Tag: Wilson

Wilson is Four.

Four years ago, I woke up early in the morning. One week after we’d moved in to our forever home. One week before his c section date. 15 weeks in to placenta previa, I’d finally had my first bleed. We woke up Matilda and headed to the hospital.

My birth was not awesome. The first few days after were terrible. The entire first week he was here, I cried. It was hard. It was so much harder than I was ready for it to be. We can laugh now about the shit show that was that chapter, but it was hard. 

But here we are. Four amazing years later. And life is so so good.
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Wilson, happy birthday. You do your own thing, in your own time. And you always have. You figure things out. You problem solve, deconstruct. I see so much of your father in you. I can watch the little gears turn in your head. You’re a planner. You’re a lover. Oh, Wilson. You love to hug. Your hugs can change the world.

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Your favorite things. Grilled cheese. Ketchup. French Fries. Chocolate Milk. (Clearly, you’re a health nut.) Your sister, Iz, and Shep. And me and your dad, obviously. Riding your bike (and your scooter). The beach. Nickelodeon Universe. The Children’s Museum. The Garbage Park (aka Franconia). Culver’s, McDonald’s, Noodles & Co, and DIY pizza from Papa Murphy’s. Trucks. Trucks. Cars. Police Playmobil set. Trucks. IRL trucks.

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You’re hilarious. Your confidence is astounding. You will explain anything to anyone with complete conviction. You are the man with the answers. And the questions. You love a good adventure, especially with friends (and sissy). You’re so curious, always excited to learn and explore.

But Wilson. Your lower lip. You know how to pout like no one I’ve ever met. You feel big, and you make sure that everyone knows where you stand.

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Wilson, you are so dang incredible. You light up a room (or you shut that party down based on your current mood). If you’re having a moment, which happens frequently, you need hugs, lots and lots of hugs. You do things your own way, in your own time. I laugh thinking of how we potty trained you. You were almost 3.5 and it was very much time. You woke up one morning and I told you that this was your idea. That you decided you weren’t going to wear diapers. You rolled with it. You owned it. And you didn’t. Once you decide something, there’s no stopping you.

I love you. Happy 4, Wilson. Happy 4. Thanks for letting me be your mom.

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