Now, a day off from work means waking up at 5AM. And usually it means a day of just you and me together.
And when we cuddle in bed at an impossibly early hour, before the sun even has the energy to come out, and as you drink your milk and it drips down your chin, I don't miss those late mornings. I don't miss one book. Your sloppy milk kisses and your feet in my face are the most perfect part of my morning.
And when I wrestle you to get your shirt over your head, and pull it over your round belly as you screech and squeal with the enjoyment of our getting dressed game, I can't even remember what it was like to have a quiet morning to myself. And I love that its a distant memory, as we share memories that will last forever and ever in my mind...
And when we venture out in the morning, and you doze in the car, your red, full lips open enough for your tongue and a string of drool to pool onto your shirt, I can't remember a sight more beautiful on any hike. No tree, no flower, no blue, cloudless sky compares to the crusted drool and runny nose masterpiece your perfect little face is to me.
And when you wake up, grumpy and groggy, your little face purple with the rage of demanding juice, your bagel, your impatient demand to have everything, all at once, I don't miss those quiet, sleepy mornings filled with my own wishes and desires. You are all the wish and dreams I could ever want to tear through my days of silence and solitude.
And when you reach for my coffee, trying to drink it only because its mine, only because you want to be a part of everything I do, I share tiny sips with you. And your face scrunches up at the bitter taste. and I wonder how I ever could have enjoyed coffee so much without you on my lap, demanding every sip that I take.
And when we walk down the street, hand on hand, your tiny little body jumping and dancing with each step, I remember the fast, long strides I used to take. Never stopping, never slowing down. Where was I going? I love taking 10, 15, 20 minutes to walk down a street with you. Saying hi to every flower, every bird, every dog. And again you remind me that there is no where else to be but right here. Face to face with a flower, a leaf, a tree. Everyone who passes you stops in their paths to smile and stare at the joyous, moppy haired little boy I have been blessed to hold hands with. To share my world with.
I used to be alone with my thoughts. Now, every minute, I don't even have a moment to think. Every moment is filled with you singing loudly. songs I don't even know, but they are so pretty. And when you aren't singing, you are telling me things. I don't always know what you are saying, but I stop and listen to every word.
And you show me things I always knew existed, but never knew they existed to you. Pointing to things. On the ground. In the sky. In front of us. The world I was so used to. Taking on the new shapes, colors, and forms that you see. How beautiful your world is, Cailen.
You fill my day with your sticky yogurt kisses. Your mad little foot stomps. Your new little words. Your deep belly laughs. Your hands full of rocks, pebbles, and leaves. Your hair matted with sweat and dirt that seems to attach itself to little boys in such unique ways.
How did I go through my day alone, and not marvel at the airplanes in the sky, the little dogs that passed by me on the street, the big trucks that lumbered past?
Cailen, there are no words to how rich, how full, how amazing you have made my life. Before you, I only had my sight. My thoughts. My words. My experiences.
Thank you for coming in and stomping all over my life with your happy little Cailen being.
I love you so, so, so very much, my beautiful, wonderful baby bear.
And when we cuddle in bed at an impossibly early hour, before the sun even has the energy to come out, and as you drink your milk and it drips down your chin, I don't miss those late mornings. I don't miss one book. Your sloppy milk kisses and your feet in my face are the most perfect part of my morning.
And when I wrestle you to get your shirt over your head, and pull it over your round belly as you screech and squeal with the enjoyment of our getting dressed game, I can't even remember what it was like to have a quiet morning to myself. And I love that its a distant memory, as we share memories that will last forever and ever in my mind...
And when we venture out in the morning, and you doze in the car, your red, full lips open enough for your tongue and a string of drool to pool onto your shirt, I can't remember a sight more beautiful on any hike. No tree, no flower, no blue, cloudless sky compares to the crusted drool and runny nose masterpiece your perfect little face is to me.
And when you wake up, grumpy and groggy, your little face purple with the rage of demanding juice, your bagel, your impatient demand to have everything, all at once, I don't miss those quiet, sleepy mornings filled with my own wishes and desires. You are all the wish and dreams I could ever want to tear through my days of silence and solitude.
And when you reach for my coffee, trying to drink it only because its mine, only because you want to be a part of everything I do, I share tiny sips with you. And your face scrunches up at the bitter taste. and I wonder how I ever could have enjoyed coffee so much without you on my lap, demanding every sip that I take.
And when we walk down the street, hand on hand, your tiny little body jumping and dancing with each step, I remember the fast, long strides I used to take. Never stopping, never slowing down. Where was I going? I love taking 10, 15, 20 minutes to walk down a street with you. Saying hi to every flower, every bird, every dog. And again you remind me that there is no where else to be but right here. Face to face with a flower, a leaf, a tree. Everyone who passes you stops in their paths to smile and stare at the joyous, moppy haired little boy I have been blessed to hold hands with. To share my world with.
I used to be alone with my thoughts. Now, every minute, I don't even have a moment to think. Every moment is filled with you singing loudly. songs I don't even know, but they are so pretty. And when you aren't singing, you are telling me things. I don't always know what you are saying, but I stop and listen to every word.
And you show me things I always knew existed, but never knew they existed to you. Pointing to things. On the ground. In the sky. In front of us. The world I was so used to. Taking on the new shapes, colors, and forms that you see. How beautiful your world is, Cailen.
You fill my day with your sticky yogurt kisses. Your mad little foot stomps. Your new little words. Your deep belly laughs. Your hands full of rocks, pebbles, and leaves. Your hair matted with sweat and dirt that seems to attach itself to little boys in such unique ways.
How did I go through my day alone, and not marvel at the airplanes in the sky, the little dogs that passed by me on the street, the big trucks that lumbered past?
Cailen, there are no words to how rich, how full, how amazing you have made my life. Before you, I only had my sight. My thoughts. My words. My experiences.
Thank you for coming in and stomping all over my life with your happy little Cailen being.
I love you so, so, so very much, my beautiful, wonderful baby bear.
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