Motherhood

My baby isn’t a baby anymore

My dearest Everest,

You are officially three years old, and I can’t believe how fast time has flown by.

I’m amazed at how much you’ve grown and developed within this past year. You’ve accomplished so much and I couldn’t be more proud of you, kid!

Beyond the basic fundamentals of ABC’s and 123’s, you’ve impressed me with your knowledge of Bruno Mars songs. You can recite each line of your favorite TMNT movie, and you know the difference between Huraches, Air Maxes, and Jordans.

You are aware of safety in all areas of life. For example, you tell us to hold your hand when crossing the street, and gather all the butter knives on the table at every restaurant we go to, claiming that these utensils are very dangerous and only grown ups can use them.

But you still have trouble grasping the idea that your toy sai weapons are a hazard whenever you pretend to be Raphael, and you swing them here and there, putting everyone around you at risk. It’s okay, you’ll eventually get it one day, because it’s all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

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Dear Datu // August 3, 2017

Thursday – August 3, 2017 (9:37 AM)

Depression is a strange thing. You would think that after dealing with this mental illness for more than half of my life, that I would have some sort of control over it.

There’s days when it’s possible to maneuver around my roller coaster of emotions, and then there’s times when I have to just throw in the towel and let it take over.

This morning I threw in the towel.

But the hardest part of it all is that I succumbed to this depression in front of my son. As he sat there crying, I broke down and cried with him.

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Good Luck Charm

         My son’s debut on DatuKnows! Everyone, meet Everest!

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