Beautiful Boy

Beautiful Boy

It seems, according to All Things Blog, that mommy bloggers must write Birthday Letters. (Dooce, we all bow down to you in unison!) As Finn, my fourth baby and only boy, was born a year ago this week, here goes:

Dear Finnian Jude Badru Zen,

I'm sorry. Right after I give birth I'm tired and more interested in getting to know the creature who, only hours earlier, was cradled in the confines of my body. I give in to his Madness, and thus you will spend the rest of your life explaining four names, especially the last one, which is not a name but an entire philosophy. No pressure.

I'm sorry. They were just so crazy about you, and every time I turned my back, one of them was sitting on you, carrying you by your neck, biting you (with love), or feeding you a lollipop. I tried to keep them away in the beginning, but you were just so damn cute! I checked with the pediatrician -- no permanent damage from sucking lollipops in the first week of life, and your neck was most likely that long before the incident. We just hadn't noticed.

I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to spend so much of your first year in a shopping cart; it just happened. There's a whole lot of stuff you need when there's six of you who all insist on eating three times a day, who lose shoes on a daily basis, and also go through approximately six rolls of toilet paper in twelve hours. I'm sure I've read that the mall is a very stimulating environment for babies and that shoe stores are mostly decorated in colors that infants can see!

I'm sorry. I didn't actually take you out in dresses, or the pink onesies, or the lace socks, or the flowered bonnets, at least not when you started looking like a boy! It's just that baby clothes are so expensive, and I already had so many, and I didn't want you to spend any more time in the shopping cart. I've also read that it's okay for boys to play with dolls, and believe it or not, those floozy hooker figures count as dolls! It allows you to express your inner female. I'm sure any day now we'll get you some cars and trucks.

I'm sorry. That whole sanitizing and boiling stuff is really over-rated. They say dogs have cleaner mouths than humans anyway. I probably should have never given you a pacifier or a bottle or a teething ring seeing how Ezra is so crazy about them. And I promise I only mixed your formula with Sprite once! I was desperate!

I'm sorry. I never really let the others cry it out, but I'm tired, Man! I'm just over the sleep deprivation! How was I supposed to know your knee was stuck between the crib slats? You have to parent boys differently, you know! You have to teach them to work out their issues themselves, to problem solve. Buck up, Soldier!

I'm sorry. I wish this year could stretch on forever. A day will come in the not distant enough future when I will forget the precise weight of your fuzzy head on my shoulder, the smell of your milky breath on my neck, the feel of your tiny fingers twisting in the curls at the nape of my neck. In place of my arms, those little feet will have carried you down a road less traveled by me, and I will be sorry, very, very sorry.

"Before you cross the street
Take my hand
Life is what happens to you
While you're busy making other plans

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy

Before you go to sleep
Say a little prayer
Every day in every way
It's getting better and better

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful
Beautiful boy
Darling, darling, darling
Darling [Finn.]"
(John Lennon)
Love,

Mama

Written by Meg Fitzpatrick

Meg is a writer, editor, teacher, and mom to four little menches. You can tune into her cyber sitcom at www.simplynutmeg.com.