This past few days you have had both a nasty head cold and the cutting of a particularly obstinate tooth. You have spent the majority of the last few nights, sleeping in my arms, head on my chest as I sit, keeping you up right so you can breathe more easily. I marvel at the weight and length of you. You used to be able to fit so precisely, tucked against me. As light and fragile as a hollow boned bird. Now I have to scoop my arms around you to keep you contained to keep your long limbs from spilling off of me. All sweet reminders that you are rapidly becoming a little boy, and leaving your babyhood behind you.
I have a catalogue of things that I want for you as you grow. Some are simple in their nature. I want your first little boy bed to be next to the window. So the breeze can find you on warm nights. So you can see the stars or look at the moon when you feel wild or lonely. I want you to have a perfect tree for climbing. One that is accommodating enough to invite you in to its boughs, but hard enough that you feel bad ass once you have scaled the top. I want to be home to make you dinner every evening. I want a million other small things for you.
Some things are more ambitious. Mostly I want for you to be happy and confident. But how can I cultivate qualities in you that I can not even fully accomplish in myself? These are the musings that keep a Mama awake, even after her sick babe has dozed off at 3 AM. I want a million other enormous things for you.
I suppose they will get figured out in time, and even if they don’t, time will pass and you will grow regardless of what I have “figured out.” I have a feeling that you will figure out so much for your self, my fearless love. I am so sorry you have been feeling poorly, but I cherish these moments with you, rocking and holding you close.
Love you, Mama