This morning Ryan woke up, as usual, ten minutes before the alarm.  We tip toed downstairs and I read him what I wrote below for his birthday.  I got the biggest hug ever and he said Mom I love you too.  He told me that I should not edit this just post it. So I did.

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Dearest Ryan,

Where has the time gone! It feels like yesterday they were handing me a baby with a shock of red hair on his head.  I feel like I blinked and you are suddenly nine.  You are growing so tall so fast and are quite the handsome young gentleman.

You have had a really incredible year. Second grade was tough on you but we were able to get you more help in school. When school was finally over we had a great summer. You made the discovery that swim team is a TEAM.  Suddenly you were trying your hardest at every meet. I got to watch you swim to your first – first place finish and see you come in second out of fifty boys in the B champs.  I cried when you won knowing how hard you fought to get where you are in life. Ryan every victory comes to you a little sweeter for fighting the challenges you have been handed. This summer you went to a ton of therapy. Every week you went to physical therapy, occupational therapy, and behavioral therapy. You never complained once.

You are a person of extremes, as rigid as you are about some things is as flexible you are about others. It, of course, is lovely and maddening at the same time. Actually parenting you is lovely and maddening but then again I would never give it up for the world.

You are fighting some new fights this year. All of a sudden out of no where you are anxious and it is starting to affect your life. You are unable to leave the level of the house I am on.  It kind of reminds me of when you were little and you’d cry if I went to the bathroom.  I am here to tell you.  There is no one setting bombs in our house.  I promise there is no one wanting to kill you in the closet, under your bed, or in the garage. Aaron can’t shower with you forever.  The shower head will not try to get you. If this doesn’t start to resolve soon I will find you some more help.

This school year you decided to start singing in the choir and you will be in the big Thanksgiving Day parade here in Philly. I am tickled you are in the choir. I also sang choir and it is where I learn to push from my diaphragm to scream in key when I sang for my band.  You were so excited to audition. We printed out the lyrics you were to learn and we sang together everyday. Oh child. You open your mouth and it sounds like angels are flying out. You love the music teacher at school and I know he loves you.  It should be a great experience.

For about a year whenever I call you a kid you tell me MOM I am a tween not a kid. I have been telling you that you were a kid till you were nine. I guess you are officially a tween my love.  This tween stuff is all new territory for your Dad and I.  As we try to be patient with you, be patient with us because really we have no clue what we are doing.

I hope your ninth year, your last year of single digits, is your best year yet my wild red head.

I love you more than you will ever know,

Your Mom.