Yesterday was Jack's third birthday. It's hard to believe that at 2:32 PM just over three years ago we heard the words "it's a boy!" I remember parts of labor and deliver like it was yesterday and others parts like it's a story someone told me, a book I read, a movie I saw. Regardless, I'll never forget looking at him for the first time and thinking "I will do everything in my power to give you the best life possible and I will love you more than you'll ever, ever realize."
Fast forward three years - we've had lots of firsts.. first bath, first head lift, first time rolling over, crawling, words, steps, running, sentences, arguments. Yes, I said arguments. Our child is a "willful" child. Early on he wasn't - he was the ultimate go-with-the-flow child. Other mothers in mommy class would look at us and I knew some were at least a little envious because Jack was just so easy going. Not so much any more.
Yesterday we woke up to hear, "Mommy! Can you come in here?" I took more than the typical 0.3 seconds to respond and we heard the this as a follow-up: "she is not coming in here. What is taking her so long??" With a day that starts like that how did I think the rest of it would go?
I decided that for his birthday I'd take the day off and we'd have a Jack & Mommy day. It would be idillic - we'd go to the Children's Museum, bonding over an educational and yet fun activities, then we'd head to the Rainforest Cafe to eat among the elephants and monkeys and parrots (oh my!) Next would be build-a-bear where Jack would choose a bear and some clothes and it would be oh so cute. Well, the best laid plans...
At 9:30 when we were to leave for the museum little mister had a meltdown. Not a normal run-of-the-mill meltdown, a full-fledged three-year-old meltdown, complete with "I don't want to go with you. I want my Daddy. I do not like Mommy." *sigh* After nearly 25 minutes we got out the door. I got to hear during much of the ride how little he wanted to be with me and that he just wanted to go to pre-school. Again, *sigh*.
We went to the museum, and we had a great time. I mean, there was the cup or so of water that he poured over the head of the little blond girl, but I'll tell myself that he was just awkwardly flirting. It was fun.
There were meltdowns, but nothing that I wouldn't deal with in order to spend time together again. That little teeny baby that I held in my arms just three short years ago was little Mr. Independent, climbing three stories in the play structure without a care in the world, using his mind and his body like a little miniature person.
We did go to lunch and had a great day (after an impromptu nap for both us us in the mall parking lot! Now you see why I'm vying for mother of the year these days), and we built a bear that was cute as can be.
The follow up of our adventure was some snuggle time on the sofa watching the Little Engine that Could and some train time (anyone *other* than Jack who knows me know that I hate trains, but mark my words, I will play trains with him because I know that someday he won't want to play anything with me, so I'll treasure these times!) Then out to dinner with Daddy, home for cake and presents, and the day was done. His third birthday is officially in the books (party to take place next week, so celebrating is not in the books, but the birthday itself is). We made it the first three years without many scars, and it's been the most incredible adventure of my life to date.
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