Dear Thing One;
Well. We made it. We made it to 10!
There were times over the past decade where I thought lord, let us just make it to 10. Those long nights that you didn’t want to sleep. The asthma attacks. Arguments. That time you covered yourself from head to toe in Vaseline. But look at us! We made it! You are ten years old.
I see the baby you less and less. Phrases roll off your tongue so effortlessly that make you sound like a teenager. You call your buddies bro. Occasionally you tell me something sucked. And last night when I told you how nice you looked in your new belt, you said I know right?
I will say that I’m ready for this WWE phase to end, if only because it’s one of the first things you’ve really loved that I haven’t been a part of. That’s all you and your friends and your dad. Which is okay. But I’m not so sure I like being on the outside looking in. We still have other things that are just us, though. Like our love for Dance Moms and stove popped popcorn with parmesan cheese and at bedtime saying lets hug forever.
Of course the place where you are the most grown up is on the basketball court. Every year your game matures, and every year you remain among the best on the team. You understand the game better than a lot of other kids, and that frustrates you sometimes. Your competitiveness is growing, and while you enjoy being a star I can see you wanting to be on a star team. You’re figuring out that being surrounded by good players will make you a better player. And I enjoy watching you learn that.
Last night you came in and tried handing me your blanket. The fleece one you’ve been dragging around since you were one. You said a double digit kid shouldn’t have a blanket with dump trucks on it. But I wouldn’t hear of it! I put my foot down and absolutely refused to let you put it away. I said to keep it on your bed for ME. Because I’m just having a hard time accepting that you’re growing up so fast. And you did, you kept it in your room, but you stuffed it behind the big decorative pillows on your bed. I could barely see it peeking out.
And then this morning when I came in to wake you up, I stopped in my tracks. My eyes brimmed with tears as I watched you sleep, all snuggled in. Your blanket with the trucks somehow made it’s way back into your hands and was all wrapped around your shoulders and head like you like it. Just like you’ve been sleeping with it all your life.
I love you Thing One, now and always.
Mama
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{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
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aww, happy tenth, thing one! the blanket story. tears.
there’s something so sweet about boys. they still have that really good, soft heart as long as their mama nurtures it. but, wwe can also take over. it’s about striking the balance.
Happy Birthday to him!!
My 9 year old still sleeps with his teddy bear, and I hope he never ever stops. Ever.
Awwwwwwwwww …. so sweet. And a happy birthing day to you, Mommy.
It’s terrible how your kids growing up can simultaneously be the greatest and worst parts of parenthood.
One of my brothers still has his old blanket. I don’t think he still sleeps with it (he’s married with three kids) but who knows? And my husband kept many of his stuffed animals, now passed on to our kids, and he still has a bit of his old blanket as well. Lots of kids do ditch their childhood things, but then…lots of them don’t.
Happy 10th mom birthday – I like your style. Your letters to your kids are lovely, thanks for sharing them. And write more please!!!!
My little sister is almost eighteen, and she still sleeps with her tiny, smelly, beat up Minnie Mouse blankie (called billy bubba…which is kind of creepy now that I think about it). My other sister is 19 and still sleeps with her bunny, which is so old that the eyes have fallen out (okay, REALLY creepy). I meant this to be encouraging, but now I’m just creeped out that my family members sleep with blankets that sound like dirty old hillbillies and eyeless rabbits.
No pic???
Happy Birthday thing one!
Sorry mommy- Mine are 7 and 4.5 so I feel you on the growing up thing. Mine are not attached to anything. boo
What a beautiful piece of writing. It brought tears to my eyes. My son is 15 now, and even though he is quite the man of the house I still look at him sometimes and see the little boy he once was, and it’s kind of bittersweet, because although I am proud of who he has become I still miss my little boy.