Dear Grayson Michael,

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Two years ago, today, you happened, and then I happened and then we happened.
Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo PrintingI don't remember the precise moment I knew you were the one. The reason I'm here. Moments are left unattended, life shape-shifts. Children grow up. I read about our past and cannot believe I have so easily forgotten so much of where you came from. I have photos to remind me. And blog entries. And scraps of paper and ideas and memories and old things I can't believe you used to fit into. Old hats with blue and white stripes that you wore last spring, or was it the spring before?

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Wait. It was the one before. Now I remember.


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I don't know why it is so easy to forget. I'm pretty sure that if I didn't document every last detail of your life I would be mourning all the yesterdays: faded memories floating skyward like The Red Balloon, and you as a newborn, baby, toddler, hanging on by the string, waving at me with your fingers.

If I didn't have photographs of you in your blue polo against the blue sky,
Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing I might not be able to remember how cherubic you looked that afternoon, pouting in the shade, under the sun, that thoughtful look you get when you're watching people and birds and the world.


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You have become your own person this year. Or I suppose it's just that I know you differently now. The more you communicate and disagree and fight me and love me and hate me and break my heart. The more you trust me, believe me, kick me when I'm trying to tell you it's time to leave because we have to go home. How you talk to animals not with words but by singing to them. Humming songs in their ears softly, gently.

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Most recently you have become attached to the moon. You search the sky with such concern. "Munn?" you say. As if you're asking, "Where did you go so fast, Moon?" And then you turn to me and point out the window and frown and I say... "The moon is sleeping, baby. Sometimes it sleeps in the afternoon. Maybe you should give sleep a try..."

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But you stopped napping months ago. You only sleep when it's dark outside. So Mommy put a dark brown blanket over your window to make it look like "night time" all the time. Smart Mommy. At night, you fall asleep with your teddy and your books and your music and the window drape cracked slightly so you can see the moon and I hear you say "nigh, nigh munn. night, nigh, Jesus" before you fall asleep because sometimes I stand outside your door and spy on you. Sometimes I watch you sleep. Sometimes you catch me and sit up suddenly in the darkness, smile like a goose and then crash land into your pillow, pretending you are sleeping, making the fake-snoring sound with one-eye open and a cracked smile.


In the morning, you wake up calling my name, asking not for me but the "munn".


"Momma? Momma? Whee? Munn? Momma? you ask.


"I don't know."


Because I don't. I know nothing of moons and why sometimes they appear in the afternoon, linger in the mornings. In fact, one day you will find that I know very little. That I know nothing, really. And yet, now, when you're still small, I feel compelled to answer you. To make things up to make you happy. Give you answers. The ones you want to hear.

"The moon is going potty in the white bushes of the sky."

I don't know if this is the right approach. But I'm learning and trying and figuring it out as I go. Just as you are. With your speech and your songs and your life. And I still can't believe you exist. It's been two years and I guess I figured I would be used to you by now. But sometimes when I pick you up I think "did I really have a child? Are you really here? It wasn't just a very long dream?"

And then you appear with scrapes on your knees and a half-eaten granola bar in your pocket and a Ziploc bag of raisins......and yes, there you are. I remember now.


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You are growing up so fast I can't stand it. Needing haircuts often and demanding kisses and growing more and more aware of your world.

Yesterday you were my baby.
Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printing And today, even though you are two.....
Photo Sharing - Video Sharing - Photo Printingyou are still my baby. And you always will be. Even when you grow so tall I have to stand on my toes to kiss your face. You'll always be the reason for everything changing in the best way possible. You'll always be my first. My baby.

Thank you for reminding me that anything is possible. That the moon is something to befriend and the animals are things to sing to. That time is short and life is long and there are so many things to be grateful for.

Number one being, you.

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Happy 2nd Birthday, Grayson Michael, My little man.


Loving you like an insane person,


Mommy.


P.S. Here are some of my favorite shots of you from your first and second year. I dug these up the other day when I was weeping over your decision to grow up on me.


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Misty watercolor memories, dude. Misty watercolor memories.