dear oliver

dear oliver,

when did you get so big? you didn't even seem to small when you were born, but looking back, you were such a tiny thing.

you are nearly a kid now, no longer a baby. you can crawl around like you have a jet pack strapped to your back. you can sit up on your own. i know you are trying very hard to talk. sometimes, i think you even believe you are saying real words, the way you look at me as if to say, "what, mom? didn't you understand that?"

you have 6 teeth and are loving real foods. baby food is fine and good, but you are more interested in what i am putting into my mouth, and you no longer want a bottle; you're a big kid and want a sippy cup. you're still figuring out this whole chewing thing, but with the way you were going at that tortilla last night, one would have figured you for a pro.

you've been learning how to stand, with support, and teeter around on those two tiny feet with your hands clutched in mine. but this new trick of standing up on your own, i am not ready for. when i come into your room and you are standing up in your crib, bouncing and looking so thrilled with yourself, i am at the same time incredibly proud and very sad. this means you'll be walking on your own before i know it, and i'm just not ready for that.

i love watching you learn and grow, and i am so excited to continue to have the opportunity to do new things with you. i daydream all the time of the things we'll be able to do once you're a little older: playing tag at the park, coloring together, reading stories, riding bikes, all the fun festivals and events we'll be able to attend, your little voice talking to me.

and there are certain things i certainly won't miss about you being a baby; most notably being so tired i could cry, and not knowing what is wrong when you cry. that cry that always meant something was wrong but i didn't know was has always broken my heart. it is hard being the parent of an infant.

but i will miss my little baby; i will miss the feeling of your little body curled up against mine, and that gentle baby breath against my chest. i will miss seeing your tiny fingers resting on my hand. i'll even miss those sloppy baby kisses when they turn into real ones. i will miss all the good things about being the parent of an infant. the number of good things may not be larger than the hardships, but the strength behind them far outweighs any difficulties.

you'll always be my little halloween baby, even when you're grown. you just need to promise me that you'll always pause to kiss me, hug me, smile at me, and bat those eyelashes over your amazing blue eyes for me.

i look forward to you growing and continuing to become the beautiful, happy person i can see you are. it is a miraculous process, and i feel so special to be able to see you live, and to be a part of it. but, just slow down a little, ok?

love,
momma