The other day, I found myself in a bookstore with my son, Max. I wish I could regale you with tales of us exploring various literary gems and sharing insights over our favorite reads. However, the reality was far less serene. To fill the time before his much-needed nap, we went for a look. And when I say look, I mean “touch everything and climb on any available surface.”
A cheerful staff member approached us, offering assistance, but Max’s body language made it clear: “No thanks! I’m perfectly content to upend this shelf.” While I was busy tidying up after my miniature whirlwind, I caught sight of a Valentine’s Day display. I won’t lie; it was charming, overflowing with stories reflecting the myriad ways love is expressed—from parents to children, creatures to their offspring, and even between kids and random animals.
Yet, as I flipped through the pages, I found myself feeling disconnected. The love I feel for Max isn’t captured by dancing bears or flower-filled paths. Every time I try to hold his hand to cross the street, I’m met with a meltdown; a stroll through a garden seems like a distant fantasy. So, instead of searching for a book that resonated, I decided to craft my own Valentine’s message for him, titled, “I Love You More: An Ode to My Life’s Little Tornado.”
I Love You More Than Coffee
I can still vividly recall the moment the doctor shared the news of your impending arrival. It was also the day I had to say goodbye to my beloved coffee. Do you know the struggle of waking up without your morning pick-me-up? Picture me taking away your sippy cup, and you might get the idea. But every time I glance at you running about, I know it was all worth it. I love you more than coffee, kiddo. And yes, even more than sushi and deli meats.
I Love You More Than Sleep
Before you graced our lives, your dad and I savored those glorious mornings that stretched until 9 a.m. We’d leisurely ponder our day’s adventures—perhaps breakfast, a dog park visit, or maybe a nap. Now, “sleeping in” means any day you stay in your crib past 7 a.m. I can’t blame you entirely for my sleepless nights; some is my fault. As a newborn, I’d stay awake just to watch you breathe in your bassinet. I know that’s a bit odd. But for you, my love surpasses even the allure of sleep.
I Love You More Than My Dignity
I’ve always been a reserved person. In fact, I was so shy in fifth grade that I dashed out of class rather than recite a poem. Yet the mom you know is quite different. Now, I find myself in circles of women belting out “The Wheels on the Bus,” prancing like dinosaurs in public for your amusement, and even performing “If You’re Happy and You Know It” to soothe your tears during a car ride, despite the chuckles from the car next to us. Your laughter is my ultimate high. I’ll do anything for your giggles—because I love you more than my dignity.
I Love You More Than Regular Hair Appointments
While you’re not single-handedly responsible for my growing gray hairs, you certainly don’t help. Before your arrival, I wouldn’t have let my hair reach this state. Now, I barely have the time to care, let alone the energy. Honestly, I probably spend more time ensuring you look sharp than I do on myself! Passersby might think, “Who’s that stylish toddler with the frazzled mom?” But that’s perfectly fine because I love you more than regular hair appointments.
I Love You More Than Fancy Restaurants
There are establishments where adults engage in quiet conversation over a bottle of wine and enjoy meals without the chaos of toddlers throwing food on the floor. Your dad and I used to frequent those places, dressed in something other than pajamas, pretending our utensils were not toys. Now, they’re off-limits to you. Even if they weren’t, I wouldn’t want to expose others to your delightful chaos. Instead, our special evenings are spent watching Game of Thrones and indulging in Five Guys after you’re asleep—perfectly fine by us, because we love you more than fancy restaurants.
I adore you, my little whirlwind. I love you in moments of tantrums, during sleepless nights, and even when you poke me in the eye while naming body parts. And while we may never stroll hand-in-hand through a garden, I know you love me too. Oh, and I love you more than that last bite of my croissant you tried to snatch this morning.
In summary, this Valentine’s Day, I celebrate the beautiful chaos you bring into my life. It’s a wild ride, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything—especially not for the simple pleasures I once knew.
For more insights on parenting and self-insemination, check out this resource as well as Mindful Monday with Ed Sheeran, a great read on embracing authenticity. Also, for those expecting, March of Dimes offers excellent guidance throughout pregnancy.