Since becoming a mother, I have written ten birthday blog posts to my three children. The posts usually follow a standard format: I touch on what makes them special to me, what I love about their personality, what I find clever, amusing, frustrating, and endearing about that boy at that age. Sometimes, I have made lists of the words they know or the things they are doing and it is fun to look back on those lists later and remember who my boys used to be. Rory turned two and I started writing that post... but then I realized I didn't want to make a list. Not even a little bit. Then I realized I did not actually even know what I wanted to say at all and so I put it off and put it off and felt guilty about it and put it off again and now my littlest little has been two for five days and I have barely mentioned it at all. Ironically, out of all of my children I am more intimately aware of what Rory is and is not doing at this stage of his development than I have ever been before. I have official lists and pamphlets and printed graphs pinpointing any progress in any area that he has made in the past year. I have hospital records and therapist recommendations and a calendar full of upcoming appointments for more records and more recommendations. We know his height and weight and blood type and head circumference. We have pictures of his brain. Hell, we have an analysis of his DNA. None of this tells me the things I long to know about my baby. I know that Rory is happy and I know that he is loved but this is a really short list and sometimes it just isn't enough because I don't know what Rory's favorite food is or if he likes the song I sing to him before I put him to bed or if he will ever get the hang of walking or if he will ever say, "Mama" or if he will ever stay out past curfew and make me worry or fail a midterm or fall in love or backpack through Europe or learn to tie his shoes.
But a lot of days, most days, it is enough. Rory is Rory. So, instead of writing a list... I watched my baby. I watched him lay quietly on his back, shaking a rattle. He shakes it up and down, up and down, slowly and then faster and faster. He throws it to the side, rolls over and picks it back up, rolls to his back, and shakes it again. He passes it from one hand to the other, smells it, tastes it, rubs it on his head. He shakes it again, watching it intently, and then looks for me. He looks into my eyes and a grin lights up his face. He shakes his rattle for me and I smile. He shakes it again so I will smile again and then he laughs. He lays the rattle to the side for later, rolls to his belly and scoots away on another adventure. Maybe this time he will throw all the books off the bottom shelf again or go in search of the broom again. Maybe he will make the journey to the bedroom. There is a basket of freshly washed clothes there just begging to be toppled. Eventually, he will grow bored or tired and he will cry to be held and someone will come and love him. He will give sloppy, wet kisses or show off his new wave, which seems to make everyone so happy. Then later, he will cry again and eventually someone will figure out that he is thirsty or hungry and he will squeal with delight when they do. He will clap and laugh at everything put on his tray and he will eat it all and then he will lift his hands in the air to declare that he is "all done." And again, the crowd will go wild. Rory is two years old now, and this is what I know: my little boy is happy and he is loved and it does not matter if he backpacks through Europe or learns to tie his shoes. It does not matter that it takes his mama a few extra days to process his birthday because she has a lot more feelings about it and it does not matter that she does not make lists of all the things he does because what isn't on that list is too much for her to look at. He will still be happy and he will always, always be loved. Before Rory, maybe I thought I knew, but I didn't really know, that you could live a good life without learning to tie your shoes. I don't know what is going to happen or who Rory will be but I know this thing about life that I didn't know before and never could have really learned without this person in my life and I am so, so grateful for it....even when I am not. Rory Emerson, you are beautiful and you are loved. You make me smile every, single day. Happy birthday. Thank you, thank you, thank you for joining us.
1 Comment
DARLA (MAMAW)
20/10/2016 02:40:09 pm
MICHELLE, RORY MAKES ME SMILE TOO. I AM SO THANKFUL THAT HE IS IN MY LIFE. I LOVED READING ABOUT HIS BIRTHDAY, YOU ARE SUCH A GOOD WRITER AND I ENJOY READING ABOUT ALL THE BOYS. PLEASE KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK AND GOD BLESS YOU AND YOUR FAMILY. LOVE YOU ALL...
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WHO AM I?
I am Michelle: a wannabe hippie in love with a bonafide geek. We also spawned. I spend my days with our four wild, beautiful boy children and I overshare about our life online because I am a Millennial and that is what we do.
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