Simply Happy Birthday - my letter to Jack

My sweet little buddy:

Two days ago, we celebrated your first birthday.

In a traditional sense, it was not really much of a celebration! Life had you spend the day @ the school (although I did go cross-down the day before to make sure you little guys had your share of tiny chocolate cupcakes with vanilla frosting from Whole Foods...), and just as I was leaving the office to find the rest of you, my family, and celebrate, my car broke down in the parking lot and all of you had to spend your evening rescuing me. We attempted to atone for the non-celebration by letting you feed yourself some chocolate cake, which you happily did - and we hand-washed you afterwards.

However, I'm not disappointed in any turn of events on your birthday (somehow I also know that neither are you! Not yet anyway...). Simply for the fact that the main part of the day, the celebration singing high in my soul, drenching tears from my eyes all day was that YOU were with us - that this you, this tiny ball of life, were so happy and so blissfully ignorant of the reason for my high emotions.

I have relived your birthday, a year ago, almost to the minute, when away from you, in the middle of usual and mundane. The un-happening of the induction by the late morning from the night before; the decision to proceed with C-section; the whirlwind that followed and the miracle of hearing you @ 2:14 in the afternoon. I relived, also, all the days that were to come after your birth. The sharp, clean, sterile smell of Le Bonheur NICU; the undying shrill of multiple monitors, in your room and countless others; the quiet voice of Dr. Knott-Craig the day before the surgery; the endless wait during your open-heart and small frequent updates from the OR; the first sight of you after your surgery in CVICU, your little mouth open in your anesthesia sleep and unending lines and monitors; the soft waterfall 'whoosh' of your oxygen generator in the NICU... memories so present and fresh, and yet so far removed.

Through your Adventures of Jack, I have learned the painful vulnerability that will probably never leave. The ability to look at my children and fear. The heartbreak of thousands of parents faced with scenarios far worse than ours. The usual glamour and glitz of pregnancy and cute baby circuit shattered by the crossing of the threshold of a Children's Hospital.

Don't get me wrong, Jack-o. I look at you, I feel your small but vigorous strength, and I know you are an undeniable survivor.

Vin Diesel

Jack started going to our daycare on 7/25/11. Despite my almost disabling fear, he was not immediately struck with any number of various kiddo viruses, and my prayer is that it continues this way!

He does well in school (he's definitely having less trouble taking naps in school than did Maya when she first started - whether that's attributed to his more laid-back personality, or some changes in the Nursery II room since Maya was there, hard to tell). In a recent development, however, Allan has informed me that Jack has earned himself a nickname from his teachers. Of all things... Vin Diesel? Apparently our teachers believe Jack bears an uncanny resemblance to The Fast and The Furious hero.

This has prompted me to investigate Vin Diesel's official Facebook page (and seventeen hundren profile photos generously included there), after which I had to come to the conclusion that indeed, my little man's bold profile does indeed resemble Vin.

I hold out hope, however, that with appearance of *any* hair (any time now...) Jack will emerge as a star all his own...

Jack makes two (in the bath)...

Jack's stellar sitting skills allowed recently for a sizeable step in reducing evening routine time - there are now two 'rubber duckies' in the batch each night. :) In my world, saving roughly twenty minutes on a daily basis counts for major brownie points.

I'll have those brownies now, thanks.

Maya, ravenously: "Oohhh... It's a BIG worm! Yum!"

Before I get turned over to Child Protection Services, it should be mentioned she was talking about her after-dinner Gummy Worms...

But I want you now...

Sometimes my kids leave me speechless in the 'everything's right with the world' kind of way.

I called home late yesterday, from our office in Oregon, to check in. Allan said Maya wanted to talk to me, and handed her the phone... "Mama?" she said. "Are you here?" No, buddy, I'm not 'here' yet. "But I want you!" Oh, sweet buddy. I know. I'll be home tomorrow. "But I want you now! I see an airplane... Are you in the airplane?" It's not *my* airplane, buddy. I'll be back as soon as I can. "I miss you, Mama."

Blinking away tears, here.

Allan said she saw a helicopter while playing in the pool, and rushed the backyard, her little naked self, shouting "Mama is coming!". And repeated that for every plane she saw.

Today, she's hardly let me go, very sweet and affectionate. Seeing Jack-man was stupendous, too... boy, I want to can this feeling of elation and OK-ness...

Brother, sister

A couple of days ago, I'm waking up Maya for school. She's *quite* sleepy, starting to work on the eye-opening process, and is as 'out' as they make them... suddenly through her fog, I get her first question of the morning, all raspy and sleepy: "Is Jack up?" Me: "No, buddy, he's still asleep." Intending to prove me wrong as early as he can, Jack loudly signals himself at that very moment. Maya sheds all her deep-sleep state, shoots straight out of bed and, running down the hall to his room, throws me "Mama, you stay there, I'll help Jack!".

That little boy's got one cool sister.

My Fair Lady

Yesterday when I told Maya that my birthday would be today, she put on her grumpy pants and demanded that it be *her* birthday instead. We had to gently change the subject.

Between this birthday jealousy, and the fact that I was dealing with a three-year-old, I was certain she forgot all about it.

Then this morning, while I was getting ready in the bathroom, she brought me a piece of (wooden but real) birthday cake (her Christmas gift since she's just a little crazy about birthday cakes) on its appropriate plate, and gave it to me, saying "Happy Birthday, Mama!"

She's just so ... unbelievable.