Sunday, March 19, 2006

Seven

I can't believe we let you turn seven! What happened to that brick I put on your head to keep you from growing? My first born, I always *knew* you'd be a boy. Even as a child, I knew, my first baby would be a boy. We went through a whole lot to get you. Daddy had a "procedure" and it had to be "reversed". LOL But that's a story in and of it's self.

I was amazed by pregnancy, even though I didn't like it as much as I thought I would. Perhaps my aversion to throwing up got me off on the wrong foot for being one of those mom's that like being pregnant. We were the joke of the co-ed softball team, they placed a trash can just inside the dugout for my benefit. I could make it from the pitcher's mound to the trash in under 5 seconds. When I was about 13 weeks pregnant, I was fine tuning my old barrel racing horse for a local jackpot, when she fell in a gopher hole and sent us all three flying. Three days later, she bucked me off during warm ups, good thing I had you as an excuse, or that could have been pretty embarrasing. I swore off riding for the remainder of my pregnancy, and come to think of it, haven't ridden much since.

I was gonna be super-mom when I had you, I really was. Unfortunately, pitocin didn't do much to help us out, and after thirty hours, we had to do a c-section. Then, dear, precious first born son, I got the pleasure of *feeling* them *cut* you out of my body. Yes, that's right, mom didn't react to painkilling technology the way her doctor had hoped and I.felt.it.all. You remember that when I am old and you have to take care of me. The moment they took you out, I remember thinking "He's finally here", and then...nothing. Apparantly, they gave me something that finally worked, not to ease my pain, it lowered my inhibitions and self-control, but, greatfully, rendered me with no memory from the time I heard your first cries to when I woke up in recovery. The way my doctor went crying from my room the next day finally prompted your father to fill in the blanks for me and, all I can say is, poor Doc. LOL

You were an easy baby right from the start. Loud, so loud we couldn't sleep with you in the same room, but, you slept fairly well, nursed like a champ and I was instantly in love. I loved your baby smell, your sweet baby breath, your cute baby smiles and watching you sleep could reduce me to tears. You talked at one year, and by the time you were 14 months old, you had a 30 word vocabulary, were stringing together words like a champ, and had incredible powers of observation. You said and did things to make us laugh every, single, day. Your brothers and sister's were hopelessly devoted to you, I know, they are only mean and horrid and pick on you now, but at one time, they thought you hung the moon. They'll come back around.

When K was born, she was your baby. You loved her and tried to carry her 7 day old carcass around the living room. Since you were only 17 months old yourself, it was deemed unsafe and you were required to only hold your "Tewldi" while seated, and you were really good at following the rules. Not sure what's happened since then, but, since you already screwed up, I know you have it in you! ;)

You have been my little smarty pants. You seem wise one minute, and maddeningly argumentative the next. You have the sweetest heart of any little boy, and my heart just melts when you lay your head on me and tell me how much you love me. Some days, I feel like the world's worst mother as I look back on my day and all my shortcomings. I hope you can see through all that and turn out OK and still like me when it's all over.

I love homeschooling you, and it breaks my heart everytime you tell me you want to go to "real" school next year. Daddy and I will decide, and we may not have much choice but to go ahead and send you to school, but know that I have cherished being the one who taught you to read, do math and tell you stories about the world. I loved doing Joy School with you, finger painting with pudding and putting on our Christmas Pageant for our elderly neighbors.

When your nursery teacher had a meltdown and was horrid to you, it took every fiber of my being not to punch her in the face in the hallway at church. You might be a terror, but you are MY terror, and I am the one who see's you in your future. I see you getting on a plane to leave for your mission, I see you drive away to college, I see you marrying your sweetheart, I even see you holding your firstborn. I see your potential. I know the goodness of your heart. I can feel the man you will become. Knowing all the things your future holds makes me proud, happy, and overwhelmingly heartbroken, all at the same time. I think a mother's heart is broken the moment she holds her child and realizes the injustice that babies don't stay babies. I wish I could clone each of you kids at several different ages, and keep one of each of you in those ages for ever.

I've said it before, but I really, really mean it. Your older siblings taught me how fast childhood goes, I'm so gratful for that, and I think I've done a better job soaking it in than I would have with out that lesson. But you are the one who started me down the path to realizing that children, even when they are your own, are not yours. I'm so grateful to be your mom. Happy Birthday B!

2 comments:

moe said...

Yeah the brick isn't working for us either. They grow up so fast!

Crazy and lovin' it said...

Cute 7year old!!
Just found your blog! Through your comment on Big yellow house. It is nice here.