Mase Man,
I’m sitting at your soccer practice, watching you do a shuttle run. (You’re hating every minute – haha) I used to have so much free time to spend on here writing about all these precious little moments I have spent with you over the last 10 years. The story time, the nap time, the new Mom struggles, the kindergarten blues and the one-year turned four-year Covid life. I know “they” say time goes so fast, and to enjoy every moment, but some time between your first fireworks and your final pacifier, a decade came and went.
You’re a little man now. You eat sushi and advocado toast and know how to log into Apple TV. You have a photographic memory, soaking up any and every fun fact about a country’s culture or an animals fastest speed. You are able to ace any test without putting in a minute of studying. (It’s remembering to turn it in that does not come naturally-lol) You love being part of a team, whether playing on one or cheering with one. You’re going to be an amazing leader of people one day— you have so much empathy. You’re a “down in the trenches with you” friend. You can be moved to tears with greater compassion than most adults if you hear someone doesn’t have a home or a parent or a friend, and you want to pause and wrap your arm around their shoulder. Your spirit is so Warm. Joyful. Positive. If professional hype man was a lucrative career, I’d be finding a way to get you in that school as I type this. (Maybe a Peloton instructor? Hmm?)
I look at you now, almost eye to eye, and I can see what your adult face will look like with freckles and 5 o’clock shadow. I can tell you’re going to hit curbs when you learn to drive (sorry in advance, you get that from Me.) You’re going to leave dishes in the sink for days, never have clean socks and be completely destroyed when you find your first heartbreak. You’re going to coordinate high school trash cleanups, spearhead mission trips, and be the Highschool Drum Major or Homecoming King. You don’t have typical 10-year-old boy fears. You love public speaking, a microphone, an audience, a spelling bee, a book report or a story-writing assignment. You aren’t scared to talk to anyone. (including the solicitors that come to the door selling solar panels or sin forgiving!) You are such a unique person. You’re the kind of kid that was just born to make parenting look easy when it’s the farthest thing from it.
Your Dad and I were talking last night about how your brother, normally very quiet and shy, has been speaking up more lately. He’s been raising his hand in class and calling out plays at catcher and saying ‘Thank You’ to me almost daily. He has learned ALL these things from watching you. Mase, you were made to be a first born son. You are a natural mentor and friend.
As I type this, I can’t help but think about all the things I’ve worried about since I found out I was pregnant. From preeclampsia, learning to swim, learning disabilities, first sitters, Splenda and Internet creeps, I have spent so much time as a Mom thinking about worst case scenarios. I know this is pretty normal, especially with your first child, but not one of my worries has ever come to fruition.
In this next decade, I’m vowing to think about all the things that will go right for you. All the wonderful things you have ahead of you, that I have the privilege of watching and being a part of. I want to constantly remind myself to be more present while I have your presence. I’m going to have more faith in things working out. Because they really always do.
My life forever changed on April 11, 2014.
You became.
I became a Mom.
I love you more than anything. Thank you for being you, sweet boy. Happy 10th, two hands, birthday.
Love,
Mom
Traci Lapierre 