Purely Anecdotal

admin May 28th, 2009

Dear son,

I am remiss for not writing sooner. I feel guilt already for not getting down all those little moments that have changed you, changed us, really, the last few months. Those little tiny, insignificant, significant things that I fear will be forgotten forever. Do not think that this lapse means that I am somehow less in love, less interested, less enamored with you than with your first few months. Because the truth is that it is the opposite. I have not been pausing to document because I am too busy enjoying the moment. I have no idea when it happened exactly, but sometime in the last few months you have become a little boy. You have changed from the baby I loved, to the little boy who just makes my heart burst, and I don’t know how.

You crawl. You “talk.” You demand to eat our food. You grin at silly jokes. You squeal with delight. You find jumping hysterical. You laugh at the dogs. You snuggle me and hold me close. You rest your head on my shoulder. You arch your back and kick and scream. You say, “pshaw” but so far do not seem to know that it should accompany an eye roll. You smack your lips. You give kisses. You have a happy full face grin that comes with crinkle squished eyes. This is my favorite grin. You hold your arms to be picked up. You stand and try to walk. The world to you is an exciting place, and I am so happy to be there as you discover it.

Last weekend we left you for the first time for several days. You have no idea how long or how much I agonized over this event. I planned and prepared and still never thought that I could really go through with it. I was afraid that it would damage you forever. I was afraid that it would damage me forever. How stupid I am. You had a fabulous time. I know because your aunt sent pictures showing how much fun you were having. When I got you back you crawled more, ate foods that you never ate before, and seemed more independent. You also slept through the night. So long in fact, that your father in I felt the need to sneak into your room to check your breathing. So, you’re welcome. Perhaps we should do you a favor and go on vacation more often.

Knowing this, I feel much better about another huge change that is likely soon to happen around here. Your mother has finally found a job. Or a job found her. It is not writing, the thing that she is pretty sure she wants to do in the long term, but it sounds important and fun and best of all will come (hopefully) with some real money. But my dear dear baby, this means that I will no longer be able to be the one who plays with you all day, the one who notices those tiny changes, who finds myself catching my breath at noon on a Wednesday at just how incredible you are. But I hope that I can still do these things with the shorter time I’ll have with you. And I hope that by working I will teach you that women can work and be mothers too, that we must each do what makes us happy, and sometimes having a bit more money in the bank is part of that too. I am excited but I will miss you. I am not sure whether or not I hope you miss me.

May you do those things that make you happy. May you have a life as full as mine.

Happy 11 months, my son. What a time we’ve had.

• Parenting