My son - my baby boy and the little person who turned me from a woman into a mom - turned 8 yesterday. I meant to get on here earlier, but time and children got away from me. Please accept this as a belated substitute.
You made me a mom. I remember the day well. It was gray but not cold outside. I don't know why, but I kept hoping the weather would turn cold, or snow, or do something to commemorate the day. It didn't seem to me that it could possibly be a 'normal' day. Not with my baby coming into the world.
You had no intentions of being born, because you had no inclination to interact with humanity. Now that I know how your brain works, I understand why. Oz and I had gone to a restaurant for dinner the night before, excited and scared about what the next day would bring.
I vaguely remember you being born.
I definitely remember the minute your daddy and the nurses and grandmothers told me you had 12 fingers and 12 toes, and I remember that everyone was worried that I would see those as a problem, as my fault, as something 'wrong' with you. Instead, I only loved you more for your specialness. You were my baby boy whose bald head glowed red in the evening haze, and nothing could change that!
I've loved watching you grow. Even during the difficult times, you've been a delight.
Your imagination blossomed early. You loved to dress up, even if you didn't have a name for what you were.
Your goal has always been to make people smile. You love it when you get a joke or a prank over on Daddy and I and we laugh. It doesn't happen often, because you have a unique sense of humor that causes you to laugh a lot at things that other people wouldn't find funny, but YOU understand the joke, and that makes me happy. Might I suggest British humor? I can't wait to introduce you to Monty Python. I suspect you and John Cleese would get along charmingly, vegetarians and tall people that you both are or will be.
You love it when I join in the fun, too.
You've always had a smile for everyone, too. You don't always know why you're smiling, though, so a genuine smile and laugh out of you is completely infectious. You are one of those people who have the special gift of lighting up an entire room when you come into it. You can inspire others to action. I hope that you can channel this to positive means as you get older!
Your eyes are powerful tools. You don't often make full eye contact, but when you do, there's a pull there, a plea, something that brings people into your own special world. Your eyes are beautiful.
You're not afraid to be silly...
... or totally at ease with yourself and the world. You definitely don't worry about what anyone else thinks, and that's a good thing!
That never-fear and never-say-die attitude is one of my favorite things about you. You're not afraid to try something new, and you believe in doing the unexpected. You love to experiment, and while that gets you in trouble from time to time (the wall is still not to have holes in it, son!), I admire your spirit.
You've always gone full speed ahead into what ever project you've decided to undertake...
... whether it's experimenting in mud...
... seeing what you can make animals do...
... trying out kindergarten...
... making a snowman without ANY help, thank you very much...
... cooking new recipes for the family...
... or, as of two nights ago, testing your hand at archery.
I'm proud to be your mom. I'm proud of all you are, all that you have been, and all that you will be. I don't worry about your future, because you are such a strong person. I can only hope that you will continue to be who you are.
Nothing else would ever do.