One last year?

Dear Liam,
It's almost Christmas. Just three more days of school after today, and then your winter break will begin. You had a two hour late start this morning, just because it was pretty cold outside. I know that you're really looking forward to break this year. I wish that I could spend the entire break with you, and that I didn't have to work for much of it, but that's just the way my job is. I will spend as much of it as I can working at home, rather than dragging you to work with me.

Your Christmas list changed numerous times this year, so it was hard to know what to buy for you, for Christmas and your birthday, which of course is so soon afterwards. The fact that you'll be eight in just 2 weeks is completely crazy to me. You are getting so big, so quickly, and I just don't know how/when that happened. Yesterday, you didn't want to come see a live animal show (with a real reindeer!) with Libby and I. You wanted to stay home and watch football. A few months ago, you never would have turned down an animal show. It makes me sad but happy at the same time. You're growing up and becoming your own person.

I don't really know what you think about Santa this year. I didn't think you doubted him at all in the past, but after Christmas last year, you told me, "Mommy, back when I was little, I used to think that you and Daddy were Santa. But, now I know that I was wrong." This year? I just don't know. You wrote numerous letters to him, and you were excited to sit on his lap and tell him what you wanted. But is it a show you're putting on for me? I have a feeling it may be, but I don't know for sure. I do know, however, that this is probably the last year that you will even continue to pretend. I just hope that you'll continue to help make the season magical for your sister, who looks up to you for so many reasons.

I read this article today, and I admit that I cried at work. The boy in the article is older than you, but I could see you in my mind while I read it. I love you, sweet boy.

My Darling Dubious Firstborn,
You may have figured out that Santa is not watching you. But I am. I’ve had my eye on you since you first caught sight of the stockings sticking out of one of the boxes we hauled down from the attic; skeptically surveying them as we set them by the mantle.
I saw you at the Christmas parade, steely and removed in your chair, never once allowing a smile or look of amazement to cross your face. You have uncovered the secrets of this game, and you are not about to play along for One. More. Minute. You have not come right out and said it, but I, my dear, can feel it. The jig is up.
While it is heartbreaking in many ways to see you cross the threshold into the realm of the non-believers; I am comforted remembering our Christmases together.
Nine years chock-full o’ Christmas magic. We did not happen upon this place without intention. No, our journey has been full of purpose and tradition. Hopeful letters written, red-velvety laps sat in, cookies carefully decorated and placed by fireplaces, carrots divided amongst nine little buckets on lawns—reward for the long journey to your rooftop, and nine wondrous Christmas Eve’s with dreamy wishes swirling through your sleepy head (half listening for the sound of faint bells and click-clack hooves overhead)—experiences marking the years we’ve traveled to get here.
To your 10th Christmas; where you don’t hear the bell anymore.
Though I am fighting the lump of nostalgia that keeps creeping into my throat, I’ve known it was coming. There have been signs. Three times last month I found Tangerine, your beloved stuffed orangutan, on the foot of your bed, instead of cozied up by your pillow.
And there was no asking about elves this year. Usually, you can’t wait for your elf to arrive and begin his month-long reign of all things silly, in various locations throughout the house. But not this year.
The first morning your prized elf showed up with a cheeky grin and an acrobatic stance on the advent calendar, you didn’t even break stride or acknowledge he was there. Ignoring his twinkling expression completely, you reached deadpanned past him to retrieve your backpack and jacket, a signal that you wanted to head out the door…to fourth grade…where you have grown into a big kid, in what feels like a minute.
You are growing up so fast, and I’ve never wanted to put you on pause. Every year brings a new version of you, and I have loved them all. But with each new rendering, I am bidding farewell to a younger, more innocent boy. So if I stare at you longer than usual, or squeeze you extra tight, it is because I am memorizing the you, you are now; before I say goodbye.
I have done this in a million invisible ways and tiny moments over the years—said goodbye to all the little yous.
Like the first time you ran off enthusiastically through the door to your preschool class, not turning back for a last kiss or hug.
Or the time you learned to put your shoes on by yourself and never needed me to strap or tie them for you again.
The first time I let go of your two wheel bike and you didn’t wobble or fall, but instead confidently rode off on the path, shouting out, “I’m doing it myself!” over and over in surprise.
When you figured out you preferred showers over baths, never sinking into bubbles or diving underwater with rubber duckies again; me on the side of the tub carefully rinsing the shampoo from your shiny, soft, little-boy-curls.
Or when you told me not to buy you snug fitting pajamas anymore, especially with things like Santa or reindeer on them. Snarky sayings or baseballs are fine—but no snowmen!
And just last year, you said, “Mom, I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but I don’t really want you to read to me before bed anymore. I just prefer to read to myself. I hope that’s OK?” (And of course it was, is OK, but I still had to take a minute and wash some dishes so you wouldn’t see me shed a few tears.)
You are doing what you are supposed to do. Growing up. Every time you change and let a part of yourself go, it is making room for something new and wonderful to bloom.
But I know that this moment, this reluctant last year with Santa, is the gateway to a letting go of all the magical experiences that will now be relegated to a younger you. We are leaving the place of Easter eggs, tooth fairies, and leprechauns. I know that we are turning a corner on your childhood and never coming back here again.
But with great knowledge comes great responsibility, and you my dear are now a magic-keeper for your little brother, and maybe your one-day children. You don’t know this yet, but you will get to visit this place again; through different eyes, but no less full of wonder. As I have with you.
Watching you watch Christmas unfold, through the eyes of a skeptical 9-year-old, is taking its toll on me. But I can’t help hoping that somewhere under your aloof exterior is a smaller, skinnier, more bouncy version of yourself, who will serve as your memory keeper.
A placeholder to a time in your life, when you left cookies for a man you believed flew all the way around the world just to grant your most important wishes. When you wrote heartfelt letters to a bearded stranger in a red coat to bring your “petrified baby dragon” to life.
When you darted down the stairs out of breath to survey the scene under the tree at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, and could barely get the words out fast enough to explain your joy. When exuberance and wonder filled you up, every December.
I hope that one day, when you are tucking in your own child on Christmas Eve, or stringing lights on a tree with a loved one, that you are reminded of the wide-eyed, younger you, bundled up in snug, snowman pjs, looking into a starry night sky, waiting for any sign of Santa.
I love you with all my heart, all of the yous I’ve met so far, and all of the versions yet to come.
Merry Christmas Always,
Mom
P.S. I will wait for you to tell me, when you are ready, that you don’t believe. I am honored to continue this journey with you, even if Santa will not be coming with us.


I love you, Liam.
Love,
Mommy

Riding your bike!

Dear Liam,
Yesterday, you FINALLY learned to ride your bike! You'd tried and quit numerous times in the past. You get frustrated so quickly and easily when things don't come easy to you, and you just didn't want to practice to get better. This weekend you finally wanted to try again. I told you to push through the fear, to just truly pedal on through it. We took your bike down to your school parking lot... and you got it almost immediately. I always KNEW you would get it! I was so proud of you, and I know that you were really proud of yourself too. We kept practicing for a while, and by the time we left, you really had it. You're still working on getting better at getting started by yourself, but you get it each time after a few tries. Before bed, you made me promise that we would go somewhere each weekend for you to ride your bike, at least until it snows. You got it, buddy.

I was so happy for you to succeed and gain confidence in yourself. You're having a hard time this year, socially, and it's breaking my heart. I just want you to be kind, and for others to be kind to you. You told me that you sat on the buddy bench at school last week, to find different kids to play with, and that just made me so proud. I told you that I thought that that was a very brave thing to do. It takes a lot of courage to walk away from your "friends" who are excluding you, and play with someone else. I just want you to be happy, sweet boy.

I love you, Liam.

Love,
Mommy

Second grade

Dear Liam,
You started second grade earlier this week. Um, what? Excuse me?! You can't possibly be in second grade! I'm not old enough to have a second grader! I swear you've grown even taller over the summer. You're just an amazing little guy, and I know you're going to have a great year. I was a little disappointed for you when I saw the class lists. I really only recognized the name of one other boy in your class. Almost all your friends are all together in one of the other classrooms. You seemed a little sad about it, but not too bad. I think you'll be fine, and you'll make awesome new friends. You'll still get to see your old friends at recess and extended day. I know it will all be okay.

You're playing second season baseball this year for the first time. It's pretty laidback, and the scoreboard isn't even used. It's really just more for fun, and to keep working on your baseball skills. Your friends Duncan and Quincy are both on your team, so I know that you guys are having a great time together. You've already made some great catches and had some great hits. Soccer will start in a few weeks, and I know that you're really looking forward to that too.

This is the first year that it seems like you've really cared about some of the clothes that you're wearing for school. You had to have high top shoes, and tall socks. You also picked out some crazy neon yellow UnderArmour sneakers. You definitely like your shiny basketball shorts more than your others. I used to just lay out your clothes each night for the next day, but now you sometimes will change out some of the clothes for something else if you didn't like what I picked.

You are really becoming your own person, and it's amazing to see. I love seeing you grow and change every day. I love you so much.

Love,
Mommy

Last day of school!

Dear Liam,
Today is the last day of first grade. I can hardly believe it! You've had such a great year. You have become such a good reader- it's rare you ever even hesitate to sound out a word anymore. You are great at math, and I know that you also really love science. It's been so amazing to watch you grow and learn this year.

Baseball is going really well. You got the game ball a few days ago, after a great game with some really good hits. I'm so proud of you, for how hard you try and for how well you know the game.

You'll start camp at the Y again next week. You are going to have so much fun again. Last year, you cried numerous times during the last week of school. I think it was because you loved your teacher so much, but also because you were unsure about what camp would be like. This year, you know the drill... there have been no tears at all. You're confident and ready to go to camp.

I love you so much, sweet boy.

Love,
Mommy

Almost done with first grade!

Dear Liam,
I can hardly even believe it, but you're almost done with first grade! Just another month and a half, and the school year will be over. You are doing really well in school this year. You are a great reader, and you amaze me with the way you are able to grasp math concepts.

We did have a rough night a couple weeks ago. You did something pretty bad at school, and we really punished you for the first time. You and two of your friends were making fun of one of the girls in your class, which just broke my heart. I was so disappointed in your behavior. You lost the iPad for a whole week. I have to say, it was actually a really nice week. Very few arguments, no delaying things I asked you to do, and you fell asleep quite early on the couch almost every night. Obviously, your body needs sleep, and it's easier to fall asleep when you haven't been looking at a screen for hours on end. We are now limiting the amount of time you use it each day, and it has to be turned off at 7. We will definitely continue to do this.

Baseball has started, and you're loving it, as always. You have the same coach you had your first year, which is great. He's a good coach, who helps make the game more enjoyable. I can't wait to see your games this year.

I know that you're already looking forward to Y camp this summer. I hope you enjoy it all summer again, since it is so convenient with it being located so close to home. I'm not ready to have to deal with camps elsewhere in town, and I don't think you're ready for those either.

I love you so much, my sweet boy.

Love,
Mommy