Hi Quincey,
This is your Dad. I’ve been accumulating a lot of things to share with you. They are very special things, not the kind you can touch, but the kind you can hold close to you. I guess that’s kind of a riddle, huh? Maybe, if I’m as good a writer as your Mom, or my Dad, for that matter, you’ll know the answer to the riddle at the end (or I’ll just sneak it in there ;-).
But first we need to decide where to start. A great story I know of (and will share with you one day) begins by saying, when we’re not sure where to start, we should always start at the beginning. I subscribe to that in all things so let’s start at the beginning, your beginning.
You were born on March 15, 2020. Your Auntie Grace was with your Mamma and me at the hospital and, as your Mamma likes to say, she knew you were here because she saw your Auntie Grace start crying with happiness and then saw me doing the same. Your Mamma tells you the story all the time and, when she tells it, it’s a very funny story, but also a very true story. We were all very happy to welcome you into this world and, although we didn’t know all of the wonderful ways you would change our lives, we knew you were a very special gift to be cherished. I will add that you have a very special Auntie Grace, but that will be in a different story.
Now, by all measures, I’d be considered a paranoid Papa. My first instinct when you were born was to shade your eyes from the light within the birthing room because, as I reasoned it, you’d never seen direct light before, so your eyes would hurt if someone didn’t shade them. Keeping you safe has always been, and will always be, the first box to check on my ever growing checklist. I guess we might as well add that I’m not a single minded protectionist,… having been a baby once myself, I know there are some not so fun things we are supposed to go through when we are young, agile, and seemingly endlessly healable. Those bonks need to happen but, even then, I still try to make sure the lessons they impart are always bigger than the bonk itself.
Once the protective Papa box was checked by your Mamma and I, the next box is to make you smile. That box is the BEST, because just looking at you makes your Mamma and I smile and, most of the time, you see that we’re happy and you smile right back at us. The next box,… giggles. That one’s the second BEST because, whether it be whirly birds, playing chase/tag, tickle torture, peekaboo, or the boatloads of other ways we find the giggles and screeches, it’s one of our great joys.
Of course, we also like to mix in lots and lots of study time. That’s also a very fun box to check off because we get to see and participate in your process of putting the pieces of your/our world together. Your Momma and I are both in a regular state of amazement and appreciation as we watch you learn cause and effect and, as an ecologist, I have to admit I just marvel at how you seamlessly and fearlessly process and include whatever new angle or twist that I continuously throw at the things you’re used to seeing a certain way. You make me such a proud Dad, in every way.
Now I’m going to tell you a
secret (and everything from here on out is the most important part). You see, for
over a year now, I’ve been watching your Mom chronicle your life for you in
this blog.. but something’s always been missing. It’s the most special thing in
your life, something that you have never been without for more than a couple
hours, and it’s something that would shake and tear the entire world to get to
you if you were/are ever in trouble… it’s your Mom. We need a blog post to
honor your Mom, and that’s my Birthday gift to you.
We’ll start from the beginning… but this story is a little different from the one I described above. You see, your umbilical cord was getting pinched when you were being born and your heart rate started dropping. I was watching the monitors and the nurses while all of this was happening and one thing was clear, we needed to push the fast forward button to get you into this world, immediately. I was next to your Momma and, when I told her it was time to push, and harder, harder, harder, she pushed and pushed, tearing herself badly, but getting you into this world safely.
We got you home and that’s when your Mom became MOM. If you rustled, she was there for you, if you whimpered, she held you, when you were congested (and your paranoid Papa was always worried about this!), she cleared your sinuses, when you were hungry, she fed you. This is all Mamma stuff though, right? It is,.. but there’s something more to it. Your Mamma never said “no”, never said “not now”, or “I’m too tired” or any other rationale that a Mamma says when self-preservation becomes the prime operative. From your first day, and every day since, you have been the most important thing in this world to your Mom and she has treated you as such so incredibly consistently that it’s remarkable (and she has been just as remarkable as a Wife). So, that was the starting point for your Mom and you… and it’s been my pleasure and pride to watch it grow into everything that she does with you.
I remember, before you could
even roll over, your Mom taking you around the house and constantly stretching
her imagination to keep you engaged with your surroundings and learning new
things. That daily exercise would intuitively become a bit easier as you have
developed into the inquisitive and, more and more, self-reliant and self-entertained
wonder that you are. But that doesn’t stop your Mom from continually
challenging herself and you with new activities and exploring new ways to get
you engaged in the world around you. And the patience… all you have to do is
bring her a book, even if it’s the same darn book twenty times in a row, and
you have a front row seat, in her lap, as she reads you that book, over and
over again, until you get up [and seemingly randomly] pick up another book and
bring it to her. If it’s for your good, the curtain never closes with Mom…
I also need to tell you how much you’ve been escorted around our neighborhood by your Mom. Nearly every day, since you were almost too tiny to move, your Mom takes you for a walk in your stroller, up a hill to the end of our neighborhood, back down to a park down the street [where you picnic] and back home. Like clockwork, regardless of sleep deprivation/weariness, and in nearly any weather, you get your daily walk with Mom.
And then there’s your tubby time and pool time (ie hot tub [ie warm tub]). Every single night, except when we were fighting back eczema, you and Mom have a tubby time, with lots of pool time mixed in. It started as a nighttime routine so you would naturally start moving into a nighttime/bedtime cycle but it’s become a special time for Mom and you. Like everything I’m describing for you, I get to be a part of tubby time/pool time (not nearly all the time, but some of the time), and there’s something very special about tubby time. It’s about the purest form of every-day peace and love between your Mom and you that I get to see and be a part of. It was the same when you were a tiny little thing in Mom’s lap in the tub as when you’re in there alone with Mom on the side, playing with all of your tub toys with you; pure harmony.
Finally, I need to tell you
about something that’s hard in the telling but is also important for you to
know. It’s about your Grandma Taylor; or as I know her, Esther. Esther was the
most kindhearted Grandma that ever
walked this earth. I know that because more kindness would be impossible. She
was a blessing to all and she knew you before you were born but passed onto
what’s ahead of all of us before you could really get to know her as your
Grandma. Your Mom and your Grandma were as close as any mother and daughter
and, like your Mom wrote, your Grandma would have been SO PROUD of you and your
Mom, just like I am.
The importance of (and our love for) your Grandma stands on its own in these things I’m sharing with you but, like any good story, there’s more; and it leads back to what a special Mom YOU have. From before you were born until your Grandma passed, regardless of how painful it was, how tired she was, or if she felt weak or emotional and a stiff breeze might knock her over, your Mom would call your Grandma every single night when your Grandma was sick to let her know how much we loved her and to try to make her transition into what lied ahead as painless as possible. It didn’t matter if there was a long string of painful or heartbreaking calls, your Mom would walk through fire to let her Mom know how much she loved her. Your Mom loved her Mom fiercely, bravely, and without condition, Quincey Sheridan Schroeder; just like she loves you and me (and shows us every day). That is the greatest gift we could ever ask for and I wanted to make sure you know just how special your Mom is and how lucky we are to have her Love.
So, your Mom is the secret I wanted to share with you for your Birthday and her fierce, unconditional love is the answer to the riddle.
Sincerely,
Dad
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