Soaring into Four
Dear Kaleb,
Your birthday letter is late this year. The week of birthdays is behind us and now I have time to reflect a bit on what it's all meant to me. About a week and a half ago I was out jogging thinking about this letter I would write, knowing I wanted it to be just as special as the other three have been to me and will hopefully be to you someday.
Buddy, let me first say that I am so grateful that you are ours. You're the very boy I've always wanted--not because of your accomplishments (which are many), not because you're so handsome (you are!), not because you make me laugh at least a dozen times a day (you do!), but simply because you're ours. When I look at the three of you running around together, acting silly, fighting, and racing to do it first (whatever "it" is in the moment), my heart swells three sizes too big for my chest. You are the most beautiful gifts for the simple fact that you are our gifts.
Even though I love you with our without all your accomplishments and milestones and winning ways, I couldn't help but think about them while I was out jogging that chilly day. As your parents, Dad and I know how much harder you must work to do and learn some things. Seeing you work harder when you don't realize you are and watching you reach goals is one of the things we admire about you. It motivates us to work hard alongside you. You also have many special helpers and they cheer just as loudly as we do when good things happen. Do you know what a huge fan base you have?
But Bubby, we also know there will come a day when you grow frustrated or weary or compare yourself to others. (We all experience those times.) There will come a day when we see a look on your face that tells us you know you are different. There will come a day when you ask us why and we will have to explain it to you. And that will be hard for all of us. Here is what we will tell you about these days, the ones before you knew:
You move mountains every day. And you do it with very little reflection, worry, or fear. This past year you have made amazing strides in so many areas. You run, jump, dance, balance, and play the most delightful imaginary games with cars and trucks and baby dolls and your play kitchen. You sing... a lot. You've always made us laugh, but it's not accidental anymore. Your cute baby antics have given way to well-placed punch lines and perfectly timed silliness. When asked who you wanted to invite to your birthday party this year, you exclaimed, "Pwesents!" When your sister was being a goof, you turned to me, shook your head and announced, "Emewyn weird!" When you want us to laugh, you strike a silly-faced pose or do a little dance. You love dancing the hokey pokey, playing guitar, running, and playing hide and seek. You love school. You know how to count to fourteen. You know and are learning to write the letters of your name and with a little help, you can recognize almost all the letters of the alphabet. You love to help in the kitchen, vacuum and do laundry. You love to snuggle with Bodie and you're a pro at getting him to do tricks for treats. You're learning to pedal a tricycle and you're using the potty. You go horseback riding every week. You go to birthday parties and play with friends and talk on the phone.
You talk. So much. With two and three-word sentences. Once upon a time, I used to dream of the day you would tell us with more than your eyes and with more than your hands that you love us. You do. You did it. You can. "Wuv oo, Mommy!" never gets old. It never will.
You work hard at learning many things and you do them all well when you do your best. But there are also things that come very easily to you that don't come so easily to many others. You aren't afraid to just be yourself. You're very comfortable in your own skin, in your own sense of who you are. You know that people are important. You have an uncanny ability to sense how people are feeling before they've said anything at all out loud. You are a gentle soul. You have a great sense of humor and the same ready and easy laugh as your oldest sister. You give kisses, hugs, high fives and fist bumps with abandon. You can make a perfect stranger smile and you do it just about everywhere we go. Today your librarian pal perched you on her lap behind the circulation desk and you chatted away with her, then slithered off and started exploring back there. I have to tell you, son, most kids don't get those behind-the-desk privileges. You do.
You should also know that you are just like every other kid I know. You learn what they learn and do what they do. You get mad at your sisters and mad at me and mad at Dad when we don't do what you want. You have grumpy days and happy ones, and you have the same natural curiosity every other child does. You ask "Why?" and "How many more minutes?" You love playing the same things your sisters did at your age. You know how to make all kinds of mischief all over the house. There was the day I found you chasing the dog through the house with a pair of scissors, trying to give him a haircut. Or the days you let yourself out of the house or let the dog out of the house or you both leave the house to hide from me or to sneak to the garage or into one of the cars. I find you raiding the snack drawer frequently. And you love playing with the light switches and the water in the sinks. You're a whiz at sneaking into your sisters' bedroom all hours of the day and night. And you're getting to be a pro at thinking up reasons to get out of bed after we've tucked you in for the night. I could keep the list going, but you get the idea. You're a pretty typical four-year-old boy.
The truth is we're all different. It's our differences that help us to better understand one another. They remind us we all have strengths and weaknesses. We all have the potential to be vulnerable and to hurt. But most of all we all love and need love.
Kaleb, I can hardly comprehend how four years have passed so quickly. Every step has seemed so deliberate, so practiced, so researched and intentional. And yet, here we are. You are four and I am growing wrinkly and plucking gray hairs and we are happy as can be--we five, together.
It's easy to stop and ask ourselves "What if?" about the twists and turns in life that have surprised us or knocked us down for a time. "What if?" is certainly an interesting question, a feat of the imagination. But it's a question that looks backward instead of forward. I find myself using my imagination to picture your future, now--it's exciting! You will continue to grow, continue to enrich our lives, continue to stitch your way into the fabric of our family, into the lives of your friends, and even into the lives of perfect strangers. You remember that, son, someday when you find yourself discouraged or wondering. You look back long enough to recall the beautiful narrative of your life so far, and you use your imagination to ponder the chapters that are ahead of you. What will you write on your pages, how will you let your voice be heard, where will you go? Your possibilities are just as vast and varied and endless as anyone else's. Move those mountains with dreams as big as you can imagine and with all the strength you've been given. We'll climb right beside you. Because you are ours. Because you are beautiful and strong and loved and lovely just exactly as you are. And we are so very proud of you, so very grateful to call you son.
Happy Birthday my Kaleb, my gift.
Your birthday letter is late this year. The week of birthdays is behind us and now I have time to reflect a bit on what it's all meant to me. About a week and a half ago I was out jogging thinking about this letter I would write, knowing I wanted it to be just as special as the other three have been to me and will hopefully be to you someday.
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| Halloween 2014 |
Buddy, let me first say that I am so grateful that you are ours. You're the very boy I've always wanted--not because of your accomplishments (which are many), not because you're so handsome (you are!), not because you make me laugh at least a dozen times a day (you do!), but simply because you're ours. When I look at the three of you running around together, acting silly, fighting, and racing to do it first (whatever "it" is in the moment), my heart swells three sizes too big for my chest. You are the most beautiful gifts for the simple fact that you are our gifts.Even though I love you with our without all your accomplishments and milestones and winning ways, I couldn't help but think about them while I was out jogging that chilly day. As your parents, Dad and I know how much harder you must work to do and learn some things. Seeing you work harder when you don't realize you are and watching you reach goals is one of the things we admire about you. It motivates us to work hard alongside you. You also have many special helpers and they cheer just as loudly as we do when good things happen. Do you know what a huge fan base you have?
But Bubby, we also know there will come a day when you grow frustrated or weary or compare yourself to others. (We all experience those times.) There will come a day when we see a look on your face that tells us you know you are different. There will come a day when you ask us why and we will have to explain it to you. And that will be hard for all of us. Here is what we will tell you about these days, the ones before you knew:
You move mountains every day. And you do it with very little reflection, worry, or fear. This past year you have made amazing strides in so many areas. You run, jump, dance, balance, and play the most delightful imaginary games with cars and trucks and baby dolls and your play kitchen. You sing... a lot. You've always made us laugh, but it's not accidental anymore. Your cute baby antics have given way to well-placed punch lines and perfectly timed silliness. When asked who you wanted to invite to your birthday party this year, you exclaimed, "Pwesents!" When your sister was being a goof, you turned to me, shook your head and announced, "Emewyn weird!" When you want us to laugh, you strike a silly-faced pose or do a little dance. You love dancing the hokey pokey, playing guitar, running, and playing hide and seek. You love school. You know how to count to fourteen. You know and are learning to write the letters of your name and with a little help, you can recognize almost all the letters of the alphabet. You love to help in the kitchen, vacuum and do laundry. You love to snuggle with Bodie and you're a pro at getting him to do tricks for treats. You're learning to pedal a tricycle and you're using the potty. You go horseback riding every week. You go to birthday parties and play with friends and talk on the phone.
You talk. So much. With two and three-word sentences. Once upon a time, I used to dream of the day you would tell us with more than your eyes and with more than your hands that you love us. You do. You did it. You can. "Wuv oo, Mommy!" never gets old. It never will.
 |
| Kisses for Daddy |
You should also know that you are just like every other kid I know. You learn what they learn and do what they do. You get mad at your sisters and mad at me and mad at Dad when we don't do what you want. You have grumpy days and happy ones, and you have the same natural curiosity every other child does. You ask "Why?" and "How many more minutes?" You love playing the same things your sisters did at your age. You know how to make all kinds of mischief all over the house. There was the day I found you chasing the dog through the house with a pair of scissors, trying to give him a haircut. Or the days you let yourself out of the house or let the dog out of the house or you both leave the house to hide from me or to sneak to the garage or into one of the cars. I find you raiding the snack drawer frequently. And you love playing with the light switches and the water in the sinks. You're a whiz at sneaking into your sisters' bedroom all hours of the day and night. And you're getting to be a pro at thinking up reasons to get out of bed after we've tucked you in for the night. I could keep the list going, but you get the idea. You're a pretty typical four-year-old boy.
The truth is we're all different. It's our differences that help us to better understand one another. They remind us we all have strengths and weaknesses. We all have the potential to be vulnerable and to hurt. But most of all we all love and need love. Kaleb, I can hardly comprehend how four years have passed so quickly. Every step has seemed so deliberate, so practiced, so researched and intentional. And yet, here we are. You are four and I am growing wrinkly and plucking gray hairs and we are happy as can be--we five, together.
It's easy to stop and ask ourselves "What if?" about the twists and turns in life that have surprised us or knocked us down for a time. "What if?" is certainly an interesting question, a feat of the imagination. But it's a question that looks backward instead of forward. I find myself using my imagination to picture your future, now--it's exciting! You will continue to grow, continue to enrich our lives, continue to stitch your way into the fabric of our family, into the lives of your friends, and even into the lives of perfect strangers. You remember that, son, someday when you find yourself discouraged or wondering. You look back long enough to recall the beautiful narrative of your life so far, and you use your imagination to ponder the chapters that are ahead of you. What will you write on your pages, how will you let your voice be heard, where will you go? Your possibilities are just as vast and varied and endless as anyone else's. Move those mountains with dreams as big as you can imagine and with all the strength you've been given. We'll climb right beside you. Because you are ours. Because you are beautiful and strong and loved and lovely just exactly as you are. And we are so very proud of you, so very grateful to call you son.
Happy Birthday my Kaleb, my gift.