closeness, and ultimately, cooperation. And I've learned to turn my attention to the positive things and watch them grow into that light. Thanks for fumbling through all our changes this year along with me, and showing me that we can handle storms and come out in a sunny, calm spot, with a deeper appreciation of each other.
I do appreciate you in a whole new way now, your generous little spirit, your patience and willingness to help, your rawness of emotion, your eagerness to learn, and the freedom of your mind. I appreciate you as a full fledged member of the family with new ideas and useful feedback. As I like to tell you, I love you bigger and bigger each day. You just keep getting better. And now you are three. Happy Birthday little Boodge. Here's to a long life together.
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| It's not a wine crate, it's a boat. |
Mummy
