Today tate is five

When I put Tate to bed last night, and we discussed the concept of "today is today, and tomorrow will be tomorrow - not today and not yesterday" he suggested, true to form, that we wake at midnight for a party. But today is now today and Tate is five and while there are times when I long for yesterday (there is a reason that is a song) Tate craves tomorrow, so we have settled on today.



Over the last five years, in the lead up to my son's birthday, I have often found myself torn between being profoundly proud and brutally sad. Not any different from other weeks or months, but birthdays .... ahhh .... that passage of time is so concrete and measurable. I can't wrap my hands around the fact that my husband has missed every birthday but Tate's first, and i keep wondering where the hell he is, why he hasn't made it back in time for the party.



But when Tate raced into my bedroom this morning, ahead of the sun, shouting "Mama, times-a-wastin' " and i searched into his Dad's chocolate drop eyes, I tried to look past the metaphors to see what he really is: he's perfect in the way that he was meant to be.



Some might say seeing Tate turn five without a stitch or broken bone is a miracle, myself included, but what is my true miracle is that he is here with a full and wild heart. Five is a full hand, and his ratio of spicy to sweet is a secret unpublished blend.



I sent a thank you to many of my children's parents today; my father's phrase "life is a team sport" often repeats in my head when i think of the generosity we've received. So again, thank you. Thank you for cheering on a sideline, kicking a ball in the rain, having us over for family dinners ad giving me a knowing glance and a warm embrace. You've lifted Tate up over big waves (literally, figuratively) when I didn't want to get my hair wet ... thrown him in a sandy shower and stood next to him while he stared in wonder as you pee'd in the toilet (extra thank you, u know who u are). And you've loved my two daughters, and shared your homes with them and framed for them what other families and Moms-and-Dads look like. That precious gift I can not buy for them.



I felt it last week when Tate and i were at the Barnes and Noble checkout counter. he audibly gasped when he spotted the new People magazine cover "Mommmmm ! I didn't know that KEVIN got married". I had some delayed confusion and then spotted Mr. Jonas and i laughed - loud and pure and unadulterated. Because Tate has not been raised by a pack of wolves, or in a house of chicks (debatable, i know) but rather, he has been raised by a collage of friends from my childhood and friends from this school year, by true acquaintances, and an assortment of aunts and uncles, grandparents and cousins, coaches and teachers. It's not what i planned but i have grown to love this new life i am living.



So Tate, when you're all grown up I will remind you that when we drove to school this morning we listened to the Beatles, your favorite band (even ranked above Joe Bro). Loud and proud you sang "Close your eyes and I'll kiss you ... tomorrow I'll miss you ..." and you made my day. Because today is today. You turned five. And instead of crying