F-I-V-E

Dear Joshua,

Today is your 5th birthday.  You're FIVE!

It's so hard for me to believe that you are already at this milestone.  Five years ago today, right now, I was waiting for you to come.  My water broke at 10pm the night before.  The doctors were telling me that unless you showed some progress they would do a c-section.  It seems that from the beginning you liked to make an entrance and have everyone watching for you.  You still love the pressure and drama of making people wait for you.  And then, at 10:33am, you were here.  Pink and screaming and simply perfect.  I'll never forget how my soul felt so calm when I held you for the first time.  My body was tired and sore and I didn't feel any of it.  When they laid you on my chest and you looked at me, my soul thought "yes.  There you are."  Like I had always known you. 

I'll never forget how your daddy's face lit up when he held you for the first time. And how you were quiet and still in his arms, just looking at him.

It's still like that today. His face still lights up when he spies you, and you look for daddy when you need a quiet space. But you rarely do any work for him. When it's time for you to work and get stuff done, I'm the one to push you. Just like I pushed you five years ago. 

You've done so much this year, Josh. Made such amazing progress. You're obsessed with the color orange, monkeys, Cars, motorcycles, and Legos. You love letters and numbers. You love being outside. You still love the ladies and will flirt relentlessly, but you're a man's man too, and would prefer to be with daddy, grandpa, papa, or any of your uncles than be inside with the girls. You're funny and sweet, handsome and loveable.  You've transitioned into a new communication app, you've really started using your walker (and using it WELL)

Walking 3/21/13 from Jamie Nodine on Vimeo.

You've picked up new signs, you've learned to transfer to and from your wheelchair, you've learned to pull yourself from sitting to standing, you've started to feed yourself, you've started to drink from a cup, you've started to be consistent on the potty, you've learned to be much more independent. Last year, I could sit you on the couch and when I came back five minutes later, you were still there. Within the past three months, if I put you on the couch, you're on the floor in about 20 seconds! You are mastering your environment. And I love it!  The most amazing thing that I've seen in the past year is the huge cognitive jump you've made.  You're starting to finger spell words.  And you've shown us that you can WRITE YOUR OWN NAME! 

You love to point out all the colors, letters, shapes, numbers, and animals you see. You either sign or say what you see and you expect us to repeat it. When we do, we get a big clap from you and a big smile. If we don't do it the right way, you instruct us on how to do it and "teach" us. You're a patient teacher (you obviously didn't get that skill from your mother), and will put your hand over ours to sign. I love the thumbs up you give us when we get it right. :)

You are the mayor of your preschool. No, seriously, that's what people call you! You know everyone and everyone knows you. When I introduce myself, I usually do it as Josh's mom. When I walk into a meeting and people can't remember my name, but they know that I'm Josh's mom...well that says something.  I will be forever grateful to your preschool teachers and therapists who have pushed you(just like I'm forever grateful to your EI team who showed you what you could do). 

I have a hard time letting you go.  I want to protect you, keep you.  You want to go out, explore, do.  The scene at the end of Finding Nemo where Nemo is trying to save Dory, but his dad won't let him go...you know that one?  Nemo says "I can do this dad!" and his dad has to let him go, to swim away into the gigantic swirling mess of fish...and Marlin says (with a fishy tear in his eye), "I know you can.".  I've never related to a fish more than I have this year.  We are registering you for Kindergarten.  In an elementary school.  With big kids.  Seriously, Joshua, it's hard to let you go.  But I know you can do this.  I know that you are going to rock kindergarten as much as you've rocked preschool.  And I know that you are going to lean and grow and do more than we ever thought possible.  You can do this, my little bug.  You've got this.

Happy Birthday, sweet Joshua.  Make a wish!

Love,
mama