My precious first baby,
I heard you this morning, waking up to an alarm set at the exact time of your birth 11 years ago. You’re so funny like that…wanting to know the numbers, sentimental about the passing of time. The moment they placed you in my arms is seared into my mind and I can instantly go back. The shock, the relief, the burning desire to protect you. I can’t quite say, “I can’t believe 11 years has passed” because I feel like you’ve been with me from the moment I stopped being a child myself.
You’ve done a lot of growing this year, my love. Physically and emotionally. It was your second year of being medicated for ADHD and the difference is astounding. I love seeing you thrive instead of struggle. We’ve done a lot of hard family counseling this year and it’s been very healing. I’ve noticed a small ribbon of tenderness towards me woven throughout our days. Don’t get me wrong…we clash regularly and are both constantly having to say “I’m sorry”, but there is something there that wasn’t there before that gives me so much hope.
You are brilliant. I’ve always said it. Your grades don’t always reflect it, but I don’t mind much about that. Both teachers you have rave about your curiosity, your interest in what is being taught and your enthusiasm. This year you really got into reading and became one of the top readers in the class.
You’ve also been learning mandolin and guitar with a passion. You had taken lessons before but now you have a fire lit under you. I regularly find you picking several times a day, trying to figure out new songs and new ways to play old ones.
I think you’re so handsome-your shaggy blond hair and a face full of freckles. I love the way you dress. You’re just cool, Barclay. Effortlessly cool. They gave a puberty talk in health this year and since then you’ve been faithful to apply your deodorant and shower regularly. So you always smell nice. I am just tickled about this.
My favorite item I received this year was a crumpled note from you that said, “ You are a rare mom.”
You started baking this year and are so meticulous, it always works out. We’ve been enjoying gluten free cakes and muffins for months. Just last night you just helped me paint a wall in my bedroom and your precision was unreal. I have no doubts in my mind that you will do many incredible things in this life. It’s a joy of mine to think ahead to the man you’ll be.
When baby Ella June was born, you and I took a special solo trip to see her and visit Rainy out in Colorado. You were the best travel companion and I enjoyed every minute of being with you. We ended up staying in the spare room of some people from Africa off Air b and b. They were very particular, very loud and we died laughing sneaking around trying not to disturb them. You were so tender with the baby. My heart just melted. We also go to take some hikes just the two of us, got lots of bubble tea and Indian food. You’re so precious and I loved showing you off to that side of the family.
This spring we got an older dog named Grover and he has been such a comfort to you. I find you every day, curled up in a ball next to him just being still. It’s such a blessing to see you together.
This summer God made a way for you to go to Camp Rockmont again. This was your third year and you enjoyed showing Sullivan the ropes since he had his first year. When I picked you up you were brimming with the joy of the Lord and so mature. You handed me a small wooden button that said “Strength and gentleness”, the character award that you received on your special campfire night. My heart soared. I feel like you are the most “you” at camp.
You’ve had a lot of heartache in your short little life- a lot of it still fresh. But you have been open and willing to work through the hard and oh what an empathetic human you are becoming.
I feel like this is the equinox between child and tween. You wanted toys for Christmas but for birthday you just wanted a water bottle with stickers.
You’re just growing, and I’m your captivated audience.
Every baby is a miracle, every child is precious…but you are mine and I am yours. I am so very, very proud of you, Barclay.
Mama
