Monday, April 1, 2013

My Baby's Birthday

On Saturday my baby turned four years old. FOUR YEARS OLD! Saturday night I held Drew on my lap and told him I will always be thankful to Heavenly Father for sending me Drew as my baby. Drew quickly quipped, "I'm not a baby. I'm FOUR."

There's something about Drew that is different than all the rest. I'm not sure if it is his personality, or his last place position in the family birth order, that has endeared him to each of us. It isn't that we love Drew anymore than the other children, but Mike and I did lay in bed on Saturday night trying hard to put into words what it is about Drew that seems so different than the rest. I think this is why: 

A mother's body remembers her babies--the folds of soft flesh, the softly furred scalp against her nose. Each child has its own entreaties to body and soul. It's the last one, though, that overtakes you. I can't dare say I loved the others less, but my first three were all babies at once, and motherhood dismayed me entirely...
But the last one: the baby who trails her scent like a flag of surrender through your life when there will be no more coming after--oh, that's love by a different name. She is the babe you hold in your arms for an hour after she's gone to sleep. If you put her down in the crib, she might wake up changed and fly away. So instead you rock by the window, drinking the light from her skin, breathing her exhaled dreams. Your heart bays to the double crescent moons of closed lashes on her cheeks. She's the one you can't put down."
~Barbara Kingsolver

The quote is from the book, The Poisonwood Bible. (Which incidentally happens to be among the most boring books I've ever read.)

Drew had a simple birthday. I threw out all the motherhood guilt of him being my only 4 year old that wasn't having a friend/themed party, and the fact I wasn't making him an actual "Curious George" cake as he initially requested.

Drew gets to fall asleep in our bed each night (so he and Joshua don't get too wild together), and each night Mike and I gaze at him a little longer than we ever would have done with babies one through four. And when it is my turn to carry Drew down the hall to his bed, I hold him longer than I ever would have held any of the others. There are definite trade-offs to getting themed parties as the other children did.

Instead of a party, we went to the zoo. Drew was convinced the over-active animals at the zoo (a roaring tiger,  swinging monkeys and even an elephant that did balancing tricks!) were celebrating his birthday with him, and was frequently heard to say such things as, "I think the tiger is saying 'Happy Birthday' to me."

The anticipation of his non-birthday party was high, and resulted in an emergency text sent to the two party attendees (Nana and Grandpa) stating to come sooner than the previously arranged time, as Drew couldn't really wait any longer.

Drew is definitely a quirky child. He thinks the tiger at the zoo wished him a happy birthday and he's convinced the monkeys on his cake sang to him. But like I told Drew on Saturday night, I'm so happy to be his mother. I love him.

(Well worth 32 seconds of your time.)


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