Apologies for the radio silence this week; there is a birthday to plan and trips to pack for and an oh-so-pregnant belly that seems to dip me into exhaustion a bit more than usual these days.
We had a hint of spring this past weekend sandwiched in-between the typical cold and snow of a Canadian winter. And while I’m doing my best to appreciate what this season has to offer, I am more than excited to escape back to North Carolina next week and feel some southern temperatures.
I fear that I may not have the time to sit down and write a birthday letter to James Robert next week amid all of the celebrating and visiting we will be doing. And this afternoon, as I reviewed some pictures I took of him recently, I was struck with a strong feeling of motherhood nostalgia. My sweet boy turns 3 in about a week and it couldn’t feel more surreal. So I hope you don’t mind me sharing a letter to him here, for posterity sake.
To my dearest James Robert, this portrait captures your spirit. You’re wide-eyed, you’re delighted and delightful and you’re ever the source of light and love in our lives. Three years is but a small way of marking time in the grand scheme of the impact you’ve made. Your life has magnified the beauty in mine. I still marvel that I get to be your mother and what a perfect gift God bestowed when he allowed me to take on that charge.
The days are few when you do not give affection willfully and freely to those around you. Friends, neighbors, even the bus driver to whom you wave frantically to are all glad recipients of your charms. But to me and your Father, you provide the most endearing and unending level of affection. You are sensitive to other’s feelings; you’re compassionate and thoughtful. You ask questions that speak to your intuitive and caring nature. I have yet to put you to bed at night without countless kisses and one more “I love you’s” being whispered as I creep the door shut.
Your Father and I relish these days. To watch you blossom at school and make friends at church while learning to be more independent is a joy. You are very much part of our dinner conversations, not so much because you’re the topic of conversation, but because you tend to guide them; you are loquacious beyond your years. To see your pride in mastering new tasks and the happiness you exude while “performing” with your instruments are the memories we’ll return to for years to come.
Trucks, trains and sticks remain at the top of your favorite things. But you also love to read books with us and have become more and more curious about the characters. You’ve inherited a 4th generation sweet tooth and you are most delighted when allowed to eat dessert- there are no words to describe the smile you displayed when we made banana pudding a few weeks ago. This year, your relationship with Major has become even more tender; he is your best buddy and playmate (until you don’t want him to lick you anymore).
Your new playmate, coming in June, will love you tremendously too. You talk to your baby brother in my belly so much these days and ask me endlessly to recount all the things that you “get” to teach him. It will be joyful beyond measure to see you fulfill the role of big brother.
As you turn three, I want to remember you as this picture captures. An absolute twinkle in your eye, a wonder for the world and zest for capturing all that life has to offer, be that a snow flake on your tongue or all that comes after. You are such a blessing, my son. Thank you for being you.
All of my love,