Dear Lindan,
You are three now, and though that is hard to believe, you truly act the part. My heart breaks with pride and Mama-love as I watch you become your own person.
I knew I was in for it the day when I asked you to wear a shirt (other than a football jersey) and told you, “Oh, but it is one of my favorites,” and your response was, “But it is not MY favorite.” And so I am learning to let go, a little at a time, as I watch you become a big boy with your own tastes and preferences.
You have also entered the age of tantrums to let us know just how badly you want what you want. This has been our first real glimpse of your Taurus, bull-like stubbornness. This has also shown us your determination. In just about anything you try, you stick with it. You try and try again. You persevere. You rode a pedal bike when you were two-and-a-half. You will stand and shoot ball after ball, not coming anywhere even close to the net. You will try and try again to get the tennis ball over the net. And this I hope you hold on to. The tenacity to get up and try again each time you fall down, because more and more I realize that I can’t keep you from falling down.
You can also be very uncomfortable with transitions and nervous about new experiences and people. You take time to warm up. In swim lessons, I have been that mom in the pool as the others sit on the bleachers and watch. You don’t love drop off at school and if we go anywhere after school, I take pains to be sure we go straight there rather than add another transition. You need extra hugs and kisses when I leave for work in the morning, clinging to Mommy as long as you can.
Now that you are three you are also so much more aware of the world around you. We can walk through a store and now you see everything we pass. And as we drive in the car, you notice so much more of the world around you. The world is bigger than just you and Dad and me and our little family.
And you are always full of surprises. While we wait on the edge for our next battle to fight, you will calmly go along with our
wishes. When we expect anger, you will shower us with a thousand kisses all over our bodies. When we expect a bear after nap time
, you will ask to go back to bed and lay on my tummy. Head pressed against my chest, heavy body on my torso, legs that reach down to my knees. And in these moments, I savor every inch of you. I smell your sweet, baby shampoo, fresh air, sweat, and earthy-smelling hair, inhaling these moments that I hope to cherish as you grow.
It is nice to know that we are still connected, when we stand cheek-to-cheek to watch the thunderstorm and admire the lightning. You, trembling and scared, as we joke that the thunder is the sound of Lightning McQueen revving his engine up in the sky. You, wanting to sleep in our room to be close by, convinced that there will be a thunderstorm in your room each night. You ask for three books each night at bed, although only sometimes want a silly song when I tuck you in. (You prefer made-up stories about you and a race car and a brother named Ason. All of them end with a trophy.)
And then Easton will sleep with you, both of you curled up on the floor of your bedroom.
I watch you become you and know that you are still my perfection. You still have that perfect little giggle and full-bellied laugh. You still ask me to hold you and you tell me that you love me when you feel nervous. You still delight in all the small joys around us and make me see the world through new eyes.
I will still paint your fingernails and fill you will glee, all the while thinking of a day when that joy might be taunted out of you by someone older or more mature. I will let you wear my perfume and pearls and your unmatched socks and pajamas and dirt bikes gloves to school. I will let you have these small freedoms and hope that you always have the confidence to be true to yourself and do what makes you happy.
And you, Lindan, are what makes me happy. Happier than I ever knew a Mama-me would be.
All my heart,
3 bushels and 3 pecks,
Mommy
Photos by Kathleen McCullough
