Letters To My Sons | June

Dear Cash,

I remember clearly those first weeks after you were born. As a new mother I'd often start crying whenever I'd look at you, shaken by how much love I felt. I heard such emotions were typical, but I also knew it was more than that -- it was you. Over the past four and a half years, I have had these feelings wash over me time and again. When you are sleeping I'll sometimes sit beside you for a bit, kissing you softly on your forehead and repeatedly thanking God for such a loving little boy.  

"Cash, I wish you could stay four forever," I once said to you, "I wish you would always want to cuddle and hold hands like this...You'll grow into a teenager and then a young man who will have his own family...but I'll always remember you as my sweet little boy." To which you replied, "It's okay Mom, that's a long way from now. And I promise I'll come back for Thanksgiving." 

I guess you're what people call a Momma's Boy and that's cool. No, that's GREAT!  'Cause even though your "grown-up-ness" is a long way away like you said, these wonder years are still going to pass far too quickly. Starting with that first photo we had taken of us together (you were six months old) with your little balled up hand resting on my collarbone, to a recent one of us on vacation where you instantly placed your hand over my heart, your tenderness is without question. Then there's the moment you reach for my hand through the fence (one of my all time favorite photos!) just before going up to bat at one of your little league games and said, "Mommy, hold hands."  That was when my heart exploded.    

 

"There is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son that transcends all other affections of the heart."

~ Washington Irving  

Your last day of preschool was a week ago. As I sat through the closing ceremony, what struck me most was how loving you also are toward others. After getting your diploma, you hugged each of your three teachers one by one. When your head teacher, Lisa, started crying while saying good-bye and thanking the parents, you walked over and gave her another embrace. "Don't worry Teacher Lisa, whenever you feel sad you can look at this picture and then you won't be sad anymore."  What your teachers talked about most this year was your developing sensitivity toward your peers, how you learned to use words rather than behavior to communicate your emotions (not always easy for a 4 year-old!) and how loving you can be in your ways. Heck, sometimes you help me work through my feelings ("Just take a deep breath Mommy.... S-L-O-W-L-Y ... now breathe in and out"...) which never ceases to amaze me. 

Cashew, it's been a real joy to watch you evolve past your challenging year three. The arrival of your baby brother rocked your idyllic "only child" universe and we had to chug through some pretty rough patches that year.  "Mommy when I was three it was really hard for me, and I wasn't good a lot of the time. But now that I'm four, almost five, I'm being good....I'm not mean to my brother anymore. I just had to learn." 

Oh baby, the way you process life is remarkable. I am awestruck. You are the apple of my eye, bring tears to my eyes and fill all of our hearts with love.   

Always my sweet boy,

Mom 

One of the flowers you picked for me during our recent vacation to the Dominican Republic. Each day when I came to get you from camp you'd come running. "Mommy, Look! This flower is so beautiful. I picked it for you. Put it behind your ear and you'll be so pretty." By the end of the week I had a glorious bouquet.  

 

Letters To My Sons | May

Dear Grey Grey,

Today is your birthday! You are two years old now and there are three people who couldn't be more thrilled. It seems you're finally starting to move out of your dramatic phase, which, might I add, went on for a solid year. This photo is one of my favorites because it's real life ... it's our life -- it's classic Grey.  Sorry boo, it's the truth. But don't be mad, we love you dearly and ALWAYS have your back even when we're laughing through one of your oscar-winning meltdowns, with those heavy arms and Charlie Brown frown. It's just part of our humorous and tactical approach to your mood swings. We even created a couple of nicknames for you: Psychobaby, Mister Moody Rollercoaster, Grumpy Gus and of course, Drama King.  "There goes the Drama King" we'll say, as you fall to the floor in agonizing defeat over something minor, "that's just Grey being Grey." 

The upside down toy truck only adds to the histrionics of the moment, which was like so many over the past year. We have endured thrown toys, thrown food, furrowed brows and scowls. We've been the target of the evil side-eye and witnessed countless crocodile tears. We've watched you fight mercilessly to do things yourself even when it's not safe. And because you want to do everything your older brother does, when things don't go your way you turn on the dramatics. But thankfully it seems the tide is turning and instead of always waking up in a state, you'll chatter playfully in your room until someone comes in. You are smiling and laughing so much more and have started galloping throughout the house. When I see you after being away, you'll run into my arms, squealing "Mommy!!!!".

I cannot tell you what a pleasure it is to watch your personality developing in full bloom this spring. Maybe it's because you've finally hit the two year old mark - who knows, but whatever the case may be, I'm relieved to have made it through your first phase of growing pains.

So happy birthday little Grey Grey and welcome to the two's. We'll be sure to have lots of cake and ice-cream while we're here with Grandma and Pow-Pow. Just don't be mad if we end up using this as our Christmas card. 

I love you, always & forever.

Mom 

Letters to My Sons | April

Dearest sons,

This boyhood phase is moving so quickly. Right before my eyes the two of you are morphing into junior men; and because it's happening so fast, I make it a point to take the occasional, more formal portrait of each of you. If nothing else, just to see how much your features change in a couple months time and in what ways your essence remains the same. The light that fills your bedroom in the morning is so beautiful, so that's where I'll place you, in a little black chair near the window usually with the promise of a sweet-tasting treat. 

Cash, I just don't know what to say. Sometimes when you are chatting my ear off with questions about grownup life, ocean life, space life and these days, even questions about God and the afterlife, I just stop and stare into your brown eyes, so curious and innocent. Daddy and I have nicknamed you "Cash, the kid who wants to know everything about everything" (from the Sid the Science Kid cartoon) because of your boundless quest for knowledge, especially when it comes to sharks. You are still really really into sharks and couldn't wait for our trip to the Dominican Republic so you could search for the Caribbean Reef Shark. "Du-nunt...Du-nunt..." (the JAWS sound effect) has become your daily chant. And after that we are pretty certain you'll begin the countdown to Discovery Channel's Shark Week in July. 

This past month you started taking swim lessons and joined Harlem's Little League tee ball, playing shortstop (#7 just like Jeter) for the Harlem Bulldogs. Our weekends have been getting busier as we move into spring, and I can't wait to see what new things you discover along your insatiable pursuit of life.      

Grey Grey, you've also got a passion for baseball. Even more so watching your brother at his practices and games. "Ball" is one of your newest words which is no surprise. Another one is "Ewwwwww" which I gather you learned during your diaper changes. You finally started calling me "Mommy" instead of "Daddy" and have begun making counting sounds; not the numbers exactly, but the inflections -- and damn cute I might add. The sweetest hugs in the family continue to come from you. Dawdling across the room with outstretched arms, you just wrap yourself around one of us and then go back and repeat it a dozen more times. You love to do things over and over and when it comes to those hugs and sweet little kisses, I never get tired of them. Those meltdowns and tantrums of yours, well... those I could do without. :)

But I couldn't do without either of you. That is for sure. I love you both so much. We've been waiting such a long time for the weather to warm up and now that it has, all I have to say is, hold on boys, cause we're about to have an awesome and amazing spring! 

Love,

Mom

  

Letters To My Sons | March

Dear boys,

The day this photo was taken was one that I shouldn't soon forget. But just in case I do, and just in case you guys might never know how hard it was for your mother, I'm going to write about it now. As native New Yorkers you will grow up faster than most kids. That's just the way it is. For one thing Cash, we got rid of your stroller right after your second birthday. I'll admit, the motivation was purely selfish since I just couldn't lift and carry that stroller (with you in it!) up and down the flights of subway stairs anymore. I was done. But then along came Grey. New baby means new stroller means two more years of back breaking work. However, Grey you are about to turn two years old and we are again gearing up to ditch the stroller....after we get in a little more practice.

There is no elevator at our subway stop, nor is there one at 86th street where we get off for Cash's preschool. So unless graced by the kindest of a stranger, I must carry Grey in said stroller, often times with laundry and groceries hanging off the sides, up and down four flights of stairs twice a day. When you were just a couple of weeks old Cash, Aunt Gail and I fumbled through the unfamiliar process together. Since then, I have been doing it on my own for a solid four years, remarkably only throwing my back out once. But don't get me wrong. I'm not complaining. If anything I might be bragging a little because I want you guys to know what a badass your mother was. That's the pedigree of NYC mothers - hardcore to a fault, self-reliant and willing to put up with the most challenging travels and travails in order to live and raise our children in this city. Outsiders scoff at us, finding it utterly crazy, but we merely consider ourselves members of a resilient brood who can make it through anything in this great metropolis. It's like a rite of passage - these years of schlepping our little urbanites - that we can forevermore relate to with one another, especially days such as this. 

Well Grey, the beginning of our no-stroller commute went quite well; it was the return home that was a whole different story. You were cranky and wanted to be carried and when I refused, you threw yourself onto the grimy sidewalk, burying your head in your hands. Cash and I waited for your tantrum to pass, but yours tend to stick around awhile. So I picked up all 30 pounds of you and carried you to the subway, biceps screaming. Once inside the subway station your mood improved and you started to run around with your brother, who is by now a novice subway rider. But you have yet to learn platform safety so I had no other choice but to pick you back up. I tucked you, wailing and flailing, under my armpit like an oversized football, and walked with Cash into the crowded subway car. After directing him to the only available seat, I leaned against the subway doors and closed my eyes. Sometimes that's all you can do as a mom. Just tune out. I rolled my shoulders back and used every bit of my strength to hold you the four long stops until 125th street when people got off and seats freed up.    

Once seated next to your brother, you stopped crying and that's when I took out my camera. I wanted to capture snippets of the aftermath and the sheer craziness of it all.

Cause it is crazy. Raising young boys in New York City is a wild ride sort of like the MTA. We don't always run smoothly and may have some delays here and there, but we always manage to get where we're going. We just find a way, simple as that.

Boys, undoubtedly there will be many times in your life when you feel like throwing yourself onto the grimy sidewalk, kicking and screaming. But hopefully you grow into resilient, courageous, patient, thoughtful and tenacious men...

...always willing to lend a hand to a mother with a stroller.

Love,

Mom

New Yorkers in training

Letters To My Sons | February

Darling Cash,

This past Saturday we went on another one of our dates. Over the past couple of years these dates have been made special in that it's just the two of us trekking around New York City with abandon, and this time was no different. We went to Times Square, stopping first by the flagship Toys-R-Us on 44th Street before going to see a Barcelonian dance show at the New Victory Theatre. Since we ride the local "C" train to school every day, whenever we go to Times Square you love the thrill of taking the express "A" train just for the chance to go faster than the "C".  

It was snowing on this day, which is not all that surprising given the weather we've had this month. But it was a very light snow, just enough for it to be magical. We walked along 42nd street, squinting snowflakes from our eyes as we looked up at the neon lights all around. "New Yorkers as tourists" we like to say.    

Before going to the theatre, we took a few photos in the middle of Broadway. I think it was Minnie and Mickey Mouse who tried to bumrush our photo until we shooed them away. "Why, no photo?"  "Um..., 'cause we live here!," we said, before running off into the Toys-R-Us store. You've never been impressed by the cartoon characters of Times Square who pose with tourists and then hustle tips from them afterwards. Not even during your Elmo phase. A true New Yorker.   

Cash, I cherish these "dates" with you because I know that one day soon you'll be a teenager and spending a Saturday afternoon with your mother won't be so exciting.  For now though, I can't get enough of your sweet affections.  Many mornings you crawl in next to me in bed, before your little brother wakes up, for some "cozy marozy" (our special name for cuddles) and say, "Mommy, can we snuggle for a little bit before you make me breakfast?"  Of course I oblige. I mean, how could I not?  You're such a loving little boy, that every day I feel as if I'm storing inside my soul all the kind things you say, just in case -- well, just in case there comes a time you don't say them anymore. Like when you tell me, "Mommy I missed you while I was in school," or, "You're the best, prettiest mommy in the world."  And when I make a mistake how you say, "Don't worry Mommy, it's okay, it was just an accident."  But the most recent example of that love was the cookie you had saved for me from your lunch bag of mini Oreos. You love cookies - and I mean LOVE cookies!! So for you to put one aside, fighting the urge to eat it...and then, be so excited to give it to me, was unbelievably touching. Your "I love you's", hugs and kisses are the brightest part of my days, and often times I'll drop whatever I'm doing to hold your face in my hands 'cause I know this time is fleeting. But I have it now. And I want to hold onto it.

Heading home from Times Square we made one last stop at our favorite pizza place to get a "bomb pizza" (your word for really really good pizza) to share with Daddy and Grey. A perfect finish to another fabulous date.

My son, I love you so very much. I pray you never stop showing your kindness to others. And most of all, that you never ever stop loving as sweetly as you do now.   

Always & Forever,

Mom

Letters To My Sons | January

First and foremost, Happy New Year boys! So far this year we've had some pretty cold days here in the Northeast. On one of those chilly Saturday mornings, we bundled up in our warm gear and headed out for some doughnuts, opting to go without the stroller so Grey could experience (and practice!) life as a pedestrian and, in all honesty, give me a sense of the near future without one. Our "practice" walk involved part of Convent Avenue with a brief pit stop on one of our favorite Harlem stoops.       

Along our journey Grey, it was obvious you want to be just like your big brother. When we sat on the stoop you made the same faces as Cash, copying him when he threw his arms up in the air, and though you have very few words yet, you did your best to mimic his many sound effects. You wanted to walk for the first few blocks without any hand holding. That is, until you saw Cash reaching for my hand and then you begged for my other one. You tried to skip and jump and run like him, however you must have fallen at least a dozen times in your efforts. Sometimes you'd throw one of your overly dramatic meltdowns, but Cash, we weren't phased by it, right?  We'd just pull Grey up to standing, brush him off and keep it moving, laughing to ourselves, Oh Grey, we're not buying it. 

It is just the beginning of 2015, and I cannot imagine nor wait to discover what the rest of our journey this year will include. I wonder what you guys will like as the months go by. Will you still be obsessed with everything Transformers, Cash? Who will be your new best friend? Will you still have a crush on Phoebe and talk to me at night about how you love everything about her? Will you like the Harlem Little League this spring? The Harlem School for the Arts camp this summer? And Grey, will you find a way to break a world record by surpassing your brother in weight? As of today you weigh just three pounds less than him and you are nearly three years younger! Will you like going to preschool this fall? Who'll be your first friend? 

My sweet boys, the road that lies ahead of you is long and full of promise. I hope you dance, smile, trust, love and dream. I pray you enjoy every moment - even the unpleasant ones that break your heart, but force you to reach and grow as a person. You will learn as you get older that rules are made to be broken so be bold enough to live life of your own terms, and never ever apologize for it. And most of all, trust that when one of you falls, the other one will pick you up, dust you off and tell you to keep it moving just the way a brother should.   

Happy New Year sons.  I love you both dearly.

Always & forever,

Mom 

Letters To My Sons | December

 "Seeing is believing, but sometimes the most real things in the world are the things you can't see."  

~The conductor, The Polar Express

Cash,

This Christmas season has been especially magical because...well, because you saw him with your own eyes. Opting to wait until you were in the throws of magical, Saint Nicholas belief, at the age of 4, we knew this was the year for us to go.  Every morning for the past couple of weeks you would run to the hallway calendar and ask, "Mommy, how many more days 'til we see Santa?"  When I told you that you would be sitting on his lap by yourself, you were okay with this, so long as you got to whisper in Santa's ear the one thing you hoped to find under the tree on Christmas morning.  

This particular transformer - the Stomp and Chomp Grimlock - is all you have been talking about for months.  It's a bit on the expensive side as far as transformers go and we let you know this.  So during bedtime one night you said, "Daddy, it's okay if you and Mommy don't have enough money to get me Grimlock.  It could be for my birthday instead.  Or do you think maybe Santa has enough time to save up for it?" 

You've also been praying to God for this toy ever since Daddy told you that Santa and God are close friends. Once when I uttered aloud that I wish I had a pair of gold sneakers, you folded your hands together and said, "God can you please let Santa know to get my Mommy some gold sneakers for Christmas like Usher's."

 

On the morning of the last day in November, we got an early "Davis-style" start.  ABC Carpet and Home has always been very popular among New Yorkers because of its beautiful setting and the realness of Santa (no fake beards here!) so the line quickly snakes around the block.  Arriving an hour and a half before Santa, there were four families ahead of us - but at least it wasn't cold outside. We passed the time with games, runs for coffee and lots of music, and before long the line started moving.

"Santa will be here any minute folks! Please have your children ready and your strollers to the side." 

Daddy and I couldn't help but smile as your eyes widened and your legs started bobbing up and down.  

"Its almost Santa time!!"

 

 

Once inside, after catching that first glimpse of Santa, you became your shy self with pursed lips and hands held timidly. Daddy lifted you up so you could see better as you waited your turn. And then! There you were, seated on Santa's left leg, sweetly and nervously whispering to him your heart's desire. You looked so happy as he handed you a tiny reindeer to take with you; like the sleigh bell in the Polar Express story (one of your all time favorites), it was a little reminder that Santa is real, that seeing is believing -  and it's been at the base of our little Christmas tree ever since. 

My darling Cash, as you grow older, you will learn with great certainty that yes, sometimes the most real things in the world are those you can't see. But my hope is that you will always look back fondly on these magical, believing years. And maybe this letter and these photos will help remind you of how you felt when you first saw Santa, and the wonder of that Christmas morning when you tore through the wrapping paper to find inside the one thing you had quietly whispered in his ear.

Merry Christmas my love!

Always & forever,

Mom

Letters To My Sons | November

Dear Grey Grey,

It's been one of those months around here.  Lots of tears, meltdowns and overall just not feeling so hot.  Some of these days I even felt like crying.  First your brother caught pink eye. That Monday morning he woke up I knew all too well what it was, and that school that day (and the rest of the week for that matter) was out of the question. You however, didn't catch it --- or so I thought.  But a week later you did.  And then a week after that you gave it back to Cash. And then there was even a time when both of you had it.  After multiple doctor visits, eye drop refills and used up bottles of hand soap and sanitizer, I wasn't sure if we would ever be free of the "punk eye".        

Even without "punk eye", you had a particularly fussy month, melting down over what seemed like nothing at all. We'd try to console you with Bear Bear, your bottle, a favorite food, a restful quiet space, even giving in to your supposed wish to be picked up -- but nothing worked. You were bereft, collapsing into child's pose and often times bumping your head on the floor in the process. More tears. And then you'd throw up.  I can't tell you how many times this happened.  Fits of coughing, fits of crying, even your dramatic attempts at attention all led to one thing: throw up.  You'd even hoard little bits of food in the corners of your mouth, then gag and throw up. Sometimes 2-3 times in one night I would have to change your bedding and pajamas - trying not to gag myself - because you barfed all over them. Peeeee-uuuuuu! 

I finally checked in with the doctor to find out exactly how much yorking one baby can do in one month and still qualify as healthy.  She informed me that you had four eye teeth coming in  -- long canines on the upper jaw also known as "fang teeth" -- that were most likely causing you such hell. Regular doses of infant ibuprofen made life a little better, but still you had your moments.  Not all of the behavior is related to teething and some of it is just good 'ole manipulation.  Yes, doc, I figured as much. 

Despite your agonizing teething and a ping pong case of pink eye, you found great joy in one major accomplishment this month --- walking!  Yep, this month you started walking for real, for real.  At first you would just teeter totter from the rocking chair to the safety of the sofa four feet away.  Then you progressed to waddling in a drunken stupor the length of the room, joining your brother Cash in an endless back and forth journey.  The funniest part to us was how you'd stick your arm out in front of you like a rudder for balance, trying your best to keep up with your brother's pace.         

Then there are the times you and Cash play in the portable crib. Whenever you wake up from your nap and start babbling, Cash asks if he can go in your room.  You throw blankets on each other, roll around laughing, play peek-a-boo and pretend picnic, or sometimes just stand and drop to the ground over and over and over.  I don't know what it is; it's so simple, and yet it brings about such laughter, which this past month was greatly needed in between moments of great frustration and general "un-wellness".

Sweet Grey Grey, may you continue to seek those pockets of joy even of those days when all you want to do is cry and throw up.  May you have a grateful heart and a tenacious spirit, somehow finding a way to smile through the hardest of times.  And not least of all, your big brother by your side.

I love you, always & forever.

Mom        

{Click on images below to view full scale}

Letters To My Sons | October

Dear Sons,

Well it's that time of year again.  This past Sunday we made our second annual trip to White Post Farm in Melville, Long Island for the Fall Festival which includes hayrides, feeding the animals, children shows, games, pony rides, food and of course, some of the best pumpkin picking.  Your Dad and I only found out about the farm last year after talking with some other parents. I suppose it's one of those places you only hear about once you have kids. Then you discover that everybody knows about it - or at least it seems that way - and has been going with their family for years. Well, Davis boys, we are now one of those families making a visit to the farm an annual October tradition. 

After running around the pumpkin patch, trying to lift the biggest and heaviest pumpkins you could find Cash, you found yourself a sensible seat.  This was probably one of my favorite photos from the whole afternoon.  The brightest highlight for you however, was feeding the animals from the bucket of ice-cream cones filled with feed pellets that we bought.  You spent most of your time with the goats and the sheep (from a slight distance!), sprinkling the pellets all over the ground rather than feeding them from the ice-cream cone in your hand.  I think that was just a little too risky for you, my ever-skeptical city boy.  

 

[click on smaller images below to view full scale]   

Grey, you on the other hand, wanted to get up close and personal with the animals, particularly the dromedaries and the Nilgai antelope - whining for Daddy to bring you near enough to pet them. You'd touch their furry, wet noses and then immediately pull back your hand in a fit of laughter. This went on and on and on. But at least you weren't fussing Mr. Cranky Pants, which these days, is always a relief to us.

Cash, last year at the farm you were three years old and went on your first pony ride. As soon as you realized you would be going around the path without Mommy or Daddy and just the horse's caretaker instead -- you looked scared out of your mind.  Because of this, I wasn't sure if you would get on the pony again this year.  But as always, you surprised us with your determinism.  Although I will say that the entire time you rode around the circle, you had a slightly frozen stare as if you were second guessing your decision.

 

Daddy claims that the farm has one of the best Philly cheesesteaks.  This may very well be true.  I happen to love the grilled husked corn with butter and salt. But we all agree that they have the best french fries - those kind that are double fried, double crispy and doubly fantastic.  Grey, being that this was the first time you tasted them, you kept saying, "Mmmm..." as you licked off the ketchup, sweetly sharing with me and Daddy.  One for you, one for us.    

At one point you turned toward me and I took this photo.  What often strikes me when I look at you Grey Grey, and so many other people for that matter, is your eyes.  I love that here you can see the flecks of hazel and blue, and that inner circle of burnt yellow that makes them so dazzling.  You've got 'em boy.  You've got eyes to make the whole world swoon.     

 

Before we left we had to pick the perfect pumpkin. Cash, that was your job.  After goofing off for some time, being scolded for throwing one too many a pumpkin, you settled down and found the perfect one. Not too big and not too small. 

"Look Mom!  Let's get this one!"

It was just right.  So with our pumpkin, a couple of halloween cupcakes and Grey fast asleep in the stroller, we headed home, leaving just as the large crowds were arriving in typical Davis fashion.  

Thanks boys for making this such a fun family outing. If it weren't for you guys, Daddy and I probably would have never learned about this magical place out on Long Island.  It's just one of the many ways in which you have made our world bigger.

Always & forever,

Mom 

Letters To My Sons | September

It is September.  It is Fall.  And it is also the kick off to another year of Letters to My Sons.  Just as before, each month I will document about life with boys through my photography and a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  I am humbled by and grateful for those who follow these letters, sharing in the snippets of my complicated and beautiful journey raising sons.

Dear Cashew,

You did it!  This month you turned four after such a long wait, literally counting down the days for over two months. Your smile, from the time you lay your head down the night before and throughout the entire next day, was unstoppable. I took this photo just before you went to sleep, capturing your pure, sweet joy. 

That next morning you could not wait to get to school and let your teachers and friends know that it was your birthday.  We had a party in your classroom at 2 o'clock.  That is for sure.  You had asked me to make vanilla cupcakes with pink frosting and sprinkles.  Instead I bought mini cupcakes at the grocery store a block away. Sorry bud, I just couldn't bake them and schlepp them on the subway all the way down from Harlem with you, Grey and Grey's stroller this year.  But you were cool with it, even though you had promised Angelina that you were going to give her a pink frosted cupcake since her favorite color is pink.  Again, sorry bud.  Like I said though, you were cool with it.  And of course, I brought your favorite New York black and white cookies.  Only these ones were pastel colored. Whoah-hoah!  

The photos below are some snapshots I took of you and your friends. Especially sweet are the ones of you and Misha. He's your very best friend in school, going on three years now.  The teachers say you guys do EVERYTHING together. You love each other dearly but you also rough house a bit much, taking things too far at times and forcing the teachers to intervene. The two of you can be stubborn about apologizing to each other, but then minutes later are back to being a fiercesome twosome.  Boys will be boys.

 

(Click on individual image to view full scale and scroll through}      

Two days before your actual birthday, Daddy and I enjoyed a very special afternoon with you - just you - while Grey stayed home with a babysitter.  We took you to your favorite toy store, the gigantic flagship Toys-R-Us in Times Square, where we said you could pick out one transformer toy to add to your collection. Even better than picking out the toy however, was seeing a colossal Optimus Prime transformer before us.  Daddy lifted you up so you could give him a true, Native New Yorker greeting.  A Harlem pound.    

After the toy store we went to the New World Stages on 51st street to see the Gazillion Bubble Show. This was the big surprise that we had kept from you, sharing only that we would be seeing something special at 3:00.  The show was amazing.  Even Daddy and I were blown away by this man's talent with bubbles, the smoke, the lights, the creativity, skill and yes, the quantity.  At one point it was literally "snowing" bubbles by the millions down upon us.  You head was cocked back, mouth agape and eyes wide open in amazement.  Truly priceless. 


Well my Chunka Munka, my Cashew, my Boo Boo, it was a pleasure spending your birthday with you. Walking down the sidewalk after your celebration at school, you allowed me to take this photo of you against the brick wall.  You've got your transformer balloon, your birthday shirt on and the biggest smile in town.  

I love that smile.  May you always find joy in the simple things and silver linings in the not so simple things.

I love you.

And yes, Four Rocks!

 

Always & Forever, Mom

Letters to our sons | August

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms. In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter. This is the twelfth letter in what has been a most fulfilling year-long project.  After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the talented Kelly Roth Patton. 

My english muffin...with golden nooks & crannies.

My toasted coconut.

My little Grey Grey,

There are so many things that have brought you joy this summer: crawling through the grass, finding that you can stand upright on your own for several moments, throwback jams dance parties and wiggling your toes in the breeze created by me racing the stroller down the sidewalk. And let's not forget - bucket swings!  

You've also started to engage in more imaginative play with your older brother and I have to say, nothing warms my heart more than to see the two of you make each other laugh. You guys will frequently sit in a pile of soft blocks and rather than try to build something, you'll just throw them around in a fit of giggles. Other times you will zip and zoom cars around each other and throughout the apartment, with all the accompanying sound effects.

That is why it came as no surprise how much you liked the antique toy cars at the Carvers house on Cape Cod where we vacationed this summer, particularly the tractor. Even though your little feet couldn't reach the pedals, you handled it like a pro.  

Do you have your license Grey? 
'Cause you sure drive like you do.

Truckstar

 

 

 

Another one of your favorite things is Bear Bear. Just like your brother's Monkey, you have a Bear. He's blue, super soft and with you when you sleep, when you are playing and of course, when you need a little comfort.

You LOVE to kiss him and the suction sound of your pucker continues to make me gasp. I really don't think there is anything cuter. With one arm (sometimes both) holding his head affectionately, you'll plant at least half a dozen big smooches on Bear Bear. On the Cape, I captured a series of photos of you two together in what can only be described as an adorable "Bear Hug".     

Even though you haven't said many words yet (your first and only remains "Mama"), I do believe that one of your next ones will be "Bear".  

  

 

The other close buddy of yours is Daddy. Whenever he enters the room you go into a complete frenzy, first crawling toward him and then putting out your arms as a signal for him to pick you up. Daddy is convinced it's because he is the tallest member of the family and you get a birds eye view of all the action happening below. However, I'm convinced it's because it's Daddy - the most caring, loving and playful man any of us know.   

 

"Grey Grey, are you gonna start walking today?  Is today the day?"  This is what Cash and I ask you each morning when you wake up. You're close. Super close. You'll stand upright, fully balanced, for long periods of time until you want to move somewhere else and then you'll plop down on the floor and cruise like a cockroach. At 15 months old you're quite the beefcake and must be close to 30 pounds by now. Your older brother, who turns four next month, is only about six or seven pounds more than you which, frankly, says it all. If you only knew the number of these comments I hear from strangers:

 Whatta a BIG boy!

Such a CHUBBY baby!

Oh my! Look at those legs!  

 

And I haven't even mentioned your strength yet. Don't tell your brother this, but I once saw him have to use both hands to pull a toy from your one hand. It was rather amazing, but then again you have always been really strong. Sometimes Daddy and I have to work together: One of us holds down your limbs while the other changes your diaper or puts on a new shirt. I wonder if maybe some of this incredible strength comes from all those damn blueberries you've been eating this summer? Heck, I think you've eaten a whole pint once or thrice.  Blueberries and strawberries and cantaloupe - pretty much anything that's ripe, delicious and in season. 

It's been such a fun summer with you Grey Grey. I love your giggles, babbles and squeaks; the tan lines around your chubby creases and the cat sounds you make when you're in your room by yourself.  At times I just wanna squish you and smush you - because I can't believe how much I love you.

Always & forever,

Mom 

Letters to our sons | July

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the talented Jill Cassara. 

My dearest Cash,

You are a native New Yorker.  A Harlem boy who loves the city, its pulse and its subway.  But you also love the opportunity to get away which you and I had recently, this time by rail.  Early Saturday morning Daddy and Grey dropped us off at Penn Station to catch the 7:15 train upstate to Woodstock.  We were going to spend the weekend with my college friend who recently moved back east and her four year-old son, Maceo.  The weekend forecast called for 80 degree and sunny with zero humidity - perfect weather for our adventure.  

Riding the "big" Amtrak train set you on cloud nine and lucky for us, a kind stranger seated nearby told us which side would offer the best view of the Hudson River.  After propping up the foot rest to use as your seat, you quickly pulled out your toy trains.  We rode through upper Manhattan into the Bronx and eventually into the countryside.  "Look Mom! Look!," you'd say, eyes wide open with amazement each time you saw another bridge, a boat on the river or a freight train passing by on the other side of it.  Even the woman seated next to us took note, leaning in to whisper, "I remember when my son took his first Amtrak ride.  It was so exciting."

Meghan and Maceo picked us up from the train station, and naturally the first thing we did was head to the swimming hole.  I've been to this same swimming hole many times with Meghan throughout our long friendship, but this was the first time we were there with our sons.

In all honesty, I wasn't sure how you would feel about getting into the water Cash.  You are my city boy who, for the most part, doesn't like to get dirty or wet or sandy or slimy.  But to my surprise you grabbed your new friend by the hand and headed down from the road to the swimming hole.  You took your shirt off and your shoes and joined Maceo in what all boys love to do - throw rocks. 

It wasn't long before you got your feet wet.  Maceo, the consummate aquaphile, was first to get in the chilly water and you soon followed.  Down to your striped skivvies (before eventually changing into your bathing suit) you were splashing and laughing with your new friend.  It was a joy to watch you ease into your environment: filling up buckets with rocks, drawing shapes in the mud with sticks and scavenging for bugs along the fallen tree trunks.  Meghan and I sat close by in our lawn chairs, our toes wiggling in the water, listening to the sounds of life with boys.

 

{Click on images below to view full scale} 

Afterwards we went into the town of Woodstock for some ice-cream.  You ordered your favorite: vanilla with rainbow sprinkles.  It was your second one since the first one you dropped face down on the floor.  But who cares; it was summer and we were having fun.  After you and Maceo finished, you guys went looking for more bugs in the tall grasses.  Maceo managed to get a ladybug onto his finger and I think you were quite impressed by the whole thing.  With your propensity to squash insects and bugs with brute force in the city, I was actually amazed by your forbearance.  I think on some level you knew this was a special sighting (they do say ladybugs bring good luck), transforming into a most docile, studious observer.    

Though the highlights of our weekend getaway were many, these were some of my favorites:

* You and Maceo running down the streets of Woodstock with balloons, chasing your shadows and laughing hysterically.

* The two of you taking a piss in the great outdoors (your first!) and yes, more than once.

* Waking you up to see dozens of fireflies lighting up the backyard.

There is no doubt this was our special trip upstate together. You got dirty, went barefoot most of the time, and played with Maceo with wild abandon - what could be better than that? 

So my dear son, my wish is that in your lifetime you continue to be inspired, to test the waters chilly as they may be, find the beauty in nature around you, get (uncomfortably) slimy and grimy - and most importantly, do it with that brilliant smile of yours!

I love you, always & forever,  

Mom

 

Letters to our sons | June

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the ultra talented Jill Cassara. 

Dearest Cash,

This past Sunday was 75 degrees, sunny and without a cloud in the bright, blue sky.  It was the perfect day to take you to your first baseball game at Yankee Stadium.  I surprised you and Dad with tickets to the 1:00 game against the Minnesota Twins for Father's Day and I'm not sure who was more excited.  Since Derek Jeter, one of the greatest MLB shortstops and Yankees heroes of all time is retiring after this season, Dad wanted to make sure you were both properly outfitted and ordered two matching #2 final season commemorative logo t-shirts, one big and one small.

The morning of the game the first thing you did was put on your Yankees hat (you were already wearing your t-shirt since you wanted to sleep in it the night before) and run around the apartment saying, "I'm going to my first Yankees game today!"  

"Can I hold my own ticket Mom?"

"Can I bring my baseball glove?"

"You should bring your binoculars?" I said back.

Bronx Bomber

Even though we live close enough to the stadium that we could have walked there if we wanted, we rode the D train two quick stops to 161st Street.  You were thrilled (as usual) to be taking the subway and even more so to be heading uptown for a change to the Boogie Down Bronx!

When we got to our seats in section 316 of the terrace and to the right of home plate, the baseball diamond was being groomed and players were in the outfield stretching and warming up.  You and I had fun watching all of this while Dad went to wait in the (long) line for cheeseburgers, french fries and soda. No doubt we had to have some good 'ole stadium grub.  That's the whole fun of it.  

Your binoculars came in handy, especially when Derek Jeter was up to bat. And when you weren't using them, Dad had fun teaching you the ins and outs of the game. You were so excited every time there was a strike against a Minnesota player and cheered wildly with the crowd whenever a Yankee got a hit.  But in all honesty there came a point where all you cared about was getting some ice cream in a Yankees batting helmet bowl.

Dad disappeared to get the goods, and that's when the game's biggest action happened.  First, Derek Jeter had a huge hit into the outfield, making it all the way to second base.  Then the next two batters helped bring in the Yankees only two runs of the game and the crowd went absolutely crazy. But poor Dad!  He came back with the ice cream having missed it all.  

 

As the innings wore on, your three year-old attention span started to wane and you became antsy in your seat. At one point you were sitting on Dad's lap having a laugh with him when I captured this image with my camera phone.  I love this photo because you can see how happy Dad is being at a Yankees game with his son. He often tells me that despite growing up in New York, his father never took him to a Yankees game when he was a young boy.  Because of this, he made a promise that if he ever had a son he would take him to Yankee Stadium in the summer to watch baseball and eat hot dogs and ice-cream.

Even though around the 6th inning you were a complete goof-off and the Twins blew out the Yankees after getting six runs in the 9th inning, Dad was just happy to be with you at the game on such a beautiful day.  I have no doubt there will be many more Yankees games for the two of you in the future, and most likely your little brother too.  But this was the first.  I mean, how cool is that?!    

We left just before the ninth inning was over to beat the crowd and took the D train home.  For you, taking the subway to the stadium and back were the bookend highlights to a wonderful day with your Dad.  I was so grateful to be able to spend the afternoon with you both, sharing in the "firstness" of it, and of course, to take photos that we can look back on as time passes.

I love you son, my little Bronx Bomber, always & forever.

Mom 

Letters to our sons | May

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the very talented Lauren Ammerman. 

Dearest Cash,

I think I am coming to terms with it - finally.  It's been almost six weeks since your first major haircut - "major" being the key word to describe not only how much Daddy chopped off but also the kind of reaction I had afterwards.  The night before you were to have your preschool photo taken, I asked Daddy to give you a "shape up".  Translation:  Take a little off the top and clean up the sides around the ears.  Daddy had given you a shape up before, so I just assumed this time would be the same.  Off I went to put your baby brother down to sleep for the night, while Daddy sat you on a stool in the bathtub and got the clippers ready.  Yes, the clippers.    

About ten minutes later I walked past the bathroom and saw your hair was cut down to a "fade" of sorts.  Thinking it was close to being too short, I warned Daddy who assured me he was just cleaning up the spots that were too low because you kept moving your head.  It didn't take long however, for Daddy's promise to break into a million little pieces.  I walked out of Grey's room, past the bathroom and caught a glimpse of you out of the corner of my eye.  You were still seated on the stool smiling, as if to say, "Hey Mommy!  Look at my new haircut!"  My stomach just dropped and I Instantly burst into tears.  You were nearly bald.  You looked like you were suffering a terminal illness or had survived the squalid conditions of a child labor internment camp - and as your mother, I wasn't prepared for the shock.  Even writing this now I almost feel sick all over again.  With your glorious curls gone, replaced by a super low crew cut - I was definitely in a state.

 

"What happened?!!

         Why did you cut it so short?

        Oh My Gosh!!  What happened?!!" 

 

Daddy said it was because you moved your head and there was a huge bald spot that could only be fixed by cutting it all off.  Really?!!  I would have much preferred a bald spot over a full on shearing!  But not wanting you to feel insecure in any way about your new coif, I fought to get control of my emotions.  I walked out of the bathroom, closed the door behind me and went into the bedroom and cried.

I managed somehow to find the words to tell you that I liked your new haircut, that you looked amazing and beautiful -although I'm sure you hardly believed me.  Daddy took you to your room to read you a bedtime story while I took a deep breath and went back into the bathroom.  Your hair was everywhere - all over the floor, behind the toilet, in the tub.  I got down on my knees, tears streaming down my face, and started sweeping them up - saddened by how quickly the garbage can was filling up with your beautiful baby curls that had taken so long to grow.

That night after you had fallen asleep, I snuck in your room to just look at you.  I stayed in there for God knows how long.  Who was that little boy lying there?  My greatest wish was that when you woke up the next morning your hair would have grown - that you would have your little afro back.   

I realize that a major factor in my devastation was that my first baby was no more.  This new haircut instantly made you like you were ten years old, not three.  When I shared this story with some of the other moms at your school the next day, they were a total comfort.  "Was this his first big haircut?" one mother asked.  When I said it was, she shook her head and said, "Of course, that makes complete sense.  That first big haircut can be really hard for us [moms].  And Dads just don't get it."

The fact that the following day was school picture day was just the nail in the coffin.  I considered not taking you in to school and have you do the make up shot at the end of the month, but quickly decided that wasn't right.  You would proudly rock your new haircut in a photo with your teachers and friends.  I mean it's only hair and it will grow back I kept telling myself. Thankfully you have a grand collection of hats that you love and had already chosen one to wear the next morning.

I love you son, always and forever.

And already your curls are making a comeback!

Love, Mom 

    Little Lion King Afro:  In Memoriam 

Letters to our sons | April

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the very talented Jennifer Nichols James.

My dearest Cash,

Lounging around with Monkey

I think it's safe to say that Monkey is your best friend. You met him when you were 10 months old and he soon became the one thing you took along with you everywhere.  During your short three years on this earth so far, you have reached for Monkey when feeling playful to dance with and toss around, to hide behind when feeling shy, to brush against your face when sleepy, and of course, collect your tears when feeling sad.  I have countless memories of you curled up on the sofa, in your bed, and before that in your crib, drinking milk and cuddling with Monkey.  He was there with you when you started teetering upright on your two legs, and a comfort to you when you inevitably tumbled to the ground.  He rode with you on your first plane ride to Southern California when you were 13 months old and has since traveled with you by plane, train and car to places like Pittsburgh, Chicago, and Central America.  With so many photos of you with Monkey in your clutches, wide awake or slumped over in your car seat, there is no denying he is your best buddy.      

Under the weather with Monkey

It's no wonder that you absolutely WILL NOT go to sleep without him.  When you were younger, if Monkey was looking tattered and needed cleaning, I would have to sneak him off to the laundromat for a "bath", crossing my fingers that you wouldn't need him until he was finished drying.  As you got a little older, we would make a field trip out of taking Monkey to the laundromat, watching him spin around in the soapy suds, coming back 20 minutes later to put his sopping wet furriness into the dryer to "get warm".  In a confessional moment, Monkey you have today is actually your second Monkey.  The first one had become a rag of holes from which stuffing was steadily coming out, deflating over time any semblance of its former primate self.  It was such a relief when you received Monkey #2 that you never knew the difference.  In your eyes he had just gotten the best bath of his life.  Phew!          

Monkey's portrait

When you had your first real heavy duty 24-hour fever and could only lie around on the sofa all day  - who was there?  Monkey of course.  He also went with you every day of your first year of preschool, the perfect companion during a time of great transition.  Teacher Rachel designated a special basket in the classroom for monkey to sleep in until circle time when you would retrieve him to sing songs and listen to stories with your new friends.  

After you turned three and got a little, shall we say, more rowdy? energetic?… you started an incessant pastime of throwing Monkey around the house.  It actually drives Daddy and me crazy.  You'll throw him into the air, narrowly missing a piece of furniture or knocking things off the table or pictures off the wall as you dive to catch him.  In actuality I suppose you are just playing catch with your best friend, but still it's a bit wearing on your dear mother and father.  Not for your baby brother though.  He loves when you toss Monkey high in the air, squealing in delight as he falls from the sky into your embrace.  Ahhhh.    

Buddies

This past week New York City has had some gorgeous spring days and whenever we've gone out to enjoy them, you've told me that Monkey wants to come too.  I say that's fine but that you are responsible for him.  You oblige and carry him throughout the day with love and care, telling me he's "magical" and always making sure his furry paws don't drag on the ground.

I love you very much son and your beautiful friendship with Monkey.

Mom

Some recent snapshots of you and your furry pal

Letters to our sons | March

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the very talented Jennifer Nichols James. 

My beloved Grey Grey,

You are such a yummy age right now.  My favorite in fact.  At nine months old you are learning so many new things, consistently reaching for the gold with your attempts to crawl, stand and dance - especially alongside your older brother. I can tell you desperately want to catch up to him as your eyes follow his every movement from room to room, squealing and giggling every time he comes into your view and whipping your head around to find him when he's not.  It seems as if that is your goal each day - to get up and play with him despite his occasional bullying.  Ha!   

On the other hand, I can definitely wait.  I don't want you to grow up just yet.  Secretly I'd prefer if you didn't start crawling for a little longer.  You are such a happy baby who amazes loved ones and strangers alike with your cool demeanor and sweet little soul.  Like a cherub with your pink lips, perpetually rosy cheeks and multitude of creases on your arms and legs (some of which is now starting to disappear), you make me want to slow down the hands of time and snuggle you more often and tightly before you transform into a lanky toddler boy which I know will happen way too soon.  One day you'll be mortified to learn this, but I've been known to occasionally strip you "nekkid" and show whomever is present your chubby little baby tushie.  Okay, many times.  I'm sorry, I just can't help myself.  Really Grey, I can't.  I refer to you as my "bonus baby" (coined by a dear friend) because for awhile Daddy and I weren't planning to have any more children after your brother.  But then as you know, God changed my heart on that matter and here you are, glorious and beautiful.    

The sounds you have started making this past month are so delightful - raspberry sounds with your lips, little growls and high-pitched squeals that you like to have mimicked back to you, "Bah" sounds and clucks with your tongue.  Your favorite game is the one where you do something like shake your head or clap your hands and I'll copy you.  We'll go back and forth doing this for the longest time, cracking each other up.  When you started clapping your hands last month, the whole family joined in the celebration.  You were so happy to have learned this and below is a photo of you relishing in your latest achievement.  Your smile (with your four bottom chiclet teeth showing) couldn't be any bigger, a tell-tale sign of your amazement.  

This past month we spent a week at Grandma and Pow Pow's house and, since they have these great big windows in their house, I took the opportunity to set up a little photo shoot with you.  They have this old milk crate that Aunt Gail gave them for Christmas with our family name "ROEMER" embossed on the sides and it was Pow Pow's idea to photograph you inside it.  Perfectly snug inside the small box, we had a great time playing around and taking photos.  This is the last time you will ever fit in a container so small, so I was happy to capture some photos to remind me of when you were so little.  

Though you may be little in size your sense of humor is grand in scale.  I love your laugh and more than that, what makes you laugh.  It's actually your brother (no surprise!) who can get you to laugh the hardest.  It's absolutely contagious -- and I find myself laughing when listening to the two of you crack each other up.  I predict we will share joy and laughter in so many things, together and as a family, as the years go by.

 

[Click each image below to view full size and advance slideshow]

These days your loves include doing frog jumps and twirls in your swing, banging spoons on pots and pans, sitting in a big cardboard box, splashing the water in the tub, grabbing your toes, watching shadows move along the wall, the music of Ray Charles, having a blanket parachuted above you, watching your brother dance and playing with his curly hair.  You have a zest for life, a smile that can't be matched and a curiosity that just won't quit.  As Grandma and Pow Pow said while we were visiting, "He really is such an adorable baby."  That you are.  My truly irresistible love.    

Always and forever,

Mom     

Letters to our sons | February

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post, please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with my very talented and good friend Jill Cassara.

"So, how many hats does Cash have?'" 

This is a question Pow-Pow often asks when we go and visit him and Grandma.  

"Well," I say, "quite a lot." 

 

Dear Cash, my son and wearer of many hats ~

You have been wearing hats since before you could walk --- heck, before you could talk!  At six months old you wore your first one; it was a newsboy hat and it was white, for your baptism.  I don't recall you keeping it on all that long that particular day, but by the time summer arrived three months later, you were hardly out and about without one.  On your first birthday that September, a family friend gave you a plaid newsboy hat that looked just like the Kangols Daddy always wears.  To this day, one of my all time favorite photos and the inspiration for me to dust off my camera and delve into photography again, is of you and Daddy in Central Park wearing your newsboy hats.  It makes my heart swoon.     

Just after your first birthday we made a trip to southern California.  By then you had several newsboy hats - plaid, houndstooth and pinstriped.  During a stroll through the village of San Clemente, we came across a black gingham porkpie that would become your signature hat - above all others.  From that point on you didn't go anywhere without your porkpie, drawing smiles and comments from passersby everywhere.  You have gingham, plaid and blue wooly ones for the the colder months and blue/white and black/grey straw ones for the warmer months.  Dad and I are still surprised to this day how attached you have become to your hats and how you fuss when someone takes it off your head.  It's no wonder that Jon Klassen's book,"I Want My Hat Back",  about a bear who has lost his hat and desperately wants it back, is one of your favorites.  Equally amusing to you is Klassen's sequel to the book, "This Is Not My Hat", about a fish that stole a hat and will probably get away with it, that Santa put under the tree for you this Christmas.

Christmas Eve 2013

"A hat is a flag, a shield, a bit of armor, and the badge of masculinity. A hat is the difference between wearing clothes and wearing a costume; it's the difference between being dressed and being dressed up; it's the difference between looking adequate and looking your best. A hat is to be stylish in, to glow under, to flirt beneath, and to make all others seem jealous over.  A piece of magic is a hat."   ~ M. Sliter

Above is a collage of photos of you wearing various hats throughout your first three years of life, which by the way, was an absolute joy to create.  To the left is the photo of you and Daddy that I cherish most of all, for reasons already mentioned.  Framed and prominently placed on our bookshelf, I find myself looking at it all the time.  

You are my little dapper don, my pint-sized aficionado whose hat wearing is a vital part of your personality and style.  Who knows if your little brother will become such a fan, but it was just this month that he started wearing your white newsboy hat - the first one you ever wore.

Hats off to you my son!  May you always be king of your own swagger.     

Love always and forever, 

Mom

Letters to our sons | January

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons", with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the very talented Jojo Pedri Clark.

Dear Cash and Grey, 

Well this past Christmas was your first Christmas together as brothers.  As usual we spent the holiday in Wilmette at Aunt Gail and Uncle Elio's house.  Grandma and Pow Pow drove in from Pittsburgh, Uncle Jim flew in from Oregon, and your cousins Alex, Laura and Nicki worked hard to have everything ready for your arrival.  Even Rocky and Penny, the family's two four legged pals, were excited that you were coming to visit.  But we all knew Cash, that there was one visitor who you were especially hoping would arrive, traveling all the way from the North Pole!

SANTA!  

For weeks you'd been anticipating his arrival, maintaining your best behavior in the hopes that that might help - and that maybe, just maybe, because you'd been such a good boy, he would bring you a "B" subway train car to add to your collection.  Your biggest concern was how Santa would know you were in Chicago and not New York City, but Dad and I assured you that Santa knew where each little boy and girl would be on Christmas morning.  

During our stay for the holiday, cousin Alex generously gave up his room for us.  We took it over with all of our luggage strewn about - a blow up mattress, crib, books, toys and enough clothes for a week long stay.  After our Christmas Eve dinner with the family, the two of you dressed in your matching festive pajamas and put out the Christmas cookies & milk for Santa & the carrots for Rudolph.  You said goodnight to all of the family and were off to bed for it would surely be an early morning.  And that it was!  During the predawn of Christmas, the four of us hung out in Alex's room, waiting for a decent hour to gather the other family members and descend downstairs.  It was during this time that I took some of my favorite photos of the day.  Candid, playful and imperfect.  What fun watching the two of you in your bare feet on a messy bed, cracking each other up in contagious excitement.  Your first Christmas morning together is captured in this series of photos, silly and unposed - just brothers in their natural and playful state on a very special morning.    

[Click photo to advance slideshow and continue reading]

Christmas morning was truly magical.  The family went downstairs to discover that Santa had indeed arrived and presents were everywhere - one of which was the coveted "B" train.  You were over the moon Cash.  And Grey, Santa knew you needed socks!  How on earth he knew that is a big mystery!  

It was such a beautiful Christmas morning spent with family, filled with love, laughter and joy.  Of course we managed to take a few formal Christmas photos like the ones below, but it was the time we shared together upstairs as a family, playing on the bed, that I will remember most.  

Always & forever,

Mom

 

[Click photo to enlarge]

Letters to our sons | December

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with my talented and dear friend Jill Cassara.  

_________________________________________

 

Dear Cash, my little train fanatic, 

There are a few things in your world so far that bring you tremendous happiness, and near the top of that list is trains. Living in New York City we ride the subway almost every day which is most likely how this fascination began.  You are so curious about the different subway lines - which ones run express, which ones are local and which ones take us to Grand Central.  On our underground travels, whenever the subway doors open you say, "Mommy, which stop is this?", and have come pretty close to memorizing each stop on our daily commute to preschool.  Coming home from school we try our best to ride in the front car of the "C" train so we can look out the window and watch the train race, twist and turn along the old tracks.  You'll spot other trains riding next to ours and tell me which line it is and whether it's headed uptown or downtown, finding it especially thrilling when our local beats the express to the station.  At the recent parent-teacher conference your teachers shared that during free play you religiously make a bee line for the train tracks, building elaborate systems winding in all directions.  I asked if other children in the class are as interested and they replied, "Nope, just Cash."  Perhaps it is because you are the only one in your class that rides the subway to school?  Maybe so, but it comes as no surprise that your recent request to Santa includes the "B" and "D" subway cars to add to your collection.

This Thanksgiving we made our usual trip to Grandma and Pow Pow's in Pennsylvania.  What a thrill when Pow Pow, a lifelong train fanatic himself, offered to take you trainspotting.       

{Please click photo to see the slideshow "Trainspotting with Pow Pow" and then continue reading}

Pow Pow took you down to a bridge in the old mill town of Leetsdale that, because of icy conditions, was closed off to traffic. It was the perfect place to watch for freight trains, especially since the tracks run right underneath the bridge. Pow Pow is eighty years old and has loved trains since he was a small boy like you.  His own grandfather gave him a Lionel train set that they would put up or around the Christmas tree each year and for a long time he dreamt about one day being a train engineer.  He would travel by train to and from Princeton and to and from Connecticut College to date your grandmother, meeting her under the clock at Grand Central.  Though he chose a much different career path while contemplating college, marriage, raising and supporting a family, his love affair with trains and counting cars has never waned.  In fact it was just two years ago, at the age of 78, that Pow Pow finally got the chance to fulfill his lifelong dream - to be an "engineer for a day" of the East Broad Top steam locomotive!  Which just goes to show you Cash, never give up on your dreams.  Never Ever.

I just want to say too that this was quite a special afternoon for me, being able to see my father share in his passion for trains with you, my oldest son, and capture those moments with my camera.  It is one day I shall not soon forget and believe you will always remember.  I love you Cash and your wild boy dreams.   

Always and forever,

Mom 

Letters to our sons | November

***I am so thankful to be a part of this blog circle "Letters to our Sons" with so many amazing photographers and moms.  In honor of our love for our little boys, we are posting a monthly image(s) along with a corresponding, heartfelt letter.  After reading my post please click HERE to continue around the circle, starting with the very talented Jamie Rubeis.

_________________________________________

My sweet boys, 

When I found out I was pregnant for the second time, I desperately wanted to have another boy.  It was all I could think about, praying that we would have two boys who would grow up as brothers close enough in age to hopefully be best friends as well.  I'll never forget the appointment when my doctor told me the good news.  I was so overwhelmed with joy that I was brought to tears, scrambling for my cellphone so I could call Daddy.  He actually thought something dreadful had happened and it took him a minute to realize I was hysterically happy.  

Grey is a boy!!  Grey is a boy!!

At any rate, I tell you all of this to let you know how much I wanted you for each other.  And most recently, watching your relationship develop, as new and young as it is, has been nothing short of awesome.  Even though you are only five months old Grey, and cannot sit up without help, your big brother Cash still wants to "play" with you.  Usually this means placing you in the Bumbo seat so you can be a captive audience to your older sibling and first friend.  What can possibly thrill a three year old more than undivided attention from someone who can't talk back?  Ha!  But Cash, in all seriousness, it's such a blast watching you play guitar and sing for Grey, moving his arms so he is "dancing" with you, reading books to him ("Did you like that story Grey Grey?"), cooking dinner for him, and overall just having him in your company.  

 

Every time Grey wakes up from one of his many naps, you go running and jumping down the hallway singing, "Grey is up!  Grey is up!  I want to play with Grey Grey!"   I've since started taking photos of you two together and these are a few of my recent favorites.  It was just yesterday that you wanted Grey to sit inside your "tent house" so you could play your guitar and sing to him.  Hilarious.  But of course I still have to keep a watchful eye on you Cash as you sometimes slip in a sneaky pinch or a quick little jab to Grey's ribs.  I mean what big brother hasn't done that to his baby brother now and again?

To see you begin connecting is incredible, especially how each of you light up at the sight of the other. Knowing that this is just the start of your brotherhood is an amazing feeling.  I know that it is ALL so worth it.  

Love always + forever, 

Mom

 

"There's no other love like the love for a brother.  There's no other love like the love from a brother."  ~ Terri Guillemets