pause
My dear Henry,
A couple of weeks ago you turned 6. Historically I have made a point to put you to bed on your birthday (well, I always put you to bed but I especially try to be patient and make a longer event of it) and then sit down to write about you at that moment. This year we were in Montana and dealing with a lot of variables, some fun and others less fun. We celebrated your day for sure (you are still not thrilled that a party hasn't yet materialized this year) but I just haven't had it in me to sit down and write much. It's been an interesting summer so far of travel and camps and real camping and playing outside all day. I took some time off from work this month and while it hardly seemed like enough I got to spend more time focusing on you and Mia and remembering these days and ages and stories and jokes. For that alone it was totally worth it.
Last night you wanted to fall asleep in our bed and I came in to lay with you for awhile. We chatted about things that make us sad and I was reminded how similar you are to me as a child and even now. We are emotionally sensitive and not always sure how to process it. We have to be very careful with what we expose you to and help you make sense of it all. Thankfully I think I can do that for you, with you. We also laughed and talked about exciting things to come. It was the pleasant sweet moment I have been waiting for for weeks.
I left for a few minutes and told you I would return. You were so drowsy it would have been easy for me to go on with the evening clean up but I kept my word and came back. You were half asleep and said you were just wondering when I was going to come back and if I had forgotten. I told you that I would never forget you or the promises I make to you and you looked me in the eyes and nodded solemnly. We talked for a few more minutes before you finally fell asleep. Bedtime has not often been fun in our house but I am so thankful to have these precious little moments to help erase the whining and frustration and tears. The dishes can wait. I will always be here. I will always come back. Happy birthday, baby. Six is going to be a good year, I just know it.
A couple of weeks ago you turned 6. Historically I have made a point to put you to bed on your birthday (well, I always put you to bed but I especially try to be patient and make a longer event of it) and then sit down to write about you at that moment. This year we were in Montana and dealing with a lot of variables, some fun and others less fun. We celebrated your day for sure (you are still not thrilled that a party hasn't yet materialized this year) but I just haven't had it in me to sit down and write much. It's been an interesting summer so far of travel and camps and real camping and playing outside all day. I took some time off from work this month and while it hardly seemed like enough I got to spend more time focusing on you and Mia and remembering these days and ages and stories and jokes. For that alone it was totally worth it.
Last night you wanted to fall asleep in our bed and I came in to lay with you for awhile. We chatted about things that make us sad and I was reminded how similar you are to me as a child and even now. We are emotionally sensitive and not always sure how to process it. We have to be very careful with what we expose you to and help you make sense of it all. Thankfully I think I can do that for you, with you. We also laughed and talked about exciting things to come. It was the pleasant sweet moment I have been waiting for for weeks.
I left for a few minutes and told you I would return. You were so drowsy it would have been easy for me to go on with the evening clean up but I kept my word and came back. You were half asleep and said you were just wondering when I was going to come back and if I had forgotten. I told you that I would never forget you or the promises I make to you and you looked me in the eyes and nodded solemnly. We talked for a few more minutes before you finally fell asleep. Bedtime has not often been fun in our house but I am so thankful to have these precious little moments to help erase the whining and frustration and tears. The dishes can wait. I will always be here. I will always come back. Happy birthday, baby. Six is going to be a good year, I just know it.
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