Monster

Found this sitting in my drafts folder and decided to publish it tonight. 

 

Dear Twelve,

Today was your first talent show. You’re in 6th grade, almost exactly my height, and you wear tight, tight pants that make your father cringe. You have the body of an 18 year old. You have the wit of an 18 year old. You have zero organization, which is why I’ve been doing your laundry all. freaking. day. It’s also why we hugged you and gushed about your third place win tonight singing “Monster” by Paramore (!!) and then said, “Okay, let’s talk about that math test you forgot to make up.”

You walked right onto that stage and owned it, sister. You were well rehearsed and nailed every note, every lyric. You bounced around and had great energy and we were like, TOTALLY STOKED!! You seriously rocked. Your outfit was perfect and it was just all around completely inspiring. I videoed it for your aunt and uncle that had to miss it- they were so bummed.

While I personally think you were robbed with your third place win (You deserved first, obviously), you took it in stride and the best part was when they announced second place. Yes, when they called your friend Elizabeth’s name for second place, you smiled and laughed and rejoiced for her. And that was the most beautiful part of your performance tonight, Twelve. The fact that you are not putting on any sort of show when you love someone. That’s the real deal and you do it really, really well.

 

Will You Remember?

I think Five might be a Physical Touch kinda person. And gifts. He LOVES getting gifts, and giving them. Just yesterday I received a leaf he’d plucked from a tree, especially for me, and the day before he found a brown leaf while riding his bike (you know, the crunch, fall looking kind of leaf) and he stopped riding, picked it up, and brought it to me. He’s pretty thoughtful.

But back to physical touch. He loves hugs and chipmunk kisses (and recently we learned about eskimo kisses) and squishing (which maybe I will demonstrate on video for you someday) and cuddling and wrestling and tickling. And since statistically he’s the only Five year old I’ll ever have, I love giving him hugs and kisses and squishing him and all those things, and I think a lot about how lucky I am to get those hugs, his affection.

Yesterday I told Five ‘bye’ and went to hug him before I left…it’s sort of become a ritual that’s morphed over the past year. We used to do “Grand Finale” hugs where I’d hug him and flip him over, and now he’s half my size and I can’t do it anymore. Such a bummer. But we improvise.

Yesterday he didn’t seem to want to let go of me, and when he is still enough to let that happen I just close my eyes and soak it in. Those magical hugs where he relaxes and lays his head on my shoulder. He is so, so quickly becoming an “all boy” little boy, no baby anymore.

I just held him and rocked him and while a thousand thoughts about him and his life raced through my mind, I said, “Five, will you remember this when you’re a teenager? That we had lots of hugs and that you fit in my arms and that we love each other?”

He said, “Yes, and when I’m bigger YOU will fit in MY arms!”