Thursday, December 2, 2010

And now he is two.

Exactly two years ago right this very minute I was pacing the floor nervously, my hair wet from just having showered at 4am. "This is it," I told myself. "You will have two babies in a little while. TWO." I was scared beyond belief. Scared that I wasn't cut out for this motherhood thing after all, scared that I wouldn't be up to taking care of two human beings at the same time by myself, scared of a horrible recovery like I had with Ella. Hours later, this boy came screaming screaming screaming into the world:


"I did it!", I thought. "I have successfully birthed two living, breathing (HUGE) children and lived to tell about it." Little did I know the ride I was in for.

Charlie, you have shaken my soul to the core. That may sound cheesy but it is the only way I know to describe it and you. You shake everything to the core. You love big, looking me in my eyes and saying "I wuv ooo, Mama" while touching my chin, hugging my legs so tight that I can't move. You play big, zooming around the house in a blur, attempting things that Ella still wouldn't dare to try at her age. You scream big, wailing when I have to change a diaper or wipe your nose. While Ella is the person who made me a mother, you have made me a better mother. You have taught me patience, kindness, to let the little things go, and most of all, to love big, right now.


You have taught me countless other things that may seem insignificant to others, too. I now know the characters' names on Thomas The Train. I also know that it is a good idea to glue the air vents to the floor, and that crayons are usually okay to just go ahead and flush down the toilet, don't bother fishing them out with your hand. Most importantly I know that there truly, truly, truly is nothing else on this earth like a Mama and Her Boy.


It has been possibly the hardest two years of my life, getting you through the stages of being a newborn and an infant and that wobbly first year of toddlerhood. But we did it! Gone are the sleep issues and teething, here to stay (for now) are the funny words you say and the silly games you play.


So, happy birthday, my boy. I love you with every single fiber of my being, and can't wait to see what your next year brings us.

I figured I should include a picture of what you look like 99.9% of the time you are awake...peanut butter on your face, food hanging out of your mouth, a little drool on your chin. Perfect.


1 comment:

tori said...

He is perfect. Rotten...but perfect! Happy Birthday Charlie!