Vincent is 8!

Vincent came into the world on a snowy day, February 21, 2011.  He came on his own terms, slow and steady, peaceful and calm. It’s snowed almost every year either on or very close to his birthday.  I find a peace in that, for like the snow, Vincent brings a calm and serene feeling to anyone, anywhere, but can be treacherous at a moment’s notice if he feels it’s warranted.  He’s fire and ice, and everything nice.  He’s eight today, knows what he loves, knows who he loves, without a doubt, without hesitation.  And to be loved by Vincent, well, we should all be so lucky.

Let’s paint a more vivid picture of this fiery boy.  Yesterday he will eat a plate full of chicken nuggets as if they were the most delicious food ever served on the planet.  “Mom, I love this chicken.” Today, due to one speck of black from the oven, sitting in one corner, of one nugget, the same exact chicken is disgusting, not worthy of being eaten, banished from the table.  “Mom, I hate this chicken.” Try a parent standoff with said nugget, threatening no dessert, no bike, no more food…ever, should his plate not be cleaned.  Explain it’s the same chicken from yesterday, same package even. Useless. He wins every time. He’s won since birth, causing me to buy out the bottle aisle of the store, seeking the one he’d finally use.  He starved for days when I went back to work until I got it right.  Vincent has his own terms. He knows what he loves, without a doubt, without hesitation.

Vincent is an intense athlete, naturally gifted with hand eye coordination that can sometimes make him seem like a super hero for someone so young.  Take him to any practice, baseball, hockey, soccer, basketball, he’s on the top of his game, in all the right gear and footwear, making moves and crushing it.  “Mom, I love this sport.” Take him to the very next practice.  He hates it.  It’s a boycott.  I’m on the sidelines negotiating as if world peace depends on it, trying to get him back out there.  The uniform isn't right.  The shoes hurt. “Mom, I never said I wanted to do this sport.  I hate it.“  The next week, he’s back to crushing it and asking for more gear and shoes to support his new found favorite sport.  Vincent has his own terms. He knows what he loves, without a doubt, without hesitation.

Vincent is a natural caretaker and nurturer, and has a strong sense of comradery with friends, family and his siblings. He leaves notes for Mark and I around the house, thoughtful messages reminding us to “have a great day back at work” after a weekend, or “I hope Adeline slept, so you got some sleep too.”  The thoughtful gestures take our breath away. He begs to go Christmas shopping for the family and picks out personal gifts for his siblings and Mimi and Pop.  Vincent wanted to share a room with his younger brother Leo months before Adeline arrived.  I resisted. I should have known better.  Vincent has taken on Leo’s morning routine with love and compassion.  They will chat, watch movies on the Ipad and busy each other for hours.  My heart exploded when I walked in the other day and saw Leo’s outfit laid out perfectly on the floor, a diaper and wipes placed next to them.  He looked at me and said, “I laid out everything you’ll need to get Leo ready for the day, Mommy.”  He is Jack’s biggest fan.  He is a best friend to as many as will take him.  He runs to Adeline when she is crying.  He still loves for me to sit with him to hang out and chat while he takes a long bath.  He loves to snuggle. He's fire and ice, and everything nice.  

My dear, sweet Vincent, Happy 8^th Birthday.  You got the gift of a peaceful and calm snow day right  before your big day this year. You are perfect just the way you are and loved beyond measure.  Here’s to another year ahead, on your terms, slow and steady, peaceful and calm.  I love you to infinity and beyond, in every parallel dimension, in all of the wizarding world, and to the moon and back. You are fire and ice, and everything nice. You know what you love, know who you love, without a doubt, without hesitation.  And to be loved by you, well, we should all be so lucky.  Whole heart, Mommy.