Dear Paxton and Michael,

Ok, more like just Michael, this one is going to be for him.

Being a teacher, and being a day camp director for years before that, I’ve watched my share of games of tag. There is freeze tag, color tag, all kind of varieties, but my favorite will always be regular, old, been around since the brink of time, tag. As the years and the game evolved, a new concept was introduced- base. Now, instead of running recklessly to no end, there is a safe haven, a refuge. Base kind of bothers me, because I feel like it was developed due to laziness. Isn’t the glory of the game the fact that you have to just keep running? Now, there’s this place where you can take a breather and be exempt from becoming ‘it.’ There are the kids that hang out on base all day. There are the kids that briefly visit it in a last ditch effort to not be tagged and will argue they were touching base before they got tagged. There are the kids that never even consider base as an option.

I’m your base.

It took me several months to realize this.

But, I’ve been your base all along.

During those brutal 4 days in the hospital when you were born, you would cry for hours, until I held you- your base. In those first weeks at home, you wouldn’t sleep, unless you were on my chest- your base. As you started to become more independent, you would still want to be right next to me- your base. When you started crawling, you learned to go from zero to sixty by day two. While most kids gain that independence and just keep going, you would go, but come right back and make sure I was there to chase you- your base. Now, at one year old, you’ve taken a few steps here and there, but you’re not really trying. It’s quite clear that you could walk easily if you’d try, but you prefer to hold my hands and walk- your base.

Raising a little boy is so different from raising a little girl. I look at Pax and I see a mini-me. I know how to deal with that. I know that she’s going to be stubborn. She’s going to give this world everything she’s got. She’s going to be passionate, and in turn, have her heart broken. I know that she’s going to get so mad at me that she’ll threaten to run away. I know that she’ll later say she’s sorry- whether it takes a few hours or a few years. I know that she has dreams and no one is going to slow her down. She’s going to be a leader, outspoken, intelligent, and driven.

I was afraid I didn’t know how to love a little boy. After all, I didn’t know anything about being one, other than the fact that I was not your typical little girl growing up. I believed in getting dirty, playing in the rain, picking up snakes, and living outside, all while wearing my white poofy slip and cowgirl boots. But you, sweet Ike, you were a surprise from the beginning. I knew you were a boy and I assumed you were going to be attached to your daddy’s hip. I had no idea the ride I was in for. I was afraid that I wouldn’t understand you, that you would not connect with me. That I would bring you into this place, just to watch you go. I wonder if other mamas feel this way, or if dads feel this way towards their daughters? Not a competition between spouses, but a need to feel a sense of affirmation that this living bundle walking around with half your DNA is not just scientifically part of you, but emotionally connected.

I’m your base. I’m where you feel safe. Where you can take a breather from life. Where you feel complete.

And craziest of all, you are mine. When I felt like giving up after 20 hours of labor.  When I hadn’t slept in days.  When work has been long and there are few hours left in the day.  You are exactly what I had no idea that I needed. I didn’t know my heart needed another child this soon. I didn’t know my heart needed to love a little boy. For all of your bruises, your dirty knees, your adventures. I needed to love you for all of your snotty noses, your scrapes, your gap-toothed smile, your sensitive spirt. I needed it all. I needed the hard days to appreciate the easy. I needed the unknown to realize what I know now. I needed it all.

As you grow, I’m sure you’ll need your base less and less. You’ll become one of the kids that likes to know it’s there, but doesn’t need to visit it as often. You’ll eventually become a man who will find his safety with his own family. But here’s the thing about base- it can always be there, even at the last minute. I’ve watched the games of tag for a year or two now, and I know that as quick as you can be tagged, you can also relocate your base. Please know, sweet boy, that in this season, this beautiful time in both of our lives, there’s nothing I love more than loving a little boy and his big sister with all I’ve got. In the end, base it a pretty cool addition to an old game. Sometimes you’re going to have to be ‘it’ all on your own, but I’ll help prepare you for that path. Sometimes it’s going to feel like you’re running forever, but the end will always be in sight. Sometimes you’re going to need to stop and reevaluate, and I’ll be here for that, too.

I don’t know exactly what you’ll be like. I don’t know if you’ll be hard headed like your sister. I don’t know if you’ll be quiet like your daddy. I don’t know if you’ll continue to have your feelings hurt easily. I don’t know if your temper (which is becoming more apparent by the day) will get the best of you at times.

I don’t know why I ever thought I wouldn’t know how to love you.

Here’s what I do know…all of me, every single part, needed to love you completely, my little boy, my base.

I love you,

Your mom.