Happy 20th birthday, Alex. One of my greatest joys has been watching you grow into the smart, funny, loyal man that your are today. I can’t believe I have been a mom for two decades! 7,300 days of memories. To celebrate this milestone, I thought we could take a little walk down memory lane.
1. You made me a mom twenty years ago today, and in that moment my purpose in this life was made clear. In the early morning of December 10, 2005, when it was just me and you in that hospital room, you stole my heart. I knew in that moment I would never be the same. That first year was one of the best of my life. You were the sweetest little guy, and I tried to savor each moment of our days together. I never even minded the sleepless nights. In those quiet moments I prayed for you to grow big and strong and happy.
2. When you were two, this was our bedtime prayer:
Mommy and Daddy: Please God,
Alex: bless my mommy and my daddy
Mommy and Daddy: and everyone who
Alex: loves me.
Mommy and Daddy: Help me to be
Alex: a good boy.
Mommy and Daddy: Please send me
Alex: a brother or a sister. Amen.
God must have been listening, because when you were two and nine months, you became a big brother. It was a role you took very seriously. From the moment she was born, you took on the role of her protector. People stopped me all the time and commented on the sweet interactions between the two of you.
3. From an early age, I knew you were so smart and witty and had a silly sense of humor. I never knew what was going to come out of your mouth. I dubbed the funny things you said “Alex-isms.” There are many times in a day when you thought you were being funny when in reality you were not. Quite a few of these instances involved the words poop and pee. You always asked, "Mom is that funny?" And I would reply dryly and with a straight face, "Yes, it is hysterical." One day after this exchange, you said to me, "Mom. You know when something is funny and/or hysterical you are supposed to laugh…" (and that did make me laugh!)
4. When you were four, I was telling you the story of the night you were born and you said to me, "Mom. I don't want to get bigger. I'm scared to be big. I want to stay little." And I answered, "Me too, my sweet boy." I wanted you to stay little forever, but by the next morning you had already changed your mind about growing up. You said, "Momma, it is okay if I get bigger, because I will always be your baby."
5. On the night you were born, the waiting room was full of family! That night and every birthday since has always been a celebration of you. And on your fifth birthday, we had a ROCK STAR party. Milkshake performed a concert in our basement. Dad is still talking about the confetti they threw all over the place.
6. A month after you turned six, you became a big brother again. When Zach was a baby, I would bring him into your room to wake you up every morning. He would climb all over you, and you would open your eyes and smile. You were such a big helper with him. You loved to read to him and play with him and make him laugh.
7. In first grade, you loved math and could read anything and everything. Your teacher said you were so nice that the other kids would seek you out to be your partner in class. You were always a good friend, especially to all your cousins. Sleepovers with Jake and Luke were on repeat and still are to this day. Sandwiched between them, you were sometimes a mediator and always an audience. No one could make you laugh the way they could and still can.
8. Even as a little boy, you always had a such a kind and empathetic heart. Once when we were in Disney World, a little girl was lost. You were so worried about her finding her mom. You said to me, "Mom. You have to help her." At night you hugged and kissed us goodnight and when we said, "May God bless you," you always said it back to us.
9. At nine, you were a fun friend, a team player, and the heart of our family. You always had a way of making those around you feel good about themselves. Your favorite day of the week was Friday, because that was Family Movie Night.
10. After ten years of watching you grow from that chubby little baby to a boy who was almost as tall as me, when I gave you a hug, you could look me in the eye and put your head on my shoulder.
11. You found a home at Gilman in sixth grade. We spent many nights and weekends studying at that dining room table. You would pace around the table as I would quiz you, and you would always say, “Ask me again, one more time,” until you got it right.
12. At twelve, you loved Chick-Fil-A and ate it several times a week. I would tease you that your blood type was Chick-Fil-A sauce. Like most other tweens, your phone was an appendage. You loved snapchat, silly group texts with your buddies and watching funny videos.
13. The beginning of the teenage years. Taller than me. Braces off. For the first time since you were a toddler I found myself in a power struggle with you. You wanted to do what you wanted to do, and I wasn’t ready to stop guiding you whether you wanted my advice or not. And although these changes were hard, I knew you had a good head on your shoulders. Your strong moral compass kept you headed in the right direction.
14. We lived through a pandemic. I was so proud of the way you were able to keep things in perspective, continue to do well in school, and stay close, laugh and have fun with your friends, even when you couldn’t be together in person.
15. Welcome to Upper School. You spent your evenings playing basketball, lifting weights, studying and watching every show on Netflix. On the weekends, you could be found hanging out with your friends in our basement.
16. First car, first job, first party. I think that 16th birthday party was the moment when our house became "the house." The one where shoes were piled in the mudroom, where boys raided the coat closet so they could go out and play in the snow like little kids, where the Ravens games were watched, where poker tournaments were organized, where music blared from speakers after dances, and where late-night pizza was delivered. And now when you are home from college, your friends come in that mudroom door, give me a hug and head down the basement steps, and that is when my heart is most full.
17. You took your big brother role to school. You were a Peer Educator for 9th graders, a mentor to a student in lower school, and you tutored in the Bridges program. Even though you don’t always realize it, you are a born leader. You are wonderful with younger kids, patient and kind. Your little cousins look up to you. And so do Izzy and Zach, even though they might not always admit it.
18. You graduated from Gilman. As you walked across the stage, eighteen years of memories of watching your learn and grow went through my mind. Reading you books as a baby and a toddler and you asking for “another one.” And as you got older, you would come into my room at night to tell me you finished yet another book. I recalled many years of teachers telling me that you were a diligent student who was invested in his learning. You excelled in your studies and your grades always reflected this effort and dedication. It was one of the proudest moments of my life.
19. It was and is all about you and the U. You are in college now. For the first time in your life, you aren’t living at home. And as much as I miss you when you are at school, I am so excited for this opportunity for you to be independent and make new friends and have new experiences. And it is a great place to visit. And I know you know that even though we may be over 1000 miles apart, I am always right here anytime you need me. I will always be your home.
20. Today you are twenty years old. No longer a baby, or a kid, or a teenager. You just finished your first semester of Sophomore year of college. You are home for a month. I am so happy to have you home, because as I have been saying every December for the past twenty years, “All I Want for Christmas is You.”
These memories are only a drop in the bucket of every memory of you that I will hold in my heart forever. I can only hope that what stays with you most is how fiercely, endlessly, and unconditionally I love you. Twenty years ago. Today. Tomorrow. Forever.
I love you,
Mom
