Today my youngest son turns nine. I don’t know what is significant about nine...nothing really, I guess. It’s not like he’s turning double-digits or anything. Or heading into his first year of school or graduating into high school or anything momentous like that. All it really means is that I have all ‘big kids’ now.
Like most of my friends have littles. They get to bond over diapers or picky eaters or not getting enough sleep. And here I am, over in my boring old house getting eight solid hours every night. All my kids know how to use the toilet, although they have yet to master replacing toilet paper, so I guess that’s something. I guess I can complain about that at the next mom get-together.
Sometimes it sucks being a ‘young’ mom – as in, starting young. I sure as hell don’t look/feel young these days. My kids are all old now. I struggle to remember what it was like when my oldest Callum was two and keep falling back on the same five or six stories. “Oh, I remember when Callum took a permanent marker to my parent’s spare bedroom...” and then my friends are like, “Um – yeah. We’ve all heard that about seven thousand times Jen.”
Nathan was two when my husband and I seperated. In fact, we seperated seven years ago today, essentially. Wow, that just blew my freaking mind. I never made that connection before. We moved here the weekend of his birthday and my aunt and her daughters brought over pot roast because I was too confused and preoccupied to cook. Actually, I think I was too confused and preoccupied to do much when Nathan was two. I hate that his baby years were swallowed up by Le Divorce. I hate that I can’t remember the precise day he was toilet trained, or when he went on his first playdate or what he liked to eat best for lunch. I hate that he’s nine now and I don’t get any of it back. He doesn’t get any of it back.
He’s managed to turn out decidedly...original at least. Nathan is what we like to call ‘maniacally extroverted’. I don’t know if that’s the clinical term, but I also don’t know if anyone has his particualr brand of Nathan-ness either. He loves – LOVES – talking to strangers. The other night at our launch party for this very website, Nathan was like Miss Universe about to greet her public. He practiced his affectations in the mirror and gave himself a kick-ass combover. He asked me over and over ‘So – I get to talk to whoever I want? Really? You promise?’ I had to keep reminding him that he didn’t need to tell everyone about how he knows what a tampon is or how I usually work in my pyjamas (“And sometimes she works in bed! My mom can work laying on her back!”). Nathan is full of charm and wit and spunk.
So I guess I did something right. Maybe letting him sleep in my bed every night wasn’t so bad after all. And maybe...
Oh wait! I just remembered something. When Nathan was three he stuck a Playmobil toy up his nose so far we had to go to the Emergency Room. They kept referring to me as ‘the mother of the toddler with a foreign object up his nose’ and the doctor – who had to be cute, of course – was forced to McGyver a special tool to get the toy out. We almost missed Jack's very first Christmas concert because of it...and Nathan wanted to keep the snot-covered toy as a keepsake.
Happy Birthday, Bubs. I’ll remember this one for you.
Like most of my friends have littles. They get to bond over diapers or picky eaters or not getting enough sleep. And here I am, over in my boring old house getting eight solid hours every night. All my kids know how to use the toilet, although they have yet to master replacing toilet paper, so I guess that’s something. I guess I can complain about that at the next mom get-together.
Sometimes it sucks being a ‘young’ mom – as in, starting young. I sure as hell don’t look/feel young these days. My kids are all old now. I struggle to remember what it was like when my oldest Callum was two and keep falling back on the same five or six stories. “Oh, I remember when Callum took a permanent marker to my parent’s spare bedroom...” and then my friends are like, “Um – yeah. We’ve all heard that about seven thousand times Jen.”
Nathan was two when my husband and I seperated. In fact, we seperated seven years ago today, essentially. Wow, that just blew my freaking mind. I never made that connection before. We moved here the weekend of his birthday and my aunt and her daughters brought over pot roast because I was too confused and preoccupied to cook. Actually, I think I was too confused and preoccupied to do much when Nathan was two. I hate that his baby years were swallowed up by Le Divorce. I hate that I can’t remember the precise day he was toilet trained, or when he went on his first playdate or what he liked to eat best for lunch. I hate that he’s nine now and I don’t get any of it back. He doesn’t get any of it back.
He’s managed to turn out decidedly...original at least. Nathan is what we like to call ‘maniacally extroverted’. I don’t know if that’s the clinical term, but I also don’t know if anyone has his particualr brand of Nathan-ness either. He loves – LOVES – talking to strangers. The other night at our launch party for this very website, Nathan was like Miss Universe about to greet her public. He practiced his affectations in the mirror and gave himself a kick-ass combover. He asked me over and over ‘So – I get to talk to whoever I want? Really? You promise?’ I had to keep reminding him that he didn’t need to tell everyone about how he knows what a tampon is or how I usually work in my pyjamas (“And sometimes she works in bed! My mom can work laying on her back!”). Nathan is full of charm and wit and spunk.
So I guess I did something right. Maybe letting him sleep in my bed every night wasn’t so bad after all. And maybe...
Oh wait! I just remembered something. When Nathan was three he stuck a Playmobil toy up his nose so far we had to go to the Emergency Room. They kept referring to me as ‘the mother of the toddler with a foreign object up his nose’ and the doctor – who had to be cute, of course – was forced to McGyver a special tool to get the toy out. We almost missed Jack's very first Christmas concert because of it...and Nathan wanted to keep the snot-covered toy as a keepsake.
Happy Birthday, Bubs. I’ll remember this one for you.
First, Happy Birthday Nathan!
ReplyDeleteSecond, we can't expect to get everything right as parents, just have to do our best and hope it's enough.
I know from personal experience, that you are one of the best and all your boys are incredibly lucky!
Katie
Happy Birthday Nathan! It was a pleasure meeting you at the launch party. (Jen's right he is very extroverted, but also very well spoken for a 9yr old.)
ReplyDeleteBest Wishes,
Mira :)
Jenn, my little one is now 28, just blew in from Cambodia. I want to thank you for reminding me of the time he stuck a pea up his nose at daycare, ignored the situation til nighttime (I think he still does that sort of thing), then went into hysterics because he remembered how Jack's beanstalk exploded skyward overnight. I lied and told him peas and beans were different and he finally went to sleep. Only thing is, I wonder what happened to that pea? It might still be there.
ReplyDeleteLove your bog, Jenn. Sorry I missed the launch.
Allison from Inverhuron
Just checking to see if I can make a comment...
ReplyDeleteI know what you mean about a divorce interfering with your memories of your children. I divorced when my youngest was only 8 months old and had to get out to work full time.
ReplyDeleteI tried to have individual times with all 3 of them and now that I am much older the memories just come pouring in