A letter for my son

best welcoming ever - PSU July 4, 2009

Dear Tristan,

I couldn't very well keep this blog as a record of my life without including you. You are at the center of my life every day. While some days feel more successful than others, as far as being a good mom goes, I end each day feeling nothing but love and pride for you. I often feel that I could be more creative, more fun, more spontaneous - or perhaps a better planner - for you, but you are wonderful and hilarious and adorable despite my shortcomings. I am watching you grow so fast and sometimes I just want to slam on the brakes to pause and take note of the past 2 1/2 years, go through all the pictures and write about each new thing you do but not lose any time with you now. It's amazing how fast time goes...everyone always says that, but you cannot know how fast time truly passes until you have a child and he grows like wildfire before your eyes. The other thing you can never know is how deep a parent's love runs, until you have one of your own. No amount of being in love ever prepared me for the instant, all-consuming love I felt for you since the moment you were born (your daddy would say the same thing, but that's another story). It took some getting used to, but I have become a vigilant mother. To me, this means that my ear is always perked for you. Your daddy mentioned this the other day, that I'm always on watch, throughout any conversation we may have, even when you are asleep. That is what has changed in me, mostly, since you were born, that constant watching, listening, waiting for your call, with everything else taking second place.

In these past few months, as you may or may never know, I have been infused with a huge amount of creativity. That is a direct result of being you mother. I can't explain how or why, I just know it is. You have been the ultimate in creation in my life, and everything else is a myriad of combinations of my love outpouring to you. Tonight in the bathtub, I was watching as you explored your little aquatic world, changing your voice to talk for the little bathtub toys, pouring water continuously into the waterwheel, oblivious to the fact that I think that time is mainly for calming down, not revving up! But you have your own gears, your own amount of energy, and it doesn't always mesh with what I think it should be. That's how it ought to be. You are perfect even though I may put my own ideas on you. As your dad and I always say, don't change - at least, not for me.

This past July 4th, we hoped to catch the fireworks over the Willamette River in Portland, so we armed ourselves with earplugs, remembering how much the noise scared you last year. "Booma here" - booma was yours and daddy's created word for fireworks, and "here" was in your heart, and you'd pat your hand over your heart when you described how you felt about the bright lights in the sky at a mere 19 months old. We took this to mean that it scared you and made your heart beat fast - but not in a good way. This year was no different. You seem to be very sensitive to loud noises. We put in the earplugs, but you could still feel the loud booms. We left our little seat and our friends and walked quickly over to the street car stop to go back to our little home away from home. Daddy and I were able to catch the first few minutes from our obscured view behind the buildings at the stop, but you didn't want to look, inhaling sharply and audibly, distressed by the loud booms, despite the earplugs and our hands over your ears. Once we were safely on the street car though, and were able to see the fireworks as we moved through the Portland streets in our sound-proof car, you really liked looking at the fireworks - you thought they were pretty, so I'm glad you were able to enjoy them in that way. I'm so sorry it was so scary for you...scaring you is certainly not our intention. We have been drawing "boomas" with chalk on the sidewalk for the past year, and we'd thought you'd be excited to see them for real. But you were not, and next year, we won't subject you again to the noise. Maybe we'll do little sparklers at home instead. 

I love you sweet boy. I am so happy to be your mommy.