Today, Myles, you turn 18 months old. I look at you and can’t believe I’ve been a mother for a year and a half now. I’m constantly trying to savor every moment of your fleeting baby and toddlerhood. I’m proud and excited to see the little boy you’re going to grow into, but at the same time, I’m mourning the little baby I knew. Parenthood, I’m learning, is simultaneously rewarding and heartbreaking.
People comment about your beautiful head of hair all the time. You’re sometimes mistaken for a little girl, with your beautiful curls, but we don’t have the heart to cut them off. Your smiles melt hearts and your laughter is infectious. It’s pretty hard to discipline you sometimes because your mischievous grin kills me.
You’re still a man of very few words, Myles. We’re anxious for you to talk. Your big brother was an early-talker, so everyone had the same expectation for you. I don’t mind that your words are pretty much limited to “Mama”, “Dada”, “kitty” and “ball”. I know you’ll talk our ears off when you’re good and ready, and I’m very excited for the stories you’re going to tell us!
Despite not having many words at your disposal, you always manage to get your point across. You climb up on any toy that will hold you, and you wave your arms dramatically and babble at the top of your lungs, as if you’re on a soapbox addressing your constituents. You’re incredibly funny and delight in making people laugh. If you stumble and someone smiles or giggles, you get up and purposely perform more fake trips and falls to entertain the room.
You still love to cuddle right now, though sometimes you’re too busy to sit that still. (I’m trying to enjoy this while it lasts; I know it won’t be much longer till you won’t want to cuddle your old momma any more…) You adore the cat (he has mixed feelings about you) and like to climb on and generally harass the dog. Your favorite show is Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood and you get really excited, clapping and squealing whenever it comes on television. You have a lot of favorite toys, but your most favorites right now are probably a stuffed “Lady” dog (from Lady and the Tramp) that Pappy gave you and your ride-on Mickey Mouse fire truck. You also love to stack blocks and march around the house in mommy and daddy’s shoes. You’re really good at pointing out your nose, eyes, ears, hair, and belly. Your favorite food is still broccoli — if I can get you to eat nothing else, broccoli is always a safe bet! (I hope you always stay that way, loving vegetables the way you do now!)
This month, as you turn a year and a half old, we’re moving out of your first childhood home — the home you were born in. It could never have been our “forever” home, and I knew that, but it’s still heartbreaking to close the door on the place where you were born and grew from an infant to a busy toddler. I have lots of photos I’ll save for you, and someday when you’re grown up, I hope we can stop by that house and ask whomever is living there if we could peek into their living room. (Imagine how surprised they’ll be when we tell them you were born in a swimming pool in the corner of their living room!)
Your mom is a terribly, terribly sentimental woman, Myles. (I’m sorry.) But hopefully the positive side of that is that you’ll never have any doubt how very much I love you. Part of me wishes I could just freeze time because how could I ever love you and enjoy your companionship any more than I do RIGHT NOW? But then I think: I felt that same way 6 months ago, a year ago, and on the day you were born. Every day I love you to the moon and back, and as you grow up, I hope we’ll always be close and the best of friends, mother and son.
(Just don’t hurry with that whole growing up thing TOO fast. Your poor momma’s heart can’t take any rush.)