Fourteen Months

Dear Patrick,

I almost missed your letter this month. Somehow the days and weeks are slipping away from me; I'm losing track of time. How can you be fourteen months already?

In two days we will reach another milestone: the anniversary of your due date. I've had that date seared in my mind ever since that first ultrasound when they predicted December 9 as your arrival date. It's strange to think you're well into your second year when this December 9 rolls around.

You probably don't know this, but December 9 was an important day for our family several years before you arrived. In 2000, one of your great-grandfathers passed away on that day, Nana's dad. Last summer, I dreamed repeatedly of what would happen when you showed up on December 9. I looked forward to bringing such joy to a day that was otherwise sad. I envisioned you growing up to be a spitting image of the great-grandfather you'd never get to know.

At least the last seems to be happening so far. Every so often, a look will cross your face that reminds me of Grandpa Fisher. I would be proud to have you grow up to be like him.

Although it saddens me that those dreams of your arrival on such a special day didn't happen, you had your own plans. Instead you chose to show up on your Papa's birthday. You get to share something special both with your Papa and your Great-Grandpa Fisher. I guess you had something even better in mind.

Speaking of your mind, this month has been a chance for you to find your own. Now that you've discovered the wonders of mobility, you have tons of fun determining where you want to go. You still seem enthralled with the idea that you can go where you want, when you want. You still look over your shoulder often to make sure I'm near, but you explore the whole house as long as you're not alone.

Unfortunately, you have also discovered that you can disobey. Your favorite places to crawl are the forbidden places, and no matter how many times I tell you no and pull you away, you turn around and crawl right back. Usually you have a smile on your face as you do so. To you, disobedience is just a game. It infuriates me to no end. I can't wait until you learn to say the word "no" right back.

And then there are days like yesterday when you're a perfect angel. I can't wait to spend more time with you. You have fun doing anything and everything, and Mommy's company is welcome, not mandatory. I'm reminded then just why I love you so much, even through the most disobedient of days, as I tell you no the fortieth time in the last five minutes.

You still cuddle occasionally, giving the sweetest of hugs, and I long for those quiet, still moments. I hope you never lose that snuggly side of your personality, even as you grow increasingly independent over the coming months and years. Even if you do, I'll love you anyway.

Mommy