Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Just wondering why you woke up 8 times last night and insisted on calling me into your room and detailing each dream you had or explaining how you needed a drink of water or pointing to the part of your foot that wasn't working anymore. Let's not do an encore of that performance tonight, thanks. Also, I am wondering how you got to be so impossibly sweet and empathetic. Thank you for always running backwards during a race between your brother, yourself and me to make sure that my feelings aren't hurt when I am losing and to cross the finish line with me. I love you, bug. Love, Mom.
We just booked the second surgery of your life for the end of this month. Although it should be minor, the thought of not being by your side while you are put to sleep makes me feel like I am attempting to digest ten thousand razor blades. Times a zillion. As it turns out, this parenting gig is filled with all kinds of twists and turns and you happen to be the test guinea pig for the majority of the pitfalls. Sorry about that. Please promise not to hate me later for that and be bitter about your birth order. One more thing - you are the bomb and watching your face when you play Guitar Hero is the equivalent of being hugged by ten thousand Care Bears. I love you so much, baby bear. Love, Mom.
You are so important to me. You have consistently provided a soft landing spot for every rough patch I have ever hit and every windfall that has come my way, in which I can wholeheartedly be myself and go through whatever I need to go through. Your support is quiet, steadfast, and strong. Thank you for not even needing me to ask you for this...you just knew to do it. Please keep being this for me. It is so important, and I might just shrivel up and die without it. You are my best friend and I love you most. Love, me.
Relax. Breathe. Take a moment to appreciate what is going on right this second. Not what has happened or what is going to happen. What is happening. And then smile. That's it. Peace out.