Warning, for anyone who is not a “sappy mc-sapperton” or who gets annoyed with Moms blubbering about their children–look away. Click close. The sap is starting….
I haven’t even started WRITNG and I feel so sad…well, AND so so happy. This is how I always feel on my children’s birthdays. It is inevitable I suppose. You are proud and swelling, staring at the little growing being you actually created….and then you look in their beaming eyes and see them again as that tiny, sweet, chubby baby babbling, drooling, and beaming up at you….and it hurts. It hurts because you can’t go back (not that you necessarily WANT to–but you can’t-so that hurts). You naturally start to wonder-did you soak it up enough? Were you the best parent you could be during those years? Are the memories properly documented? Oh the list goes on and on and on…. Suddenly, you become that woman in Target that tells new moms, “it goes by too fast.”
I was looking through old CDs for pictures of Jackson’s debut in our family. I grabbed what I THOUGHT was an archive of photos, but it was actually video. It was video of my sweet first born Marlie just days before he arrived (all 20-ish months of her adorable little self), and video of her meeting him for the first time in the hospital, and I just can’t put into words how it felt watching that. Where did all of that time go? What did we do?
Do you ever go into your child’s room while they are sleeping? Well, I just did. You know, because I was preparing to write this. Maybe you went in just because you could? I have done that. It was a hard day, you yelled a little too loud when he accidentally spilled milk on the carpet, and this moment of peace after that day gives you what you needed to turn in. Maybe you were on facebook for a minute, and you read about a little boy or girl who was sick and lost their brutal fight for life? It was a verse or a poem someone posted that brought you to your knees? You just sneak in and stare. You thank God for your blessings. You stare at that sweet face that has your eyes and soul, and over and over pray for them to have the most wonderful, full, long life. And you pray that you can give them everything they need.
Jackson is 4 today. Another year being a mom has flown by so fast I can’t hold on tight enough (though I won’t lie, the days always seem way too slow–I am a sap today, but will admit not everyday feels this beautiful).
I know, I just rambled and was “that annoying mom”, but like many of you–my kids mean everything to me. We’d live and die for them. We’d make every sacrifice. We all would. I have that clarity today and want to shout it from the rooftops.
I am just proud. ..and happy. ..and a little bit sad to see my babies grow up.
Jackson, I love you baby boy. You are smart, creative, loving, fiesty, and snuggly. Everything I wanted in my son. You will always be my “baby.” Please always hug me and love on me, and wrap your arms around my neck sleepily in the morning fresh out of slumber with your stale breath, and tell me to carry you downstairs for breakfast. However, you must stop insisting I carry you to the bus stop. That, my dear child, is TOO far.
Happy Birthday Jackson.
All those days watching from the windows
All those years outside looking in
All that time never even knowing
Just how blind I’ve been
Now I’m here, blinking in the starlight
Now I’m here, suddenly I see
Standing here, it’s all so clear
I’m where I’m meant to be
And at last I see the light
And it’s like the fog has lifted
And at last I see the light
And it’s like the sky is new
And it’s warm and real and bright
And the world has somehow shifted
All at once everything looks different
Now that I see you
Now that I …see you…