Dear JB,

Today you are two.  Two!  I can hardly believe you’ve been here in our family for two years, and yet it also feels as if we’ve always had you.  It’s like my memory insists you’ve always been the center of our little family, and I guess you have: I didn’t know just how much we were missing you until you arrived.

I’ve been so lucky to get to stay home with you these last two years (we need to be sure to high-five Daddy later for working so hard to make that possible); it has truly been the gift of my life to watch you grow.  Sometimes I look at you, all big boy now, and miss my little serious baby – but then I see you sit down on the floor to pet Petey or go to your little kitchen to cook eggs for me, and I know that this day is the best one so far.  And tomorrow will be the new best one.  Every day that I share with you is my favorite one yet.

By now you may have noticed I’m not perfect.  I get impatient sometimes, I feel utterly out-of-ideas on occasion, and I have often said, “in a minute” and instead let many, many, many minutes pass.  I’m sorry for times I’ve disappointed you or not given you the attention you genuinely deserved in that moment, and I’m sorry for the times I’ll do it again.  But please know, even at my worst mom moments, I still love you more than I ever dreamed possible, and you are, each day of your life, the very best thing I’ve ever done.

I love you, my sweet boy.  I love your crazy hair and your chubby legs, your sweetness and your fearlessness, your energy and your joy. I see the best parts of myself and Daddy in you, and I see how you manage also to bring out the best parts in us. The day you were born was not the day I expected to have, and sometimes I fiercely miss the memory I planned to have, but at the end of that day, I still had you.

And you were all I ever really wanted anyway.

Happy birthday.

Love, Mama.