Oh Chipmunk. This week we’re moving, and it’s a week of upheaval and stress and exhaustion and right smack in the middle, today was your birthday. You went to school and I came by and watched your class sing to you, and you guys ate Rice Crispy Treats and you chased your friends around the playground with your party hat on your face like a beak.
One of your friends broke the hat, and you cried, and when he got in trouble he cried too, and then he came and embraced you, and a bunch of your little girl friends wrapped you both in a group hug and I nearly stumbled, trying to hold onto all that love and you.
It wasn’t the easiest day for you, but you were so good at your allergy shots, even when your arms got itchy. And later, you put up with having to hang out at your new house for a while. You went to sleep in a mostly-packed room, spending your sixth birthday sleeping for the last time in the only room you can remember, where we’ve lived since you were 18 months old.
The future is bright, my son. You are bright. The night you were born, just after the first hour of the 11th, I stopped feeling tired and sore and only felt elated to meet you. You stuck your tongue out again and again, and being a new mom, I stuck my tongue out at you in reply, and we made silly faces together. I didn’t know you were hungry, that your tongue was saying feed me, feed me. Even now, I’m still learning. I don’t always know what you mean, and I wish I could make you happy all the time, but sometimes you’re unhappy and sometimes I’m unhappy but oh, little boy. When you’re in my arms, all pokey and boy-shaped and starting to be kind of stinky, there’s nothing better. When you reach for my hair to rub it every night before you go to bed, because you have to, I’m glad it’s my hair that you’re reaching for and that I’m your mama.
I love you, so much.