Just Shy Of 33 Months.

I have been writing to you in my mind for about a month now. I go over and over the words each and every day.

More than once I have gone to bed after longingly watching you sleep and sighed that I miss you. How does one miss someone she spends each and every day with?

It is 2:00 pm right now and you are sound asleep. Upside down in your bed. One leg over the bedrail.

That's my boy.

Your breathing is steady. Your bed full of books and cars and everything Lightning McQueen. It's a wonder you stay comfortable.

Your sister is sleeping soundly in the room next door and even if she wasn't, you have learned to tune her out.

Perhaps a skill that will help you for years to come?

Sometimes I go back in time and look at pictures. Though I hardly have the time, the kitchen needs cleaning, the checkbook needs balancing and my husband would like a conversation, I look back. And I see my smiley faced baby who has turned into a boy.

Your face has aged. Your head has grown.

Your hands are not those of a little one anymore. They are big, they are strong. I noticed this as soon as you came to see me and E in the hospital.

The words you say, the things you do.

You are not my babe, but my boy.

Dec. 2008.

Everyone wants to know how you're adjusting to your new baby sister. I don't usually know what to say.

Henry and Evelyn.

Dec. 2008.

You do so love your sister.

Each morning you ask in the cutest way; "Where's my baby sister?" As if for some reason we have gotten rid of her overnight.

Which, by the way, won't be happening. I'm pretty attached to her.

You continue to amaze me. To impress me. To make me laugh, to no end.

Dec. 2008.

You continue to teach me. Most everything I know with E is because of you.

You remind me that your eyes and ears are always on. You repeat what you hear, you reenact what you see.

Usually at the worst possible time.

You tell me what you're thinking, what you're feeling and everything in between. My favorite is when you scrunch your face up into a smile and tell me that you are "So excited."

The "so excited" face.

Henry, Jacob, Kate and Madi. Friends from ECFE.

Dec. 2008.

You have been a trooper. You know no other life than the one you are living but you go with the flow. T and M, coming and going and now a new baby sister. I anticipated changes, meltdowns and lots of issues once the baby arrived. I tried to savor and soak up as much of you as I could because I knew that a baby would soak up much of me soon.

Of course you are jealous. Jealous of the time, the attention, the love and affections little E receives from me. And I torture myself with guilt over this.

But you have taken it all in stride and I am not sure why we got so lucky.

You know how to love. I tell you that I love you when I tuck you in and you tell me that you love me more.

If only you knew that couldn't be possible.

I am no perfect mother. I wince inside when I think of the times that my frustrations, my impatience has gotten me. Sometimes I am counting down the hours until naptime. And it might only be 8:00 am.

But you seem to see only the best in me.

And it's funny the way that works because I, like most mothers, am pretty biased when it comes to you.

Happy 33 months sweet boy.

One of my favorite pictures.

Mama and Henry.

Sept. 2007.