52 Tuesdays

Cooper,

It is the evening of July 19th.  Exactly one year ago right now, I was doing exactly what I am doing right now.  Sitting in the same house, looking into the same computer, and writing on this same blog.  That's about where the similarities stop, darling boy.

I remember, after I finished writing you your last letter before we met, that I laid in bed and wondered what it would be like.  I knew I needed to go to sleep, but that was impossible.  I will never, ever forget that feeling of impending change.  I'd certainly never felt it before.  Not before my wedding.  I don't anticipate that I'll feel it quite the same way before our next child, either.  I really do feel like, right then, I was experiencing an emotion that maybe a human only experiences once in their life.  The beginning of responsibility.  True responsibility.

I knew that your mother and I would love you.  We already did.  I knew that we would have love and support from our family and our friends.  I knew that I probably would not have to watch Juno for a very, very long time.

But you could fill the ocean with what I didn't know, Coop.  And that's what makes THIS night, exactly one year later, a million, billion, trillion times better.

I didn't know that you'd sleep with your butt straight up in the air.  Sideways, in our bed, kicking me in the ear.  With two pacifiers that you would swap out in your sleep, or cry bloody murder for if you couldn't find either one.  52 Tuesdays ago, I didn't even know they made glow-in-the-dark pacifiers.  I do now.  And I am soooooo thankful for them.

I didn't know that Gerber onesies were sized small, and that compared with your Amazonian length, it would cause me to feel a bit of concern that you were outgrowing 12 Mos. clothes at three months.  You've been in 24 Mos. in Gerber for a couple of months now, kid.  Just so you know.

I didn't know that I would get to sing you to sleep every night.  That it would become my favorite thing  in the world to do.  I didn't know that it would be the strongest bond between you and your daddy, out of all the strong bonds we've developed.  That's our thing, Cooper, and I LOVE IT SO.  Mommy is your favorite, and I am so ok with that, but you like to go to sleep on me.  You always have, and I'll let you even after your feet are dragging the floor.

I didn't know that you would eschew your pointer finger in favor of your middle finger.  You flip us all off, Cooper, all the time.  You point with your middle finger.  Open and shut cabinets with it.  Scratch, poke, and wag.  All the while unwittingly telling the world what you think of them.  It's impossibly cute.

I didn't know that you would still be on breastmilk, one year later.  You did a great job, little boy, but you really need to thank your mom.  She sacrificed so much to make sure you stayed on the good stuff for as long as possible.  She filled up a seven cubic foot freezer full of nothing but your nourishment.  And I dated, organized, and rotated within the freezer every single six-ounce bag.  I am so, so proud of your mom for doing what she did for you.  I know you are thankful, too.

I didn't know how completely exhausted I'd be.  All the time.

Most of all, though, I had no idea we'd smile and laugh this much.  Every single morning.  Every single meal.  Every single bath.  And every single lullaby.  And just about every minute in between.  We smile.

So.  Now I know.  Thanks for the lessons.  I can't frickin' believe you're almost a year old.  How do you feel about staying just exactly like you are right this second for a little while.  Cool with that?

Think on it and get back to me.

I love you!

Daddy