Ten Months

Dear Kyle,

I'm already beginning to plan your first birthday party, can you believe that? Well, you probably can because by now I'm sure you know your mom really, really likes birthdays, and kicking off the planning two months in advance is just how I roll. I'm toying with your theme and the cake and the favor bags and SO MUCH and people I talk to roll their eyes and sigh and look at me like I've lost my damn mind, but it's just that if I can't celebrate this year (this year with you) then there's never been a reason to celebrate anything, ever.

Before I start sobbing about having an ALMOST-ONE YEAR OLD OMG, let's talk about what you've been up to this month. Oh, my, what HAVEN'T you been up to this month? There is not a moment of peace in our home between the hours of 7 am and 7 pm. Your body is flipped into the ON! position all day long and when I look away even for a second, you somehow get a hold of and are chewing on my laptop cord or Molly or a shoe or the wall, and I'm not even kidding about that last one. Everything is in your mouth, and there are various times of the day when I see you chewing on something and think, Oh, let that be a days-old Cheerio and not something sharper and more damaging to your internal organs. You love to move, it's your most favorite thing to do, and if you had your way, we'd never sit down.

You also like to be chased, which is ridiculously adorable since you can't exactly go far, and I'm doing a very, very bad parenting thing by encouraging this game, I know, but it's impossible to resist making you laugh. You start crawling, sneakily look behind you with a mad twinkle in your eye, so I start to run toward you and you shriek with laughter and try to crawl away as fast as you possibly can. It's so fun, especially the part where I reach you, scoop you up and kiss you all over while you laugh and laugh.

You picked your belly off the floor this month, so even though you've been army-crawling since you were seven months, you are really crawling now. And no matter how many toys we spread around the house, there are a few things you without-a-doubt go to when we set you down to crawl: outlets (baby cliche!), dust bunnies (yum), Molly or the small basketball your Gramps gave you.

A couple other cool things happened this month, one being your dad has new work hours, so he's now home with you during the week. You have adventures and play together and sing songs, and he sends me pictures from Kohl's or Fry's or Home Depot or wherever else his to-do list has taken you both, and you look on top of the world in each picture. Life is funny in its unpredictability, so who knows what our routine will be like in six months or a year, so I know your dad is sopping up this time with you and enjoying every moment. Although, without fail, I come home to you either 1) wearing some god-awful, doesn't-match outfit or 2) the pjs you were wearing when I left. Buds, I'm sorry your dad thinks he has such stellar fashion sense especially because he doesn't, but seeing you two together waving from the couch each morning as I walk out the door is the most beautiful sight in the world. You have a dad who adores you and loves being with you. I've said it before, and I'll say it a million times more, I'm sure, but he's the best gift I could ever give you, and I hope no matter what happens in life or how much you hate us for your early curfew or for making you study or for telling you to get off the phone at 10 pm even though you really want to tell your girlfriend you love her just one more time, you know that having a good, decent, honest father is going to take you so far in life.

A couple other cool things that happened this past month were: 1) snow! and 2) turkey! We had your first Thanksgiving and your first snowfall within a week of each other, and you were pretty stoked about both until 30 seconds in when you realized 1) snow gives you a wet butt and 2) turkey isn't pureed pears. I love that you'll try anything even if you get this look on your face seconds in that says, "Yeah, I'd rather not be doing this. Please stop making me."

Finally, another new thing, one much less fun, is the SCREAMING! The SCREAMING! has descended upon our house, and if we leave the room or you want out of your high chair or you want out of your crib or you want more food or you want the remote or, let's sum it up like this, YOU WANT SOMETHING WE'RE NOT GIVING YOU, you SCREAM! It's not a cry, no, it's a EEEAAAAHHHH. EEEAAAAHHHHHHHHH. EEEAAAAHHHHHHHHH. And you get louder and louder until I give you whatever it is you want or throw myself in front of traffic, whichever I do first. You are cute, kid, and sweet and funny, too, but can we stop with the screaming? I'll totally bend that early curfew I mentioned earlier.

Sometimes you wake up on the wrong side of your crib and for the first, cranky hour of the morning, I go through my mother check-list: teething? no, tired? no, hungry? no, WHAT THEN? WHAT WHAT WHAT? And sometimes it dawns on me, maybe you're just in a bad mood. That's certainly OK, your mom and dad get in bad moods often enough, but I go straight to FIX IT mode, and I really want to stop doing that. I want you to be moody, if you want to be moody. It's OK to not be in a good mood. What's not OK is to throw your bottle/pacifier/toy/whatever is in your reach into your mom's face to convey that bad mood. Make a note of that.

You are still a full-of-life, sweet-smiled, happy boy, though. I think back to how I was as a kid often, and although I had a pretty good childhood, lots of cool experiences and such, I remember taking on the happiness of others from a really young age. I wanted no conflict, no stresses, and so I'd do whatever I could to smooth the waters. I used to sense fights before they'd happen, by the inflection in someone's voice or the look in someone's eyes, and I'd try and change the subject or sing a song or something. I wanted peace, and I tried to make it happen. It was a tough thing to carry as a little girl, and when I look at you, I see such pure joy that I hope I can preserve in you for as long as possible. I hope I never give you my happiness to take care of, and I hope you never have to worry about keeping the peace around you. I hope that you can take this ten-month feeling and carry it for years, this carefree, happy-screeching way of yours. You deserve to worry about your happiness and your peace for as long as possible, until you have your own kids, even, and pace the floors with worry as a hobby.

You should also know that with one simple look of yours, one open-mouthed grin, slobbering kiss or cuddle, you heal a million wounds.

Just by being you, Ky, all the weight I carried before you fell to the ground. We've smashed the weight together.

I love you, Buds.

 

Love,

Your Mama

Comments

[barbetti]

Well, this is just beautiful as always. You are so gifted with words.

Oh, Kyle, how blessed you are. And handsome, to boot.

[Steph!]

utterly gorgeous.

[pickles & dimes]

Aw, those cheeks! So cute!

[Gaby]

Oh, Jennie, that last long paragraph? Made me cry. Because I, too, was the girl who tried to keep everyone calm, happy, at ease, and it was exhausting and unfair for a child to take on. And I so admire your efforts to not allow that part of history to repeat itself. As I face parenthood (10 weeks today! Fingers crossed!), I worry about these same things, and it is so reassuring to know I'm not alone in that. And it's so, SO nice to know that you can overcome your past, as I see you doing with Kyle. Thank you.

[Heather]

I love these letters so very much. I have said it before, and I will say it a million times over...Kyle won the lottery with you and Mike as parents. Totally.