Dear Miles,

Happy Birthday! You're eight years old!

Eight years old was unfathomable when you were born. In the early days of figuring out our first baby, of figuring out our family, eight years felt like an eternity away. An unreachable goal. But here we are - a family of four, eight years in the making.

Here are things that help define you as a newly minted eight year old. You are into video games and screens of all sorts. You love Minecraft and this sim city knockoff called Cities: Skylines. You're pretty indifferent to the Zoom classes you have as a replacement for in-person school, but you love the math exercises and a typing game that Dad found for you. You got so far ahead in math lessons that Ms. Shelley had to ask you to slow down and do just one lesson a day. You will participate in anything that can be turned into a game. You're a boy after your father's own heart in that way. If we need you to eat more at a meal or sit still while we're out, it's game time! Games like animal draft or "I'm going to a cook-out" or even practicing spelling or math facts, will keep you focused long enough to accomplish our primary task.

Focus. That's been an eye opener for us with our adventures in home schooling (Dad's adventures, I should say). On the days you're not medicated, it is hard to get you to focus on the reading/research assignments. But, medicated, you can focus with assistance on the hard stuff and focus independently on the stuff that you like! ADHD is a real thing and I'm so glad we started treating it so that school can be a successful experience for you!

You're into jokes, classic comics like Calvin & Hobbes and the Farside. You are a dancer - jerking body movements and hops and hip swings are your go-to moves. You're somewhat oblivious to other's feelings and the social temperature of a room. But you are becoming a bit more empathetic. You cry at sad parts of movies. Rarely, you come out of your room at night, saddened by some random thoughts that have crept in as you wait for sleep.

But your mood changes quickly and the sadness rolls off. This ability to let the world roll off, or at the very least, how you avoid harboring ill will for any significant amount of time, is something we should all strive for. I hope this stays with you. I hope you are always able to feel the sadness, recognize the injustice, but move forward without letting those feelings immobilize you.

My favorite moments with you are in the evening hours after we've sent Will to bed. You're often snuggled up in bed with me, reading a book, wanting to share a new joke you've found, or insisting on discussing some odd fact of life. You get sleepy, lay your head on my shoulder, and say you love me. Those must be moments where you feel completely safe and at ease. I hope we can continue to give you those moments for years to come.

I love you, Miles. Happy Birthday!

Love,
Mama

Dear Will,

I trim your nails nearly every week. Your discarded nail clippings are a notch carved in the wall, marking the passage of time. Their growth is light speed. If I neglect your nails for even one week, they're too long, packed with dirt and childhood, a vector for disease and a weapon in your rumbles with your brother.

Just like your nails' growth, your healing powers are impressive. We recently got to watch as the skin, which had been fully abraded from the surface of your knees, grew back within a week. First there were scab mountains with deep valleys, then small scab hills, then freshly pink skin, shiny and boasting about the miracles of the human body.

The passage of time does seem accelerated. Things are changing as you morph into a "big kid." School started this year, you were adjusting well.  And you adjusted well when school "ended," as the world fell apart around us these last two months.

We've reached the part of your birthday letter where I sing your praises; I identify the things that make you a bright light in our family. You are sweet and empathetic and funny. You are starting to push limits and are working on your lying (you're not quite good at it yet). You love to cook with me and you help "do the dishes" (make a mess with water). You're a pro on a scooter. You keep up with the big kids. And you get so offended when you don't get to talk or you get the wrong cup or your sandwich was cut incorrectly.

I adore you. I will continue to cut your nails as we add another notch in your life, marking the passage of time until you can someday manage your nails yourself.

Happy Birthday Will! You're four years old and the perfect little big kid!

Love,
Mama

Dear Miles,

Seven!

Soon after you were born, I remember thinking that I was so proud to have kept you alive for one month. And at six weeks, your dad and I thought you were such an old baby. And now, seven years have passed.

You're seven years old!

In three years, I'll be marveling at how you are 10. But for now, 7 seems so old.  You are truly a fully formed person. You've got eye rolls and sarcasm and opinions.

Your days are a morass of scheduled events. Piano practice every day except Fridays and Saturdays, martial arts on Tuesday afternoons, piano lessons on Wednesday afternoons, Science Club on Friday afternoons. Therapy every other Wednesday afternoon (before piano lesson). Doctor's appointments. Spelling tests. Neighborhood events (birthdays and block parties and biking and pretending). It goes on and on.

This, like every other year, has been a year of firsts. Reading! Bike riding - no training wheels! Swimming! Therapy! ADHD diagnosis! Video game obsession!

We let you get this video game at Christmas. I don't know if you've heard of it - it's called Minecraft. And it is a part of our daily dialogue. What is so special about the building nature of this game though, is that I can see the physical manifestations of your magnificent brain. Your creations are mind blowing. Truly. Thanks, Minecraft, for a peek into the inner workings of my son's cerebrum. With the uptick of Minecraft conversations, we've seen the disappearance of MegaMiles, a character with a deep backstory and expansive mythology. We will miss you MegaMiles.

School remains a challenge, but we think the medication we started a few months ago has helped you concentrate in the mornings. We love your teacher, Ms. Shelley. She works really hard to help you control your mind and body at school. School is good for you; new ideas come tumbling out of you nearly every day. Learning to read has expanded your world. Your brother loves that you read and loves for you to read to him.

In fact, you've built a pretty strong bond with your brother over the last year. You each think the other is so funny. Will really adores you. It's nice to see you read to him, share with him, and laugh with him.

You've never been much of a snuggler, at least not for me. (Your dad swears you were always a good snuggler for him). Although I do appreciate a good snuggle, you are excellent at showing your affection in other ways. When we sit near each other, you move your body so our backs touch, or your leg touches mine. Sometimes, especially in the evening, when you're weary from your long day, from your unending activities, you sigh out, "I love you, mom." And in those moments, I have no doubt that you really, really do.

Miles, my first born son, you made me into a mother just before mother's day. And you push and challenge me each day as I grow and evolve as a mother. I hope you don't have any doubt that I love you. Because I really, really do.

Love,
Mom

Dear Will,

You are three years old! Happy Birthday! It seems too soon for three. I can't believe you're going to start school in just a few months!

There is so much I love about you! You yell a big "Mama!" when I come home from work each evening. And you ask me to come "to here" when we're on FaceTime. You ask me not to go "a work" every day. You give great big bear hugs that make all my tension melt away. You tell me I'm your best friend. High fives and group hugs and kisses are routine in our house.

You're a silly kid. Always laughing and mimicking and giving sideways glances. You have the best facial expressions and everyone who meets you loves you. You're wild like your brother, jumping and climbing, and falling. You've always got a bruise or scrape somewhere on that active body of yours.

You're almost entirely perfect! But if you don't eat enough dinner, you're crabby in the morning, shakey and unreasonable from low blood sugar. And if we have to wake you up from your nap early, sometimes not much will make you feel better.

You love books and puzzles and diggers and spiderman. You're starting to develop a whole world of make believe. We are often told that you're not Will, you're blue spiderman boom boom. You used to be red spiderman boom boom. But all things change. Just like you.

You have an empathy that I didn't know was possible in little little kids. We were listening to your current favorite song "Bohemian Rhapsody" the other day and you couldn't help but start crying, big tears, crumpled face, when Freddie sang:

Mama, ooohooh
Didn't mean to make you cry
If I'm not back again this time tomorrow
Carry on, carry on, as if nothing really matters

I don't miss much about having a little baby Will but I do miss snuggling a tiny body at night. Sometimes, rarely, you still need some comfort in the wee hours. Take the other night for instance - you woke at 2am crying out for daddy and me. I heard you, a room away, your voice carrying over the sound machine next to my head and pulling me through my slumber to wakefulness. I walked down the hall and took your little hand in mine and we crawled into your bed. You stopped crying immediately as our hands touched. You settled in next to me, an elbow or foot always touching me, making sure I didn't go. After your breath settled, grew even and measured, and I knew you were back to sleep, I rolled over, kissed you and told you I was going to go. You said, "Ok" and back to sleep you went, fully satisfied that someone was there to care for you.

As you grow older and need me less and less for middle of the night fears, I hope you know that I'll still always care for you.

Love,
Mama

Dear Miles,

You are six. You made it!

This year brought kindergarten and a swtch to Montessori education. The transition to a new school environment, as most transitions for you, was rough. We started meeting with a play therapist. She's been a great addition to our lives. She helps Dad and me and you make better decisions. Better decisions about playing with friends and school work and bedtime.

You are wicked smart. Deeply fascinated in science. A pro builder with legos. You are weirdly wonderful. You make great faces, have great dance moves, and are really into weird and cool things. Today, you were acting out the stages of an instect's lifecycle, including crawling around on the floor covered by a blanket as if you were a grub. And ultimately, although every parent has challenges with their children, you are an inherently good and sweet child. I don't see any malice in your personality. It's super refreshing. You are a breath of fresh air.

I hope you continue to delve deep into topics. I hope you remain openly vulnerable and kind and weird. I hope we can continue to work through each new challenge and try to make good choices.

I love you. I grow with you. I grow with the challenges you present to me.

Thank you for being who you are and making me who I am.

I love you, my little weirdo (meant in the best way possible).

Love,
Mama

Dear Will,

You are two today! We've kept you alive for two whole years! There were a few bumps and bruises, scrapes and bloody lips along the way. Even today, you were running down the sidewalk in your shorts and sandals (because it is beautiful out!) and you fell and got a bloody lip. On your birthday of all days! But you won't be stopped. You are active! You jumped three times yesterday! Both feet off the ground!

You love your brother. You want to do everything he does. You are the cutest little mimic. You also love t.v. (beebee), cookies (woggies), penguins (waddlewaddle), fish (wish), Avi (our neighbor), trains (gagachoochoo), and reading books.

You need a whole paragraph for your facial expressions. I think this may be my favorite thing about you. Knowing you so well, I feel dashed if other people in your presence don't take note of your facial expressions. When we yell at you for bad behavior, you tuck your chin and look at the ground. When you're surprised your mouth is oval and your eyes wide, framed by long black lashes. When you shouldn't do something but do it anyway, you turn your head to the side and look at us slyly - the side eye. This is my most favorite one!

Your are funny and fun! You laugh a lot. You act silly. You do big kid things like ride a scooter or build with Legos. You're learning what limits are and how far to push them.

You give really great hugs! You've learned to hug tight and give an extra squeeze and a grunt for emphasis. I love snuggling with you and pretending to be asleep with you.

I can still remember what life was like without you, when we were just three. But I couldn't imagine wanting to go back to that life now that you've made us four. I love you little man.

Happy Birthday!

Love,
Mama

.

Dear Miles,

Dear Miles,

It's your fifth birthday. Another trip around the sun. You tell me about the trips around the sun we have to take to get older. You're obsessed with birthdays, whose is next, when you will get presents, when you get to share presents.

It's been a challenging year. You started school! Pre-Kindergarten! You are an achiever. You are just learning to read! It is very exciting for all of us. You are so proud of your accomplishments. And you should be!

Four was a funny age. I don't know about all four year olds but I know about you. You don't lack self esteem. You are the fastest, the best, the biggest, the strongest. Faster than a shinkansen! Stronger than me! The best scooter rider on the block (even on your first day riding a scooter)!

You can do math in your head. You love to help: help clean, help cook, help install the curtain rod!

Seeing you evolve into a big brother has been a joy. True, you have tried to ride Will like a horse on more than one occasion, but mostly, you take really good care of him. You hug him and share with him, and help Dad and I with the baby tasks. Your teacher, Ms. Lee, says you never stop talking about him.

School has been a mixed bag. It's the first year you've ever had to wait your turn or not be the center of someone's attention. You have trouble waiting. You want your way. Those life skills of waiting and patience may come. And it's possible your stubborness will allow you to achieve great things in life. I hope! Maybe next year you'll hold off on throwing your shoes at teachers, though. Despite the hiccups we've had at school, I think you're a neat kid. Smart, engaged, sweet natured, with an avid interest in all parts of the world. The adults and kids at school adore you! Your name rings out in the halls at school. The teachers think you're fascinating and funny. The kids like to pretend and play with you. And truly, at this point, that's all that matters.

I love you Miles. I love your snuggles, your thoughtfulness, your sincerity.

I'm excited for what the next year will bring!


Love,
Mama