A Letter to my Son on his 4th Birthday

A Letter to my Son on his 4th Birthday

Where is the you I knew? You're drifting. Away from me. Slowly. But you're shining even brighter so that I can see you so clearly. No longer an extension of me with baby rolls and loving gazes but your own little person who can say out loud, "Mommy, I love you." Always at the most unexpected times and oh-so sincerely. You just kind of look up and that loving gaze transforms into an eloquent phrase.

When did pooping become not-such-a-big-deal? Not so long ago we had to cart that special seat around everywhere we went Just.In.Case. Now I can sit here and type as you bellow, "Mommy, I pooped. Come and see how BIG it is (and wipe my butt of course)!"

It used to be that I was your everything. But our worlds are separating and it feels like a chainsaw through my heart. I miss sitting on a stool in the bathroom for 30 minutes reading the same books over and over again waiting for that tinkle to hit porcelain. I guess you don't need me to carry you around on my hip. And you sure don't fit into the baby carrier, or the stroller anymore. And that stepstool is history. What I wouldn't give to change another diaper or take a photo to capture your first spoon of cereal. But the stained bibs are tucked away and when you need to go, you do it all by yourself.

Now you're...

* instructing me NOT to speak Swedish (cuz it's your special language), while you babble away...leaving the natives in awe of your mad skills and your father and me shaking our heads.

* questioning, everything. "What do panthers do?" "What do sloths do?" What do sperm whales do?" "What do INSERT ANIMAL NAMEs do?"

* teaching your preschool friends Swen-glish. Everyday when you leave the park, instead of shouting "Hej do", they all call out, "BYE, DO Joe."

* pushing my hands away and finding your own path

* showing us we're not doing such a bad job, by comforting a hurt friend, using your Ps & Qs, sharing your toys (ok, we're still working a bit on that one) and just being the most pleasant little four year old there ever was.

* observing the world around you, rather loudly. "Mommy, that man has big muscles. I'm gonna show that man my muscles." "Mommy, that lady is crying. Does she have a boo-boo? Should we kiss it better?" "Mommy, that boy is crazy." "Mommy, I just farted (proclaimed loudly in the middle of the grocery store)".

* remembering after a year and a half the love you have for your nanny of two and a half years.

* wondering about your grandparents, aunts & uncles, cousin(s) and your big brother  and "maybe he can come to my house tomorrow and play with my dinosaurs." And everytime you wonder, I have to hold back a tear, knowing they are all so far away...for now.

* sensing when I'm having a bad moment, "Mommy, you're not angry, are you?"

* having a bath all by yourself. Up until a few months ago, you and Dad were taking a bath together every night until you exclaimed, and much to your father's dismay, "I can have a bath by.my.self. Not with Daddy."

But when you're sleeping, Ahhhh, when you're sleeping. I can still see who you used to be. My baby. No big words like "Ankylosaurus", no long legs running, no questions like, "What do sea lions eat?" or laughing at a joke you're understanding in a movie. Just silence and that face. I now understand why your Daddy used to watch your older brother as he slept. Until he got caught and was told it was "creepy Dad!"

For some reason, this birthday is a bigger milestone than the 3 before it. You are a real, rough & tumble, beautiful little boy. I know it won't be too long from now that you'll be embarassed to wrap your arms around my neck and pucker up for a kiss. Instead of "Mommy, I want to whisper you.", you'll have secrets you don't want to share. And then a few girlfriends come and go...But that's a long time from now and for now, I'm still your favourite toy. And I'm gonna cherish it for as long as it lasts.

We are so proud of our little man because that's what you are July 30, 2010...four years after the epidural and the c-section, the outline of the man you will become. And we love you, for everything you are today and everything you will be tomorrow. Happy Birthday My Dearest Son. Sometimes I wish I could freeze this year of your life and play it on repeat forever but I wouldn't miss you growing up for the world, xoxo

From StepMom to Mom

It's an interesting job, that of a step mom. You don't own the rights to the child through a birth canal and you often enter their lives in later years. You long to become accepted, part of someone else's already established family unit. And when you're a young stepmom, like me, you wonder how you can provide the guidance and nurturing necessary when you're only beginning to experience adulthood yourself.

And how much "parenting" can you really do? Will they let you do? Do you have the right to do? You walk a fine line.

But if you're lucky, like me, you end up with a wonderful stepson, one who warmly welcomes you into his heart and into his family. One who respects you, loves you and accepts you. One who talks to you openly and confides in you without fear.

Though you may not have changed his diapers, sang him lullabies or pushed him on a swing, you've witnessed his voice "crack", experienced his first girlfriend, cried as he spoke eloquently at your wedding, saw him take his first drink (ok, maybe not that part), and watched him trip and fall. And sometimes you let him make stupid mistakes and fall on his face. Because you remember very clearly it was only a short time ago you made, and learned, from the same ones.

And it's because of the way your husband is with him, the unbreakable bond they have and the kind-hearted and talented soul he has grown to become, that you make the brave decision to have one of your own.

You then worry how your relationship will change once you officially cement the status of "mother". Will you love #1 less? Will you have room in your heart for two? And then a few hours after #2 arrives, your husband gives you a special gift. A handcrafted gold necklace in the shape of a heart. And inside that big heart are three little hearts, one for him, one for #1 and one for #2. So you see, you do have a place in your heart for all three of the men in your life.

Not only do you not become less of a "mother" to #1, but you become a better one. You suddenly have an instinct you never quite had before. The desire to nurture and protect and love becomes so much stronger. And saying goodbye and letting go becomes harder than it's ever been.

A Letter to my son on his 3rd Birthday

Today you turned “fweee yeez ohd”. It seems yesterday you were but a wide-eyed pink pooping machine I had no idea what to do with. But today you are three. And Mummy is so proud of you.

Of course I’m proud that by the miracle of humanity, in the past year, you learned to run, sing, find new ways of expressing yourself and have almost mastered peeing and pooping in the potty. But I’m most proud of the little person you’re growing to become and am privileged to be your steadfast guide and comfort through this wallop of an adventure that is our life.

You’re resilient. I want to apologize to you my son. For all the change you’ve had to endure this past year. Plucked from your life with loving Mary Poppins to a school full of foreign kids and too few teachers. From daily strolls along the seashore to daily drives around town. From the warm Adriatic waters to a backyard pool. From a language planted in you from 3 months old to having to start all over again with new sounds and words. From the comfort of a loving, supportive circle of friends— who became family to, luckily, a new, smaller circle.

But I want to Thank God for your wonderful ability to adapt and thrive, lay down your roots somewhere new while still cherishing the faces from your infancy. I admire this quality most in you baby boy. So perhaps I won’t apologize fully. Your Dad and I brought you to this new country for opportunity and the way you’ve blossomed will ensure you’re that much stronger on your journey to manhood.

You’re happy. I often wonder how many parents can say their toddlers are really happy. But you truly smile from the time you jolt me out of dreams with “Mama, wake up!” to the time we say goodnight after prayers (and you continue screaming “Goodnight” “See you soon!” as I’m on my way down the stairs). You cry when “Mama, I huht maseff (I hurt myself)” or when you know you’re in deep doodoo. But God that smile...I’m thankful for it every day.

You’re smart. I had no idea you could speak Swedish until you surprised me by singing along with your little Swedish troup at your daycare performance. There you were, in the front row, covered completely in muck, in the rain, singing your little heart out. I had no idea what you were saying, but I cried anyway. You know your colours and the alphabet, your shapes and have even memorized the words to your favourite books. You’re a little parrot, repeating everything your teachers say to learn to speak their language.

You’re loving. From stopping to chase and pet the “KAT-TEN” on our nightly walks to those big open-mouthed kisses to asking where your brother is if he’s not sitting in his usual spot when you come home. You may not be an entertainer when the family Skype Shows begin, but your grandparents and far-away family should know that you ask about them at the oddest times: On the car ride to and from daycare, in the grocery store with a mouthful of ice cream cone or usually five minutes after a Skype call has ended. People are drawn to your spirit little one. I saw it today. The two high school helpers assigned to your school were waiting for YOU to arrive. You’re a little charmer, just like your Dad.

You’re beautiful. My favourite part of everyday happens sometime around 5am. I open my eyes instinctively to see your sleepy eyes hovering by my pillow. I don’t always remember the part where I pick you up and lay you next to me but I wake up every morning to you snuggled in between your Dad and I. Your hair has gone from black at birth to white blonde to a now darker shade, marking the moments of change in your life. I miss your face during the day and enjoy that very instant you see me, stop play and run with arms wide open. We could never make another one like you.
So today your father, brother and I will trek over to your school at 2:30 with a lactose, strawberry, kiwi and plum FREE “Lightning McQueen” cake and we’ll join your class in singing Happy Birthday. We won’t have your grandparents, aunts & uncles or cousin with us to celebrate, but we will have each other and best of all, we have you.
Happy 3rd Birthday my son.
Love, your Proud Mummy xoxo
July 30, 2009