I have one nephew, otherwise known as Little P. He is not little anymore, of course. We celebrated his seventh birthday in December, and I found myself pretty misty-eyed. I have no idea how time flew by so fast.

When he was born, my brother and his girlfriend were warring. While they fought and screamed at each other in the other room, I held this little tiny itty bitty bundle of love and sang him my standard lullaby for a baby: Baby Mine from Dumbo.

"Baby mine, don't you cry ... baby mine, dry your eyes ... rest your head close to my heart, never to part, baby of mine ....".

Through a series of unfortunate events, my brother came to have P full-time and has court appointed full custody of him. He is the parent responsible for everything in P's life. His mom has bailed and at last check, has a new baby and moved to North Dakota without telling anyone here, specifically P. At one point, she was living with a strange man, and he had shaved P's head and made him sleep on a mattress with no blankets, and had taken away the one thing my brother had given him: his bear-bear. About then, I flew into a rage. Not long after, Little P came to live with my brother.

I also heard this song by Liz Phair about then:

"Dig little digger, don't be shy
You saw your mother with another guy
You think you'll tell her that she's one of a kind, you say
My Mother is mine
You put your trucks up on the bed next to him
So he can get a better look at them, you say
This ones my favorite one, this one you can't have
I got it from my Dad, you say
I got it from my Dad .."

Because my brother had Little P full-time, they started spending a lot of time at our house. My mom and I pitched in and essentially became the full-time mother figures for him. When I came home from the hospital with my son, Little P was upset and told me to "please put him back". It was the hardest thing in the world for me to hear, but I didn't want him to EVER feel I would leave him, too. Instead, I gave my son to my husband, and P and I went downstairs to watch "Toy Story" together.

My brother, for all of his quirks and crazy behavior, is a fantastic father. Little P isn't little anymore. He's incredibly smart. He's funny. He's kind. He's respectful. He has manners. He's my little buddy.

I hope he understands as time goes on that he is loved by so many people. It will never replace a mother's love, but she wasn't and isn't capable of being a good mother or loving anyone, including herself. I hope he knows that his Aunt HDW would move a mountain to make sure he was okay. He already owns a big part of my heart and that will never, ever change.

Labels: Little P, love thursday