Two

I attempted to start writing this entry back in March.
The 16th to be exact.
Yeah, I'm aware it's now
May 13th - and almost an entire month past Sully's
2nd
birthday.

Two.

I've attempted to start it so many times, but to be honest,
I'm left stumbling a lot, searching for what I
want
to say,
that isn't redundant or rehashed feelings from the past
2 years.
I swear its been the blink of an eye, Sully.

A blink.
And then my baby, you were two.
Its bittersweet.
So
extremely
bittersweet.

There have been quite a few happenings the start of this new year, that have left me,
breathless.
My heart-aching a little.
Or a lot.
But all none-the-less, that have left me
completely and humbly
grateful
for everything
that is
you.

I can honestly say there hasn't been a day since you've been born, that I haven't stopped at
least
once
a day,
and caught my breath -
and
thanked
the universe for whatever I did to
deserve you.

And as I sat on the park bench last week,
watching you play,
and run,
and squeal -
I was left wondering -
If every parent feels this way about their child.

And I felt a deep void for those who don't.
Because how
can
you
not.

And while we have those days that I swear I'm going to hang you
upside down,
by your shoe strings,
outside in the tree with a
For Sale sign
slapped to your chest -
they are far outnumbered by the
amount of days
that I've stopped dead in my tracks,
around the corner -
and listened to you
sing
in your playroom when you think
I'm not there.
And I smile so long,
and so hard,
that it hurts.

Far outnumbered,
by the amount of times
you've proudly cracked eggs into the bowl,
which have left me fishing out more shells
than I care to count.
And eating more crunchy muffins
than I care
to talk about
as you declare - "Mmmm these tasty Mama!"

Far outnumbered,
by the nights I've sat with you and your daddy watching hockey,
and listened to you scream
at the television,
waving your arms around like some
kind of baby sports lunatic.
Rooting for a score - waving your stick up high,
and patting us on the head like you see them do
when the goal is made.
(It is in fact, where you let your first
F-bomb fall on stunned ears -
when a goal was let through.
What can I say,
you're your father's
boy.)

I'm hard pressed to remember what life was like
before.
Before hoards of toys overtook my house.
Before I ever willingly woke up at 6 am on a Saturday.
Before the crayon drawings ever appeared on my walls.
Before I ever dealt with screaming fits of rage in the toy aisles.

And that's okay,
because the
truth
is
you
are so much more fulfilling than a
clean house
ever was.
I'd take
your wake up call
over any alarm clock -
any day.

And as I scoop your screaming flailing ass up in the store
and carry you like a football under my arm,
pushing my cart with my other free hand
cool and collected-
I smile
and nod at other mom's,
because
I've got this.

Because as you grow,
I do too.
As you become more confident
in the
person
you're becoming,
I do too.

I'm hard pressed to
remember
"before"
some days.
And that's okay.
Because
you
are the best thing,
I've
ever
done.

And that's worth
any before
I could ever
truly remember
during these past
two years.
Its worth
everything.

Any expectations I had the morning of
April 16th, 2009
on what this journey would be like
what it would hold -
well -
there's no words.
It has exceeded anything
and everything
I spent dreaming up those 9 months.

And we celebrate.
We celebrate all the milestones,
all the smiles,
all funny quips,
and faces,
and words and numbers
and crayon drawings on the walls.
Even the Baby For Sale days.

We celebrate you,
and everything you've brought to the table
these past
two,
wonderfully magical,
challenging
and rewarding
years.

You've exceeded
anything
and
everything
I ever thought I could dream up
that morning,
two years ago.

A million kisses Bubbi -
to the moon and back.
Happy Birthday Sullivan.