I’m going to warn you now that as I write this I am weepy. I know I am more than a tad hormonal. And stressed. Those two things basically equal disaster for me in the sanity department. So, I weep. Today, I weep the sappy mommy weep. It’s okay. 🙂
I was just chatting with Jordan’s (6) very first (and most favoritest) daycare teacher about him as a 2-3 year old. And suddenly it hit me, I miss my baby. Now, I know, I have these moments a lot lately. A friend was just teasing me about how I really should not have stopped having babies. (Trust me, if time and money were in unlimited supply, I’d be adopting those little suckers like there was a shortage.) But, truth be told, I don’t want more babies. I just want to relive some of the years with my babies, especially Jordan. (Well, today it’s Jordan. A couple of weeks ago it was Elle. So don’t listen to me.)
I missed out on a lot of little moments with Jordan. I was there for every one, but due to the nature of life at that time, there was so much that I wasn’t there for. I was depressed, then I was psycho, then I was working, then I was caring for other people’s kids. Now that I’m focused on my family, I miss the parts I missed. I can’t help it.
Sometimes it’s more of a challenge for me to think of the amazing qualities my son has, because he is also… a boy. It’s more obvious for me to think about the shenanigans he is up to and the numerous bonks and scratches and bruises and broken bones. It’s easy for me to concentrate on the fact that it takes him twice as long to learn things than it did his sister: talking, writing his name (and various other “school” related things) and let’s just be real here, wiping his own butt (although, CONQUERED! Thank God!) There is but one simple fact about Jordan that stands out more than anything in the world to me: He Is A Boy to the very core of himself and then back again. He is a boy times ten. And I love him for every single quality that is boy. Even though it’s easier to worry and focus on the things that I just can’t even keep up with, it’s so gratifying to stop and realize all that those things mean.
He is constantly dirty. He cares way more about discovering what is in the bottom of that mud puddle and how far he can splash it than he does about whether or not his shoes… or pants, shirt and hair for that matter… are clean for school. He devours bagels and toast and eggs without regard to how much of it is smeared across his face. He enjoys the meal to it’s fullest and forgets the rest, even if that means he’ll be displaying his breakfast for all the bus stop to see. You see, Mommy would wipe it off but she’s too busy chasing behind him with dropped shoes and a backpack and her hair standing on end to even notice.
He is always making noise. He loves the sound of his own voice. He loves the sound of his feet tapping out a beat to music only he can hear. He loves the sound of chewing as loudly as possible for everyone else to enjoy the delicious meal he’s consuming. He loves the sound of talking as loudly as he can so no one misses one single important thing he has to say.
He loves running and walking backward and sideways and jumping over things rather than walking around them. He loves bouncing balls and shooting guns and flying kites. He loves jumping in the deep end without a life jacket even though he doesn’t even know how to swim. He loves riding fast and jumping curbs and giving me heart attacks when bones are broken and multiple surgeries are required to repair said bones. He loves defying odds and growth charts and statistics.
He loves socializing. He loves playing after school with friends. He will play with a child that treats him like crap and bosses him around if that means he has someone to share his joy for life with. He loves children that are smaller than he is (let’s face it, most of them are.) and caring for them. He loves babies and toddlers and kids that are two years older than he is. He doesn’t care. As long as someone treats him with a tiny bit of kindness, he will overlook the rest of it and spend every waking minute devising a plan of how they can meet for a playdate every minute of every day.
If he knocks someone down in the middle of the basketball court, he will stop the game and go back to make sure they are okay. He loves people. He truly, deeply cares about them.
And he loves his Mom. I have never felt more love from one single person or a group of people as I do my son. I know my Elle loves me and we have such a special mother/daughter bond. I know Jimmie adores me and would do absolutely anything within his power to show me that. But the love from that boy is unmatched by anyone on this earth. It just is. I can’t explain it, I can’t rationalize it, and I can’t measure it.
When my mom found out I was having a boy, she asked me to make sure I didn’t spoil him rotten as most mothers do with their sons. “Don’t baby him and treat him like he’s special just because he’s a boy.” Well, oops. I guess I’m failing because he is special. He is my boy and I cherish him. He drives me batty and I have to punish him twice as much as his sister to make sure he doesn’t turn out to be a criminal, but he is absolutely 100% special and I will treat him that way every single day of his life.
Elle often tells me, “I’m Daddy’s Princess and Jordan is your special boy.” She doesn’t mind. She will openly admit Daddy is her favorite and I’m second fiddle. And I love every single moment of it. Because I know she’s secure in our relationship and that she knows her daddy cherishes her.
Jordan will wrestle with his dad for hours every single day if he can. He will annoy his sister and get into trouble six ways till Sunday. But when I walk into a room, he melts. And so therefore, I must melt too. It’s simply impossible not to.