"Are you my baby?"
"No, Mommy. I'm not a baby, I'm a big boy"
"Oh, that's right. Are you my sweetie?"
"Yes, Mommy. I'm your sweetie-pie."
RC is the "yes" to every second-time mother's question. Yes, it is absolutely possible to love another child as much as you love the first. In fact, I think it may be impossible not to.
I once read that even when their children are in their forties, mothers still remember their due dates. RC's was May 7th. RC turned three on April 25th.
At 23 months, RC got the memo; it was time to be two. And RC has done so tenaciously, adamantly, with vengeance and purpose. I spend a lot of time calling my son names. A few that come to mind are maniac, relentless, and exhausting. Here are some others:
To quote my friend JCK, I love him with a fierceness that is primal. Even after the most trying day, I still want to hold him. I revel in being his mommy, even at 3:00 am. I am supremely confident that there is not another person on the planet that will ever love him more than I do. And I know that without a doubt, there is nothing that could ever change how I feel about him.
I am so proud of him; of his three-year-old wit, humor, and intelligence. I admire his drive, his tenacity, albeit sometimes reluctantly. I know that Andy and I have been charged with with feeding his mind and his soul so that he can be someone he, himself can be proud of. He is the best part of each of us. We do not take this responsibility lightly, yet we relish it.
Happy Birthday, my wonderful three-year-old big boy. You make our life richer.
Mommy loves you. Up to the sky.
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