And then, suddenly, I realized why I couldn't do it. Because I don't to capture those thoughts. I want to capture him. I want to put these things in a bottle and open them when he's grown and I miss his chubby thighs and perfectly loving little hands:
I want to remember how he speaks. How he can't say L's. So "I will" = "I wiw." And "I love you" sounds like "I wuv you." And I want to remember how, when he's moved by sentiment, he says, "I like you, Mommy." (Which, in my opinion, is harder than loving me some days.) I want to remember that he calls Matthew, Maffew. And when we leave him at preschool, Jack tells me (every time, without fail), I'm gonna miss Maffew, Mommy." I want to capture that he says, "but..." at the beginning of so many of his thoughts.
I want to remember that he adores his Auntie Laura. And when he's remembering last year when we went to the zoo, he says to me, "Remember when Auntie Wora took me to the jungle (which actually sounds like jungo)? That was so fun. I had so much fun there."
And I want to capture the feel of his little arms tight around my neck. I want to remember how at bedtime, if I forget, he comes out of his room to request "a hug and a kiss and a pound and a five."
And how, at three years old, he can put away more food than most ten-year-olds. How he's partial to hot dogs, hot or cold. And how it's making his Poppa so crazy, that he's going to find a lock for the fridge.
I want to remember how, when he wakes up in the night (usually because he's sure there are spiders in his bed) and Cory's at work, and I let him crawl into bed with me, he wears that sleepy, satisfied little smile. And he snuggles into his Poppa's spot and looks like he feels so safe and loved. So I kiss his little cheeks and he grins, without opening his eyes, because he knows that I love him...and he knows I got played.
That is what I want to capture. And I hope and I pray that when I look back on this many years from now, I'll remember these things vividly. Because this child has a personality worth remembering.
I love you, Jack. I thank God every day that He made me your momma.
8 comments:
I hope you save this post - and that when you read it years down the road, it helps you remember. Because you have captured it all so well that I can see it.
Happy birthday to Jack! He is well loved by his Momma, that is very very clear.
I tell Atlas that just because you love someone doesn't mean you always like them (or always like what they do is probably more accurate) - and that I know there are moments when he does not like me much.
Thank you, Libby. You are always so sweet and supportive.
Atlas is learning so much from you, too! :D
I've said it a million times, but I love my Jack-Jack! And Elizabeth is right- this post will remind you. :) And if not this post, then I will, 'cause I will never forget how Jack randomly calls me to go the zoo or the MOA, or just to chat. He's pretty darn awesome. :)
great post, brought tears to my eyes
This Mother/Son combo is joyous.
Plus, i love how you get played. Ha!
Definetly written from the heart. You should print this off, and put it in his baby book because there will probably come a day where you will want to share this with him. GREAT post Leanne. :)
Oh no you didn't. Seriously. That may be the sweetest post I have ever read. On any blog. You are a good mommy, Leno.
'Scuse me while I wipe the tears! That was incredibly beautiful and sincere... Jack-Jack is as lucky to have you as his momma as you are to have him. Thanks for sharing this. It was perfect.
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