It's been a while since I've written you.
You're 11 now and so grown, but so not grown. A big strong boy in an awkward not quite teenager body. You're in between clothing sizes and in between two very complicated stages of your life. I love you to the moon and back and back again, how could I not? You are so loving and care about everyone regardless of whether or not they deserve your love and affection. The way you protect your siblings (again, even if they don't need or want it) is admirable and swoon worthy by every mama of a boy. Your heart is in the right place, even if you think it's damaged beyond repair.
Sometimes, when the tears escape and you can't do it anymore, I just want to hold you tight and rock you like I used to. You want to believe that you're a grown ass adult and I just want to tuck you back inside the shoe box of your childhood and take you back to when you were smaller and the world was a safer place for you.
This year we start the journey of middle school, and I just want you to know that it's going to be ok! I promise! We will survive this together! Some of my best (and also most angst worthy) memories are of middle school. Project adventure, school dances, performances, really cultivating the friendships that will get you through till your final days of High School.
You are so much more than you allow yourself to be, and have worked so hard to gain the acceptance of those who didn't deserve it these past two years. You threw friendships away and pushed away others. You went from being Mr. GQ with your perfectly spiked hair that took longer to put together than your mama's iconic "twist and clip" and your button up shirts to this long haired smothered in a sweatshirt and track pants kid. If you are comfortable, happy and respectful to others (both adults AND children alike), I'll take whatever I can get.
I want you to repeat after me, "I am not my father." You consistently come to me in tears after an outburst or argument telling me how much you worry about becoming him. About how the rage is not you, that to you it sounds like him. That you're ashamed of the rage. I know. Believe me I know. But I also know that 99.9% of the time you are YOU. The sweet, responsible for all living things, little buddy that steals the hearts of everyone I know.
You are the biggest little love of my life. I am so so proud of you, and not just because I built you brick by brick, but because of WHO. YOU. ARE. I couldn't imagine a life without you in it, and for that, I am grateful that your father and I created you with all our hopes and wishes and dreams come true. I want you to know that anything you want in life is yours, but you have to work for it, you have to slow down the way you do when you talk to Will or Lukas. You have to take your time and make sure the work's done right the first time without plowing forward and missing all the scenery. You've always wanted to be the first to do anything and finish any project whether it was walking, running, climbing, smiling, making friends, all of these and more. No matter what you do, I will be proud of you if YOU are happy with your final product because I know that if you're proud, you worked exceptionally hard.
I love you, little big man...
Your Mama
You're 11 now and so grown, but so not grown. A big strong boy in an awkward not quite teenager body. You're in between clothing sizes and in between two very complicated stages of your life. I love you to the moon and back and back again, how could I not? You are so loving and care about everyone regardless of whether or not they deserve your love and affection. The way you protect your siblings (again, even if they don't need or want it) is admirable and swoon worthy by every mama of a boy. Your heart is in the right place, even if you think it's damaged beyond repair.
Sometimes, when the tears escape and you can't do it anymore, I just want to hold you tight and rock you like I used to. You want to believe that you're a grown ass adult and I just want to tuck you back inside the shoe box of your childhood and take you back to when you were smaller and the world was a safer place for you.
This year we start the journey of middle school, and I just want you to know that it's going to be ok! I promise! We will survive this together! Some of my best (and also most angst worthy) memories are of middle school. Project adventure, school dances, performances, really cultivating the friendships that will get you through till your final days of High School.
You are so much more than you allow yourself to be, and have worked so hard to gain the acceptance of those who didn't deserve it these past two years. You threw friendships away and pushed away others. You went from being Mr. GQ with your perfectly spiked hair that took longer to put together than your mama's iconic "twist and clip" and your button up shirts to this long haired smothered in a sweatshirt and track pants kid. If you are comfortable, happy and respectful to others (both adults AND children alike), I'll take whatever I can get.
I want you to repeat after me, "I am not my father." You consistently come to me in tears after an outburst or argument telling me how much you worry about becoming him. About how the rage is not you, that to you it sounds like him. That you're ashamed of the rage. I know. Believe me I know. But I also know that 99.9% of the time you are YOU. The sweet, responsible for all living things, little buddy that steals the hearts of everyone I know.
You are the biggest little love of my life. I am so so proud of you, and not just because I built you brick by brick, but because of WHO. YOU. ARE. I couldn't imagine a life without you in it, and for that, I am grateful that your father and I created you with all our hopes and wishes and dreams come true. I want you to know that anything you want in life is yours, but you have to work for it, you have to slow down the way you do when you talk to Will or Lukas. You have to take your time and make sure the work's done right the first time without plowing forward and missing all the scenery. You've always wanted to be the first to do anything and finish any project whether it was walking, running, climbing, smiling, making friends, all of these and more. No matter what you do, I will be proud of you if YOU are happy with your final product because I know that if you're proud, you worked exceptionally hard.
I love you, little big man...
Your Mama
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