Three

Three.

One thousand, ninety-five days.

Your third birthday.

Or your "3 and 1/2" birthday as you would say.

Once again I'm here -

in the quiet and in the dark -

like I've done every year since

the night before you came into this world.

There are days that I'm still amazed I'm somebodies mom.

That you're my son.

That your nervous laughter,

love of animals,

eyelashes,

gap tooth smile,

ability to make people laugh,

and cautious nature

are all things you get from me.

Its so completely awesome and weird at the same time.

You are growing.

You're taking those things that are mine,

those things that are your father's -

and turning them into something

uniquely you.

You are extremely brazen, yet withdrawn.

You are loud, yet soft spoken.

You're sassy, yet well mannered.

You are the funniest person I know.

Your smile, makes me smile.

You are determined but will not be

coerced, pushed, bribed or forced.

Your quick witted retorts make me bite the inside of my cheek to keep from losing it with laughter.

You are a giant, yet so gentle with all other beings.

And I guess that's where I find you right now,

at two different ends of the spectrum.

A baby not quite yet a little man.

A little man not quite any longer a baby.

And I've found myself somewhat in limbo

as well lately.

Somewhere wedged in those spaces of holding on, and letting go.

Pulling you in,

and stepping back as you make your way into the world.

I watched you scale an extremely tall ladder up to the top of a rocket ship,

the other afternoon.

Giant, older kids whizzed past you left and right.

You started, stopped and came running back to hug my leg.

You watched. You waited.

You let go.

I took a deep breath.

Why can't you just take the dang stairs, as your daddy would say.

Its easier. Less scary.

But easier simply isn't your style.

You climbed. I cringed inside. I smiled outside.

You prevailed.

I was terrified for you.

But I was determined to not stand in your way either.

To not stop you from conquering.

I find that its in the most normal of places,

(like a park)

doing the most ordinary of things,

(like trying to not pee my pants as you wave 3 stories off the ground at me on an open ledge)

that I realize how much we're all learning

on this beautiful journey.

Learning to grow.

Learning to conquer our fears.

Learning to hold on.

Learning to let go.

Learning to remember these moments,

like making it to the top of the rocket ship without your mom.

Learning that my heart can sore for you and tinge with the tiniest bit of pain

all at the same time.

Because you're big. Because you're still my baby.

Learning that its possible to hold you, and let you go,

all in the same space.

And when I feel like I don't know where the past

3 years

have gone, I look at you and see them -

every moment,

every last one of them -

and realize they are all right here.

Right now.

They are in the momentous achievements

and in the day to day living.

When I feel that invisible cord stretch a little further,

pull a little tighter,

and give less and less -

I can't help but think how you continue

to pull me closer to the things I never imagined possible.

You've pulled me into a place I never would have dreamed

3 years ago.

A place that holds

no words

to describe this kind of happiness.

This kind of love.

I knew on this night 3 years ago how capable I was of love.

Its what you're suppose to do when you're a mom.

I just never understood how much.

How deep.

How relentless.

I didn't realize the places my heart was capable of reaching.

Of stretching to.

And I certainly didn't realize how much I would like you.

You're my most favorite person to be around.

You're my most favorite, period.

Happy Birthday Sully.

I hope you conquer the top of every rocket ship that comes your way in life.

Even when it scares the beejeezus out of me.

I love you.