Now we're back home, and as I freak out and struggle over what we should do all day for his Happy Birthday, I can't help but remember so much from the last 3 years. Like when he was a baby, and he was the chunkiest baby in the history of ever. Seriously! Look! I can prove it!
See? Chunky monkey, right?
Or how when he first started crawling, he did this weird crab walk thing, where he would crawl on his hands with one foot flat on the ground, and the other knee bent in a normal crawl position. It was weird, and awesome.
I remember the first time he noticed a plane, and how it seemed to change his life. Or when he first learned to say "Epicoctor" which in The Jedi language means Helicopter.
I remember Christmas, the year he fell in love with Star Wars. I bought him a new Star Wars DVD, and when he opened it, he literally gasped. I didn't think people did that in real life. He screeched that he "Golla Sar Warz!" which of course meant he got a Star Wars.
I remember potty training him. And when he learned to walk. I remember so many things. The way he smelled when he was a baby. The way he smells now when he wakes up from a heavy sleep, and is still all covered in dreams.
He's three today. He loves bananas and Star Wars and lightsaber fights and crawling into my bed at 3 a.m. He loves to see helicopters in the sky, hearing the ice cream truck, and picking his sister up from school. That boy loves his sister.
I don't know how I got so blessed, and with all the stress and the struggle and the temper tantrums and the time outs and boxes of wine these kids have given me, I wouldn't trade it for all the tea in China, for all the stars in the sky, or for any other life in the world.
Happy Birthday, buddy. You changed my life and you completed our little family. Mommy loves you bigger than anyone.