The Dude

You guys. I let three kids and one husband's birthdays go by without writing to them. Of course they all HAD to be born in such a rapid succession.... May, July, August, September (plus me in April and Justin in October). No pressure there! And no, we're not having one more to fill in the June gap thankyouverymuch. It KILLS me I let those by without writing so I'm writing to them late. Starting with The Dude. Humor me.

*****

Oh, my little Dude. Much like Coco, you probably won't know your actual name until you're in school. Sorry 'bout that. Not really. You're my Dude, I make no apologies. A lot of kids (and probably parents for that matter) think your name is actually Dude. Pretty amusing.

You turned 1 in September. I want record of this, of you, of us, but I'm finding it hard to write - words are just so inadequate to describe how much I love you. You complete me. I know I know, cheesy movie line in a romantic context. But... you DO. You complete me! And you complete our family in the most wonderful of ways. I can't tell you how giddy it makes me to take family pictures knowing our whole family is in it! It gives me such a sense of completeness (to beat a dead horse). You're the ranch to my fried zucchini, the mascara to my face.

There's so much about you I don't ever want to forget. For the longest time, every time you nursed, you put your pointer finger to the top of your ear. You had a game plan not to be deviated from: latch (check!), eyes roll back (check!), finger on ear (check!). You know what you like. I try to get you to say Mama - Ma Ma! MA MA. MAAAA MAAAA. EVERY time you say: Dada! Da Da. DAA DAAA. Rotten kid. I'm almost convinced you're trying to be funny. And rotten. You rotten, wonderful, beautiful kid you. Of course Daddy is not at all pleased by this development.

Speaking of Daddy (Dada DA DA DAA DAA, we know, you GOT IT), is so head over heels for you. For some reason, it took six looong months to fall in love with you (probably because you didn't come out of the womb playing baseball). But once he fell, he fell HARD. He calls you Bubby and he thinks you're awesome. You are. You're just so easy going and FUN. I could not have custom ordered a better dude. Your sisters all think you hung the moon. And that you stink. Both true.

We were in the lobby at church with you while your sisters were in Sunday School. As we were playing with/doting on you, a couple came up, admired you, and said, "You can always tell when it's the first!" They were shocked when we said that you were actually our fourth - I loved that the confusion was because of how much we were smitten with you. I've said it before, you have no ability to comprehend how much you can love each child to the very core of your being until you feel it yourself. I believe it to be one of life's greatest truths and feel so grateful I get to experience it to such a full and overwhelming extent... I'm blessed to the point of bursting. I know, I'm sappy. Get used to it.

You walk everywhere -sadly, the drunk frankenstein impersonation is coming to a close- and can't be bothered with crawling unless I'm laying on the floor and you come in for the stealth attack. You hardly ever cry in the car. You 'dance' at the slightest sound of music. Gracie and Coco both want to hold you when they're feeling sad and you always and quickly bring them back to happy. You timidly stop what you're doing when told 'no' and then may start again but in sllloooooowwwww motion. The second 'no' will usually thwart your plans and may be accompanied by a disgruntled face and a half-hearted fuss. It's impossible to not compare your babyness to your sisters' - you win! You can neiner neiner them later (get an extra neiner or twelve in for GRACIE). Who me? Instigate sibling rivalry?

I often wonder how much of our relationship will be because you're my only son. And also my baby. I know you're in danger of being a mama's boy. But it doesn't sound like danger, it sounds heavenly. It does make me sad to think of you growing up... I need to be able to cuddle you forever. Shortly after you were born, Gracie said, "One day our teeny baby boy will grow up and be a MAN. Is that right?!" SOOOOOOB. NO, NOT RIGHT. HE'S TINY AND CUDDLY AND OHSOSOFT AND I WILL NOT HEAR ANY MORE OF THIS 'MAN' TALK. Sob! SOB SOB SOB sob SOB!!! Too much reality too soon.

Suddenly I have a flash of my future daughter-in-law casually browsing the archives, coming across this and WHAT? You had better be WONDERFUL and KIND and FUN and you must LOVE that we're so close and ENCOURAGE ongoing snuggles and and and... AND. Issues? I know not of what you speak.

Onward.

But really, I do already pray for his future mate. I do for my girls, too, but maybe a little more fervently for his. We all know that for the most part, the women handle the visiting and the holidays and the relationships... so if she's not awesome, I'll... just... um.... SOMETHING DRAMATIC.

Oh my.

What a cra-a-a-zy turn I have taken. You're welcome for this glimpse into my swirling thoughts of premature fears. Meanwhile, I must go wipe poo off his bottom. So I 'spose it'll be a while until I have to worry those worries. I have plenty of worries to keep me occupied! Like adult acne. And wolves!

Wait - is this letter to you, about you or crazy? Yes.

Oh, my sweet, sweet boy. I hope you always feel surrounded by and with love. It's everywhere. Nothing and no one does what you do to my heart.


I love you every minute of every day and all the seconds in between,
Mama
Ma ma. MA MA. MAAA MAAAA!
(Da.Da)