Sweet baby Lou,
I see you beneath those thick dark eyelashes with eyes that don't hold contact for too long with anyone. I see you. I hear you practice over and over again as you lay in bed in the mornings, "mom, mama, mom, mommy, MOMMY, I love you! I LOVE YOU!" You make my heart sing, sweet son. You make my heart sing and soar and want to reach up and pull the stars down for you if only you were to ask or reach for them yourself. I see you. I see the way you dote on different "cat babies," how you call them by name "black cat, pink cat, purple eyes cat, where are you?" I see how you know where you've put everything ten days ago and how upset you get when I clean JUST so I can scrub the floors of any peanut butter jelly goo you've left in your wake.
I love you, I do.
I love each stinky, sticky, sweaty part of you. I love you even when I have to wrestle with you in the bathtub to wash your toes. Toes stained from tiptoeing around the house, doing the autism dance in search of something, anything that can comfort or bring order to the chaos in your mind. I love you even when you don't love yourself because you're so frustrated and annoyed that you just don't have the words. Baby, I'd find those words for you, I would. Because the stars, the sky, the moon, all the planets in all the galaxies... I'd bring them to you if I could. I'd give up my whole life to give you the opportunities your siblings take for granted. I'd do time if I could just backhand every adult who wants you to quiet your voice, quiet your body language.
Don't hold back, sweet love. Even if nothing comes out when you open your mouth, don't stop communicating the best way you can.
Sweetest boy, I hope you know how wrapped around all of our fingers you are. And not just when you're grasping our hand so we can help you play "Lou Charades" in the next room. Your sister loves you so much that you'd think you'd hung the stars and moon yourself. She doesn't know how not to love on you and squeeze you. She knows very little boundaries when it comes to her love for you. I know you get annoyed with so much attention, specifically from her, but she loves you so much. From the second you arrived she wanted to be a little mommy to you when she wasn't annoying you by teasing you with toys and singing right up in your face. I know you, I see you. I see when you run to your big brother's room and act JUST like him. How you like to leap off his couch onto his bed. How you Bogart his recorder and run with it, playing one note LOUD and PROUD! I see you banging on his drums, using different items as drum sticks to see how the sound changes. I can see the sound change just like you do. Reverberating around the set and tickling your bones. I see the colors of loud deep bass drums played with the butt of your bunny rabbit baby. How banging on the cymbal makes you see bright sunny yellows and oranges, and how the cymbals get the greatest reaction out of your "audience." I love when you run into your siblings rooms full tilt screaming at the top of your lungs, "LOGAN, WAKE UP! SISSY, WAKE UP!" How you snuggle Meatwad the cats belly with the top of your hair so he'll nibble on it while you pet his fat gut so gentle, whispering, "Be nice, Meatwad, don't be ugly." And it's only funny to me because five minutes earlier you were riding him like a pony on the back of the couch, whacking him in the noggin with your juice cup. And he took it. That poor cat takes every ounce of attention you give him, even if it's painful or he'll regret it later.
I see how you love us. How you won't eat dinner anymore unless you're in my lap with your left arm wrapped around my neck and your back leaned into me. I know, mama relaxes very similarly when she gets home. I see you scrambling to hold me down as I get ready to walk out the door for work. When I cry out to the sitter to make sure she's awake and on duty and how you'll wrap yourself around my thighs. I see you waiting as patient as you can possibly be when you watch me make eggs. You know the exact moment I'll squat down to your level so you can whisk them together. And you'll whisk, whisk, whisk until they're fluffy and bubbly as I pour them into the egg cooker. I see you throwing away the cheese wrapper of the cheese you already ate and handing me a new cheese like the first one never exist... I'm onto you...
I want you to be able to tell me when you're scared. I want so bad to hear your voice tell me your secrets, good and bad. I want you forever and ever little man as just that, my little man. You are my last, my final chapter. The unexpected encore. I want to be able to cherish every second of your journey, to be in the front row for every word, milestone, accomplishment. I will forever be your cheerleader if you'll let me.
I love you to the moon and back and back again, sweet boy.
Forever your mama.
I see you beneath those thick dark eyelashes with eyes that don't hold contact for too long with anyone. I see you. I hear you practice over and over again as you lay in bed in the mornings, "mom, mama, mom, mommy, MOMMY, I love you! I LOVE YOU!" You make my heart sing, sweet son. You make my heart sing and soar and want to reach up and pull the stars down for you if only you were to ask or reach for them yourself. I see you. I see the way you dote on different "cat babies," how you call them by name "black cat, pink cat, purple eyes cat, where are you?" I see how you know where you've put everything ten days ago and how upset you get when I clean JUST so I can scrub the floors of any peanut butter jelly goo you've left in your wake.
I love you, I do.
I love each stinky, sticky, sweaty part of you. I love you even when I have to wrestle with you in the bathtub to wash your toes. Toes stained from tiptoeing around the house, doing the autism dance in search of something, anything that can comfort or bring order to the chaos in your mind. I love you even when you don't love yourself because you're so frustrated and annoyed that you just don't have the words. Baby, I'd find those words for you, I would. Because the stars, the sky, the moon, all the planets in all the galaxies... I'd bring them to you if I could. I'd give up my whole life to give you the opportunities your siblings take for granted. I'd do time if I could just backhand every adult who wants you to quiet your voice, quiet your body language.
Don't hold back, sweet love. Even if nothing comes out when you open your mouth, don't stop communicating the best way you can.
Sweetest boy, I hope you know how wrapped around all of our fingers you are. And not just when you're grasping our hand so we can help you play "Lou Charades" in the next room. Your sister loves you so much that you'd think you'd hung the stars and moon yourself. She doesn't know how not to love on you and squeeze you. She knows very little boundaries when it comes to her love for you. I know you get annoyed with so much attention, specifically from her, but she loves you so much. From the second you arrived she wanted to be a little mommy to you when she wasn't annoying you by teasing you with toys and singing right up in your face. I know you, I see you. I see when you run to your big brother's room and act JUST like him. How you like to leap off his couch onto his bed. How you Bogart his recorder and run with it, playing one note LOUD and PROUD! I see you banging on his drums, using different items as drum sticks to see how the sound changes. I can see the sound change just like you do. Reverberating around the set and tickling your bones. I see the colors of loud deep bass drums played with the butt of your bunny rabbit baby. How banging on the cymbal makes you see bright sunny yellows and oranges, and how the cymbals get the greatest reaction out of your "audience." I love when you run into your siblings rooms full tilt screaming at the top of your lungs, "LOGAN, WAKE UP! SISSY, WAKE UP!" How you snuggle Meatwad the cats belly with the top of your hair so he'll nibble on it while you pet his fat gut so gentle, whispering, "Be nice, Meatwad, don't be ugly." And it's only funny to me because five minutes earlier you were riding him like a pony on the back of the couch, whacking him in the noggin with your juice cup. And he took it. That poor cat takes every ounce of attention you give him, even if it's painful or he'll regret it later.
I see how you love us. How you won't eat dinner anymore unless you're in my lap with your left arm wrapped around my neck and your back leaned into me. I know, mama relaxes very similarly when she gets home. I see you scrambling to hold me down as I get ready to walk out the door for work. When I cry out to the sitter to make sure she's awake and on duty and how you'll wrap yourself around my thighs. I see you waiting as patient as you can possibly be when you watch me make eggs. You know the exact moment I'll squat down to your level so you can whisk them together. And you'll whisk, whisk, whisk until they're fluffy and bubbly as I pour them into the egg cooker. I see you throwing away the cheese wrapper of the cheese you already ate and handing me a new cheese like the first one never exist... I'm onto you...
I want you to be able to tell me when you're scared. I want so bad to hear your voice tell me your secrets, good and bad. I want you forever and ever little man as just that, my little man. You are my last, my final chapter. The unexpected encore. I want to be able to cherish every second of your journey, to be in the front row for every word, milestone, accomplishment. I will forever be your cheerleader if you'll let me.
I love you to the moon and back and back again, sweet boy.
Forever your mama.
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