Dear Oskar,
You’re 10. A decade. 10 years of us, of being a mom. I can’t remember life without you. We’ve learned and grown together, and you’ve forged ahead for every milestone. Pushing me ahead even when it sometimes hurts to let go. Watching you grow has been the joy and heartbreak of my life.
I feel like we’re entering tween years now, with extra
emphasis on hair gel and cool stuff to wear. We have deep conversations and you
ask the most insightful questions. You’re a tall and lanky kid, all legs. You
read novel after novel and jam out to Green Day and Blink 182—your dad’s dream
come true.
Your school year has been the most independent success story. I’ve
barely cracked open a folder all year to check on you, and still, you completed
every assignment on your own, off the charts in all the things, but especially
math. You’re working a year ahead but barely blinked or thought twice about it,
solving long division problems down the sides of pages that made me shudder.
So much of your 10-year-old identity is intertwined in
soccer. All consuming for many of our week and weekend days, the amount of time
you spend on a field is significant. You’ve grown so much as a player and are
so incredibly effective at seeing the field and setting up the play. You
understand the game and the strategy behind it at a truly deep level, which has
brought you so much success. We’re soaring into another year of cup soccer
playing at some of the highest levels. We’ve taken you to Philadelphia and
Lancaster this year. I love watching you do what you love.
Figuring out what you wanted for your birthday was a
conundrum in itself since you’re totally content with what you have. Soccer
jerseys and soccer balls were where we landed, to the surprise of no one.
You have a few best friends that mean just about everything
to you. Watching the richness that these friendships have brought to your life
is something I hope you feel and have for all of the middle and high school
years ahead.
You love to play football outside with your brother and dad
and have won Super Bowls together countless times in our front yard together.
The epitome of boyhood is calling you all in when it’s dark and you’re covered
in mud, but really my heart swells because of it.
You’ve been playing drums for over a year now and have absolutely soared, playing along with your dad in the basement like you’re in a
high school band. Your musical talent is one of my favorite parts about you and
I think you’re pretty proud of the drum solos you can belt out too.
August is your best friend despite the inevitable fighting
after any period that feels a little too peaceful. Your interests in soccer,
football, video games, and TV shows you watch all really emphasize how close in
age you are. When you have friends over, you all play together, and I
hope that always stays that way, into adulthood and beyond.
With Maren, your patience is limited and your insistence on
teaching her life lessons or your unwavering emphasis on rules in games drives
her absolutely insane. You’re older, but not old enough, to exercise a little more
tolerance for a 4-year-old who is as stubborn as they come.
The update in this letter that breaks my heart a little is
that your little yellow stuffed animal bunnies fell to the wayside this year,
no longer meticulously set up on your pillow when you go to bed every
night. They’re tossed to the side of
your bed, the most tangible sign that you’re growing up.
You are the most thankful and appreciative kid and you
really don’t ask for much, even when we ask (or maybe just expect) a lot from
you. It’s not easy being the oldest, leading the way for a brother and a sister
who look to you for just about everything. We’re surprising you with a trip to
the beach with our family, but really, this one’s for your birthday. It’s been
your dream to go to the ocean and I really wanted to make it happen for you on
such a big day. I hope it becomes a core memory for you.
Happy, happy birthday, Oskar Henri. The words for how much I
love you do not exist.
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