You sir are 10.

Dear Miles,

Every year I write a letter on your birthday. Every year I tell myself to make notes so I can go back and not try to remember every little detail from the last 365 days. I never do. So, then I sit, after your fast asleep, staring at my computer screen. Thinking. Typing. Remembering. Thinking some more. Trying to type but my fingers are laughing at me. 

This letter… it’s tough. There’s a lump in my throat that has been there for days. You sir are 10. T-E-N. TEN. 1-0. ONE-ZERO. You’ve graduated from single digits. You’re a decade old. Slow down son… seriously, I’m not joking.

Last night you went to bed with a grin on your face. You have been waiting for this milestone for weeks. Even your sister knew where we were on the countdown. She even said in her dreams last night “Miles is 10”—she was sound asleep. Clearly, she couldn’t wait either.

My heart is truly filled with excitement but just thinking about how much time has already passed leaves me breathless. Not because I’m sad, but because I’m so proud of who you’ve become and who I see you becoming. I had no idea what life would be like with you, but I’m so thankful we were blessed with the opportunity to find out. 

You made me a mom and your dad a dad. You are and will always be our first baby. And, because you are our first, you remind us every day that we are in unchartered waters and that there are times we’re going to need to tack our sails. Some days we’ll get it right but often we don’t. 

Miles, you have shown us how to see the world from a different perspective. At first it was at the ground level, then knee height, and soon I’ll be viewing the world from a higher “spot.” It’s because of you (and your sister) that we’re reminded how different the world looks when you change your perspective. You just have to get up, move and open your eyes to the view. 

There are also days that you remind me what patience means and that it’s not always an easy practice. We often joke that you’re like the Hulk when you’re tired. You have this strength and energy that comes out of nowhere. But then you’re like Bruce Banner—quiet, thoughtful, and a bit awkward at times (always in a good way). At times I feel as though I’m looking in a mirror and I see (and hear) some of the same tactics I unsuccessfully tried to use on your grandparents—no wonder I drove Papa crazy. 

Everything aside, I love you and I want you to know how much I love to watch you. I love watching you dribble the soccer ball up and down the field and especially when you try to fancy-foot your dad. I love watching you on the baseball diamond and seeing your confidence increase every year. My heart starts thumping the minute you walk onto the field and doesn’t stop until the end of the game. You have a natural instinct when it comes to how to turn plays and I’m mesmerized by your abilities. I love watching you swim—for so long you would sink but now you can swim the length of the pool.  

I love watching you try new things. Seeing you ski for one of the first times this past winter was inspiring. You didn’t hesitate and your determination to do it was written all over your face. You weren’t worried about failing… you knew that if you fell, you could get back up and you did. Over and over again. 

I love your smile. I love how it lights up your entire face. When you smile, the room smiles. I love every teeny tiny freckle that covers your nose and cheeks. I love your crazy hair and that you refuse to do a buzz cut like so many of your friends. Even though I often think you tend to follow, it’s the little things you do that remind me that you step up to lead when you’re needed. Above all, I love when you and your sister start laughing and can’t stop (unless it’s bedtime, then … just go to bed ;))

Little man, you are one of my greatest blessings. You are not perfect, but we are not perfect. But together, we have the perfect family. 

Miles, you are my sunshine. Happy birthday, baby boy!   

Love, 
Mom(my)