I know, I know...these days, people call you "Matt." I'm sorry. It's just taking me a bit to get used to. Now that you are 10, I am almost used to being a mother.
Last night, I told you the story of the night before and the day of your birth - how you surprised everyone, especially me, by being early, but surprised no one, especially me, by being such a fierce little warrior.
My sensitive, sweet-natured boy, at your core, in your deepest heart, you are still a warrior. How I (mostly) love to see your fire when you have perceived that something is unjust or unfair. You are fierce and loud and so very brave, choosing your words with precision and mounting an argument without a qualm.
I am proud of the friend that I've seen you become to a select few, but how you continue to be friendly to most people who cross your path. I see you trying very hard to be kinder to your little brother because I have asked you to - I love your heart's efforts and his smile when they work.
I love your humour and your unselfconscious laughter. I love your preening and your shy and your determination to score one more goal, take one more shot, read one more page, have one more minute. It's hard to deny you these moments because your victory echoes in the heart just over the spot where you grew in my belly.
That's a funny thought, isn't it? That I could feel as you do, simply because I am your mother. But I do. And long before I was your mother, I was a daughter first. And once, a long, LONG time ago, I too, turned 10. I have not forgotten, my boy, the slight awe and the wonder of finally becoming an age that had seemed so far out of reach. I have not forgotten the weirdness of those years, when my heart both pushed my own mother out, even as another part opened up to her and begged her to stay.
Well, maybe I have forgotten some of it, love, which is usually when I holler and yell and we fight and spit daggers aimed for each other's eyes until one of us remembers to be a grown-up and stops. Mostly that's me, but sometimes it's you first and oh, Matt, how proud I am of you in those moments.
Those are glimpses, you see, of the man you will one day be and I see him more and more, as time moves past me. He is wise and good and funny and fierce. Just like the you of today, only taller. And he has a cool car. I can't remember which kind, but you'll know it when you see it. Remind me, ok?
In the meantime, know that I love you beyond words, more than the whole of the universe and always from the deepest part of my heart. I love that in being born, you gave me this life as your mother and that now, 10 years later, I continue to find such joy in that role and in you and in our shared days.
You make me laugh and cry and ponder and question and think and wish and dream...just as you did long before I met you. You're kind of magic, you know?
The day you were born was the day my heart's desire came true.
Thank you, as always, for choosing me.
Happy Birthday, Matt.
I love you.
Mum
