Dear Shep,

Three. I keep saying that number over and over in my mind because it simply doesn’t seem logical. I sit here just hours after that very time you entered this huge world and can’t wrap my head around the years fully. One part of me is absolutely exhausted by the new norm that is motherhood, while the other feels like I was just praying and crying over everything “baby” that reminded me that I might never have the chance to be that very mother.

Being your mom is scary. I have such a huge sense of ownership for all of your amazing talents and even the setbacks. Every time you succeed at hitting the ball I awkwardly throw your way with your plastic bat brings absolute pride, but feelings of failure creep in when you miss and act less than admirable. Then someone reminds me that you’re just that. You’re three. With or without me you were made for great things. You will become the very many the Lord created you to be and it’s my job to simply point you to Him. So this is my promise to you. I will set apart each day as a new opportunity to show you who Jesus it. Who He was. What He desires for you. And as for me? I’m going to enjoy all of the silly, long, wild and crazy moments in between. I’ll spend the rest of this birthday letter simply stating facts about you in a way that an English major would cringe at, but it’s the only way I can think to not miss a beat of the fun. I never want to fogey this year. Ever.

You wake up from naps cranky. So so cranky. Every not and then if I catch you at the perfect moment, you’re a treat. But let’s be honest….it’s rare. The beautiful part is that the only reason you’re truly cranky is because if River weren’t around, I’m quite certain you just wish I would rock you and hold you and snuggle you while the lights are still dim. You just aren’t quite ready to be bombarded with juice and toys and bright window light. And that’s okay. So for now, we head straight to the sofa and snuggle for as long as we can. Every once in a while when I nail it, you look up to me and say “tank tew mommy. tank tew” then nuzzle right back into my arms. You’re almost too big to be completely curled in my lap and that makes me ache. It actually hurts to think about and i often remind myself when rocking you that a few more minutes of giving in to the request would be better spent. To be honest, you’re rocking me in those moments.

You hate sharing. Especially with River. What’s funny though, is that you LOVE it sometimes. It’s these little glimpses of absolute magic and it makes my mommy heart about as proud as I could have ever imagined. When you try and avoid sharing I’ll say something like “Sheppard…you need to give the baby the train bc he was playing with it. Share the train now.” Well, I think you’re about to do just as I asked when you grab something else and proceed to hold it up and say “I share cow with the baby. I share it”. Well aren’t you sneaky mr? No one is fooled. Especially that baldy who (take note) is quickly approaching your height and weight at two years younger. Watch your back kiddo. But those moments that make my heart soar? Sometimes when River wakes up after you’ve been playing, you’ll run into his room as I scoop him up and say “WOOOOOOK BABY WOOOOOOK. Wooook at all the toweys (that’s toys in souther toddler talk)” then you lead him to the toys and hand him something in such a kind way and speak sweetly “Wanna pway with it riber? wanna pway?” Checkmate Mom.

You absolutely love all things trains, movies, popcorn in bed, “mama’s bed”, colors, jumping, white sauce (ranch), counting, and “OOOOOOONE more” moments that mean you’re having the best time. You’re so incredibly brave that it frightens me. Never is there a moment where you are too shy or nervous to jump out and try something that requires a bit of bravery at your age. You make friends everywhere we go and comfort your newfound buds when they fall by asking “You okayyyyyy? bonk your head??? I kiss it (planting one on them before pronouncing for the room…) ALLLLL better. You’re a llllllll better.” Speaking of the “you okay?” you yell it my way any time I have any outburst in the house. I can drop a saucer on the flow and hear a bellowing “MAMAAAAA YOU OKAAAAAAAAE?” and it just kills me. I still laugh months into you doing it bc it’s such a little grown up thing to do. I love that somewhere along the road I’ve taught you to worry about others. Empathy is so important and it’s truly one of your greatest values.

You love it when Daddy and I get down on the floor and play “tracks” with you. We build a giant circle usually and you clap and proclaim “yay” super excitedly and dash for your train bucket to start our game of make believe. When River naps each morning and it’s quiet time, you dash to “mama’s bed” and we watch a movie or color (sometimes even bust out a new toy that can’t come out when River is awake) and we have the most special moments together. It’s just me and you time and I treasure it in the same way your Daddy treasures his nights with you. You love River to death, but I’m pretty sure you feel on top of the world when you get one of us completely alone. You often repeat “baby’s asweeeeeeep” to us to remind us that its just the two of us. Magic happens in those moments.

You love books these days. Books in “baby’s bed” after baths, books before bed (“mommy’s turn, then sheppard’s turn” – its the only way to ever let you hear the story if I read it first), “one more book” moments, and “DEEE end” proclamations when you get to the final page. You’re pretty good at attempting a second book (and sometimes you win that battle) but let’s be real…typically you’ve won about 5 battles before that moment putting us at bed time late so I don’t cave on that one.

You shout out to people in public phrases like “Thank you boys” when someone opens a door for you, or “Good mornin’ ladies” as we enter the bank. You love the bank because you immediately head to your chair there off to the side and proudly proclaim that you’re there and ready for your sucker. As we head out you typically shout without turning your head “See you soooon” and everyone oooooohs and ahhhhhhhs over how adorable you are. Because you are. When you get hurt you INSIST that the boo boo be kissed. It doesn’t matter if it’s your tongue. It MUST be kissed. Your daddy and I used to be able to quickly tap it with our nose to make appearances that you were in fact being kissed on your tongue that you’d bitten for the umpteenth time that day, but unfortunately just two days ago you quickly responded to my magic trick with “No no mama (you do the flat handed wave in a sassy wave while shacking your head) Don’t kiss the nose kiss the wips” so I bow out and make a mental note to wash my tongue extra hard that night (no offense but eventually this could get very Bates Motel kiddo).

You’re independence floors me at times and you’ve started not only insisting that you do the top buckle of your car seat, but now you want me to “close the dower” and “I do it” while you get to it. Sometimes I give in out of sheer understanding since you are, in fact, my sass in a tiny body, but others I put the mom hat on and explain that you aren’t the king of the castle that day. You never believe me on those days. Just last week started a new trend of every now and then insisting on getting into AND out of your seat when we are coming and going. If River is already buckled and I have the time to watch the struggle, I do. I just stand back laughing watching you succeed (I’m proud as heck somewhere inside by the way during the hysterical process) at finding your footing and struggling up and down the side of the SUV. You’re quite the climber.

Daddy makes you laugh the most around here. “Daddy’s silly” is the one phrase I hear most when it gets home each night. Y’all play too rough and hear plenty of complaints from me about “calming down” and “time to brush teeth” etc. but you both just ignore me until Daddy is worn out. He lights up when you’re at the door when he arrives home. I just know that he pictures that moment the entire drive to our street and wouldn’t be the same without that hug and excitement that you give him.

You the best brother, helper, friend, and first born miracle I could have ever wished for. Thank you for growing into someone I can be so incredibly proud of. I look forward to year 4 with you and promise to soak it up without taking advantage of too many moments along the way. I promise to show you Jesus. I promise to snuggle and rock longer on the days you need it. And most of all, I promise that these are truth – not just a nice line to read when you’re grown. Rest assured of that.

Mommy Xx