Mitch, you are my favorite because

Another installment in the "you are my favorite because..." birthday series.

Mitch, you are my favorite because...

You are currently my biggest fan, filling my days with "I love you's," creating art in my honor, bringing me my rice pillow, helping me cook and clean, and laying your head on my shoulder while we watch TV.

You remind my of my father and my brother.

You tolerate your position in our household with such patience and understanding. You defer to Owen when that is what you need to do, and you help Paige along when that is what you need to do.

Tonight you sobbed and sobbed because you scared Paige with your new remote control tarantula, and you felt terrible about it.

You come up with the most creative reasons for staying home from school and for coming into bed with us at night.

You have mad style, particularly when you wear your Pink Floyd tee.

You say things like, "Mommy, sometimes you are so conservative," and "I'm even psyched-er about my field trip tomorrow!"

You recognize good music and you're not afraid to sing with the headphones on.

You can charm adults without coming off phony.

You beg to wind the bobbin on my sewing machine, and you love my sewing lessons.

You cherish the things I make for you and understand that their value comes from the love put into the making.

You taught yourself to ride a two-wheeler, persisting even after tearing up one side of your face in a bad spill.

You kiss me goodbye every morning, and you're the first to greet me when I come home from work.

When you were a tiny baby, you gave me some of the most peaceful, emotional, and spiritual moments of my life as I rocked you in the dark.

I love you Snitcheroo! Happy birthday, my school-aged boy.

You are my favorite because...

Another birthday (erm, only a couple of weeks ago...or so...), another favorite post (which I've been working on for a week!)

Owen, you are my favorite because...

You can't stop giving Mitch your birthday money. Every time you spend a little of it, you hand some over to him because you can't stand to see him disappointed.

Your enthusiasm for maps and geography facts has made me an expert on capital cities, both in the U.S. and abroad.

You share my love of Beverly Cleary, Spencer on iCarly (he totally makes that show watchable), drawing, chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, and sleeping for five more minutes.

When you asked me, "Are you the tooth fairy?" and I responded, "Are you kidding? I don't have time to fly around the world gathering teeth every night!" that was a good enough answer for you.

I said it last year, and I'll say it again: you laugh at my jokes, and you make jokes that make me laugh.

You have good taste in shoes.

Your performance and behavior in school are absolutely the best a parent could hope for, and you do so well because you love it, like I do.

You are proud of who you are and completely unselfconscious.

You are my first born, and there is something special about a mother's love for her first born. You introduced me to the meaning of life, and every day you are that enlightenment made manifest.

Snowball, I can't believe it's already been 7 years. In the same amount of time from now you'll be 14, and that makes me dizzy. Please don't ever leave behind the smart, funny, quirky boy I love.

You are my favorite because

Today is Mitch's birthday, so I'm continuing my "You are my favorite because" series.

Mitch, you are my favorite because...

In our family, you are your own species. Everything about you is different, not in a black sheep way, but in very charming, unique and sometime hilarious ways. Even your physical features are singular; everyone else has dark hair and eyes (except Paige, whose eyes are smoky gray), but you are bright blond, your eyes a crisp, clear blue with a depth that exposes every emotion.

You contain not an ounce of shyness and have a way of drawing strangers to you in your friendly sincerity. You succeeded today in soliciting "Happy Birthdays" from everyone whose path we crossed, including the man working the McDonald's drive-thru. You have thoroughly charmed every adult you're close to: your teachers (and Owen's teachers), your aunts and uncles, your grandparents, my friends (especially your secret real mom, Anna).

You are affectionate and kind, but unwilling to stand by and let someone hurt you. You have faced me, hands balled into fists, eyes brimming with tears, and scolded, "I don't like the way you're treating me, Mommy." From only 6 months old, you'd beat the floor in rage when I took an object of interest away from you. In your relationship with Owen, you are the dominate one, regardless of your "little" brother status. You came home from preschool one day with a story about an older boy who'd said something mean to you. You told him, "Do not talk rudely to me." You are self-assured and forceful, but not without tenderness toward those you love, especially Paige, the apple of your eye.

And oh my lord, you say the funniest things. Some recent examples:

To dad and me when we made fun of a TV show: "You guys have a really bad attitude."

To Aunt Blair about her (actually very nice) boyfriend (said with your hand on Blair's arm): "You don't have to marry a guy like that."

To me after I asked you if you liked the bunny I sewed you for Easter: "Well, I did want that bunny, but I'm sorry. I changed my mind."

About your birthday: "Everyone in this family feels my birthday in their heart."

But my very favorite thing about you these days (as you move through an intense mommy-love phase) is the way you lean your head against me, wrap your arms around my waist, and tell me, "Mommy, I love you so, so, so, so, so, so much."

Mitch, I love you so, so, so, so, so, so much, too. Happy 4th birthday!

On your birth day:


My all time favorite picture of you (4 months old):


First birthday:


One of your last days as a three year old:

You are my favorite because

My mom tells a story about my sister Blair once asking her, "Who's your favorite?" The question warmed my mother's heart because she realized that Blair wouldn't have asked unless she thought she was the favorite, and isn't it every mom's wish for each of her children to feel that special?

My favorite part of the story is my mom's answer to the question. She said, "You're my favorite because..." and listed all the reasons Blair was special to her. Then she said, "And Kelly is my favorite because...." and "Neal is my favorite because..." and "Ashley is my favorite because..." And it was an honest answer. She had four favorites, all for different reasons, which was just exactly the right answer and is just exactly how I feel about my own kids.

My very first favorite is turning 6 today, which puts a small lump in my throat. I can still look at him and feel the brand new momma love that filled me to overflowing 6 years ago. The first time I felt that love from head to toe was the morning after Owen was born. I was dozing in my hospital bed, trying to ignore the hot throbbing of my cesarean incision and a bit out of my wits from pain medication. John had spent the night at home and was coming to the hospital early, but he hadn’t arrived yet. I was alone. The room was half-lit with the purple glow of 6:00 AM in November and quiet but for the gasping of some monitor they’d strapped me to. The nurse came in with Owen and told me his body temperature was down. She untied my hospital gown and helped me bear my chest; then she stripped Owen to his diaper and laid him on my breast. “He needs your body heat,” she told me. “I’ll come back in an hour.”

The night before had been long and brutal, a nearly 30 hour labor ending in an unexpected and emotional c-section. I’d been a mess in recovery, shaking and sobbing, and they’d kept me there longer than usual, so I’d had very little time with my baby. The time I did have was bleary and crowded with family who’d come to see. Now the nurse left me alone with this small, warm, breathing boy tucked under my chin. She'd given him to me because I was his mother and it was my body heat he needed. Artificial warming lamps were no match for my blood-warmed body, pulsing with the heat and the love he needed.

I experienced that moment out of time. I’d never felt so exactly in the right place, so content and certain and calm. I think of that hour as my initiation into motherhood. I’d been on the threshold before, but during those minutes alone with Owen for the first time and nurturing him wholly for the first time, I crossed into that realm from which you can never retreat, the realm of mothering and its fulfillment, its love, its fear, its anxiety, its complication, its sadness.

Owen is my favorite because…

He thinks my jokes are funny and he makes jokes that I think are funny.

He loves reading and writing and music.

His dearest birthday wish is a package of dry erase markers.

He hugs his brother and sister goodnight every single day.

He loves school as much as I loved school.

He can’t tell a lie and has the guiltiest conscience of anyone I’ve met.

He taught me to be a mother, and he gave me my first taste of the gorgeous, swooning love of parenthood.

Happy birthday, Snowball!

She's a one year old!

And PROUD of it: