4 1/2 Year Letter to Colin

Dear Colin,

So you are just about to turn 4 ½ years old. I am so glad for that. The last eighteen months of your life have had more than their fair share of parental challenges. I wasn’t always sure that we’d make it to the other side. But we have, and I count it a miracle. At least as big as Jesus feeding the five thousand. Because that’s what a miracle is isn’t it – God setting up a problem situation for us to face that we cannot possibly solve without His help.

Let’s just say that I never heard your Dad raise his voice until your turned three. Our neighbors Chris and Ellen have heard it too … really. And I never said so many “Help me, Help me” prayers in all my life.

I think my low point was the night you threw you metal trash can across your room during a time out … into your full length closet mirror .. and then decided, for effect, to pee all over the shattered mirror. We (now) affectionately refer to it as the “Rock Star Story.” When I came upstairs to see what you had done, I said something I never thought I would say: “Don’t move. I have to call your Father.” Your Dad recognized the panic in my voice and rushed home immediately. I was kind enough to clean up the shattered glass, throw you some band-aids, but then quickly exit the room before the craziness set in. It wasn’t pretty, especially because it took a long time for me to stop crying about how I had failed you as a Mother and for you to understand that urinating on things was not the answer to being frustrated.



We’re still waiting until your 5th birthday to have a birthday party that involves other children. You seem eager for that to happen, but we are happy that we still have six months to prepare for the event. It’s a good thing you aren’t old enough to know that your older brother had his first kid birthday party at 3. That was back when I was worried about keeping up with all the other new moms and when I thought that creating a fish bowl habitat for a beautiful Betta fish pet was somehow an age appropriate activity. All the fish pets sent home died within the first month. I now believe in non-perishable goody bags.

You spent a lot of the Spring uninviting me and the rest of the family to your birthday party. It was an interesting tactical move on your part given that a) you’ve never actually had a birthday party, b) you’d need some help with the cake, and c) if it was possible to outsource the party to another parent, I’d be all over it.

I read books on how to raise your spirited child and how to raise your explosive child. They have helped. Mainly because they have reminded me that I am not alone. And, that your independent spirit is also what makes you incredibly special.

We do feel like we are coming out of the dark years now that you have gained some skills in managing your frustrations. Counting to ten, hitting pillows, and humor have all helped along the way. At least now we don’t have twenty minute meltdowns about who put the parmesan cheese on your pasta or how spicy the toothpaste is.



Your Dad and I often talk about how neat you are. You have this incredibly wit and sense of yourself. One night this summer you were playing hide and go seek with your blanket. Towards the end of the game, Aunt Nancy “hid” your blanket in your bed in an effort to end the game and get you to bed. When you saw it, you knew exactly what was happening and said in complete deadpan, “That’s not my blanket.” Your humor is so beyond your years … as is your fascination with your private parts, but that’s a story for another time.

You also love baseball like no other four year old I have ever seen. It’s your obsession. It’s not usual that you know every player on the Mariners, or even the Red Sox, but it gets kind of freaky when you know that Jayson Werth has taken Shane Victorino’s place in the Phillies batting order. You wear a different baseball “jersey” every single day. You also used to wear matching baseball pants and socks with each jersey until you realized that was a big commitment during the month of August. You told me recently that the only thing you wanted when you turned five was a new (cool) bat … and catcher gear including the mask, chest plate, and knee pads … and lots more baseball jerseys of other players like Yuniesky Betancourt on the Mariners and David Wright on the Mets. Your requests are few, but painfully specific.



I was pitching to you earlier this summer and you told me that I couldn’t pitch underhand any more … that I needed to pitch overhand fast balls .... because you were too good a hitter now. You told me that you were worried that you would hit a line drive “into my boobies” on accident and it would hurt really bad. Since I’ve been pitching overhand, you’ve been complaining that I’m not doing the leg kick right and that I’m not very good at pitching from the stretch. I plan to fake an elbow injury soon if my batter (that'd be you, buddy) doesn’t start giving me some grace soon.

The amazing thing is that your skills seem, at least for now, to be equal to your passion. People stop and stare when you are playing. “Wow! - how old is that kid?!” “Oh my goodness, that’s incredible!” It’s disarming to see a four year old hit the ball like you can. You have this beautiful and powerful left handed swing that is beyond your years. Then again, you usually are the “full time” batter when you play and so you do have the benefit of repetition on your side.

Who knows how your interest and skills in baseball will evolve over time, but it is clear that you will be a winner in whatever you set your mind to. I say that because you are lucky enough to have both the kind of focus and innate self confidence you need to really be successful. So if not baseball, please just anything but the drums …or flute.

With love,

Mama