Caleb Turned One, Months Ago

Mar 27, 2019 by Molly

Caleb,
You’re nearly 15 months old now, and I have yet to post about you turning one. That’s because it has taken me three months to come to terms with you not being a baby anymore. I know that’s silly. You’re still a baby. You’ll be a baby for a while yet, but you’re not the squirming lump you were just a few months ago, and my heart longs to snuggle you closer for just a while longer. It seemed easier to write this letter for your sister because you were already on the way, it made sense that she was becoming a toddler because we needed to make room for a new baby. With you…it doesn’t make sense that time could go so fast.

Although you tolerate my constant snuggles and are even getting really generous with giving your own hugs, you quickly pull away–anxious to be on your feet again to follow big sister around. I promise you, son, I will never, ever, be the first to pull away from a hug. You’ll be more visibly annoyed by my hugs one day I’m sure, but I know there will be days when you secretly need some love or reassurance from your momma but will be too cool to initiate it… I’ll always hug you as long as you need.

You’ve changed so much in the last few months, and I’ve tried so hard to memorize every little thing you do. (Although I’ve been attempting to convince your daddy you need a little brother, I’m pretty confident you’re the last baby in our family…so I want to commit every bit of this time to memory.) They say even the brightest and best memories fade with time so we’re taking a lot of pictures and I’m writing a lot of things down because I don’t want a second of this to fade away.

I’m so lucky to be able to stay home with you and your sister while you’re so little. Daddy works really hard so that we can stay home and play together. I never thought I would want to be the kind of woman who stays home with her kids. I imagined myself too serious, too professional, to driven for that kind of pastime. What I didn’t realize is how perfect your little giggle would be when mommy pretends to be a monkey, or how much fun it would be to play tag racing around and around our coffee table.

You and Juliet have changed my perspective on life immensely and what was once important to me is no longer on my list of priorities. Although I do long to go back to work, and I sometimes reminisce about the freedoms I had before you and Juju were born, I don’t regret one single moment of staying home during this season of our lives. I don’t want to spend my day in a classroom full of other people’s children. I want to spend my day in our home, with you.

I hope you always feel like I choose you, Caleb. No matter what other things may come into our lives, no matter what might seem important at the time– you and your sister will always come first. We choose you, every time.

So, you’re a big boy now. You weigh about as much as Juliet, and you’re gaining on her in height each day. You love to climb and scare the daylights out of me when you’re already halfway up the playhouse steps before I can help you. You scale the stairs in our home, can get up on the couch and I’ve caught you twice nearly climbing out of your crib. You hate sitting still, and you’re much more coordinated than your sister was (or is) so I know I need to let you have a little more independence. I’m just not ready to! You take some pretty severe tumbles too, it won’t be long before you land yourself in the ER because you, son, are all boy. Gender stereotypes or not, you are rough and tumble, you’re tough, and you’re silly.

But, for every tough little boy moment you have, you are equal parts quiet and sweet. You’ll sit for long minutes by yourself in the playroom looking at books, “cooking” in the kitchen or feeding your stuffed animals plastic food. I’ve caught you hugging baby dolls and tucking them gently under blankets. You’ll pat your crying sister lightly on the back when she’s sad and carefully help to put your toys away. You love to turn the pages in a book and point out all the things you want me to name for you, and you’re starting to get the hang of holding a crayon and coloring on the paper.

We can’t get you to speak much yet. Juju talks enough for the both of you, I think. You’ll say momma and dada when prompted and tell us what a dog says or growl like a bear. You’ve mastered saying “uhoh” when you’ve dropped something and will nod your head in agreement, but that’s about it for words. You might not speak much, but you learn sign language quite quickly and know the words for all the things you need or want. You can sign more, please, thank you, milk, cracker, momma, help, and banana regularly, and will occasionally use the signs for dog and “all done” without reminders too.

My sweet boy, keep being equal parts sweet and tough. The world needs more men like that. We love you beyond measure and no matter what.

Love, Momma