I’ve seen bloggers write recaps of their kids at 6 months, 12 months, 18 months, and so on and so forth. And while I love to check in on mothering L and B from time to time I never had the urge to devote a whole post to what’s going down until age 10 hit. And hit me hard.
This is the big stuff now, you know? Double digits. Upper elementary. Serious(ish) travel sports. Being graded in school with actual letters. It’s the real A, B, C’s.
There literally is no more little kid left. And yet is there? I do think he’s still there buried beneath the brodening shoulders and growing growing growing inches and shy smile he gives out from time to time that makes me melt. I can’t imagine what it’s going to do to other’s hearts. And I don’t want to think about it.
Logan, you are my first born. And I’ve been your mom for ten years, ten! You came out taller than most six months old. I will never forget random doctors and nurses coming by to see if you were actually the length that was measured and yes, yes you were. You never fit in my arms like that teeny tiny newborn but I was secretly so proud you were already so big and so strong.
You were a happy baby that slept very well. You were easy on your (young) parents who were just still trying to adjust to it all. Super chubby, you gave your mama a workout everywhere she went, nearly 10lbs heavier than babies of your age. Not to mention you wouldn’t walk until about 18 months. Yep. So I carried you absolutely everywhere and as you grew chubbier and taller your mama grew thinner from the endless lugging you around. I used to joke you were the only gym membership I needed.
And then, one day, you decided to walk. And by walk I mean run which meant I didn’t sit down for years. I will never forget other moms asking me if I wanted to join them at the pool for a play date. Well, I mean, I would if it didn’t mean my 20 month old son would be darting out on to the golf course over and over and over. Logan, you loved to explore. If there was concrete or grass you would always pick grass. And sticks. Oh the stick collections we had! Sticks in my car, sticks in your bed, sticks in my purse, sticks in your backpack. You had special sticks and golden sticks and sticks for yourself and sticks for your friends.
That was always a huge part of you, you know. Your friends. From way early on. You’ve made some serious deep friendships and haven’t looked back. It’s actually inspiring to see, how loyal you are. And I so hope I’ve help nurture them along the way for you because they are so incredibly important to me, too. I think of them as an extension of you and the countless hours of driving them and cheering them on and feeding them and tending to them has made me not only happy, but proud that you’ve connected to so many in this way. And I’m there for all of them for years to come in anyway that is needed.
Let’s touch base on school a bit, shall we? I’m just going to say it: I’m so happy you are smart. Really, I am. Because I lost track of what you’re doing in math probably around second grade. Dude, I’m clueless. And you keep coming home with A’s and I’m there to put it up on your bulletin board and celebrate with homemade chocolate chip cookies but I legit have no idea what any of it means. I’m oh so glad you do because life would be a bit more complicated for mama if you didn’t. Not bad by any means, but just more effort needed. I like that you’re easy on me. You always have been.
And then your brother came along. A wonderful and amazing brother and yet a whole different……animal. One that never slept and ran earlier on but was frustrated over and over and over again. And I think that so much was because of you, Logan. It’s as simple as this: Beckett wants to be you. From those crazy early months he wanted to run and hit a ball and be on a team and carry a backpack and finally now, that’s he’s doing all those things in his own little way, he’s a bit more content.
The way you love on him so hard is so crazy. Squeezing his cheeks and demanding he kisses you over and over and over. I’ll never forget your recent physicals at the pediatrician. You guys were, essentially, making out on the patient table and the DR commented ‘Huh, I’ve never seen bothers interact in this loving of a way.’ Gulp – is this weird? Because this is way normal for us. It’s all rough and tough boy world around here until we are all holding each other piled up on one single side of the couch stroking each others hair.
Let’s close on one of your nearest and dearest obsessions. No, not legos although man – another thing I’m completely impressed by. You could not pay me to put together one of those 800 piece monuments. I actually would rather watch paint dry. No, I’m talking about baseball. #9, you are obsessed. I’ve watched you play hundreds of games and can’t get enough. I love watching you love something so much. You’re just so you on the field. I’ll never forget hearing one of your travel coaches say ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen a boy love baseball more than Logan.’ And that’s just it. On game day which, let’s be honest, is almost every day in the spring and summer you are in your Barrington uniform with a packed bag sitting in the Jeep yelling ‘MOM LET’S GO!!!!!!!’ Darling, we have like 2.5 hours until game time. Calm the heck down.
You love it. And I love it because you love it. And I want you to know that the endless driving and practices and lessons and shuffling around and freezing in April then melting in July is all 100% worth it. And I can’t wait to watch you grow into it more, year after year.
So what I’m saying is you rock. Age 10 rocks. I am completely enamored by you. Even when you have an opinion different than mine and we butt heads and you act like any normal 10 year old would act I wouldn’t change one second of it. Because you’re not only growing into a better person year after year that I’m more and more proud of, you’re making me a better mom. I can’t wait to see what the next year holds. And I am here, on your side completely, cheering you along the way.