Ten Years Old

Dear Matthew,

I hope you see this as a "Mom's been really busy with teaching and studying and chasing Will and I'm glad it was late instead of not at all" and not a, "Wow, guess she can't even remember when my birthday is" letter. I DO know when your birthday is. I bought cupcakes for school and we had a party and you had presents and everything. Remember? It happened. Six entire days ago BUT IT ALL HAPPENED.

Happy Birthday! You are, somehow, ten years old now. I guess an entire decade has gone by but I hardly comprehend how.

This past year was a pretty big one for you. You saw your birth parents and all your siblings this year. You hadn't seen your mom since you were just over a year old and you hadn't seen your dad since right after you turned two. I'm sure I've put it in writing somewhere before but I'll leave it here for you also. Our goal has always been to try to discern what is best for you right now AND what is best for you once you're an adult who very well may want to have all your parents and all your siblings in your life on a consistent basis. So we hope and pray that we're doing right by you now and we also hope that translates into healthy adult relationships with all of us. And so, of course we flew to Texas to attend your sister's graduation last June. And of course we welcomed your dad when he came to visit in November. It was a big year with big feelings and I hope you know how very much we all love you, how much we all loved you from the minute you came into our lives, and how much we will all love you forever.

You are so uniquely you. You're smart and hilarious and stunningly handsome. You just pulled straight A's except for a pesky little B in keyboarding. You got straight E's too. Well done, you. You love science and are so looking forward to 5th grade because you'll get to do a science experiment! (To anyone else who might read this, my son is a crazy person who hasn't yet realized that the science fair is the bane of all existence. BUT HOORAY FOR ENCOURAGING EXCITEMENT IN STEM MINDED KIDS!) Hey, Matt...you're STEM brained. I don't know what to do with that. We might need to hire a Standby Mom that we bring in to perform the role of Science and Math Mom.

"In tonight's performance, STEM Mom will be playing the part of Actual Mom."

Speaking of standbys, I DO know what to do with your love of acting and theatre and that is to FOSTER THE HECK OUT OF THAT PASSION. No, you can't have the agent you've been asking for since forever ago but you CAN come with me to see Wicked and I will for sure take you to the stage door to get pictures and autographs and I will direct you in church Christmas plays and I'll keep putting money in that NYC Trip Fund we started. I'm not sure about the Hamilton tickets you requested but time will tell.

Sports. I don't know, man. You keep trying new things, looking for your niche. This fall you tried taekwondo and you were doing really well. You loved it at first and then that kind of fizzled. You played a quick season of basketball and really seemed to enjoy it. Now you're signed back up for baseball. Here's to hoping you find something you really, truly love some day.

You continue to be a man of a few close friends. You're still quiet and reserved until you really get to know someone and then you turn into a total goofball. You love your alone time but you love being cozied up to the family for a movie night. You are complex in ways I am not and simple in ways I am not. You are introspective and brilliant. You adore Garrett--when you're not busy trying to fist fight him--and you're great with Will, who you love so deeply but who you also struggle to tolerate in all his two-ness.

I really can't believe you came shrieking into our lives an entire ten years ago. The only one to scream and scream and scream and refuse to be consoled and yet, the quietest one of the trio now. I had no idea what kind of adventure you were about to take us on. But I'm so thankful you landed here, in my arms. I cannot imagine life without you. Happy double digits dude.

Love,
Mom