Hi Steve,
Can you believe it's been five years since you called me to tell me Warren had been born? Well... technically... I'm two days early writing this email this year, but given that it's munchkin's birthday this weekend and the Purim Carnival, I won't be near a computer, and I wouldn't let this anniversary go by without expressing my eternal gratitude to you.
Five years ago this Sunday I was sitting on a conference call with my boss right beside me when I saw the placement phone number come up on my cell phone caller ID. It had been nearly four months since Evan and I had a child in our home. We had just returned from two weeks of back to back Jimmy Buffett concerts. But when that phone number flashed across my caller ID I knew it meant something important. I quickly dashed an email off to everyone in placement saying do not call another family... I'm calling right back as soon as I get off this conference call!
I remember every.single.moment. of that ten minute wait! I remember thinking how heart broken I would be if because I was stuck on a business call I couldn't answer the phone. But you waited for me. You waited for me! Do you know how different my life would be right now if you hadn't? I'm good at playing the "what if" game, but this is one time when I refuse to play it. My life is perfect. It is perfect because of this little boy who will turn five on Sunday.
Don't get me wrong. There are moments when I could pull my hair out. There are moments when I've had to call in reinforcements and put myself in a time out (ask my aunt... she'll confirm this). There are moments where at the end of the day I've put all the munchkins to bed and told my husband that I have to go out for an hour of quiet with no kids and no husband just to get over the crazy of that day.
But over all, things are perfect, because to me this perfectly crazy life is exactly what I am meant to have. I love when Warren comes into my room at 5 AM to snuggle up for the last few minutes before we have to get the day started (even if he does kind of have dragon breath first thing in the morning). I love that he peppers me with about five zillion questions in the 30 minutes it takes for us to get dressed, brush our teeth, get our shoes on and get to school (even if some of those questions are really hard to answer - I have no idea how this kid got to be so dadgum smart, but he really comes up with some humdingers). I love that he is hyper and fidgety and sometimes a little crazy during taekwondo (even though he does sometimes have to sit in timeout). And I love that he makes me read him "The Book With No Pictures" nine times a night (even though he has it memorized and can recite it himself). And I love singing Laila Tov to him right before bed (even though I can't carry a tune in a hand basket). I love that he smells like wet dog after he's been playing really hard. I love that his hair is crazy and looks slightly like Albert Einstein's hair. I love that his voice sounds like one of the Lollipop Guild Kids. I love that he has a "collection" of stuff under his pillow - like matchbox cars, books, snappy bracelets, and action figures. I love that he gets so excited when we get to go out for snooshis (sushi) because he gets to eat with chopsticks. But most of all, I love that he calls me mommy. When he puts his arms around my neck and whispers that I am the best mommy he has ever had, my whole world melts away and there is only him.
I know you guys love the work you do or you wouldn't do it. And I know you have some days where it gets really hard. But at the other end of the phone, you're changing the world. One kid at a time. One mom at a time. You made my life perfect. Just like Rachel did when she called me with Liam and Tenille did when she called me with Elie. So while this seems like so not enough, I will tell you thank you again! Thank you for my perfect little wild boy whom I love so much! I will tell you this every year until my dying day, because my life would be so meaningless without this little munchkin in it.
Love,
Heather Rosenberg
No comments:
Post a Comment