A Happy Birthday Letter to Gideon

Gideon,
    Sometimes I feel bad that your birthday is on Valentine's Day. While the world is celebrating love, chocolates, and cheap stuffed animals holding hearts, we are celebrating you. Valentine's Day is a sweet day though, so your daddy always gets me those chocolate-covered strawberries I love so much along with valentine's for your sisters, because that's just what daddy's do. We bake you a cake, sing to you, squeeze on you, and get you presents too though, since your birthday will forever on trump Valentine's Day for me. You never mind sharing your birthday love, and I love that that's who you are. You really never mind sharing anything. I sometimes watch in confusion as you often sit next to a sister during a movie with a tiny corner of blanket to cover with, while the rest are bundled under wrinkles and layers of the same blanket. My heart swells when I'm handing out snacks, or dinner plates, or really anything and you deliver to everyone else before taking yours. Even playing with your sisters you are such a natural born gentleman with taking turns and sharing toys. You are the perfect Valentine's Day child. Such a lover, sharer, and giver of joy.

     As equally as you are sweet, you are courageous. Curious. Lover of wild things. You take risks that make my pulse race. At our non existent annual Kebodeaux award ceremony, you would receive the "resilience award". That's just a pleasant title for the award meaning you get hurt more often than any one else because you chase adventure, and often times split your chin open, bang your head, or bruise your tiny body while doing so. Then after a short cry you shake it off and do it again. Resilience award. At our award ceremony that is not even a thing. You're welcome son, but thank your daddy because you get this from him-not me.

  
You are smart beyond expectation. You drew the state of Texas on a magnadoodle at freshly 3 years old, when I didn't even know you knew Texas was in existence. I often think while Adeline and I are doing 1st grade school work you are jumping off of the couch saving Selah from pirates but really I think you are multitasking and learning to read as you fly through the air, past the ottoman, only to land on the dog/the pirate. Because when you pass by the table chasing Scarlet with a plastic sword and finish the sentence your sister is reading and she wants to punch you, please understand that it is only out of awe that you even had enough brainpower directed our way while fighting the lazy eye, underbite canine pirate in the living room. You are so bright my guy. You're welcome. Because I'm going to claim that trait.

    You are lover of the skies. The moon, starts, and sun. Every night you confess your dreams of being an astronaut, and I can't help but to listen to your stories of fantasies on rocket ships bouncing from star to star, planet to planet as I sit captivated by the way your eyes light up when you talk about exploring the moon. I can't blame you, dude. Space stuff is so cool. Like you. and your hair. because you have really cool hair. So cool that I get snappy at strangers who bend over to tell you it needs to be cut out of your face. You just swipe it to the side and hug them. Because that's how entirely cool you are, Gideon.

     Most days my mom uniform includes sweat pants, a tee shirt, and a messy bun. Some days I brush my hair, put some make up on, and wear denim. Every single one of those days you tell me I am beautiful. Every one of them.You usually don't want anything, and you always mean it. I'll never forget a few months ago, looking in the mirror at myself feeling pretty bad. Ryder was just a few weeks old, and I sat there with my tired eyes and observed a body I didn't even recognize. I took my hair down and started to brush 3 days worth of tangles as the lump in my throat grew and I fought tears. You walked in and saw me brushing my hair and you said with a gasp in your voice, "Mommy, you are so beautiful. I love you so much." and I love you way more than that sweet guy. I wish I could believe that this was exclusive to you and me, but it's not. On days that Adeline sits by her bedroom window playing dolls and the sun runs through her dirty blonde hair, you stop throwing pillows at her fan blades to tell her how beautiful she is. On days that Selah hijacks my make up and does some really interesting art things with eyeshadow all over her face, you tell her she is so beautiful even with make up that makes her look funny. Teenage girls walk in to Chic-fil-et next to us, and you charm them with compliments as they melt at the way you exaggerate your 'u' in 'beautiful'. You're going to make a stellar husband one day. Until then, I'm glad you're mine.

    You were my hardest pregnancy. You were my hardest labor. You have been the easiest baby, my Gideon. I'd do it all again and again for you. I don't feel a sadness because your older today, but I do feel an enormous amount of gratitude that I get the honor of watching your charm and love unfold into this personality I'm so in love with. You are so loved, Gideon. Happy Birthday.