The No. 3

Dear Jack,

My tiniest love.
Tomorrow you will be the number free.
I've spent the past couple weeks in a state.
Mainly wondering about the world.
And what it will look like when its handed over to you.
You built an ocean out of legos today.
It was beautiful with all different colors of blue, white and light blue.
You worked for a long time, carefully covering the board.
Expanding your ocean.
Making is bigger. Vaster.
I wanted to badly to scoop you and your brother up -
And sail away to somewhere safe on that little tiny red lego canoe.
Just away.
This isn't a world I'm prepared to hand over to you.
Not like this.

While the world is engaged in hate and unkindness currently,
I'm the most thankful for you.
That you don't know what skin color is.
That you see mommy and daddy as equals.
That people loving people, having moms and dads
or two moms or two dads
is something completely natural and normalized to you.
That you say sorry when someone is hurt,
even when its not your fault.
That you help other children that have fallen down.
That for all of your stubborn and sass
you have a heart of gold.
I'm grateful in these days you are blissfully unaware.
That your biggest concern is finding the last chocolate granola bar,
or packing your garbage truck with scrap pieces of paper you have me rip up.

And while you are busy jumping out of trees,
and off couches,
and swings,
and taking steps two, three at a time,
I promise I'll keeping working to make this world one you're proud to be a part of.

In the meantime keep loving olives.
And zambonis and dogs and trains and the color yellow.
Continue to eat the crap out of pizza and ice cream.
Keep your passion for hockey, and goal horns
and knowing lyrics of movies and songs we didn't even realize you memorized.
Enjoy dancing on the couch naked.
Or running out of the house naked.
Or generally just being naked.
Its good to be comfortable in your own skin.

But most importantly,
and this is truly important ...
Keep being my habitual shit starter.
Continue to be the kid that doesn't take no as an answer lying down.
As your mom I'm telling you now its mentally exhausting BUT
I know it will pay off one day.
The world will need strong minded, smart,
stubborn people like you one day.
That see no color.
That see no religion.
That see everyone as equal.
That see love as love, no matter what.
The world needs children like you,
that will one day grow into adults like you,
that will break down walls.
That will create oceans large and vast.

Happy No. 3 Jack,
I love you too much.
Mom







This year you completely potty trained
This year you started preschool
This year you had surgery on your wonky eye
You love olives and apples and bananas,
and donuts and pizza and french fries.
Your favorite color is yellow.
You obsess over trains and garbage trucks.
You love listening to hockey teams different goal horns and goal songs.
You put yourself in time out when you hit your brother, because you obviously feel it was worth it.
You don't like broccoli or lets just be honest most things. You're picky.
You have this bad habit of spitting out whatever you don't like, wherever you are, into whatever you find.
You love dogs and your brother and guitars and rock n roll.
You say things like "you're killing me!" and "I love you tooooo much.
You have killer dimples.
You are very sassy.
I love you very very very much despite that.

Seven years

Dear Sully,

Tomorrow morning you’ll be turning seven.

This past year you’ve lost a lot of teeth.

Six to be exact. Two the year prior.

Your teeth have become an odd marker of time for me.

They are a daily reminder of an ever changing landscape of your face.

Of time.

Of its passage and its growth.

Of your passage and growth.

I can still see your toothless smile like it was yesterday.

And your two front teeth budding through – and poking in.

Your full, round, cherub face.

The large gap between your two front teeth.

Then a full mouth of teeth that followed next.

I cried when that first bottom tooth fell out.

It felt as though I had just welcomed this new face –

This face full of teeth that has pressured me into saying farewell to the baby years.

Hello toddler years. Hello preschool years.

And then that stupid tooth. Gone. Nudging me to say farewell yet again.

A sharp reminder that this all is just temporary.

You will change. You will grow.

It’s just how it us.

Your second tooth eventually met the same fate as the first, despite my protests.

Again, the beginning of a new face.

That second tooth a faint whisper and sharp reminder.

I would soon be saying farewell to the face I'd grown to know.

Through preschool.

Through kindergarten.

Because you will change. You will grow.

It’s just how it is.

Another phase.

Another face.

Your third tooth. And fourth. Then the fifth.

The sixth and the seventh.

The eighth.

I winced each time they fell out like flies.

Rapid fire.

Such a funny thing to feel sad about.

I’m learning this new landscape – this gauge, this map of time.

All on your face.

Learning to let go of the baby, the toddler, the preschooler, the kindergartener.

Learning to say hello and embrace the boy –

Who will become a tween. A teenager.

A young man.

Because you will change. You will grow.

It’s just how it is.

It’s a strange and wonderful place to be …

Seeing reflections of the baby you were

And the young man you’re turning into.

All at once.  

It’s in the dimple of your eye when you smile and laugh really hard.

I can almost hear your baby belly laugh if I closed my eyes.

But your teeth –

Those large white markers of time protruding from a sharp jaw line.

Filled in eyebrows.

Thinning out cheeks.

It’s a constant reminder of who you are becoming.

Who you are. Who you will be.

The first words that have given way to jokes at the dinner table.

First steps that have become bikes without training wheels.

Drawings on the wall that have become notes from friends tucked away in backpacks.

Nursery rhymes that have become air guitar rock solos on the couch.

Cuddles that have turned into tender moments between brothers.

And not so tender ones.

Bath times that have become showers.

Mamas that have grown into just moms.

Night time lullabies that have become scarcely requested.

Gummy smiles that have turned into permanent teeth.

Passage and phases.

Changes and growth.

It stinks at times.

It’s exciting at times.

But never be afraid of change or to change.

Never be afraid to grow, in so many ways.

Because you will change.

Because you will grow.

It’s just how it is.

Happy 7^th birthday Sully.

Love you to the moon and stars, always.

Mom