Zephyr’s Sixth Birthday Letter, Five Months Later

I wrote this letter back in April, but never found the time to go back and reread it before posting. Hooray for Labor Day's gift of time!

April 7, 2010

Dear Zephyr,

Once again, I am astounded by the passage of time. I remember walking through the grocery store with you when you were a few weeks. We saw another couple with a nine-month-old. Their baby seemed impossibly grown up to me. I had this inexplicable certainty that they, like everyone else with an older child, were jealous of us with our newborn. Now, I am ever grateful NOT to have a newborn, and I can only credit my bizarre and unjustified thoughts of superiority to sleep deprivation and the advent of fierce maternal adoration. You were a beautiful squirming ball of love like I had never known before. You still are, come to think of it.

Zephyr, although you are still the same person I held in my arms six year ago, you have grown into quite a competent person. You enjoy doing things for yourself, like getting into and out of your carseat, gathering and assembling all necessary ingredients for some simple meals, like cereal and sandwiches, and making your bed.

Back up a minute…did I just write the words "your bed?" I did! Just six weeks ago, I remember thinking, "You know those families who kiss their kids good night, turn out the light, and their children fall asleep on their own? How do we sign up for that?" The sign-up sheet, as it turns out, was at the furniture store. A well-spent $200 later, and you and Jubilee are sleeping peacefully from 9pm-6am in your bunkbeds, in your own room. I smile when I see you lying on your bed in the middle of the day, reading a book. I realize that this is the first time you've really had your very own space. You are particular about who you will allow on your bed, and what types of activities they can perform there. You make your bed every morning and, in stark contrast to your sister, limit the number of items you bring to your bed in order to maintain a sleeping space that is agreeable to you. (I first wanted to call your space peaceful, but hesitated, as you enjoy sleeping with at least one weapon at hand.)

Although you can get excited and interested in almost anything, the activities you love most right now are putting together Legos (Star Wars Legos, specifically,) TaeKwonDo, playing card games, and seeing your friend Grady. (And although you probably just think of Fionna as Grady's older sister, you two have undeniably formed your own friendship, and enjoy playing together quite a bit as well.) You enjoy useful gadgets: for your sixth birthday, you asked Dada and I for a multitool, and we were happy to comply. And- I love this- you will drop whatever you are doing to come close when you hear a book being read aloud.

I marvel at how grown-up you seem sometimes. Sometimes, you serve as my voice of reason: "We don't want to eat at Village Inn, Mama. It made our tummies hurt last time" or "Why is only one of your hands on the wheel, Mama?" You are able to express some difficult emotions, "I don't like it when you rush me! Why are we in such a hurry!?!" You can show maturity in the face of disappointment, like when I wouldn't let you have a soda at a fundraiser last week, and you seemed to actually hear and accept my explanation that although you can drink all the soda you want when you grow up, now that you're a kid, I'm trying to avoid accustoming you to certain consumables. You are often willing to help with your little sister, whether it's buckling her into her carseat, cheering her when she's crying, or holding her hand when she crosses the street.

And although I enjoy who you are becoming as a grown-up kid, there are inherent new challenges. I'd love for this letter to be all sunshine and roses, but I'd be remiss if I didn't mention some trying personality characteristics that have started to surface. You, at times, now speak to us with an attitude. Many times your criticism will have some type of literal edge to it, and I know where you get that from. Also, I've come to the realization that your intense bursts of anger are not something you're going to outgrow, as I had hoped. Dada and I have been talking about how to help you learn productive ways of coping with these strong emotions which seem to surface at times of frustration. You are an Aries, so I think it's built-in. We both fear, however, that your quick and volatile temper could cost you dearly if you don't learn how to harness it. At 36, I'm still figuring out how to lighten up and let things go. I hope you will learn that much sooner than me.

There are moments when you are my little guy who still needs me. For instance, one night you called me into your room. Jubilee was snoring in the bottom bunk, and although your intellect told you the noise was harmless, your brain wouldn't turn off the scary stories inspired by the gentle growling from below. You can still be coaxed into cuddling in my lap, and you will usually accept comfort from me when you're in tears of sadness, frustration, or anger.

Zephyr, being your mother is an honor, joy, and privilege. Thank you.

Love you forever,

Mommy