Dear Miles,
The year of double digits! Also, the year I would happily take a parallel universe in exchange for the one we’re currently living in because shit must be better over there. This is a bizarre year and you’ve been on a wave of emotion since the first day of the shutdown. You’ve been ecstatic at the prospect of not having to go back to school any time soon and you’ve been absolutely miserable at the realization that your social life went right out the window.
Dear Olivia,
First, let’s start off by saying you’re a great kid. Really phenomenal. This year has been nothing short of a dumpster fire but you’ve been a delight for most parts. This could partly be because the pandemic has sucked just about every ounce of joy and care from our souls and we threw screen time rules right out of the window making you a happy camper. We’re in survival mode people! I can’t listen to whiny children on top of deafening news about a global pandemic, racial injustice, raging wildfires and a corrupt government. You want to play Animal Crossing? Great, do it! You want to draw in Procreate? Wow me! You received an urgent money transfer request from an unknown person but they’re in dire need and you want to act fast? Nope, that’s a scam.
Dear Miles,
Life has been a blur since your arrival nine years ago. You’ve been on the run from the age of 9 months when you took your first steps and you haven’t slowed down since. I’ve been spending this entire time trying to keep up with you knowing very well that my energy level is nowhere close to yours and while you would think I would have outstanding fitness as a result, the only thing I’m left with is grey hair and bad knees. People who boast that children bring the fountain of youth clearly have not been your caregiver.
Dear Olivia,
Writing to you again is kind of like seeing an old friend you haven’t seen in a long time but you pick up right where you left off and all seems right in the world. Like, you’re exactly where you should be. I enjoy these times when I can talk to you because it’s one-sided and you can’t roll your eyes at me and exhale and shout, I KNOW!
I made the conscious decision a couple years back to cease my monthly letters to you because as you get older, your life, your secrets, wishes, desires, become more sacred and private and I want to respect that for you and ultimately, I determined that your life is not my story to tell.
Having said that, I will keep this post brief but I wanted to acknowledge another of your journeys around the sun.
Dear Olivia,
It’s Christmastime which is ultimately my favorite time of year. As exhausting as this season can be, I look forward to experiencing everything through yours and Miles’s eyes. I’ve always loved this time of year but having children makes this time of year even more special and magical. I’ve been putting together an advent calendar for several years now–since you were a wee little toddler and if I’m being perfectly honest, I created it because it was the only way I could get your Grinch father out of the house and into the holiday spirit. He really can’t rebuke Christmas light bingo when the calendar says it’s so. I try to change it up a bit but I always bring back the classic tried-and-true favorites e.g. Christmas light tour with hot chocolate, watch a play, and my personal favorite–ice cream sundaes for dinner (like I need a reason to eat ice cream for dinner).
Dear Miles,
It’s your birthday which means I fall into a depressing state as I remember your days of yesteryear and the tiny little bundle of angst you were. 7 years you torpedoed into our lives and you’ve been barreling through life ever since. You are an animated, loving, charismatic creature which is far from the adjectives I would have used when you were two. You were the kid who would break down at a moment’s notice for reasons unknown. You were the kid who would decide at any given moment that you were done therefore everyone should be done. You were busy, reckless and whiny beyond compare. You’re still those things but on a more mature level–you’re more like Dad now.
Dear Olivia,
I know, I’ve fallen behind in my posts to you. It’s not out of anger or because I no longer find these posts helpful for my own well-being or because I’m scared what one might say when I write about something. Life just has a funny way of continuing on despite you being ready or not. I feel like a dog (me) tied to a car bumper (life). This is a total reference to National Lampoon’s Vacation. If you haven’t seen this movie yet, I’m incredibly disappointed in you and you’re no longer my favorite child. To refresh your memory, the dog is tied to the car bumper, forgotten and then the car drives away. The dog tried to keep up but obviously didn’t make it in the end. Don’t worry, the dog was a total jerk so it’s ok that he didn’t make it. I’m a jerk sometimes too but I’m Momma so I’m allowed. I’m currently being dragged by life and it’s moving too fast for me to jump back on my feet so meanwhile I’m just lying here, being hit by various rocks and potholes until life decides to slow its ass down.
Dear Miles,
Today you will be a kindergarten graduate and I am feeling an overwhelming rush of emotions. I picture you as the toddler that you were, barely able to speak coherent words. The years we invested in speech therapy for you–spending countless time at home teaching you the sound of letters, pointing to words, enunciating everything, forcing Olivia to just be quiet for one second so you could find your own voice.
Dear Olivia,
I feel like a ping pong ball at the moment between school, work, extracurricular activities and just with life in general. You might be asking yourself, why am I no longer writing these letters to you more often? Am I no longer interesting? Are my interactions with you unworthy of a blog post? Do I not embarrass you enough that you have nothing to share amongst family and friends? You can rest your weary head because you still drive me looney, you are still wildly interesting, our interactions can sometimes be unbelievable and I’m still crazy about you.
