(An unconventional “Dear Henry” kind of post.)

It’s your nap time, smallish person who turns two exactly one month from today. Two hours into nap time, and I have just settled down on the couch with BBQ kettle chips, a glass of water and this keyboard because, well, my mind is in a million places and it just felt right. I am pushing my luck with this nap of yours, and I know it. So here’s the thing while I have a moment(or a few things, really):

-I’ve been trying to decide all afternoon how we’re going to break it to you that your dear beta fish, Seuss, has died. He hasn’t exactly died yet, but I’ve been watching this slow and painful progression for the past two days, and it isn’t pretty. I realize that you’re not quite two and that potentially (although quite improbably), you will take no notice of his departure. 1) Flush him and buy a replacement Seuss, or 2) flush him and just never speak of him again, are probably the suggestions I’d gather if I asked around. But no one else is here when you ask me in your little voice on an almost daily basis, “How’s Seuss doing?!” as you settle into breakfast at the table. No one else but your daddy knows that you love this little fish enough to get over the fact that he “stole” the green jeep that’s hanging out in his bowl. No one else will field the daily questions from here ’til next October about Seuss and his whereabouts. I know this to be true. So there’s that. At any rate, he’s dying. And I’m sorry. I probably fed him too much food, or we scared him with his own vehicle. Shoot.

-My belly is growing. You notice this and place your head there to greet the baby daily, but I’m not sure you’ve quite realized the magnitude of the expansion that’s about to take place in front of your little eyes. You can still sit on my lap, certainly, but The Button is not wasting time here, and I know it’s a matter of weeks before you’re on the edge of my knees. At least it feels that way. Perhaps this is some sort of subconscious recognition of the fact that I’m feeling like you’re being pushed out of your space and I don’t like it. You were here first, and the mommy guilt starts to creep up and get into my head when I begin to contemplate all of the changes ahead. You will adjust, I know. And probably well. Besides, you’re gaining a natural best friend (I hope!). But all of this growing and mommy being more tired and everything in the house getting the once over, well…I’m just as sorry about that as I am the fish, and probably more so. I’m so thankful you’re patient, and that God filled you with grace.

-I feel the need to confess that I still love this house. There’s been plenty of debate about this in recent days, and I just want to set the record straight. I went into the basement for something earlier, and as I climbed the stairs, I couldn’t help but think it again. I love it here. And I know it’s getting smaller as we get bigger (or not really, but it feels that way in moments), and I know we’re headed into a season of rearranging and losing our guest room and playing the furniture puzzle game, but secretly or not so secretly, I adore the challenge. We’ll have been here five years on my due date and I still smile coming home. I love the projects and the quirks and the angles and details we wouldn’t find in new construction. Maybe some people would think I’m crazy, but I know you understand–this has been home to you all your life so far. We’re good here. And the little blue house has been good to us. I think we always make it feel like home, no matter how much rearranging takes place. Let’s stay a while longer, ok?

-I’m not sure how we got here again, but we did. Wasn’t I just hand-making bug jars and sewing a birthday bunting and dreaming in Very Hungry Caterpillar? Planning your second birthday party is beginning to take over all of the random cracks and crevices in my day, but I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t love it. This year’s theme is proving to be a party planning challenge. Am I up for it with all else that is going on? Only time will tell. Regardless, I promise you an amazing cake and a room filled with people who love you. Sound good? I promise I’ll give this one my best go. Can’t believe you’re almost TWO!

-We are headed out on an adventure this weekend and I cannot wait! A time to celebrate your daddy’s birthday and a time for us to be the three musketeers, just like we’ve been together for almost two years now. We’re going to have all sorts of fun and take a gazillion pictures and eat more good food than we can think of…and go swimming and exploring and creating all kinds of crazy good memories. I’m going to hear about this weekend for the next three months, and I’m thrilled about that fact! Dad and I are so excited to have a special weekend with you!

You are awake and talking to Scout upstairs in your happy little voice. What do you say we see if Auntie B and Miss E want to Face Time or Skype? Or let’s build LEGOS and plot out our evening with your dad…or read books…or all of the above? I delight in my time with you, Henry D.

thanks for letting me be your random and scattered mama. just one more thing to love about who you are.

mm