The Little Things

60 Weeks

Ren drinks milk from only from sippy cups now and can stand proudly for many seconds at a time. He's even taken a step or two as he moves from couch to arm chair. He loves to push his walker and run around the house. Especially since he's figured out that a dead end only means he needs to back up and turn around. Ren loves putting the dog's food in the dog's water. The dog isn't so thrilled about it, but Ren always finds a way to make it up to him during dinner by dropping choice bites onto the floor. Ren can pull his toy bins out by himself and he even brushes his own teeth each night before bed. He'll bring Mommy or Daddy his favorite book to read, over and over, and sometimes he'll act out or point to the best parts. When Ren goes to sleep at night, he chatters through new words as he drifts off. You can almost hear his thoughts. "Bubboos..." His new favorite experience is watching Daddy blow them during bath time.

Oh, where have you been, my darling young one?

59 Weeks

Dearest Ren,
My mother sent me a copy of The Giving Tree when I was in college. I was mad at her and not calling home very often and she was trying to stay connected. I still cringe when I read it. I've not even shared this classic with you even though we've a couple of copies of it in your kid library. I self publish many of my honest thoughts about being your mom in this blog, even the hard stuff, but I don't consider anything I've done for you or with you a sacrifice. I consider it a privilege. It's an honor to be your mom—to be given the task of explaining the rules of the world and helping you navigate them in your own time. I love you, son, as much as that Silverstein tree loves that little boy. I'd happily give you all of my leaves and branches. Just know it doesn't take anything away from my life that I give to yours. With every leaf I pass on to you, I feel two more grow back in it's place. Sometimes more. You inspire me to be better and stronger for you. For the world. Thank you for that. I'm grateful to you with all of my heart and soul and body as I know it. Even if you are slowly killing your father.
Always and forever,
Mommy

Cinderfella

58 Weeks

I got home from work to a disheveled Daddy who was in great need of conversation with an adult. Mommy was in great need of an aspirin. (They don't tell you that weaning feels like the flu.) "I don't know where I lost it and I'm sorry." I wasn't sure what he meant, then he handed me a tiny shoe. "He had a great time though. It's gone—I looked everywhere—but at least he had a great time." Earlier that day Greg packed up the kid, his car-shaped Flinstone-style walker, and headed to our local park. I saw the iPhone videos. Ren had a blast like he usually does with Daddy. I stared down at the evidence and grinned. Ren can't even walk on his own and yet his father has already taken him on countless daytime adventures his only footwear is a worn out left slipper. Here's to great men who spend their days raising great kids.