Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Dear Cash - ONE YEAR!

Dear Cash,

For many, many years - on my birthday - my mother (your MorMor) would tell me the story about the day I was born. I think the last time she officially did it I was 19 and volunteering at a Muscular Dystrophy camp for children. She called me and told me about how 19 years and 1 day ago she was eating pizza and drinking beer (I may have made that part up) and she started feeling ill. She went to bed that night, but woke up a few hours later and went to the hospital. Shortly (although it may not have felt short for her) after arriving, I was born (at 7:26 am).

This is a tradition that I would like to start with you.

It does not seem possible that a year has gone by since the day you were born. I remember it so vividly and I'm very thankful that I wrote most of it down. I'm not sure your father really wants to remember exactly HOW you came into this world, but I'm positive he'd say it was the best and most perfect day of his life (thus far).

I will spare you all the details of your birth, at least for the next several years.  For now, I'll just tell you the simple version - in poetry form:

On the 5th of April, it was a Monday night;
I started feeling "gas pains" and wasn't feeling quite right. 

Eventually your father convinced me you were coming,
I took a quick shower because the poo had been running.

We got to the hospital, it was pretty late.
The doors were locked, so we had to wait.

I got into the room and said the word "peace" a lot,
I was looking forward to meeting you, but felt really hot.

Soon you were born and I was filled with great joy,
The first thing I said, "Oh my, it's a boy!"

You are so loved - there are no words that have ever been written or that will ever be written that even come one pinkie toenail close to describing it.  You are only one year old and already have countless people who care about you, love you, want to squeeze your chubby cheeks and whose only wish for you is for a happy life (and maybe admittance to Stanford). 

Here are a few things about you (I plan to revise the answers every year on your birthday and one day - you'll be able to answer for yourself):

Favorite Color:  Red
Favorite Word: "OGHT" (we think it means out as in, outside) or "AT" (we think this means cat, as in Mouser who you torture).
Favorite Food: Squash
Favorite Thing To Do: Push stuff around the house (anything - toy cars, chairs, pans, books, cats). 
Last time you cried:  Really cried, probably when you fell out of your chair a couple days ago. Although you do enjoy fussing at us daily when you don't get your way (welcome to toddlerhood). 
Last time you smiled:  Tonight, when I was finished feeding you and carried you to bed.
What I think you'll be when you grow up:  Besides a good man, a veterinarian - that or a circus performer. 

Here are a couple of pictures - of you - the day you were born and then today.

Sleeping - the day you were born:

Sleeping - today:

Daddy kisses - they day you were born:

Daddy kisses - today:

Cash/Cub/Graby/Lumpy - you are the best thing I have ever done (and I include the time I ate a tub of cookie dough in one sitting).  Everyday you make me laugh and I am so thankful that I get to be your mother.

Please be sweet to me and your dad and please don't grow up too quickly.

Love you more every day,

P.S.  Your wife was born today (on your birthday so you'll have no excuse if you forget her birthday).  Your Aunt Shannon had twin girls this morning - Sofie and Carlie.  So, all I ask is that you marry one of them (not both - I don't want to be featured on some weird reality show, Cash Honeys) so that Aunt Shannon and I can be grandmas together.  No pressure, but I did birth you. 

P.S.S. Your mom is a dork.  Get used to it. 

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