Wednesday, May 30, 2012


Dear Ozzy,

Here we are, little man. 1. Honestly, this year has been a blur of you and my very large boobs, buying a house, moving, working on the house, working on work, my very large boobs shrinking, you, and you and you. You with your funny little teeth and big hazel eyes. Just who are you anyway? My boy who pushes his fingers deep inside my mouth to run his fingers over my gums as if I were speaking in Braille. You do not know yet where you begin and I end, or maybe it is that you know that there is no ending at all. Silly me, why would I think--?
This is the year that we called you El Guapo. For you are handsome and talk of things I cannot yet understand. I can already see that you will teach me much, of the customary slugs and snails and puppy dogs' tails, sure, but there is more. You're fearless, for one, how you crawl to the edge of everything. I watch as you open doors and drawers and lids and life, just to see, just because, just that. So? You with the mommy who stops at yellow lights. Already you have taught me about joy, noodles stuck to skin, the moment split wide and ripe. More than anything, you are a really funny guy (my very favorite kind).
What I will remember of this first year is Scrunchy Face, how one day you discovered that it made us laugh so now you do it all the time. My class clown in the making, how you make us stop and look. Playing peekaboo, only you stay under the napkin a beat too long, already seeming to understand the genius of good comic timing.
But I will also remember this, your hands. How they stick to my skin like tentacles, fat fingers gripping at my breasts, my neck, the thin skin on the underside of my arms like a kitten. You smell of warm bread and sheets, your blonde hair wispy soft and spiky. You don't know how to kiss yet so you try to eat my mouth instead, and I offer it to you, whisper secrets in your mouth that you swallow whole. Sweet boy, if one day when you are 4 you ask me to marry you? I will say yes. Yes. Yes. Please, thank you, yes.

Happy Birthday, to my great and powerful Oz.
I love you,


Sarah said...

I shouldn't have read this while PMS'ing...geeze now I'm all teary eyed. What a sweet, sweet, thoughtful letter to your beautiful boy. You can feel the love just ooozing through every word. Happy birthday to little Ozzy.

xoxo, Sarah

Geli said...

What a sweet tribute to a one-year old! It looks like you couldn't have picked a better name than Ozzy for him - it fits perfectly! Enjoy your little man, he seems to entertain you endlessly. Happy Birthday, Ozzy!!

krista said...

girl. i just love you. and your family. and your words. and that damn finger in the nose with a mustache. ole.

The French Tangerine said...

Girl you've got yourself some gorgeous children. With those ginormous eyeballs staring at you, I worry about how you will ever be able to discipline them. Man! I wish I had my blog when my kids were this age. They were similarly beautiful, and aged, and gendered. Except then I had another.. an unexpected another. He is (of course) as handsome as they come and the easiest of the three..
Anyhoo, thanks for a little trip back to the good ole' days.. my Petunia faced girl is now 22, my petunia faced boy is now 19, and my surprise petunia faced boy is 15 - the very worst age of all because you have to drive them all over and pick them up at 11:30pm every effing night of the summer. I can't wait to read your letters to your 15 year old Petunia faced child!

Chelsea said...

Happy (belated) birthday to sweet Ozzy!

leigh said...

aww happy birthday little man!

by the way... remember your rainbow post?

you need these:

and so do i!!

anita said...

even though my oldest son is now driving and my youngest son will start high school this fall, i remember like it was yesterday those sweet chubby fingers in my mouth. and i remember how they smelled exactly like warm bread and sheets. thanks for the reminder.

Sixty-Fifth Avenue said...

You are one funny momma! I like you.