Dear Liam

Dear Liam,

Did you know that you turned two on August 26th?  I’m asking because we really didn’t get to celebrate your birthday the way we had intended to and I’m worried that you might not have realized that day was a special day for you.  We had planned to have a little party.  We were going to invite some of your library story time friends like Megan and Hunter and your cousins in Tulsa.  But then, mommy got offered this job.  In fact, on the very afternoon of your birthday she was on the phone with the president of the college that hired her trying to wiggle a little more money out of them (it didn’t work..just so you know as a future lesson, don’t try to negotiate more money from people who simply don’t have any money to negotiate with…it can be very disheartening for both parties involved). So, yeah, I was sort of busy, stressing about work stuff and really didn’t get to celebrate one of the most important days of my life. The day you were born.

You did get a present.  A Little People Construction site thingy that makes noise and is supposed to build problem solving skills (at least that’s what it said on the front of the box).  But we didn’t wrap it.  Momo and Baba’s present was wrapped but Mommy and Daddy’s wasn’t.  You didn’t even get it on your birthday.  You got it the next day when Dad and I just so happened to need something at Wal-Mart and we figured this would be a good time to get your present eventhough  we weren’t entirely sure what we were going to get you.  I don’t know why but I think I feel guilty about this most of all.  That and the fact that I didn’t stick to my rule of always making your birthday cake from scratch all by myself despite my baking handicap but I already messed that one up last year because Grandma Pat made the cake and I only did the icing.  I was going to fix that this year.  I was going to make you a cake all by myself and it wasn’t going to be some boxed thing neither.  I planned something elaborate. Something bonified.  We’re talking Martha Stewart calibre.  Seriously.  I swear, this will never happend again.  And despite how your birthday may or may not be celebrated, don’t ever think that August 26th isn’t considered one of the most amazing days in the history of our lives because it is.  It’s amazing because you were born on that day and you’re.simple.amazing.

So, you’re putting three word sentences together now.  This morning we were at Eggberts with Baba and you said “eat bacon good”.  You really like bacon.  And you really like eating at Eggberts.  I don’t know how many times I’ve heard you pick up a phone and order “egg” “bacon” and “cracker”.  You’re always so believable when you’re playing with phones, mimicking us grown-ups to a “T”, pausing at just the right moments, inserting “mmm’s” and “yeah’s” in all the appropriate places.  And I love how you love books.  Not just children’s books.  Now that we’ve been staying at Momo’s and Baba’s you’ve been playing in you’re uncle Mitchy’s room, perusing his selection of Penguin Classics.  You seem to favor Tacitus and Machiavelli’s The Prince (your father is a little concerned about the latter choice).

I also love how you appreciate nature.  When we walk to the park you always point out all the dead worms on the ground. Except you call the “hum”.  Somehow we’ve managed to teach you to have such an appreciation for nature that you blow the dead worms kisses.  You also do this with bugs, especially the ones you find crawling on flowers.  Thankfully you never put your mouth to any of the bugs but just sort of kiss the air in front of them. However, you did kiss and hug a tree next to the playground today.

Everybody always remarks on your smile and how happy you always seem to be.  I think it’s contagious because even in my darkest moments I can’t be sad when I’m around you.  It’s just not possible.  Although there is one exception and that’s when you’re sad.  Like the other day when I was rocking you in the rocking chair, singing you a lullaby and all of a sudden you just looked at me with tears in your eyes and put your head on my shoulder.  You cried but you didn’t make any noise. So I started crying and we both just sat there in the rocking chair crying until you sat up, smiled and used your sleeve to wipe my eyes.  I kid you not, you really did that.  You turned two and acquired an awareness for life kiddo.  You know something big and sad is going on.  Something big and sad is going on.  We’re moving away from the only home you’ve ever known.  I haven’t taken you back to the house since we moved all our belongings out because I’m afraid it will be too traumatic for you.  I thought about taking you back to the park up the road from our house just for old times sake, one last time before we leave, but I think that would just be cruel and confusing for you.  I’m not sure there’s anyway we can explain to you what’s going on, despite you’re three word sentence structure and the solid critical thinking skills (ok, I know I’m you’re mom and all mom’s say this about their kids but really, you’re way smart).  I do know, however, that where ever you are you’re always going to be surrounded by people who love you.  Moving is an awkward transition.  But just stick close to the people you know first. Get a feel for those people you don’t.  Then just get yourself out there and give everyone that confident “hi” you’ve perfected so well.  Nobody can resist a friendly face, especially one like yours.

The truth is, I think you’re going to love New York.  In fact, we’re moving up there at the most perfect time of the year.  Fall.  Apple picking (which means Nain’s homemade applesauce).  Pumpkin picking.  Fall colors on the trees. I for one have always wanted to live on the east coast during Fall.  It’s going to be awesome.  And just think of all the cousins you’re going to get to know.  Trust me.  I’ve been married to your father for six years and I still don’t know all the names of his aunts, uncles and cousins.  I would feel bad about this but even your Dad has trouble remembering them sometimes.

So, basically, I know things are kinda rough right now but it’s only temporary.  Just think of it as one of many learning experiences you will have in life.  This is going to teach you how well you can adapt to new things when you have to.  And just remember that you’re not the only one learning this in the family right now.  You’re Dad and I are learning it too.  For your sake, we’re going to try to pretend really hard that we actually know what we’re doing but the truth is, we don’t have a clue and we’re bound to goof at some point, in fact, we may have already and just don’t know it yet.  So, let’s just stick together and ride this thing through like an earthquake.