A Very Good Year

Dear Roper,

Or should I just call you Brutus?  Son, you are a tank!  I think you might be made of lead.  And you don’t go around things, you go through them.  With authority.    Anyway, HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!!   At 8:28 p.m. you turn one year old.

You have always been strong.   My first glimpse of you was a grey, lifeless form slung over the doctor’s forearm.   During resuscitation, your lung popped and I was told you were very, very sick, (as I sat there alone, stranded in bed, not able to go to you.  NIGHTMARE!) but I never once questioned your ability to heal.  Five days later, a doctor said “That’s God’s work,” as he pointed out the closed hole in your lung on an x-ray.   You’ve been amazing us ever since.

You were able to hold your head up from the day you were born and you’ve just been getting stronger.    Now that I look back on it, you haven’t changed much.  You’ve always been headstrong, physically strong and impossibly entertaining.

Roper, it has been an honor to watch you grow, change and learn over this past year.   I’ve never had a hard time writing these letters to you.  I can usually bang one out with my first cup of coffee, knowing I was telling you exactly what I wanted to tell you.  But this time, I’m struggling.  I can’t believe you’re no longer a baby.  You’ll always be MY baby, but you’re a full-blown toddler to the rest of the world.  And I can’t wrap my head around that. 

I am one of those people who have to force myself to sit and marinate in the moment.  My mind constantly jumps to the future (without my permission) and I envision you getting your first bike, starting kindergarten,  borrowing the car, going away to college, falling in love, getting married, having your own baby and then PAWNING THAT BABY OFF ON ME to babysit.   You just went from adorable, chubby cheeked, squealing baby to making me a Grandma in two seconds flat.  And you should feel very bad about that because now I’m crying.  Take it slow, Little Bear.  Your mama’s having a hard time with this.

This month you had a lot of firsts.  Your first word was “NO,” said often, and with great emphasis.   You sign “more” and “hungry.”   You made your first international trip.  OK, it was only Canada which is kind of like going to Idaho, but you went through a border crossing so it counts for something!    You stand up in the middle of the room without any help, hold your hands out to your “audience” and give mighty orations.  You’ve taken your first step…although I think you might wait a bit on actually walking.  Crawling is so much faster! 

You ‘high five’ people on command and run away from me when you know you’re in trouble.  When you get upset you use a high-pitched scream that will one day be famous for shattering all of the windows in this apartment complex.  Then, THEN, you step it up a notch and make a noise that sounds like three cats being torn to pieces by a coyote.  And it makes me laugh because it is quite possibly the weirdest noise I’ve ever heard a child make.   Theatrics at its finest.

You love music.  LOVE.  When we crank up the tunes, you totally party.   If we’re listening to live music you go ballistic, shrieking and clapping at the end of songs.   I keep expecting you to throw your diaper on the stage.   You have “roadie” written all over you, kid. 

Each morning I’m curious about what you’re going to bring to the table that day.  You definitely keep me on my toes.   When I give you your Cheerios you like to go into Downward Facing Dog position and eat them while balancing on your head.  That, or you just dump them over your head while squawking.   At the property, you cruise around in your walker/saucer looking for the narrowest corridor to navigate through and then practice your 17-point turn trying to get out of tight spots.  In everything you do, you provide great entertainment.  I’m getting less work done because it’s so fascinating to watch you.

Roper, I can’t tell you in words how much I love you.  I only hope that you will see it through my actions, my constant presence, the smile on my face and the fact that I haven’t killed you.   You have stretched my heart, and taught me what is important in life.  Thank you for such an amazing year!  On that note, I would like to offer you a ONE YEAR contract.  Let’s see where this thing takes us. 

Love,

Your Mama

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