mother's day eve

Dear boys,

Tonight I tried to tell you a story, and I messed it up. I waited until late at night, when you were at your most fractious, and I made it too long to hold your interest for the grand finale, but the truth is that even if I had made it the perfect length and told it at the perfect time, I probably still would have messed it up, because that's the way it goes with the really important stories. And since this was the story of how you made me a mom, and how having you took us from being a happy family of two to being a complete family of five, it's right up there with the most important stories of my life.

I hope you will remember that even though the story was long, it was joyful and full of laughter. How silly we were to have thought we wanted a girl. How we changed your middle name, Liam, because that first day you were so grumpy and had such a furrowed brow that you looked just like Grandpa Okie. How we didn't tell anyone your middle name, Max, until after you were born -- because naming you for my dad was really important to me, and I didn't want to mess that story up either. How you surprised us, Henry, by deciding to join us a month early so you could have the luckiest possible birth date. And how every day, no matter what kinds of school/sports/work/stuff we have going on, I look at you and marvel at your personalities, your quick and quirky wit, the things you love and the things you hate. I think about the wonder that you have brought to my life, and I hope that your lives will be wonderful too. I think about all the things we ever hoped for our children to be and have, and I'm so thankful that the things we hoped for most are exactly what we got: healthy, strong children who have the best parts of both of us.

The part I didn't get to tell you, the part I probably should have led with, is this: We aren't perfect parents, and you aren't perfect sons, but we're perfect for each other. I love each one of you so very much, and I'm so very happy that I'm your mom.

But don't worry -- I'll tell you the story again next year, and every year after that. And when I get through, you will know it without a doubt: You are seen. You are known. You are loved.

Mom