Shout it from the Rooftop!

You
Said
MAMA!!!!


Today at exactly 1:30pm, five days shy of nine months old, you looked at me and very plainly said . . .
mama.

(Second only to the day of your birth, this is the best day of my life.)

Sacred Moments

Dear Son,

This week I celebrated your first Christmas with you. It has been a time I will never forget. I know that it doesn't mean much to you right now, but my hope is that with time, you will understand the true meaning of this time of year, coupled and balanced adequately with all the fun that comes along with the celebration.
Christmas morning I took you in to see all the spoils that Santa left behind for you . . . you seemed less than thrilled - and opted to instead crawl over to the couch and fetch the phone that was lying just at the edge.
I know I just gotta give it a few more years, but I still gained great joy simply from watching you crumple all the left over wrapping paper!

Tonight after you were sleeping as I turned from you to shut off the lamp, I for a second looked back over my shoulder, - and to my surprise, your eyes were open, and you were just looking at me with the most serene expression. I expected you to, as you usually do, begin nuzzling closer to me to nurse yourself back to sleep . . . but as I rolled back over to face you, you simply stared right into my eyes . . . not making a sound. You reached out with your tiny hand, and with the tips of your little fingers . . . touched my cheek, my mouth . .. my eye lashes - it felt like you were truly looking at me for the first time ever. We must have laid there like that for nearly fifteen minutes, with you just ever so gently touching my face - every few minutes your eyes grew heavy and would close - but then you would open them again and just look at me.

It was a beautiful time to have spent with you . . . a time that I will treasure forever. It was if you were somehow telling me . . . you are my mom - nothing else matters.


I love you Son.

Sweet Child of Mine

Oh my love for the first time in my life,
My eyes are wide open,
Oh my love for the first time in my life,
My eyes can see,

I see the wind,
Oh I see the trees,
Everything is clear in my heart,
I see the clouds,
Oh I see the sky,
Everything is clear in our world,

Oh my love for the first time in my life,
My mind is wide open,
oh my love for the first time in my life,
My mind can feel,

Everything is clear in my heart,
Everything is clear in our world,
I feel the life,
Oh I feel love.


Lennon

Panic in the Bedroom.

Dear Son,

Its been a few weeks since my last letter. The Christmas season has had us both in a whirl wind. If all goes as planned, you'll be making your first (of what I am sure will be many . . . many) visits to Santa today.

But - theres something else on my mind this morning.

I have to admit - for a first timer, I think I'm a pretty great mom. You and I just are just on the same page. I know its an instinct most moms have - but I feel I've honed in on mine very well. :)
Yesterday, that image of myself was tarnished a little bit.

After a week of acrobatics in the front yard, (that includes climbing a tree) all in the name of Christmas decorations - my back has been feeling more like that of a 59 year old than a 29 year old (Im still gonna blame it on the fact that its only been 8 months since I gave birth, and not on the fact that I could possibly be getting old). So, I've not been moving around as swiftly as I would like.

You still sleeping in my bed right now, and yesterday morning I heard the little sounds you make when you wake up coming from my bedroom. I hobbled by way in to get you, and there you were, in the middle of the bed - just grinning. Your usual morning greeting to me. I began making my way toward you, . . . you let out a little grunt . . . and within the matter of a nanosecond, you had made a leap to the edge of the bed. I had just made it to the bed whenever you decided to just . . . .

just . . . .

Jump Off.

Landing promptly on our hardwood floor.

You let out a scream unlike any I've ever heard from you before. I scooped you into my arms and sat on the bed with you cradled there - apologizing profusely for having let you fall . . . near tears myself. I felt every horror of being a bad parent flood my body.

I was mortified. Immediately I began making vows to you and myself of all the padding and gates and rails and soft spots and never again would we live in a house with hardwood floors and . . and . . . and . . .

anything else I could think of, all the while squeezing you so tight that looking back I wonder if it was the fall or my death grip on you that brought on the tears.

In my sorrow and heartbreak I failed to realize probably ten minutes had passed and you had long stopped crying and were squirming to be released from my grasp. I held you up - face to face - and your confused face smoothed into a huge smile . . . and you very promptly . . .

laughed in my face - then wriggled away from me . . . . off for your discoveries of the day.

Needless to say, I think I was a bit more wounded by the entire scene than you could ever think to be.

(yes, I did stand over you all day yesterday whenever you'd take a nap to make sure there was no sign of concussion or other abnormality in your behavior)

All in all . . . we made it through. (and by "we" . . . I do mean "me".)

I love you Son.