Dear Cash - THREE FREAKING YEARS!

Dear Cash,

How can I summarize three years (or even just this past year) in a letter?  I can't. 

It's impossible to put in to words how you have changed my life (aside from the sleepless nights and a couple extra pounds), but I wrote you this little poem (set to Twas The Night Before Christmas). 

Twas the night before your birthday, when all through our home,
I was stirring with "gas pains", and boy did I moan.
The bag was not packed - I needed to prepare,
I expected more warning before you'd be there.
The animals were all nestled, all snug in our bed
While I denied labor and ate Chuy's instead.
And me in my bathrobe and daddy in his cap,
Couldn't settle down because it hurt like crap.
When into the shower, I ran with a scream,
I'd just done some pooping and needed to clean.
Away to the dresser I flew with a limp,
Tore open the drawers and packed like a wimp.
The moon was half full, but heck, did I care?
I grabbed a pillow for my head and a brush for my hair. 
When, what would my watering eyes should appear
Buttin in his truck, was shifting into gear.
With a man driver, so dangerous and fast,
Buttin got me to the hospital by slamming on the gas.
At the hospital my nurse made some suggestions,
and then started asking me bazillions of questions.
Now weight? Now height? Now strep b test?
Now pee in this cup and get undressed!
The room started to flurry with busy nurses and such,
I screamed the word "peace", but didn't want to be touched.
And then with a sudden feeling of fear,
I asked for marijuana, some drugs or a beer.
Sweet doula and your daddy suggested a shower,
They knew I could do it - my spirit they could empower.
So across to the shower, I shuffled in pain,
My water broke and it went down the drain.
I spent nary a minute when I exclaimed with no doubt,
"I've got to push - this baby is ready to come out!"
So pushing I started, couldn't wait to meet you.
The pushing felt like I was taking a poo.
We were making progress with nary a glitch,
Then in walked the doctor, she was Dr. Bitch.
You were almost there,  excitement grew in the room.
I was tired and wanted you out of my womb.
One more push and I was filled with great joy,
Dr. Bitch said blandly, "here - it's a boy."
You were immediately perfect, but I was lacking cleanness
To my great surprise - you had a penis.  
You were skinny and long, a right happy young child
And I swear when you farted, I could see that you smiled.
After all the commotion ended and everyone went home
You and I got to spend some time alone.
I will always remember our first night together
as we slept cuddled up in the cool spring weather. 
I whispered in your ear as you slept next to me,
Happy Birthday sweet Cash, I love you baby.

Here are a few things I started two years ago: 

Favorite Color:  Whatever the color is of the train you are currently holding.

Favorite Word: Trains

Favorite Food: Donuts

Favorite Thing To Do: Play the motorcycle game on your iPad. 

Last time you cried:  You frequently throw toddler fits, but the last time you really cried is probably when you were sick a couple of weeks ago. 

Last time you smiled:  You're always smiling, unless you're throwing a toddler fit.

What I think you'll be when you grow up: Donut maker or politician

Here are a few things I started last year: 

Nicknames: Turd and Cashman

Favorite Song: Accidents Happen (this is a Thomas the Train song, but could also apply to your (lack of) toilet usage)

Favorite Book :  One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish

Here are a few new things for this year:

Your best friend:  Desmond (or me - boy's best friend is his mother)

One word to describe your personality:  Clever 

What you think of your brother:  He needs to be poked in the eye, frequently and he should also be awake.  

We love you so much Cash.  Please be sweet to me, your dad and your brother and please don't grow up too quickly.

Love,

Mom