Birthday Boy

The long-awaited, much-anticipated day has arrived – today is Tyler’s 4^th birthday. Gone are the days of his blissful ignorance about the occasion, where all he did was show up and look cute, make a mess of a piece of cake and rip some paper. Now he is fully, completely, and almost painfully aware of his birthday and what it entails – a party, decorations, cake, presents. Especially presents. And waiting for all of that fun stuff to finally happen has been an almost-four-year-old’s version of torture. But as of this morning – no more torture, just joy.

I think I enjoy his birthday almost as much as he does. How could I not, seeing him so happy? But for me his birthdays can’t help but be bittersweet, because with each year that passes, he grows up, and grows just a little bit farther away from me. Of course, that’s what kids do. I know that, we all know that. And if you’re a good and responsible and loving parent, that’s exactly what you want to have happen – you want your child to grow and develop and become an independent person, able to take care of himself in the big wide world. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less when you see it happening before your very eyes.

For those of you who haven’t gotten to witness it every day like I have, here’s a quick recap –

That's Tyler on his birth day, in the literal sense. I went into labor at about 2:00 a.m. on October 4. I was admitted to the hospital just before midnight on October 6. He was born at 7:25 p.m. on October 7. He weighed 9 lbs., 13 oz. To say it was a long and difficult labor would be putting it mildly. To say it was all worth it would be an understatement. Carrying and delivering a baby was quite simply the most amazing thing I've ever done.

One year old. That would be the aforementioned piece of cake he made a mess of. I should scan a picture of me with chocolate cake on my face on my first birthday....I think you'd see a resemblance.

Two years old. All boy. We did a construction theme for his birthday party, and every single gift he received had wheels.

Three years old. The boy who's lived his whole life in the suburbs of Seattle wanted a John Deere tractor party, so that's what he got.

And here he is today, four years old.

As clichéd as it sounds, I can’t believe how grown up he is. And I’m amazingly proud of all that he has become, all that he’s learned and become capable of doing in just four years. He’s got a vocabulary well beyond his years (I’m guessing not many 4-year-olds understand and use words like “spelunking” and “antibodies” and “magma,” nor do they name their goldfish Phobos and Deimos after the moons of Mars). That little baby that once couldn’t even roll over, let alone crawl, can now run, jump and climb like a monkey. He’s got a vivid imagination, a penchant for singing and telling stories and a terrific sense of humor. He’s also a talented designer and engineer. Put those talents together and you get some pretty amazing adventures with Lego creations, which entertain me to no end.

But for my own selfish reasons, I’m choosing on this occasion to focus on the ways in which he’s still just a little boy. His blankie and his left thumb, which he still sucks. His collection of stuffed animals that he loves to snuggle with. The angelic look about him when he’s sleeping. I just happened to get a picture the other day that captures all of these.

Happy Birthday, my sweet boy. I love you.