What did those kids do to that nice lady?

Friday, January 6, 2012

And then He was Five...

Five years old.  My firstborn, my son, is now a five year old boy.  It seems to be a magical age...I remember my 5th birthday and the pink bike I received...as I remember so many things about being a whole five years old.  Each time I look at my son, I can’t help but wonder if this...this moment...is a moment that will be imprinted in his memory forever.  Will he remember back tickles and renditions of Babymine at bedtime?  Or the bunk beds he shares with his sister?  Maybe his first skateboard.  I wonder, if as a grown man, he will return to the park by his boyhood home and stare at the tree he so lovingly climbed and say to himself...it seemed so big when I was a boy.  I am constantly amazed at the things he can now do for himself.  He needs no help getting dressed; buttons and zippers are just fine.  He runs to a friend’s house for a play-date with glee and hardly glances back.  He gives me attitude, he makes up jokes, he can play a game and complete puzzles without my help.  And his face...oh...his face is a delicious mix of baby and boy...his cheeks a constant reminder of that bundle I first held five years ago.
Five years ago, when I held him tight for the first time, I thought to myself-how could I possibly love this child any more than I do at this moment?    Please remain this small, magical person forever because I’m pretty sure my heart will explode if my love for you were to grow.  I was but a fool.  Each day I love him more.  Each day brings a moment that I will try to remember forever.  Each day my heart grows bigger.
So sure.  Kids are hard.  Sometimes he makes me crazy and I write about him and his sister and even use curse words.  But I love that crazy.  I wouldn’t take any other crazy and trade it for my crazy on any day of the week.  That boy...that bundle I held for the first time a whole five years ago...has taught me many lessons, the most important being that nothing is more sacred or more important than my job as a mother.  I’ve made mistakes, I’ll make more, but if he always feels loved and safe, I’ll know I’m doing an okay job.  
So to you, my dear boy, here’s not to just five more years, but to 105 more years.  I love you more than you will ever know.  

1 comment:

  1. I've read your blog before through a friend who suggested. This time I read via a FaceBook referral. You're a great writer with true style!