“Almost 12 years too late for that now, isn’t it Maria?” my Physics teacher would have asked. But hey, I got there.
Quoting Albert Einstein, scientist extraordinaire – “Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. THAT’S relativity.”
That indeed is relativity. Ask me about how fast Ryan has grown up in these past 2 years, and I’ll tell you it seemed like it happened in a micro-second. Ask me how long it took me to get Google to up my PageRank for this blog and I’ll say an eternity. Relativity. There ya go.
Dearest Birthday Boy,
Today, you turn two – standing on that tricky threshold between baby-hood and brat-hood.
Brat-hood seems to be the flavour of these days. There are “I-want-random-thing-that-I-must-not-have” tantrums mid-play, there are “Spitting-food-if-I-don’t-like-it” scenes mid-meal and “I-want-attention-and-I-will-not-wait-for-your-5-minutes” mid-anything else.
But since I belong to that strange, exclusive and mildly irritating species of Doting Mothers, I only see the baby-hood in you most of the time. Like when your tiny fingers curl slightly as you sleep, or how I can sing the same song over and over again and you never tire of it, and in rare moments (which I place in my secret stash of good memories), you stop exploring the big world around you and prefer to just place your head in my lap and look up at me.
These moments… they grow less frequent each day. And rightly so.
You have learnt the art of persuasion. You have learnt the art of mood deciphering. But your most precious skill this year has to be your gift of speech. I waited all of last year and you didn’t utter a single word. But this year, this power of speech, it hits you like a revelation.
A few manoeuvres of the lips and tongue and voila a legible word! An emotion expressed. A conversation begun. A mother is made proud.
I watch with joy and pride as you rattle off the numbers:
– Eight and Nine, not quite your favourites are they?
– Wa-Wa (eleven)
I have to admit I love Wa-Wa the best because in broken syllables and mispronounced gooey words, your babyhood resurfaces again. If only for a minute.
I think I’ll stop rambling now. And leave you with a few words from another blog I came across:
“Your child will change your life. The unconditional acceptance he/she will offer will shock your system and move things inside you that you didn’t know existed. Love and despair, exhilaration and exhaustion will hold your hands as if they are twins, demanding equal attention. You will know trust; you will stare at the serenity of your baby’s sleep and absorb it.”
Ryan, each day, my child, you do just that. You shake my belief in things I swore by before, and you make me believe in things I was too scared to face earlier. I used to think that I was placed on earth to be your caretaker and protector, but on the frustrating and dark days, you turn around and show me that I AM THE ONE WHO NEEDS YOU MORE.
Loyal member from that awful club of Doting Mothers
Note: For those of you who have gotten to the end of this post, and still feel inclined to read some more of this genre, go ahead and read the dedication I had wriiten for Ryan on his first birthday.
I thought being One was a major milestone! Now I realise Two is even bigger. And next year it will be Three, and Four, and Five…sighhhh
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