About twenty times yesterday, as we finished preparing for your birthday party, you looked at me and said in amazement, “Mom. I’m five now.”
I smiled and hugged you and told you how you had a five year old nose, five year old eyes, five year old legs, etc.
I’m in as much amazement as you.
It seems as if it were only yesterday that I found out I was pregnant. That you were born. That you turned one, two, three, four.
And yet, I feel as if you have been with me forever.
Two days ago, you declared that five year old boys sleep in their own beds.
After over two years of sharing my bed, you decided that you wanted to sleep in your bed. In your room. By yourself.
I was overjoyed, to tell you the truth.
I love snuggling with you at night. And, yet, I do not enjoy waking up in the middle of the night with your foot in my back. Or your hand in my face. Or you puking into my face and my hair.
Alright, that last one only happened once. But it was last night. So it’s still fresh in my mind.
So, for two days, you slept in your own bed. All night.
I kept the hallway light on.
Not because you are afraid of the dark. You aren’t. You are sometimes the bravest kid I’ve ever known.
I did it for me. You see, I get so nervous. Now that it’s just you and me in the house, I liked having you in my bed because I felt you were safer there. For some reason, keeping that light on, helped me calm my nerves.
Because I know that you will be okay.
Because I know that I cannot keep you as a baby forever.
Because you are growing up, and I will not stop you.
This year has been especially rough on us. I won’t go into details, since I am putting this in a public forum, but I know that you have struggled with the changes in our lives. I know that you feel you have no control over what is happening in your life. I know that this is frustrating and confusing for you. I know, and I promise that I am doing my best to make things better for you.
You are an amazing person, T. You are intelligent and logical. You are sensitive and emotional. Sometimes I worry that you are too much like me. But then I see a silly expression on your face, or I listen to your goofy laugh, and I realize that you are a lot like me.
And maybe that isn’t so bad.