the other day i wrote a poem about how i look forward to being 30. it was kind of an ode to aging, i guess, since i’m assuming you become less preoccupied with trivial stuff and more in tune with what really matters. one would think that because i’m saying that out loud, why don’t i just do it now? well, i’m trying. but, the point is, as much as i really am looking forward to my 30′s and becoming more comfortable in my own skin, i have to say, i took a look at theo today and felt really sad thinking that when i’m 30, he’ll be 5. as in: starting kindergarten, gone all day everyday, talking, not a baby anymore. and evelyn will be 7! it seems so far away, but i’ve already witnessed how quickly 4 years disappears, i can only imagine the next 3 will do the same. so…

dear theo,

words cannot begin to describe the joy you bring to me. you make me laugh daily with your facial expressions and furrowed brow look. you love to pretend you are upset about something, but can’t resist looking sideways at me before cracking your little smile. it’s actually quite hilarious to see a baby do that. your sense of humor is infectious. you love to laugh with your sister. you are infatuated with all things boy:

cars

trucks

diggers

dump trucks

motorcycles

cranes

trains

batman

spiderman

and last, but certainly not least on your list, food.

but then you’ll notice the color of my toenail polish, stroking my big toe gently. you are rough and tough and love a good wrestle, but you are also incredibly sensitive and emotional.

these days and months escape me. in any given day to day moment, i’ll think to myself that i just need to remember what evelyn said or what theo did. but then i get to writing these letters to you and your sister, and i can’t seem to put into coherence what i wanted to remember. i seem to fall short at bottling up the essence of you, right now. i feel that now.

if nothing else, i want to remember your smile. it’s usually when i’m changing your diaper, and i’ll start to sing twinkle, twinkle little star, or the abc song. both you protest. you shake your head, fake little frown, with your brow furrowed, and tell me uh uh. you may even squint your eyes a bit, daring me to go into another disapproved song. you know the game. i know that you know the game. i’ll wait a second, then burst into a boisterous round of the batman song. this gets you to smile. big.

it’s the smile. the big one. and the cheeky one. it’s your eyebrows when you are trying not to laugh. it’s your knowing eyes. your teary eyes. your tired eyes. that’s the stuff i want to remember. oh! and your belly. you have a beer drinking man’s belly. it’s the best. especially after two bowls of cereal, milk dripping down your chin while you drink it from the bowl.

i love you.

love,

momma