This is a post dedicated to my gorgeous, headstrong and beautiful son.
Dearest baby boy,
It seems that I have blinked, and you are no longer my red faced, tiny newborn. You are now three years old and boy, what a ride the last three years have been.
It’s the strangest, most wonderful ride that I’ve ever had the opportunity to join. You made me a mother, and I am so grateful for you. I am grateful for the smiles and the struggles. You have defined me as a person.
The day you were born and placed on my chest, life as I knew it changed forever. Instead of only having to look after myself, I was given a new job to keep you safe, happy and away from harm.
Did I ever tell you that the favourite part of my day for the last three years has been waking up to your perfect face? I may have moaned that the moon is still full, and that my mummy head was tired, but my god, the years are short. I used to gaze into your eyes during a night feed, hearing those loud suckles and smelling that sweet smell of milky urine. (I know it’s weird to enjoy the smell of wee, but hey ho. It was your smell.) I used to lay away, listening to those little grunts, squeals and yawns. Now, I lay awake waiting for you to call out my name so that I can come and stroke your little head and make those nasty night terrors go away. You are always safe with me.
Instead of pooping and peeing in your little baby nappies, you do your business on a potty. The last bit of my baby boy is slipping away, and your big boy pants signify that you are now so independent. Soon, I’ll be writing posts about buying your first school uniform and shoes. The years are short.
Instead of taking you out in your buggy for some fresh air, we are wearing our wellies and splashing in puddles together. The buggy is now redundant, living in the car boot, waiting to be given to someone else that could make use of it. The years are short.
Instead of porridge loaded air plane spoons, you are eating crunchy nut and coco pops without my help. You are eating marmite on toast, and requesting snacks at every given moment. The years are short.
Instead of cooing and gurgling, you are chattering away about Thomas the tank engine and Lego and anything else that captures your imagination. When I tell you that I love you, it is almost always responded with a “I love you too, Mummy.” I could cry every single time that you tell me you love me. My heart is full with so much love, that I could float up to heaven. The years are short.
Instead of trying to crawl away from me and finding everything else more interesting, you request cuddles from me. You throw your arms around my neck and give me the biggest hug in the world. Nothing can touch us in that moment. We are one again. The years are short.
When you’re poorly now, you can tell me where it hurts. My cuddles soothe you and you can sit and love on me until you feel better. You’re so brave. You give me strength.
I secretly love it when you creep into my arms in the middle of the night. I know I should put you back into your bed, but nothing beats sleepy cuddles with you. Just five more minutes.
I adore it when you start the day with a; “Morning, Mummy! Did you have a nice sleep? Can I have a cuddle and some breakfast?” You make my heart sing. The years are short.
And now you are three. I can’t wait to see what the days have in store for us until you’re four. You are my angel, my life and my world. I love you more than anyone could love anything else. Thank you for being you.
Forever and always,
Your Mummy xxx