Tomorrow I will no longer be the mother of a 3-year old. Tomorrow I will be the mother of a 4-year old. 4 years into this and I am still wondering why they required me to get a license to drive a car but no one intervened when I decided parenthood was a brilliant idea.
I have a few more white hairs and the memory definitely isn't as sharp as it once was (oh bite your tongue) but I remember the day I took the pregnancy test quite vividly. I also remember the day I had you quite vividly. Other memories have blurred a bit but not those two.
Yes, I also remember the whole peed-in-his-eye-what-if-he's-blind episode. A little too vividly.
So I'm watching you watch TV right now as you suck down a cup of milk. Your swinging your legs back and forth on the couch. Part of me is amazed your legs can't reach the floor yet as you seem to have sprouted yet again. Part of me is thrilled that while I may no longer have a baby, I still have a little one. One who will run up to me for no reason at all and ask for a hug. One who will call out for me several times each day simple because "I want you Mommy". One who still have no problem curling up in my lap at story time, bed time, anytime. As I watch you, I remember lots of things. Vividly.
I remember how you didn't come back to the room with me. One of your lungs hadn't inflated properly so they swept you away to check you out. Drugs are a wonderful thing as I remained calm through the whole thing. Several hours later the sense of calm was starting to wear thin and I ordered your father not to return from the nursery without my son. By this time we knew you were OK but I had yet to hold you. Not cool. Your poor father was run out of the nursery as they were in the middle of a shift change. My nurse took pity on him and had his back when he returned. Hence the reason why he is still alive. Shortly after his return they decided it was time to move me out of L&D and into my own room. The nurse was awesome. She bit her her tongue when I came out with the reason why they couldn't move me. Yup - my son hadn't arrived yet and how would they know where to find me. Andrea witnessed that brilliant thought process and has yet to say anything about it. Talk about a great friend.
I remember your horrendous fall down the stairs, double flip in the air and all. I remember the time it took for you to raise up on your little hands and cry - all of a split second that felt like an eternity because we thought we'd lost you. A little over 3 years later and I still have internal panic attacks when you are around stairs. They've lessened drastically but I suspect I'll still suffer from them when we drop you off at college.
I remember your first steps at Amah's house in NH followed promptly but a loud smack on the hard wood floor. You looked completely stunned but hey - I'd been warning your for days those floors were harder than ours. Carpeting does serve a purpose.
I remember the look on your face the first time I tried to feed you cereal. A look I still get when I try to get you to try new food. So if you are reading this... not all the beef stews I made contained stewed beef. Some contained... kidneys. Not getting Mother of the Year award now am I?
I remember each Christmas. Each birthday. Hell, I remember each time you christened a new part of the house. I remember running out of ideas to keep you entertained when Daddy was on the campaign trail so I came up with the coolest game ever - the Shouting Match. It turned out to be a practice session for you - practice for when you needed to yell and lecture me a year later.
I remember you running from the back door to the couch shouting "SWISHY SWASHY SWISHY SWASHY" over and over and over and over again after Mom introduced you to Going on a Bear Hunt. I also remember your father reminding you several time that there was no carpet and hard wood floors were slippery. Yet again you learned the hard way. At least you avoided the coffee table... until you rolled of the couch while wrestling with Amah and smacked you head on it. Another thing we warned you about. I can honestly tell you child - you have one hard skull. Don't get any (more) ideas though.
I remember the first time you called me Mama. I especially remember how you said "I love you" to Elmo before you ever said it to me. Your MOTHER. The woman who gave birth to you. Fed you. Burped you. Cleaned up all your puke, pee, and poo. I've wiped away blood and tears. I've kissed boo-boos all better. I've sat up all hours of the night with you soothing away nightmares. And you told Elmo you loved him before you told your own Mother. First car? Start saving kid.
I remember first blood, second blood, first ER trip, first stitches. Sweet Mother all this before you were 4? Enough already OK? That is one area in which you are NOT allowed to try and outdo your uncle. Actually let's not try to outdo your uncle in most things OK? I'll explain why when you are older. Much older.
I remember when I could finally understand Toddler-Speak and now that I am fluent all toddlers I meet now seem so incredibly articulate in comparison. So thank you for being an amazing teacher in that subject. For awhile there, I never thought I'd pass the final exam.
I remember your first truly horrific temper tantrum. I couldn't be in the same room as you without you going nuclear on me. Your father was working late as usual. All I could do was stand at the front door and will him to drive faster. The poor man didn't even get to the front door before I flew out of it declaring you were all his. I felt the love that night. I did.
I remember almost all of it and what I don't remember your Father does so don't think you will be getting away with anything. You know what I remember the most of the 4 years though? I remember how many times I'd be upset or feel sad and all I had to do was think of you and I'd feel better. If I was lucky enough to have you actually around when I felt down, you'd give me a hug to make me feel better. So while there are times you can drive me absolutely freaking insane - you always manage to make me smile if not outright laugh.
You've moved from the chaise in order to curl up with your father. Bedtime is fast approaching and I hate to be mean because you look so comfortable. You spend so much time wanting me, its nice to see you want daddy. Of course it is only because you want snuggle time and the computer has invade my lap but at least you didn't try to dump it on the floor this time. That's not going to get you any brownie points.
So tomorrow you will be 4. In a little over a year you will start kindergarten. Then I'll blink and you'll be in high school, then college. You'll move out on your own. You will grow into a man and I can't stop you but it won't matter because no matter how old you are, you will always be My Baby. My Little Man. My Precious. My Little Imp.
My Heart.
Happy Birthday Baby Boy and here's to many, many, many more.
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