Happy Birthday, Zephyr! Love, Mommy

April 7, 2009

Dear, Dear, Dear Zephyr,

You surprised me last night by breaking down into tearful collapse because I denied your request to nurse. It has been many months since you weaned, and most days you do playfully ask to nurse, but take it in easy stride when I remind you that you're weaned. Sometimes you fabricate a story about a supposed "unweaning party" that happened when I wasn't looking to help advance your cause, but it's all in good fun. Last night, however, you were nearly inconsolable. "Why do you want to nurse?" I asked. "Because it's yummy!" you wept. I held you and tried several distractions, and finally, one worked. "I can think of two new things you did today," I began. "Do you know what they were?" You racked your brain and came up with a few more than the two I had thought of, which were breaking a board with a roundkick and using mounting squares to paste pictures into a photobook. "Let's play this game again," you emphatically insisted. I agreed that we should play it at the end of every day, and I hope we will.

Zephyr, you're five! As always, I can't believe it. When you were born, five seemed so old. If someone had asked me to imagine what being the parent of a five year old would be like, I probably would have said that by then, much of the newness, wonder, and intensity would probably have worn off. I would have imagined myself eager to send my five-year-old to kindergarten, ready to leave the constant entertaining and responsibility to someone else.

But I would have been wrong. Of course there is still the newness. I've never had a five year old before! Wonder? Why, you're still doing new things every single day, because you are curious, active, and alive, and watching you make your discoveries is one of the greatest joys I've ever known. And as far as intensity goes- you are still my heart. When you come to me for an unbidden hug and we cling to each other, cheek to cheek, chest to chest, I experience a kind of indescribably, sighing contentment. I guess you really will always be my baby.

Two highlights of this year happened about a month ago, on the same day! You got your first major haircut, and we acquired a new family member- our dog, Maisy. While you're crazy about Maisy, saying, "Goodbye, I love you," when we leave her, hugging her as soon as you get home, and feeding her every morning, you are still trying to get used to your new haircut. While you will admit that it's nice not having the wind blow your hair in your eyes this year, you seem to feel vulnerable with your ears exposed.

Another fun time this year was traveling to upstate NY to visit with our extended family. You really loved building snowpeople, having snowball fights, and playing with grandparents, cousins, your aunt, and your uncle. I wish we could give you more times like that, but for now, the sweet memory of that trip will have to suffice.

You still love your baby sister fiercely, but every day there are moments of sibling rivalry that I know are just the beginning. It seems like more often than not, suddenly you both "need" the same toy, same book, same chair. Yet, the other day at the park, when you felt like someone had wronged her, you went to punch him in the face. I love listening to the conversations the two of you have. For instance, this morning when you woke up, we told you about Jubilee's first words upon awakening this morning, which we assume were inspired by a dream, "I got run over by a car." You looked at her. "Was it scary, getting run over by a car?" "No," she answered. You thought for a minute. "Maybe you had a steel body, so it didn't hurt." "I was lying down," she answered. And here is yesterday morning's first conversation:

Z: Jubi?

J: (long pause) Yeah?

Z: Do you want to go to a candy store and buy eleven pieces of candy?

J: Yeah.

Z: Okay. We'll have to take our wallets, though. And our pennies.

Me: If you have eleven pieces of candy, how many can you each eat?

Z: (Puts up ten fingers, and slides one foot out from under the sheets.) On the first day we can each have one, then the next, and the next, and the next, then the next. (Folding fingers down as each day passes.) Then on this day (grasping toe,) we'd have to break it in half.

This year you have become especially interested in nonfiction books. You still enjoy stories, but you have so much curiosity about everything in the world, and how it works. At bedtime last week, you asked, "Why does it take so long for the earth to go around the sun?" I was tired, so I asked what you thought. "So everyone has enough time to play, get strength, and sleep." Makes sense to me.

As expected, you are more independent than ever. You enjoy serving yourself cereal, buckling yourself into your carseat, pouring your own drinks, and being the "Zephyr courier service," running things back and forth from our house to Carrie's. Right now, it's the things I still get to do for you that are precious to me- picking out your clothes and helping you get dressed, reading to you, turning on lights. Although I know you could do these things yourself, I find myself hanging onto opportunities to "Mommy" you, the same way that I relish the words you still mispronounce- like "extroy" for destroy, "fridglatalater," for refrigerator, and your surprising disregard of which meal is breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I also love that most nights, you want to match pajamas with me. As the years go on, I will continue to let go a little bit at a time, but now you are still "so much mine."

Zephyr, I will always be here for you, trying to guide you the best way I know how. Thank you so much for teaching me how to be your Mommy. I am a different person because of you, full of wonder, newness, and intensity.

More love than you can imagine,

Mommy