Dear Benjamin,
Last week, you turned four years old. I can't believe it's been that long since the very first day I met you. As cliche as it might be, it truly seems like yesterday I held you for the first time and anxiously awaited your first cries, signalling to me that you were okay. (You were.) Though our first days at home are a bit blurry, I clearly remember the overwhelming love I had for you from the minute we made eye contact.
Do you know that love, Benjamin? Do you see it? Do you know how often I think of you, worry about you, pray for you? One of my favorite things to do is daydream about your future and reminisce about your past. It's been a hard year, between your last birthday and this one, for you and I, so I've relied on these mental escapes, as well as never-ceasing prayer to get us through.
You see, Benjamin, you've got a couple of things going against you. You are my first born, which means you are the guinea pig, so to speak. I've never raised a four year old, so I am trying everything out on you for the first time. So while you get the prestige of being the oldest, that also means you get all my mistakes and failures. The other setback you have is that you are just like me. In some ways that is wonderful (our nose is fabulous!) but in other ways, it's not so great. My stubborn streak runs right through the core of you, as does the desire for control and authority. There are times when those qualities come in handy (such as when you are a CEO of a Fortune 500 company), but when you are four, they usually spell trouble in the form of time-outs and tears...for the both of us. So many times I find myself telling you (in not such a nice voice, I have to admit), "I am the parent, you are the child!"
In moments of failure, such as when I raise my voice (too often), say hurtful things (my most shameful admission), or throw my hands up in frustration because you don't meet my expectations (which are usually too high), I find myself begging God to intervene and instill in you a very deep, impenetrable knowledge that I love you more than I can possibly explain, because my sinful, outward actions do not always accurately portray that love. I desperately long to be a perfect mother, but I am coming to terms with the fact that it just isn't possible. Luckily, you have a perfect, Holy Father who not only fills in the gaps, but loves you more than I ever could. All I can do is try my best and continually go to my knees and pray that today I can and will demonstrate Gods love and compassion and kindness to you, a boy whom I love to the moon and back. Do you know that, Benjamin? Do you know my love for you??
Sometimes it is easier to explain love through tangible items. So here is just a sampling of things I love about you, my oldest child:
Here are some pictures of your fourth birthday party. For months I planned out a pirate party for you, complete with a treasure map (drawn just for you by your Uncle Ray), an enemy pirate water balloon attack, a story all about how you became "Captain Benjamin", a plank, a shark, and buried treasure. I hope you enjoyed it! (Though I have a sneaking suspicion that you did...)
Last week, you turned four years old. I can't believe it's been that long since the very first day I met you. As cliche as it might be, it truly seems like yesterday I held you for the first time and anxiously awaited your first cries, signalling to me that you were okay. (You were.) Though our first days at home are a bit blurry, I clearly remember the overwhelming love I had for you from the minute we made eye contact.
Do you know that love, Benjamin? Do you see it? Do you know how often I think of you, worry about you, pray for you? One of my favorite things to do is daydream about your future and reminisce about your past. It's been a hard year, between your last birthday and this one, for you and I, so I've relied on these mental escapes, as well as never-ceasing prayer to get us through.
You see, Benjamin, you've got a couple of things going against you. You are my first born, which means you are the guinea pig, so to speak. I've never raised a four year old, so I am trying everything out on you for the first time. So while you get the prestige of being the oldest, that also means you get all my mistakes and failures. The other setback you have is that you are just like me. In some ways that is wonderful (our nose is fabulous!) but in other ways, it's not so great. My stubborn streak runs right through the core of you, as does the desire for control and authority. There are times when those qualities come in handy (such as when you are a CEO of a Fortune 500 company), but when you are four, they usually spell trouble in the form of time-outs and tears...for the both of us. So many times I find myself telling you (in not such a nice voice, I have to admit), "I am the parent, you are the child!"
In moments of failure, such as when I raise my voice (too often), say hurtful things (my most shameful admission), or throw my hands up in frustration because you don't meet my expectations (which are usually too high), I find myself begging God to intervene and instill in you a very deep, impenetrable knowledge that I love you more than I can possibly explain, because my sinful, outward actions do not always accurately portray that love. I desperately long to be a perfect mother, but I am coming to terms with the fact that it just isn't possible. Luckily, you have a perfect, Holy Father who not only fills in the gaps, but loves you more than I ever could. All I can do is try my best and continually go to my knees and pray that today I can and will demonstrate Gods love and compassion and kindness to you, a boy whom I love to the moon and back. Do you know that, Benjamin? Do you know my love for you??
Sometimes it is easier to explain love through tangible items. So here is just a sampling of things I love about you, my oldest child:
- Your desire to be held and "snuggled up tightly." I hope you never outgrow this!
- The dreams you have for your future. You currently plan to be a firefighter, an ambulance driver, a police officer, and a race car driver, "so you can help people." I'm not sure where race car driving fits in, but as Daddy pointed out, everyone needs a hobby. :)
- The confidence you have in everything you try. Whether it's riding a bike, diving into a pool, learning a new lesson in school, or memorizing scripture, you have a can-do attitude about it. You always say, "Okay...I'll try!" If you don't succeed the first time, you patiently listen to our advice, nod, and say, "Okay, I'll try again." I love that! Do you know what a gift that is, my son? The gift of perseverance, especially at such a young age, is truly something to treasure and will carry you far in life!
- Your compassionate and forgiving nature. When I mess up and find myself apologizing to you, you always say to me, "It's okay, Mommy, I forgive you." Usually you follow it up with, "Now say "I forgive you, too" to me, Mom," which always makes me laugh.
- You share my love of reading, which I so desperately wanted to pass on to you. I have a long list of books I wish to share with you and I have great plans to continue our nightly reading ritual for many years to come.
- You have the memory of an elephant. I do not have this ability, so I envy and admire it so. Sometimes it isn't so wonderful, such as when you are recalling one of my less-than-stellar moments, but most of the time it comes in very handy (such as when I miss my exit and you remind me where we are going!) Again, this gift will help you in many aspects of life, especially when it comes to taking tests in school. :)
Here are some pictures of your fourth birthday party. For months I planned out a pirate party for you, complete with a treasure map (drawn just for you by your Uncle Ray), an enemy pirate water balloon attack, a story all about how you became "Captain Benjamin", a plank, a shark, and buried treasure. I hope you enjoyed it! (Though I have a sneaking suspicion that you did...)
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