I love you

Dear Z,

I say it to you on the mornings when you crawl into bed with us. I kiss your forehead, wrestle your wiggly body to capture a moment of stillness, marvel over the limbs that have grown overnight.

I say it to you when you are past your breaking point and I am close to mine. I pull you into my lap, desperate to break through, to change the dynamic with the hopeful three little words.

I say it to you just because.

I sometimes say it to you when I'm trying to remind myself of its truth.

I want to say it to you on the playground as you run and slide and stun me with each new physical skill but you are too far away.

I want to yell it at the top of my lungs when you approach a girl and ask her name and if she wants to play with you or you say "thank you" or "excuse me" to a stranger. (But, of course, I don't.)

I say it to you when we part. I can feel (and often hear) that our separation is hard for you. I wish I could tuck its truth into some permanent pocket on you for when I am not there.

I say it to you whenever you say it to me first. (This is my favorite.)

I say it to you at night, as I'm tucking you into bed. Sometimes it is a moment of penance for my impatience and frustration that day. Sometimes it is a moment of reverence and gratitude for the gift that you are.

I will keep saying it. Again and again and again.

Love,

Your Clueless But Hopeful Mama

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Dear E,

I say it to you when I'm picking you up from sleep. I unwrap your swaddle and revel in your full body smile. It comes out of my mouth in a sing-songy torrent IloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyouIloveyou because you won't stop me and I can't stop myself.

I say it whenever I press my lips to your soft cheek and your sister is out of earshot (or within earshot and having a good day).

I say it while you nurse and gaze up at me adoringly. I imagine filling you up with love the same way your belly fills with milk. I know you will digest it and need more and more and more.

So I am here to keep saying it. Again and again and again.

Love,

Your Clueless But Hopeful Mama