To my older son on your birthday,

Eight years ago, you finally came into our lives. Five days late, ten hours of labor. You and your brother have both always been on your own timelines. But you alone made me a parent. You made me a mom.

And now, you’re right on the edge between being a big and little kid. I can no longer say I’m the mom of “little kids.” Just one little kid, with one big one.

So much has changed in the last eight years. I’ve watched you grow so much.

I’m so proud of your compassion. That even though you dislike and are even disgusted by the cicadas, you’ve rescued so many stuck and struggling on their backs.

I’m proud of how you love your brother so much. How you pick out thoughtful gifts for him, make sure other kids aren’t cutting in front of him in line for the slide at the pool, and run to get his favorite stuffed animals when he’s upset. (I’m also amused at how unamused you are by his preschool bedtime antics.)

I’m proud of how you’ve worked to control your anger. How you’ve found ways to keep yourself calm, work through your emotions, and shift your energy.

I’m proud of how you’ve embraced the unique aspects of your brain and learned to advocate for accommodations. Watching you learn to know yourself and your needs makes me confident for the future.

I’m proud of how responsible you’ve gotten. How you take care of your beloved, adorable bunny. How you stuck out this school year despite everything.

I’m proud of your love of learning and curiosity. How you want to know “why” about so much and don’t accept “because” as an acceptable answer. How you listen to our complex explanations that are age-appropriate (we think) but don’t sugarcoat things. How you are willing to consider the hard issues in the world and recognize injustice better than some adults.

Among all those things and watching you these years, I’ve learned so much.

You’ve taught me how to listen. How to wait to speak and have far more patience than I ever had in my life. How to show empathy more deeply than I ever have before.

You’ve taught me how to be flexible. How to break out of my own self-imposed rules and standards that cause nothing but stress. How to change my mind even when I’m stuck in my black and white thinking. How to accept that just because a solution is temporary doesn’t mean it’s bad.

You’re taught me how to embrace chaos rather than force order. How to appreciate mess, both physical and emotional. How to recognize my own need for novelty and desire for change.

You taught me how to be a mom.

But all of this aside, I love you. I love you for being you.

(This originally ran on Facebook on June 2021.)