Last month I went to the play “Dirty Dancing” When the song came on at the end “I had the Time of My Life,” everyone was clapping and singing…..and I was nostalgically swooning.
You see, when you were not quite a month old, we took you to a wedding. I danced with you to this song. A first time, new mommy, held your head carefully and protectively twirled you around the dance floor. I teared up then and I well up now as I recall so clearly looking deep into your enormous blues and singing:
No I’ve never felt this way before, yeah I swear, it’s the truth, I owe it all to you”
and every single lyric was so damn true that I told daddy on the way home…..that will be the song I dance with you to at your wedding.
Since that precious night, I have dreamt many dreams for you and for us. They swirled around you like the sweet smell of coffee. I’m not talking about things like you being a baseball star (although I did push the golf agenda a bit the minute you could stand,) or being a doctor or lawyer.
I dreamt up your 1st birthday around Cookie Monster hoping you would love him like I do. I dreamt of us sitting eating ice cream talking about all the things. I dreamt you’d love books and we’d pour over them. I dreamt what your face would look like as you grew older and how I would be as a mom; fun, understanding, patient. When I held you as a baby, and you made me a first time mom, I referred to you as my little bug-a-boo and I dreamt up millions of moments big and small.
Today you turn 6 and while I still wonder things like if I will be the one who gets to teach you to drive or how I can help ease your first broken heart…. my dreams for you wait in the backseat…. because you have your own dreams now. And they are grandiose. You no longer sleep with cookie, you’d rather build than read ,we love to share a good ice cream cone and I’m half the mom I wanted to be to you before I knew you’d have to share my time with your two brothers.
You are so you. You create and invent as a visionary that I actually respect. Your turtle tank; incredible, the phone you made out of wood, cardboard and paper; outstanding! Your zest for the imaginative life of sparks a nostalgia of my own youth, and perhaps a bit of jealousy for how mine has drifted and yours is magnified. Your likes and dislikes are so rooted in who you are. And I’m proud. I’m no longer a weepy mess as you climb because you do it with such elegance, wonder and confidence. And when I do utter “I miss my baby” to you as I occasionally do…you snuggle up to me and gently remind me with a joke that I am pretty sure you invented yourself:
mommy, what goes up but can’t come down? Your age.
You really have this way. You are a sensitive, old soul with a need for snuggles and thirst for independence.
And you dream so big baby boy that I trust your dreams and I love them. And while I wish that I could have absorbed more (we always wish we could have absorbed more, know that. That is life) the thrill of what you are becoming is a feeling much more powerful than the wistfulness of what you were.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY DARLING. I LOVE YOU.