On my birthday each year when I was a little girl, my mom would always say the same thing. "(X) years ago today, I was in the hospital, waiting for you to be born..." she'd start. And I'd hear about the hot July night when I made my entrance into the world.
Oh, heck, she still does it, and I'm 33 years old! But I still love it. It's warm and familiar and comforting. It makes me feel loved to hear my mama tell me that story every year on my birthday.
And now I'm doing it for William. Yesterday morning when I went into his room to get him out of his crib, I kissed him and said, "Two years ago this morning, I was holding you in my arms for the first time, and you were brand new and tiny, with these big blue eyes and these tiny perfect little fingernails..."
William's so different now from that tiny little baby that it's hard to believe he's the same person. The quick temper's the same, and the blue eyes, of course, but not much else. He's even different than he was a year ago, on his first birthday.
April 22, 2006: William David Wyckoff is born at 6:35 a.m. at the Robert E. Bush Naval Medical Center in Twentynine Palms, California.
April 22, 2007: William David Wyckoff cheers on the Los Angeles Angels at Angels Stadium in Anaheim, CA:
April 22, 2008: William David Wyckoff eats yet another cupcake with strawberry ice cream as his mom, dad, Dee Dee, Grandaddy Aaron and Uncle Mark look on:
He's had a busy year. He learned to walk, grew a mouthful of teeth, moved to Tennessee, started "school," started Kindermusik, met lots of new friends, learned to count, learned the ABC song, and learned to really, really talk. Sometimes I look at him and I think, "I just never imagined, when he was a little pink seven pounder lying on my chest in the hospital that morning two years ago, that he'd become this complex little person, running around with his shoes untied and chattering on about doughnuts and choo choo trains." It's just amazing. I feel like I can't even do the feeling justice with my words.
Sometimes I feel this weird dichotomy. I fret that time passes too fast, and he's growing up before I'm ready for him to grow up. Then I think, "Okay, he's only two years old. It's way too early to get nostalgic like this! He hasn't even started kindergarten yet." And I remember those long nights when I was nursing off and on all night long, only to have to get up when the sun rose and nurse off and on all day, too. And I think, "Oh, I don't miss that." Not that I love the temper tantrums of a two-year-old, but it's also nice to have William actually be able to tell me that he would like a banana in addition to his strawberries and yoguht, taaannk yuuuu, mama.
Speaking of eating, here's a photo of William eating, circa early May 2006:
And here's a photo of him eating yesterday:
Notice that he got his beloved "cheeburger and fire fries" for his birthday lunch.
It's been a good year, William Bear! Let's have another, okay, sweetie pie?