Wednesday, January 26, 2011
We haven't had an easy year, you and me. We've done a lot of yelling at each other and a lot of crying with each other. I don't think you were very happy to be sharing your mama with another baby. I hope you know that I still love you. More than ever.
You have your G-Daddy's sweet tooth. If it's made of sugar, you want to eat it. I spent the first 15 or more months of your life making sure that you had a perfectly perfect diet. I nursed you until, well, until today. I held out on candy until some time this past summer - and BAM! It just took that one time. You were hooked.
In September, you started preschool. I'm not sure that it's the absolute best fit for you, but you do like to go. I like that you like it and are making friends. I don't like that I don't know what you do there and that the teacher made a passive aggressive remark about your temper. You will be happy to know, however, that I kept my temper when she did it. You come by that temper honestly, and I promise you - I am trying so hard to model a more peaceful temperament for you.
This year, you started watching TV. Way too much TV, actually. It's been so helpful when Colin naps, and for some reason, it seems like one of you is sick ALL THE TIME, so TV has been introduced as your second vice. After sugar. You love Toy Story. You love it so much that we took you to the movie theater to see Toy Story 3 this past summer. I thought it might be too much for you, but you sat mesmerized the entire time. This weekend, we will have your Toy Story inspired birthday party - mainly Woody, but Buzz will make appearances too, I'm sure.
You definitely have it harder around here. Being my first, I still expect you to do things on a certain time table or a certain way. I realize I do this, but I'm not quite sure how to change it. I have a hard time just leaving you alone to let you develop at your own pace and in your own way. I only know this because I see how I deal with your little brother. I know that because you have been successful in something, that I can quit stressing about it - I need to stop stressing for you. I know I do. I see how it fosters the frustration and anxiousness in you. I promise you that in this, your fourth year as my son, I will work even harder to stop hovering.
This morning, you patted me on the back. I rolled over, and you whispered, "Mama? I need some nuh-nuh." I flipped down my nursing tank and nursed you for the last time. You are three years old. It may be hard to understand, but it is time for us to be done nursing. I still love you, and you will always be my baby, but Mama is tired, and the nuh-nuh's are freaking exhausted. Feel free to instill guilt by continuing to reach up and pat them, while saying, "I love your nuh-nuh's, Mama."
I feel like you are getting the shaft a little on this letter. Your G-Daddy is very sick, and I'm a little distracted tonight. I should have started this a lot sooner, but I just don't write like that. Open, type, publish. That's me. Your spontaneous Mama.
I hope that you are a happy three year old. I promise to play more this year. I promise to listen better. I promise to love you. I promise to try harder all the time to be a better mama for you.
Happy birthday, Christopher. You are my favorite three year old.