It's true. Today is Peter's birthday. I have a child turning 3! I have been a mother since 2006 and I finally have a child turning 3! It is magnificent. It is wonderful and right and it feels "safe"-- I hope I will die before Peter does. That is the safety I want.
As per tradition, below is my birthday letter to my son. My son Peter-- the rascal, the devil, the angel, my healing balm, my joy and my patience tester. This is for him.
Dearest Peter William Jackson,
You turn 3 years old today! Yes, that's right--3! Can you start saying 3 instead of 2 when people ask you how old you are? You'll get used to it. I know you can do it.
Son, you could solve the world's energy crisis. I have never seen, nor heard tell of another child having more energy than you. Not a single soul who knows you will debate the matter. It is truth. And as you solve the world's energy crisis with your non-stop movement, you are causing an energy crisis for your mother. My hope is that someday, you will be home alone with a wild child of your own, sick as a dog, depressed, struggling, constipated, sleep-deprived and confused, and literally have to chase, wrangle, wrestle, fight, protect, feed, communicate with, comfort, console, clean up after, and live with the constant whirl and hiss of your aforementioned off-spring without having a mental breakdown. For days and weeks and months on end.
I would then like for you to come crawling on your hands and knees to me, your beloved mother, and say--"I'm so sorry, mom! I had no idea how hard it was! How did you not die from sheer exhaustion? I LOVE YOU. THANK YOU for not killing me with your bare hands or giving me up for adoption. I will weed your lawn and rub your feet and shout my praises to you for the rest of your days."
But wait, this is a birthday letter to you. I almost forget.
So as I was saying--you have a lot of energy. You are absolutely INCREDIBLE on your bike. It is not to be believed! You live for that thing. When you ride it, you are as one with it. I am amazed every single time you get on it. It just blows me away. If I don't have running shoes on and am not in tip-top marathon shape, I simply cannot keep up with you.
You are daring, courageous, fearless, friendly, social, confident, head-strong, stubborn, smart as a whip, cuter than the legal limit, and you feel life on all its levels. You are a leader and a lover of life. You have so much enthusiasm. Nothing you do is done SMALL. You live life with vigor and OUT LOUD.
Yet, you are my sweet and precious little boy. I have trained you well to give out kisses to your mommy. Hugs too. When you are engrossed enough in a movie to sit still for two seconds, you let me cuddle you and run my fingers through your long, thick hair. I stare at you in amazement that you could be so perfect and beautiful. Your eyelashes...don't get me started. Beautiful.
You never realize you are tired, hungry, or thirsty. I have to lock you in your crib tent to sleep, but when you finally nod off, you are OUT for hours--how could you not be?
Some of my favorite things about you:
-You love the classic cartoon, Charlie Brown. You have great taste, my son. You call him "Cha-Cha Brown"
-You still snuggle with your Bee-eee and suck your thumb.
-You LOVE being in charge. The look on your face when you set the table for dinner, or put the dishes in the sink, or put a puzzle together--it is the proudest, most satisfied look in the world.
-Your best friend is a 52 yr. old man you call "Stinky". You have an amazing and unique friendship with him. Although he spoils you and I am trying to train him (please don't make my job harder!), you two are thick as thieves.
-You love wrestling with your daddy. When you fall or get hurt (on your bike, at the play ground, wherever...) you don't even make a fuss for two seconds. You just get up and keep on going. You cry over a lot of OTHER things...but never falling down or getting a scrape or whacking your head or anything.
-I love when you take your hands and "fix my hair" and lay it over to one side of my head. You have this look on your face that you are taking care of me.
-Oh, Peter. I could go on and on. This is just the tip of the ice burg. (They still didn't see the ice burg in Titanic--even in 3D). Anyway,
I love you dearly. As difficult as you are, you are the living proof of my hope--that life has gone on since Lucy. That I can live and love again. You were courageous to come to such a broken-hearted home. Its no wonder you have such a strong and unbending spirit.
You are my Easter miracle. My life after my death.
Always be a good boy. Never forget how wonderful you are--just as you are. I love everything about you. After all, I'm a little spit fire too. I can't wait for the many more adventures we will have together!!
Happy Easter, Happy Birthday, Happy Heavenly Family--