Dearest William and Vivian,
Today you turn 7. Happy Birthday, my darlings.
I hope you think being 6 has been a lot of fun. You know I’m not good at the big things. I’m not good at planning birthday parties, taking you on a zillion outings (or even two—unless they involve a bookstore and a library), or writing plays for you to act out.
But I think I’m okay at the little things. At laughing at the dinner table, at wrestling, at making music practice manageable by banging my forehead on the keys, at impersonating Donald Duck.
I hope that you will come to see that the little things often matter more than the big ones.
I hope you “get” this blog someday. I’m not going to lie. I blog for me. But I also blog for you.
I hope that someday you will come to know me as a person in addition to a mom. I hope you will realize that—in spite of my many, many failings—that I love you “across my howt [heart] and back again.” I hope you know in your core that I am “a comback-er woman” as you declared years ago.
I hope that you will come to understand that while I laugh at you, I laugh more at myself. I hope you’ll see this as a gift.
I hope that you know how thankful I am for you both.
For all of us.
And I know.
I know the world is much, much better with you a part of it.
May 7 be your best year yet.