Happy two years my Micah.
Since you came screaming into the world that snowy Michigan afternoon it’s been a passionate exercise in parenting. Every single minute. I feel I may already be half way to velveteen thanks to you.
I am your raggedy, chewed on, strangled with love, burned raw with the heat of your affection and storms of your temper velveteen rabbit mom.
I wouldn’t change a single second.
I love you more than you love your diggers and dirt, my son.
And that’s a lot.
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Happy birthday Micah
(and happy day you were in labor to you, Lisa-Jo!)
(I meant day you gave birth… that’s better to remember than the labor… you caught my drift I hope…)
Ha! Totally, yes. I often think that birthdays are more memorable and important to the mom – at least for the first few years. What memories of that “birth” day they bring back for sure!
Holy Cow. We *are* velveteen moms, aren’t we? Chewed-on and raggedy. Emptied of self, if we’re very lucky. You’ve definitely hit the nail on the head, my dear.
Thanks. And it occurred to me, that my kids haven’t even hit the teenage years yet. I tremble to think what those will do to us!
Happy (belated) B-day, Micah!
Thanks – it was grand!