Sunday, June 2, 2013

Two

Juderbug,

All day I've been trying to come up with the perfect things to put in this letter to you - the one I'm writing for you on the eve of your second birthday (and by the time I publish it, you will be very much TWO) - and I'm not sure that I can eloquently describe all that it means to be Jude at age 731 days.

Your first year was a giant blur. A blur of exhaustion because you Didn't Sleep Through The Night Until You Were Eleven Months Old (kid, I'm riding that one out until I can ground you for it). A blur of taking care of two kids under age 3 and wondering what, exactly, we'd gotten ourselves into as your parents. My friends with little people close in age, told me that when the youngest turns one I'll think I have it made. They were right. This past year you went from a baby, drinking bottles, and crying at the drop of a hat to a tough little boy, who only drinks out of cups (pwease, momma). (You're an excellent at sleeping now too, THANK YOU FOR THAT).

I mentioned that you're tough - but seriously, you are. It likely comes from the fact that you're the most accident prone kid I've ever seen, and if you cried every time you bonked your head, you'd be a mess all day. Instead, you fall down and you get right back up, without so much as a whimper.

You still think your brother hung the moon. When you're reunited after a few hours apart, it's like one of you is returning from war. All of the hugging and giggling makes me smile. He pushes your buttons though, and you don't let him get away with it. (Which makes me proud, stick up for yourself!) (It's a two-way street, you're a turd to him too at times.)

Every day you make us laugh out loud - you're not even trying to make us laugh, but you do. You do life BIG. You're silly and you don't care if everyone is watching. You're got mean dance moves, and would belt "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep" to an audience of thousands if you had the chance. We should all be as carefree as you.

I can't believe you've only been in our lives for two years - it's gone so fast, but yet I don't at all remember life before you. Your gigantic head (I'm sorry) of big blonde curls greets me every morning with a "hiii mommmmaaaa!" and my day is made before it even begins.  I can't wait to see what year 3 has in store for you. You're on the verge of huge developments - language, large motor skills (you're almost making those bike pedals go forwards and not backwards!), potty training, small motor skills (sweet baby Jesus, if you could just get all the cereal milk in your mouth and not on your lap I would buy you a pony!) - and a year from now I won't even remember what you were like tonight, on the eve of your second birthday. I'm trying to take a moment with you each night and just snapshot the memory of what you felt like to snuggle before bed (while singing the 4th round of Baa, Baa,...). Soon you won't want me to sing with you, and you won't want to lie your head on my shoulder before bed. You're growing up too fast and there's not a thing I can do to stop it. Still, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

Love you buggie,
Momma


Monday, March 4, 2013

it happens in a blink



Brecken,

Today you are four years old. As always, I don't know how we've reached another of your birthdays. These past four years have positively flown by. I really, truly feel like you were just an inside-my-tummy baby, and now here you are... almost 4 feet of opinions and needs, and hugs, and kisses, and "momma, I love you". I loved you as a baby, you were the cutest thing I'd ever seen. But I absolutely adore you as a four year old. You're the sweetest kid I've ever known, with the right amount of sass, a good amount of stubbornness, and the best head of hair a human being has ever had.

You are the best big brother. You and Jude playing together makes my heart sing in ways I couldn't have even dreamed about before I had kids. You take care of him without us ever teaching you how to do so. There are times that you don't want to share with him, initially. But as soon as you see how sad he is to not have what you have, you immediately, and without our prodding, give him whatever you have, just to make him happy. Jude thinks you hung the moon, you know.

You are so shy. So, so shy. Brecken, I'm sorry that we sometimes fail you because we don't know what to do with you in a moment where you want to crawl into a hole. We don't know how to walk the line between drawing you out of your shell to teach you confidence and independence, and not wanting to hurt your spirit by making you feel so uncomfortable. Daddy and I... are not shy. We don't always know how to help you. We are so proud to be your parents, and we love you for exactly who you are.

This is your golden birthday. The one, golden birthday of your whole entire life. Daddy thinks golden birthday are absurd, but I think they're pretty awesome. I don't know if you'll remember this birthday, but as each day goes by you remember more and more. (Just the other day you asked me about something happened when you were TWO. Something that we haven't talked about since it happened. You never cease to amaze me.)

I can't wait to see where your fifth year takes us. You're going to do big things in this last year before school starts. These past four years have flown by in the blink of an eye.

Love you more-more,
Momma