a letter to you

dear babes,

two years and a day have gone by since you came into my life and i thought i should tell you a little bit about how much that means to me. i'm not sure how to do that, so i'll blather on and i'm sure something good will come out.

i remember the day you were born vividly -- i know i talk about it all the time -- but what i don't talk about much is what it was like when we first got you home. most of it is a blur, but i remember that first bath i gave you both. that was my job. ma got to feed you and pa got to bathe you. what a contrast those first baths were. guess who fought and screamed and freaked out? yep. the të. but i remember you too los. i remember that you didn't like it much, even if you were still too doped up to resist (morphine sure can take the steam out of a baby), and i can't forget your squinty little eyes, trying to keep out the johnson's baby shampoo (shouldn't that read "less tears" instead of "no more tears"?).

and now i get to watch you every day. i wake up and i think of you (hard not to when the milos alarm clock is yelling "pa" as loud as he can). i get to watch the beans doing amazing things with his soccer ball, and you're already better at two and a day than the eight year old on the corner. i get to see him write an "m," and it's not even a fluke. i marvel at his fear of heights and swimming. i marvel at his fearless disregard of all injuries. i marvel at his seriousness and sensitivity. and then i hear të and my attention is drawn to our little boss. she talks in full sentences; she paints and draws with intent; she loves to smooch and cuddle and giggle and stomp; she likes dresses and dressing herself and figure skating and reading and counting; and she loves her ma and her brother with ferocious intensity.

and then i catch glimpses of what can be and what will be. milos can be a great footballer or writer, and milos will be man full of love and devotion. brontë can be a great artist or caregiver (both like her ma), but she will be a passionate leader and defender. and of course there is endless potentials for both that i cannot see and can't wait to see.

and, so, back to what you've given me. it's simple really. you've made me realize what is important for me -- not what everyone else thinks is important, not the hallmark hall of fame crap that tells us that "family is everything." you gave me back my writing. you bound your mother and i together forever, solidifying the already incredible relationship we had. and you gave me the absolute privilege of watching you live.

thanks my beautiful little friends. i hope you'll always love me as much as you do now.

love, pa