  How did I get two days past his birthday, without having a moment to reflect? Well, for starters I drank two martinis on a holiday afternoon with my husband, which collectively sucked away much of yesterday. In addition, Aidan's at what I hope is the tail end of the week o'fever virus Ellie had last week. Poor guy was sick on his birthday! All he had said he wanted to do for his special day was go ride the train, but when the day arrived alongside a (albeit meek, we're in the south) cold front, I manipulated his little mind (yes, they're still malleable at three! ) to not remember wanting that. It's not that I didn't think he should be outside. On the contrary, sunlight and light activity can do wonders for the immune system, but it was icky cold, and he didn't even want to go ride his scooter, so I saved him from the disappointment of remembering and not wanting the desired thing. Anyway, back on key, this virus requires much holding and cuddling, so I didn't get much writing time for me.
In a way, that in itself is an appropriate comment on this occasion which celebrates the three accomplished years of life outside the womb. For truly the biggest lesson I've learned on this bumpy (in the exciting way... almost always) road is to not be chinchy with the love, physical and emotional. Sometimes I've felt like I really needed a break where no one would touch me, but those times were usually brief, and afterward I filled myself up with baby love all over again. I feel like I know now why Jesus made love the cornerstone of his message to the world (of course, it makes me all the sadder to realize almost every religion resulting from his message misses this boat). The rule adicts of his day couldn't wait to ask such an amazing person which rule was his favorite, and all he said was love. Love each other, love God, love love love. On this occasion, which for me celebrates my existence in this world as a mother, I have to say having children taught me to love like I never thought my heart capable.
I've come to think pregnancies depart your body by giving you a personal gift. Drastically new experiences build fresh synapses in your brain, so maybe on a biological level, this wild new ride actually opens up a new part of your brain to you. Whatever it is, I found that each of my three pregnancies left something special for just me. The gift of Aidan's pregnancy was dancing. Never in my life had I felt comfortable dancing. I think it's the white girl syndrome. Never could let loose and swing around my body with abandon. I grew up country dancing, two stepping, because that had rules. You knew what you were supposed to do on each beat. And slow dancing was ok because you just hug and sway. But really dancing like at a disco never came to me until I had Aidan.
And then, when he was just a few days old, I found myself holding him and dancing like a fool! I didn't care what I looked like anymore, I just loved the feeling of the music wrapping me up and carrying me around the room! The letting go for dancing is really symbolic for letting go in many ways. I've since found myself much happier with myself, regardless of how silly I might look dancing!
My sweet Grace, who died in my first trimester, left me creativity unleashed. After a lifetime of being a writer, I found myself really writing. And when Ella left my body, I found myself singing! Not just lullaby songs in the dark, but wailing loud singing through the house. I've since sung to the kids almost every day. I don't know many songs, so I make them up most of the time, and they love it!
Each gift not only made me a better mother, but left me a better person. It's just another way that Mother Nature, or the Universe, or God, or whoever you need to credit, really got this motherhood thing down right. Every part of the system works, if you can only let go and let it. It's so beautiful! Back to Aidan, he's such a work of art. In just three years, he's already a pro at being an Earthling. He's fluent in our culture, adept at using his body, gravity is no challenge for this guy.
Our culture can fool me into believing me he really needs me until he's 18, but I can tell he's pretty much OK on his independent little own (as long as I'm within easy distance to run back and hug between accomplishments! ) already. I've always thought, and recently was pleased to hear someone else say it independently, that Aidan (originally John, but now his boy) looked like Michaelangelo's David. He's the perfect model human. Thin and tall, while sculpted and muscular. Slightly wavy hair that frames a fine bone visage. Penetrating eyes that follow gracefully the movement of each delicate, long finger. He's naturally amiable, if a little competitive (my fault). He loves to cuddle with anyone he can catch (and he's so fast that that's pretty much everyone). He's the ultimate little man. Like every mom, I'm so humbled at this perfection and beauty with which I've been entrusted. I can't believe the wonderful creation God put in my womb to develop into this amazing creature. If I do nothing else in life, at least my children leave me with hope that I've done something to make this little planet a better place to live. Their purity encourages me at my darkest moment that life is intrinsically good, and that that good will somehow outweigh all the bad. The laugh of my little boy, the smile of my darling girl could inspire enemies to stop fighting, even to beat their weapons into plowshares so each little boy and darling girl can live without hunger... And btw, this only sounds silly if you've never held a new baby in your arms and gazed deep into their eyes, so new, so freshly arrived from that spiritual side of existence.
If only we open ourselves up to them, babies can change everything. I guess in conclusion, I have to thank God for Aidan's spirit, my husband for his great sperm and loving fatherhood, and Aidan for being so fun. I have a great son. I'm so proud of him. And I love being his mom. I rarely feel sad that he's growing up so fast, because I'm so very excited about what development he'll tackle next! These three years have been wonderful beyond my wildest hopes. I wonder what his forth year has in store for us! 
