Today, you are three years old. We practiced us asking you how hold you were and your response. Three years old. You are not a baby anymore.
At your first birthday party, we celebrated the end of your infanthood. I celebrated the accomplishment of "making it through" the first year with all of our firsts--giving birth, your first night at home, nursing for six months, learning to eat, your first word ("nana"), and so much. Our sweet, bald-headed boy with hazel eyes. Growing up so quickly. It felt significant because we survived and learned so much together.
On your second birthday, your hair had grown in blond--almost white--and you had obvious interests and preferences. You had become such an individual, yet you still were a baby in your limitations. You were trying to learn how to be a person and communicate.
Now at three, you are no longer our baby. You are all boy. We celebrated with a Cars and Planes party because you said you wanted both. You said, "We will have balloons and cupcakes and I will be so happy!"
At three, we are celebrating your autonomy. You sleep in your own room in a regular bed (though you still creep in our room in the early morning). You feed yourself and tell me what you want to eat (and what you don't want to eat). You brush your own teeth. You can buckle (and unbuckle...) your own carseat. You play soccer. You can say anything you want and seem to remember everything. The last step out of babyhood is pottytraining, which we have been working on over the past few days--and you're doing great!
I love the adventurer that you are. You love to run and explore.
I think more than anything, we are celebrating that we (you, your dad, and I) have worked hard at trying to shape you into a decent person. And, what do you know, we're doing pretty all right! I can tell because you are so kind and sweet to others. Maybe you have trouble sharing sometimes, but you are very concerned with other people. If your dad or I seem stressed, you approach us and encourage us, saying, "It'll be all right. It is OK!"
I love seeing you interact with your brother. I love how you try to read to him, give him toys, share your food with him (not yet, little buddy), and comfort him when he cries. You love to make him laugh, and though it is extra crazy sometimes, I let you jump and clown around in attempts to make him giggle. You always get him to laugh. I love the bond you have with him. You tell me that he is "so cute" and "sweet". You are constantly trying to cuddle with him on the floor and get blankets for him. I can't imagine a better big brother for him.
Thank you for being so forgiving. I try really hard not to lose my patience, but sometimes it happens. Sometimes I snap. And I am so sorry. However, you forgive me quickly and shower me with love and acceptance. You are always eager to help. You shout in a deep, super hero voice, "I will help you! I am so strong!" It is so funny.
Looking back, it has been amazing to see how much you have changed since last year. Holidays and birthdays are making more sense to you. Last year, you went along with Christmas, but the magic and wonder of it all really seemed to sink in this time. As we counted down the days, you kept asking to "go to" Christmas. It finally came and all the decorations and details made sense--like why we had those "big socks" hanging from the mantle.
I have learned so much from you over these past few years, and I still have more to learn. When I found out that I was pregnant with you, I was so full of joy, but I was also afraid. I was afraid I would fail you. I was afraid that I couldn't do it. Looking back, we have done fine together, and you have grown into an amazing boy with strong character. You're still growing and learning, of course, but you are well on your way. I love you, Eliot. You made me into a mother and changed me for the better.
No comments:
Post a Comment