Dear Jackson

I started writing to Jackson in February 2009 - yes, a whole 7 months before he was born.  Before we knew he was a "he".  Before we had a car seat or knew how our lives would change.  Those letters in that little notebook detailed his beginning, and every so often I'll break out the notebook and write him a letter and a prayer that's specific to what's going on at the time.  This may not be in the book yet - but here's today's:

Dear Jackson,

Your smile makes my day.  I stand back and watch you as you play with your police cars, ride your scooter and choose your own snack.  It's hard for me to believe that in 3 short years you've gone from needing me for everything, to wanting to do it all yourself.  Admittedly, there were nights when you were a baby that I prayed you'd fall asleep in your crib without me having to rock you for an entire hour.  Now all I wish is that I could do it one more time. 

I tucked you in tonight and saw my baby in your "big boy" face.  I ended up kissing you goodnight just one more time because of it.  You still want a pacifier and your beloved blankies.  I'm told you should give these things up.  I believe there is plenty of time for that.  One day you'll ask me to pack those blankets away.  The ones you've slept with since you came home from the hospital.  The ones that have seen all the spit up, blow outs, tears and laughter.  The blue one was given to your dad while he was in Korea for a year.  That's your favorite one to keep in the car right now.  I'm not ready to put them away.

You always ask for "5 more minutes" and if that doesn't work, you ask for "2".  I'm not sure you actually know how long that is, but you fully understand that you get more time to wrestle with your dad, watch your favorite television show or just avoid having to get into bed that minute.  You can always have 5 more minutes.

Today I asked you to take off your shoes and put them on the rug by the front door. You said "ok, Mom".   I took mine off and set them by the stairs.  You came by and offered to put mine away as well.  Thank you for thinking of me, and thank you for showing me that I asked you to do something that I didn't do myself.  Of course that was small scale, but I had the realization that I will always have to be the person that I want you to become. 

Your love for broccoli, salad, salmon and water amazes me.  I've never met a preschooler who chooses a bottle of water over juice, or has a very difficult time choosing between a kids meal at Chick Fil A for the Franklin book, or getting the salad since that's what you actually want to eat. I've bragged about your food choices to anyone who will listen - but mostly because I don't eat any of those things and I admire you for it.  I encourage it.  I hope it stays with you.  I'll continue to eat my cinnamon roll in private so you don't realize that I truly think the smell of steamed broccoli is disgusting.

I know it hurts your heart to say goodbye to your dad so often.  You don't know how many times he tells me how bad he wants a job closer to his family.  We pray about it.  We beg for it.  But for now, this is our life and you're such a champ for going with it.  I choose to talk about your dad everyday because I want you to know how important you are to him.  He works for you.  He works so hard so that I don't have to be away from you as well.  He gave us that gift and I'll always be forever thankful for him wanting me to be with you.  Not everyone has a dad like you.  He's special.  I hope you always adore him the way you do now.  The way I do. 

The other day you were fake shooting some geese.  I told your dad we must be the worst parents in the world because you'd rather pretend to be hunting or using your tool set than doing other little kid things.  However, the more I thought about it, you spending time with your Papa and Dad in the garage fixing cars and building things is the best thing you could ever do.  Soak up everything they have to tell you.  Remember the smell of the dirty car parts and how you got to hand them tools.  You'll never regret choosing to be with them over playing with matchbox cars. 

You amaze me.  You make me better.  You're my everything.