Today you are three years old. It’s hard for me to believe it has already been three whole years since you joined us. You have brought so much joy and light into our lives. You’re funny. You’ll do just about anything for a laugh. You’re charming. That grin where you wrinkle your nose and squint your eyes is so very cute (but I’m on to you). You’re silly. You love to stand on your head and look at things, or use the wrong end of the binoculars to view your world. You’re sweet. There’s nothing better than hugs and kisses from you.
You are my little buddy. We’re together day after day, just the two of us until daddy gets home from work. You’re my constant companion. You keep me company. You want me to play cars all the time. You stand in my chair and run cars on my head while I type away at the computer. You give the best nose rubs and hugs. I hope you always have a special place in your heart for mommy.
You love to help. I hope you’ll love helping with your little brother. I don’t quite think you understand yet what it means. And I hope that it only brings you joy when we arrive home with him just days after your birthday. You and your brother will be exactly 3 years, 1 day apart. But I hope that you’ll always be good buddies.
I love you so much, little buddy. That will never change, even as we move into a new dynamic with our family. Happy 3rd birthday, little man. I cherish these years with you. I hope you do, too.
I took off this afternoon for a little out-of-the-house and alone time. It was sorely needed. I haven’t been out of the house much this week and the one time I was? Doctor’s appointment. And I had to get right back because the boy was with Daddy.
But this afternoon, just before the boy woke up from his nap, I took off. Ran a few errands. Perused Michael’s and the bookstore. And then I picked up dinner and went back home to be with my guys.
A little saner, a little refreshed.
After I walked in the door, the boy was nowhere to be found. Turns out he was playing in the bedroom and didn’t know I was home. After I put down all of my stuff, I called to him.
He came careening out of the bedroom with a huge smile on his face. He ran up to me and I expected him to fling himself around my legs. But he grabbed my hand to lead me back to where he was so he could show me what he’d been doing. And then he wanted to play on our bed (which he loves).
His laughter and smile were the perfect welcome home.
When I found out I was pregnant, I really and truly wanted a blue-eyed baby. Boy or girl, blue eyes please.
My dad has the most amazing blue eyes I’ve ever seen. Blue as the sky and so bright. They are striking. I so wanted my little boy to have those eyes. Instead, he got the same blue that I, my brother, and my mom have. They sometimes tend a little more towards gray, depending on what color we’re wearing. But my dad? His eyes never change – they are always the same vibrant pools of blue.
So while it’s nice that my boy has the exact eyes that I do, I wanted to pass on something else. The poor kid already has so many of my traits that it’s scary. He never even had a chance. I’m sure he’ll thank me (and never let me forget it) later.