Wednesday, August 13, 2008
Late as usual.
Finnie, my boy.
I wanted to write to you on your 21-month birthday, which was three days ago, and I did try, I promise you. The computer ate it though. So here I am, as I often am, quite late with my sentiments.
For some reason, this milestone of my own making seemed important. You are just exploding right now. Your brain growing before my eyes, your hair blonder, your skin darker, your eyes brighter, your scream louder, your laugh harder. Everything with you is more than ever. You are intense and alive and strong beyond reason; the other day your tantrum took me, and my back, out completely. I am nursing a pulled muscle and what I think might be a mini concussion, if I do diagnose myself. All thanks to the wallop of your very hard head hitting my rapidly softening one, albeit unintentionally.
But then, as you tend toward extremes, your love of letters for instance which fires you constantly, carrying the refrigerator magnets of "B" and "P" around with you like security blankets, you also are so amazingly lovely and loving and kind and empathetic. With a specialty in smiling at me like I am the sun itself. Your smile, one that reveals your molars-to-be, should be used in peace talks. As I nurse my three-Advil headache, it is your smile that cures me.
Tonight when I was putting you down, you made me sing the abc's - twice - and then down you went into your crib, the smooth part of your blanket rubbing against your nose, binky rhythmically keeping time, the other fist with your ball of the moment tightly in hand - a red one with suction cups. It sticks to anything.
I had no idea about having two children. I had no idea what I would do with you. How I would manage. How you would fit into my already full heart. And yet here you are, me having no concept of life before you or without you. Such a wonder, a complete seperate, challenging, exhausting, deliciously strong force in my life. In my heart. Forever.
Finn Patrick, as I often whisper into your ear as a lay you down into your sweet, smooth crib, a mantra, a prayer, a blessing, a thank you: Mama loves you so. Mama loves you so.