November 10, 2006

This can't compare to Dooce's newsletters, but here it is.

Three years ago, dear Bubba, you came kicking and screaming into this crazy world. After 18 hours or so of labor, and five pushes, your wriggling little self slithered on out of me and even more into our hearts. What an amazing three years it has been. You have grown into such an intelligent, imaginative little rascal. I love you more than I ever thought imaginable *okay, what mama doesn't say that, really* and there is little I would change. You have my little dimples, which you love to show off whenever you smile, which is often. Hard to say whose eyes you got, since me and daddy both have blue. You did get Daddy's blond hair and regardless of how badly mama wants it to turn red, it refuses. It's ok, though, because you are absolutely adorable. Wherever we take you, people are floored by how polite, cute and intelligent you are. I used to think you would never talk enough to fully understand you, and alas, now there is rarely a moment of silence when you are awake. The things that come out of that little mouth of yours is another wonder. You see/hear something once and have it so committed to memory that you can repeat it or duplicate the action easily. You are a master of the new computer and blow me away with how quickly you learned how to make it do what you want it to do.

You are getting a little less snuggly with me, lately, because everything is all about Daddy. I know it's a phase, and I'm trying not to let it bother me, but deep down, I miss all the snuggles and kisses. I recently taught you butterfly kisses and it is so sweet when you ask for them on each cheek, and then insist on doing both cheeks for me. You also love eskimo kisses.

The only major improvement I seek for you, darling, is your eating habits. Really, I promise that eating vegetables won't kill you. Same goes for fruits. A boy really doesn't need to consume just french toast sticks, french fries, mac n cheese, spagheti, bread and mashed taters forever. Sure, we get some chicken nuggets into you, but why won't you embrace the wonder that is turkey, and steak? All in good time, I'm sure.

My wish for you, as always, dear son, is that you continue to grow up to be a bright, creative, handsome man. I may not be the most patient mama, but never doubt that I love you fiercely and will stop at nothing to give you the best chances in life. I hope you never have to struggle the way W and I have lately, with finances, emotional health and even his physical health. Things were bleak for a while, but we've recommitted to each other to make everything work, and to muddle through all these issues with his back. Hopefully it will all be resolved before long and you won't remember Daddy not being able to do this or that with you because he hurts too much.

I love you, little man. You are my inspiration to be a better person, mom, wife, everything. I can't wait to see what other wonders you have in store for us as you learn more and more. I live for those dimply smiles of yours and of course, the giggles and full body laughter we evoke when we have tickle fests.

I don't know how else to wrap this up, other than to say: Guess what, chicken butt! *yes we have this exchange all the time, alternating with an "I love you" answer instead of chicken butt. We are easily amused.

I hope you like your pirate ship cake and pirate themed party tomorrow, dear boy. Arrr!

1 comment:

Laz said...

What a sweet letter :) I relate to a lot of it. Congrats on being the proud mama of such a great kid.