Dear Two Year Old Baby W

Dear Baby W,

Our days have been way too hot for you to take your naps upstairs in your race car bed,

so you have been snoozing on the couch while I work away in the next room.

Today you woke up early, in one of those inconsolable bits of hysterical cries.

In fact, you wake up crying from your naps a lot.

It's kinda your thing.

And after two years, you think I'd be used to it by now.

But I'm not.

It still twists my heart in knots.

I feel helpless as my attempts to console you seem to be in vain.

I cuddle you, I kiss you, I assure you that I am right here next to you.

But your cries continue for about 5 minutes--which feels more like 45 minutes.

And then, out of no where, you're fine.

Happy as a clam actually.

Your carefree day continues as if the tears never happened.

Today played out a little differently though.

Maybe because you're getting your molars,

so you're a bit more sensitive than usual.

Because today, when the hysterics started

and I was immediately by your side with my comforting Momma voice,

your crying stopped.

You crawled up on my lap,

rolled over, looked me in the eyes,

gave a half smile and went back to sleep.

Usually I carfeully place you back on the couch

and head over to squeeze in as much work as possible

before you wake up again.

But today I didn't.

Today I stayed.

And I soaked it all in.

The way your once little body now hangs over my legs,

as only your torso now fits on my lap.

The way your once pudgy fingers have thinned out

and now take up the entire palm of my hand.

I brushed the hair off your forehead,

ran my hand over your soft tummy

and squeezed your little toes.

I silently giggled as I noticed how the extreme chubbiness of your cheeks causes them to almost hang on your face, just like mine did when I was your age {and still a little today}.

I even took the time to softly scrape some dried boogies off your face,

as only a Momma can.

These two years have gone by fast my little man.

You have tested me and taught me more about myself

and my purpose in this life than I ever thought possible.

You are talking all the time now.

It's not always the English language, or any language for that matter,

but you're talking--and that gives me relief. 

Your favorite words are: truck, monkey, trash, pool, Buzz and Elmo.

We haven't had a super duper two year old bash for your birthday yet

because your sweet great grandma had an important surgery scheduled

and we know how important it is to have her there for your special day.

So in the meantime, we played it low key,

got you a handful of presents,

{that you eagerly opened with an enthusiastic "Woah"}

took you swimming, and made you your favorite spaghetti

and a batch of botched lumpy whoopie pies. 

It was the perfect day.

Happy birthday big boy!

I love you to the moon and back.

Stop growing up, mmkay...

love, Mommy

Dear other Mommies, what has been the hardest birthday for you yet?