First Day

The week before was the hardest. I found myself on an emotional rollercoaster, crying at all of the most inconvenient times, drowning in sadness and weariness, trying to cope with all of these very big feelings about life.

There are so many triggers in my life this year. Just about anything can elicit an overly emotional and sensitive side of me, a side that lays dormant, that hides beneath boulders and deep in dark caves, where no one will know it lives until it is awakened somehow. Sometimes those triggers that wake it are loud as the echo of a cannon, while other times a mere whisper carried on the wind.

And so it was with the thought of this day arriving. The end of an era, the beginning of a brand new stage in life. It was the trigger to my overly emotional state, the momentary wake to its insomnia of a slumber.

I have been filled with nostalgia in preparation for this day. I have been reminiscing about days past, easier days, different days, days from which I have long since changed tremendously. We all have. You especially have changed. You have lost every ounce of baby chub you once had. You are tall and skinny and your face is that of a real boy now, with a soft dash of freckles sprinkled across the bridge of your nose.

Watching you grow and blossom into the human you are right now has been one of my greatest privileges. We have been through so much together. We have hiked up the hills of the hard phases and soaked in the sunshine of the good phases and ridden the waves of every phase in between. No matter what has happened, at the end of every day we know that we belong to each other. That we are yours and that you are ours.

And it seems so ridiculous, feeling all weepy because of Kindergarten, doesn't it? But starting school is so significant to me, such a huge milestone, such a momentous turn in the road. And it's the nostalgia that makes me misty-eyed, it's the heart-warming memories of a once chubby baby, of all the milestones we have crossed this far, that constantly flood my mind.

What it really all comes down to is this: I am so very proud of you. I am so very proud of your sweet kindness, of your delightful sense of humor, your independence, your cleverness, your abilities and talents, your optimism and drive for adventure and fun, the huge capacity of your heart that you reserve for genuine friendship and love.

You were so excited about school and it did not disappoint. You are naturally a quiet and timid soul, especially with new people, but you were oh so brave and daring walking into the unknown with your head held high. You were ecstatic because you feel big and grown up and I love that about you, that you love feeling big and grown up, even though I am not ready for you to be.

Thank you for being mine.

Four years old

^^ not long ago this was Jace. He was holding strong to his baby chub, fitting in the hiking backpack, barely taking his first quick steps, still eating in a highchair.

And now, this is Jace:

His baby fat is gone. He loves riding a bike more than anything in the world. He hates having his picture taken. He has this insanely creative imagination that blows my mind on a daily basis. He has his daddy's sense of humor and love for laughter. He searches for adventures. He is obsessed with police men and firemen. He watches teenage mutant ninja turtles and assembles cars and buildings with legos. He tries to live on pizza. He sleeps in. He loves playing with his friends. He is tenderhearted and so very sensitive. He wants everyone to like him, and never wants us to be frustrated or sad. He is polite. He has a heart the size of Texas.

And today he is four years old.

A few weeks back I was struggling internally. I go through points in my life where I feel so small and meaningless, so helpless in the large realm of it all. There is so much suffering and tragedy in the world, and when I let myself really focus in on all that is happening it weighs heavy on my heart. It was one of those weeks then, where I felt like I was possibly a quite terrible human being, sitting in my warm home, having plenty of food for me and my family to survive, in fact not suffering in the slightest in comparison to anyone who is truly suffering out there. What was I doing to help? What could I do?? I felt like perhaps I was really just this giant disappointment in the grand scheme of things.

During this week, in the thick of my heavy heart, Dan and I were woken in the middle of the night to a loud, hacking cough coming from Jace's bedroom. We ran into the room as he was struggling to breathe, gasping for air, a harsh barking emanating loudly on an intense path from his chest to his mouth. He was completely panicked in his inability to breathe, where in it's place was a harsh, raspy, gasping sound.

It was the dreaded Croup.

Dan and I together quickly made a team of help. We soothed him and held him and calmed him until he was able to breathe better. Dan carried him outside where the sharp, cold air helped soften his lungs. I pulled out the peppermint oil and rubbed it on his feet and back. We filled the humidifier to filter cool air in his bedroom next to a diffuser that misted an essential oils blend. And then we all sat on the couch together, holding Jace and watching cartoons until he fell back asleep.

He woke up a few more times that night, one moment in particular when the clock flashed 4:08, I ran into his bedroom to calm him so his panic wouldn't constrict his breathing even more. I held him so his cheek rested on my collarbone, his tears soaking my neck and chest, moving my hips back and forth while he coughed and struggled to suck in air. I soothed him until his raspy breathing slowed and he fell asleep on my chest. It was in that moment that I was hit with a forceful realization that brought tears to my eyes. I was, in fact, very much needed in this world. The good I am doing was there right in front of me, sleeping on my chest.

And throughout the rest of that week, through long sleepless croup filled nights, while I comforted him and nursed him back to health, I was overwhelmed with how very wonderful a thing it truly was, being his mother.

Jace made me a mama and I'll never, ever forget that. He added to our lives in ways that we never knew possible, filling holes that we never knew we had. He changed us. Having a child is hard and demanding and crazy and stressful and so incredibly beautiful. We all grow so much together because we in fact have each other at all, and isn't that miraculous? Aiding a little person to mold himself into who he truly is in his heart of hearts, well it's kind of the most ridiculously wonderful thing I've ever had the pleasure of watching and accomplishing in my whole entire life.

I'm so, so, SO proud of this boy. He is an amazing person with an amazing heart, and every single day I'm so proud of him. So proud to call myself his mama. So proud of who he is and what a magnificent venture he makes life.

Happy Birthday my sweet boy. Here's to another year!

because i'm feeling sappy

{my chunky baby jace at 8 months old}

I always know when he’s tired.

When they’re babies, you start to recognize their cries. You come to a place where you know what they’re crying about. There’s a different cry for when he’s hungry, for when he’s poopy, for when he’s in pain, and for when he’s tired.

When your first baby is born it feels like a wonderful tornado. Everything is being tossed in the wind around you and you’re just standing there in the middle of the turbulance, watching it all swirl and fly about, feeling overwhelmed while also so full of happiness that you’re just sure your heart is going to burst. At first it’s hard to figure it out the logistics of it all amidst the wonderful tornado.

But over time you become this machine. You start to recognize his cries and what they mean. You start to recognize the signs. You start to know what it is they like and how it is they like it and you feel like you’re the only one who really truly gets him. His life depends on you and you feel it in the deepest parts of your soul, that you are the reason he is alive. And also, in the most ironic form, he’s the reason you are alive. It’s a paradoxical truth that you never understood until you held him in your arms.

And then they grow.

At first they are so small that their backs fit in your hand just perfectly. At first they feel so fragile and every move you make is steady and slow and careful. You hold their heads cautiously to support their tiny necks. You watch them vigilantly while they sleep to make sure they are always breathing. You slowly slip their tiny arms into the holes of their tiny onesies. You can’t stop kissing their little toes and you can’t stop nuzzling your nose into their necks so that you can inhale the scent of their soft baby skin.

And then they grow.

Within months they grow out of their tiny onesies and their one chin becomes three. They start to laugh and they start to coo and they hold their own head up high. You sit on the sidelines as their biggest cheerleader while they learn to roll over, crawl, and then walk on their own. You chase them around as they run free. You listen to their first words. You watch in awe as this wonderful tornado keeps on swirling all around you, and it’s truly one of the most magical things, watching them grow. You not only get to be the one who shapes them into the person they will become, but you get to watch it all happen. You watch them become themselves. It’s beautiful.

He grows, and still, I know when he’s tired.

It’s not the same now as it was when he was a newborn baby and I could differentiate his cries. Now he is a little boy, growing up so quickly that some days he leaves me in the dust. He carries on conversations and he tells me new things and he makes me laugh. All of the time, he makes me laugh. But I still know when he’s tired. His eyes glaze over a little bit. He becomes over-dramatic about the little things. He turns extra clingy in a way that he pretends not to be, but as soon as I open my arms he runs into my embrace and wants nothing more than to be gripped tightly. He needs a little more attention and a little more patience and a lot of love when he’s tired.

Last night we went out to dinner with some friends and he ran wild with his buddies. When we left for home he started showing me the signs. We got home and came inside and I picked him up. He’s so very big now, and I never realize how very big he is until I pick him up. Remember when he used to fit on my hip so perfectly? I wish I had known the last time I held him so easily on my hip would be the last time.

I knew he was tired. I picked him up and I carried him upstairs. He fought it, telling me he didn’t want to go upstairs, he wanted to play outside. I told him the sun was going down and it was time to stay inside. He fought it some more.

I took him into his room while he screamed that he didn’t want to go to bed. With all of the patience I could muster, I took off his high tops while he kicked and cried. His eyes were filled with tears and he was just oh so tired. I explained that we needed to put his pajamas on. And he fought it some more.

While he flailed about dramatically and screamed in frustration I sat in his big cushioned chair next to his bed and pulled him up into my lap, pressing his cheek against my chest and hugging him tightly. He stopped fighting. He laid his head against me, slowly letting go of his tension, whimpering quietly and letting me hold him. I stroked his cheek and ran my fingers through his hair. I kissed his forehead.

And he promptly fell asleep.

As he fell into a deeper sleep, his breathing got heavier and his arms went limp. The toy helicopter he held in his hand slipped out of his fingers. I held him close and tried to remember the last time he fell asleep in my arms, which triggered in me an overwhelming sense of nostalgia. The weight of this in its sudden force practically knocked the wind out of me. At that moment I distinctly remembered the day when he fit in my arms perfectly, and slept there regularly. And wasn’t that just yesterday? As I kissed his forehead I thought about the days when it was a smaller forehead, and as I looked at his long legs folded up awkwardly in my lap I pictured him not long ago when he was half that size. It was suddenly so very emotional and I found myself getting all weepy eyed.  He grew so fast. They told me that he would, but I just wasn’t prepared for him to grow that fast.

As I sat there feeling a tad heartbroken, I was a little baffled as to why I was so emotional about it at all. And I came to the conclusion that it's truly not because I felt sad. It’s not sad, them growing up. It’s lovely and joyous and exciting.

But I’m learning that just because something is good, doesn’t mean that it’s easy. It happens so fast that it’s overwhelming, and although you love to watching them grow it also makes your heart ache a little bit. It weighs heavy when you suddenly remember that not long ago they were completely different. It’s breathtaking how quickly it passes by, how quickly they develop and mature right in front of you. I wouldn’t want to go back in time because it’s all been so very perfect, and that’s the truth of it. If you gave me the choice I'd stay right where we are now. But I think that it’s okay to feel somber and even sad when you look back on memories and realize how much they have grown.

And I suppose the truth is, typically I’m not a hugely sentimental person when it comes to change. I don’t mind change. I like the busy in life, I grow, I move on, and I’m okay with it all. In that regards, watching Jace grow up has been and continues to be exciting and fun. Every step he takes in the path of growing up is truly exhilarating for me to watch. I’m always there, always encouraging, always pleased. He’s one of my two proudest accomplishments in this life.

But I’m often completely unprepared for the emotional aspect of motherhood. I’m going along just fine, loving it and soaking it up and living life so routinely and then BAM, I’m holding my three and a half year old boy when he falls asleep in my arms and I’m hit with a forceful reminder that being a mother is this dreadfully beautiful and emotional roller coaster ride. A ride in which no matter how sad or hard or heavy it sometimes tends to be, is sincerely the most amazing and rewarding thing I’ve ever experienced in my life.



Dear Jace.

Dear Jace,

We are in love with this two-year-old age. Everyday you surprise me with something new, some form of cuteness that fills my heart, even though I always thought it to already be full. Sure there are more temper tantrums than normal, and sure you are a busy body, but you never fail to melt our hearts everyday.

You are kind of the best, do you know that? I hope you do. I hope you know how we think the world of you. Even when you scream because you don't want to eat your dinner or when you put up a fight come bedtime, we still think you are kind of the best.

I have said this a million times so far in the past couple of years, and I will probably say it a billion more times: you have so much personality! It is amazing to me. You were literally BORN with this personality that is all you. You are ALL yourself baby.

You are a leader. You never join the crowd. In fact, you pretty much hate crowds.

You are independent.

You are smart.

You are funny. Oh my goodness, already your sense of humor is coming out and it is the greatest. You make your own jokes and show off and we are always laughing together.

You are stubborn. In only the good ways, of course.

You love to learn new things and explore new places.

You love the water.

You are overly-stimulated and learning to adjust better to things like large groups of people and loud noises. Your initial reaction is always to scream. More like...squak. You know the flying pterodactyls in your favorite dinosaur book that we read together? You sound like them. We get through that, baby, but it's a funny thing you do. It's your way of handling stressful situations.

You love adventure, just like your daddy.

You hate car rides. But you love the ipad, so we can make it work.

You are sweet. So, so sweet. You have this sensitive heart that is made of gold.

You are at your worst when you are hungry. Kind of like someone ELSE I know... (cough, cough, DAD...)

You sleep like a champ.

You are always begging me or daddy to play with you lately. You hand us things and say "train? mom, sit! train!" and we choo-choo the train all around. You are even getting into the stage of playing pretend and it's pretty darn fun. I can already see your amazing imagination at work.

You are obsessed with bicycles but refuse to try pedaling. I don't blame you baby, that pedaling is a lot of work. Don't stress it, we'll try some more next year.

You are happiest when you get to do big kid things like the rest of us. You want to be a grown up too badly baby, slow down a little!

You are animated. Oh my heavens, are you. I love sitting by you while we watch a movie, as you laugh loudly at all the right places and quote your favorite lines with a big grin on your face.

It takes a lot of work for anyone outside of our little family to win your heart. Even though sometimes that stresses me out because I worry for the feelings you are hurting, the truth is that I like that about you baby. You are guarded and careful with who you trust.

I love the thought of you reading this twenty years down the road while nodding along because these qualities you possessed at two years old are all who you are now. As you read this you realize that you are independent, stubborn and strong. You are a leader with an amazing imagination. You are smart. You are adventerous and fun-loving. You have a great sense of humor. You don't like large groups of people and the few real friends you have let yourself open up to are the best of them.

I can already see who you will continue to become, and I will love you forever and ever. Through the ups and downs, I will always love you so.

But for now, I'm grateful to have you so little, totally dependant on me, full of perfect love with no shame for a hundred sloppy kisses a day. I will never take these days for granted.

Love,

Mama

Dear Jace,

this morning you slept in until 8:45. well, that's sort of a lie. first you woke up jabbering away in your bed at 7:00. It was still dark outside, and it had snowed last night (the first snowfall this year!) so I muted the monitor and rolled over to catch some more Z's before having to get up for the day. at some point while i was sleeping away, you fell back asleep.

so finally, at 8:45 i had to get you out of bed. when you wake up (most of the time) you are the happiest boy! you start gabbing right away, in your little babble. trying to tell me the most important things, of your dreams last night i suppose, while still keeping that binky tight in your mouth. you have quite the talent for talking and laughing and smiling all while keeping that binks secure! and then you always hand me your blankie before i get you out of the crib. you hold it out for me and say, "dant-do!" (thank you). if i transfer you straight to the changing table from your crib, you usually get pretty upset. so i try to wait a few minutes before i change your diaper in the morning. we walk out into the playroom where rockie is waiting for us, wagging her little tail all excited like. and you laugh, and through your binky you say, "oohhhh, hhawwkie!". then we go to the window to look at the cars outside, and the trees, and the mountains. or, as so happened this morning, the snow.

you were mesmorized by the snow. not so sure what it all was, this thing that covered the grass and weighed heavily on the trees. this thing that caused your not quite adjusted sleepy eyes to squint from the brightness of the white. you stared, wide eyed, and pointed outside. "oooohhh, wow." you said quietly.

"snow!" i told you, while kissing your smooshy little cheek that i can't get enough of. "that's snow!"

you nodded, as if you were approving. "ssnnoowww." you said slowly.

you were so excited. and i thought, boy do i wish i could see the world from his eyes right now. what it must have looked like to you! it's the little things. having you around, it makes all the little things the big things.

i love you my little man. i love looking at life through your eyes. thanks for choosing me, for giving me the responsibility of raising you. we're quite the team, you and me and daddy. and i'm so looking forward to the adventures we'll have!

love,

mama