Brodie Kevin Nunn! Please stop screaming!

Boy, n.:  a noise with dirt on it.  ~Not Your Average Dictionary
Dear Brodie:

You are about as ornery as they come and have been from the very beginning. Things I never experienced when I was pregnant with your brother got me with you. Bad. I was sick. I had vertigo. I was exhausted all of the time. I had rhinitis so bad I couldn’t breathe for months.

I almost lost you. Twice. I knew then that you would always have the ability to BREAK MY HEART. But we made it. Together. I fought for you. You fought for me. Thank you for teaching me how to be a fighter. 

You were violently and forcefully brought into this world and I have the battle scar to prove it. I’ve never carried a scar so proudly. I was devastated when they told me you were coming that way. I cried for weeks. I felt robbed of my right as a woman to give birth to you naturally. I was so scared. Unfortunately, they told me if I tried to give birth to you naturally, I would die. I didn’t want to die. I wanted to see what we had fought so hard for.

Turns out, you were totally worth it. Thanks for teaching me that fear doesn’t last and on the other side is some really, really good stuff.

You’ve always been a screamer. “The Super Hawk Squawk” we called it when you were tiny. It was cute when you were tiny. Now, I’m afraid if you don’t learn to talk and stop screaming, I’m going to lock you in Pop’s studio until you do. Seriously, Kid, that noise is driving me NUTS! I know it has to be frustrating for you to not be able to communicate. I love to talk, text, write, sing.  If I couldn’t get stuff out, I would probably scream all of the time too. But for your sake, and the sake of Mamma’s sanity, you have to pick a new noise. Sing, hum, growl, make click-clacking noises with your tongue like they do in little third world villages…ANYTHING BUT THAT SCREAMING!!

Please.

I love that you dance to anything with a beat. Like, anything, not just music. The other day you were dancing to the beat of the washing machine spinning. You’re pretty cute. Two of the only things you say clearly and in context are “Outside” and “GO, GO, GO”. I absolutely love that about you.

You have quite the little temper. In fact, when you’re tired, you are downright mean. That’s my DNA. Sorry about that one. It’s going to cause you a lot of grief in life. It’d be best to get a handle on it now. Stop hitting. It hurts.  

You’re beyond funny. You crack yourself up and you crack me up on an hourly basis. I don’t always understand you, but I get your jokes. Grandma calls you “Brodie the Bruiser”. You very rarely cry. You very rarely get hurt. You are fearless. You climb on everything and tear up everything and get into everything. You keep me on my toes in a way your brother never did. You literally eat snails. We went to the park yesterday and you played faster and harder than kids way older than you. You think you are bigger than you are. You are already over being a baby. You don’t like to be rocked or cuddled. You have always gone to sleep on your own. I never knew a 16 month old could be so independent. You are. You don’t seem to need me quite as much as your brother did, as much as he does.

See? Power to break my heart…

Daddy says we only have ourselves to blame. He says it’s because we named you Brodie Kevin Nunn. See, your initials, BK, those are for your uncle Billy Keith. Your middle name is after your uncle Kevin. And your last name, well, there really was no hope for you. If I wasn’t so tired and sick while I was pregnant, I probably would have known to pick one or the other. Naming you after both uncles was really just asking for it. Those have got to be two of the orneriest men I’ve ever met. You get that heartbreaking ability from them. You get that fire and fearlessness from them. And, if you turn out half as good as either one of them, you’ll be perfectly fine.

Your brother is going to school in two weeks. It’s going to be just you and me, Kid. I’m excited about this and also a little anxious. Logan won’t be here to distract and entertain you anymore and I’m afraid that’ll leave you with no one to fight with but me. It’s good you’ve already been preparing me for the fight. I think I’m ready.

Even on the days you drive me crazy, I’m so glad you’re you. I’m glad you picked me. I look forward to watching how far you get with that fearlessness and orneriness. I promise to try and help you point it in the right direction. I love your Dai Bai Dang Face and your chubby, yummy knees.

PLEASE STOP SCREAMING!

Love,

Mamma