to my SIX year old:

Dear Kortland,
It's that time again, and you are officially the big 0-6. I can't believe it. I couldn't sleep this morning because my brain got all sorts of busy right off the bat. My mind was preoccupied with party plans, and cake plans, but mostly with plain, simple, good old fashioned awe. I can't believe it's been six years since we first met. (You know the day, the one where I won the hospital lottery and birthed the cutest, most amazing child on the planet? That one.)

Did you know that when you were born, you didn't even cry? You came into the world with a calm soul and wide eyes. I'll never forget how I felt when I placed you on my chest all naked, and wrinkly, and purple, and you looked right into my eyes, oh so pleased to finally make my acquaintance...so eager to see the face of the person you'd lived with for the past 39 weeks.

I couldn't sleep during those first 2 nights in the hospital. You were w-i-d-e awake in the early hours and I couldn't bring myself to miss an opportunity to look into your eyes. I was so excited to get to know you. The energy was palpable. We were no longer strangers, but companions on a journey...a journey that has continued to the present day. I love you more than you will probably ever be able to comprehend, and that love will be yours no matter what the future holds. There is nothing you can ever do to deter it. (no matter how hard you may eventually try) Your Uncle Bryan drove a car to Castle Dale through a blizzard when he was 14 and blew up a toilet at the high school a few years after that, and Gaga still loves him. There really isn't anywhere a boy can go where his mother's love can't follw. Mine will follow you to the ends of the earth and even into your darkest moments.

The truth is: I hope you'll always be kind to others, (just as you always have been) and I hope you'll look both ways before you cross the street (which you actually still forget MOST of the time.) I really hope you'll listen to your teacher, and it would be nice if you'd eat more than the Doritos and Twinkie in your school lunch... but the fact is, no matter what you do in this life, good or bad, you will have my love. It will never change. I don't even think it's humanly possible. My love for you is eternal. I get the feeling that our love existed long before our bodies did, and it will last long after these bodies are gone.

With every new birthday, I find a recurring theme: I think to myself "He is just so big!" I thought this when you were 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, and I'm thinking it again this morning now that you're 6...and a first grader, and a two-wheel bike rider, and a bit of a scientist. I am sitting here thinking to myself "He is just so big!"

I've spent the whole morning looking at your old birthday photos, and do you know what I've been thinking? I've been thinking "He was so little!" Isn't that just ridiculous? I certainly think it is. Life is funny that way.

I've been crying (like, a lot) as I've written this, but I want you to know that they are happy tears - much like the ones you shared with me on Mother's Day. "I'm crying because I'm so happy that you're mine." If I never get another gift as long as I live, the gift of you is more than any one person could have ever hoped for in the first place, and it's more than enough to make my life complete.

Happy Birthday Monkey!

Love, Mom.