Dear Jack,

Today you are 14 months old. You are a firecracker. A blast of light and sound. A beautiful, raucous symphony. You live at the intersection of disaster and discovery. You push hard against your boundaries. You smile big and laugh bigger. You reach as high as you can and higher than you can. You fall and cry. You fall and laugh. You bounce back. You run fast. You bite hard.

This is a love letter to a person who has tested the limits of our new love for the last thirty days.

This month, you have started talking a lot. You say "Koo-kah" which means cookie or cracker. You say "Goh-Goh" when you see the goldfish in your favorite book. You sing along with whatever I'm singing with your chorus of "Dah," "Dee," and "Doh." You bang pots and pans and kettles and boxes with rhythmic persistence. Your dancing continues to evolve and now includes a right toe tap and a "sprinkler" move. Music seems to be part of your destiny, sweet son.

Your memory amazes me at times. You can't be distracted. You had diaper rash for a few days which made bathtime uncomfortable, and for five or six days after that you screamed at the word "bath" and screamed the entire time you were in it. I finally enticed you back to your favorite time of day with a game of Fishketball. Now you're back to splashing around joyfully.



You have been particularly clingy for the last couple of weeks. You will cry endlessly when I'm gone. This makes it hard to leave. You and I both need to get better about that. I need to hear that this is normal and that I haven't done something wrong, but at times I feel like we've taken an unfortunate misstep. Other times I see how bright and happy you are, and how much you love to learn and entertain, and I know everything is right. The important things anyway.

I love you when it's not easy. I love you through conflicting instincts of self-preservation and maternal protection. I love you for challenging me and growing me and pushing me, and I love you for resting in me and teaching me to rest.

But give me a break sometimes. Please?

Mama.