The Raft

Today is my beautiful baby boy's birthday.
Any mother with a son will understand that there is no love like this kind.

It does not compare to the love and friendship I share with my daughter - and one shouldn't try to compare the two.

It is a very special kind of relationship - mother and son.  The way this boy melts me, woos me, makes me laugh out loud...  the way I want to bite him, squeeze him, sniff him and cuddle him until he demands to be let go.

 
When my son was born I understood my mother-in-law in a way that changed our relationship forever.  I understand that her son is my husband - but first he was her son.

Today this sweet little monkey-man will turn 3.  These three years have gone by so quickly, too quickly.  I can't believe how time has flown.

He was born on a Monday morning.  The Saturday before I was elated, on Sunday I was petrified.
I remember wondering how I would handle two babies.  I remember crying about how I might be tired and busy and I might snap at my precious little girl for no good reason or leave her feeling neglected.  I remember wondering how I could love another baby as much as I loved my only baby at the time.
I remember feeling so overwhelmed and so exhausted and so dirty. 

But it went so quickly that I barely remember it. 

I barely remember Wyatt nursing.  I barely remember Wyatt screaming crying.  I barely remember the way he would cling to me and wail in crowded or noisy places.  {He still plugs his ears when things get too crazy around him.}

Now he's three.
He uses the potty and rationalizes with me in conversation.  He says "Daddy, come here, I need to talk to you for a minute." and "Mommy, you hurt my feelings and I'm going to cry!"  He asks me questions like "Mama, do you think Spiderman, Superman and Ironman like chips and pretzels?"


He tells me his cape (that I sewed for him on my machine!) makes him run faster than Superman.
He wants to visit the cows on the farm and chase the barn cats.

He climbs into my bed at 1am and slides me off of my pillow taking over my spot and then asking me to snuggle him.  Sometimes he just sleeps at the foot of our bed like a puppy.

He gets his own granola bars by climbing up onto the counter, opening the cabinet and climbing back down with it.

He opens the fridge and takes out his own drinkable yogurt.
He picks out his own clothes and gets dressed by himself.
He lets the dogs in and out.

My baby is a big boy.  I am so proud of him.  These three years have flown by but I can tell you for sure - we have enjoyed them endlessly - and look forward to millions more.

Happy Birthday, Wy-Wy!!

I love you so much.