My Baby is Growing UP. *SNIFF*SNIFF*

Tomorrow my baby turns 6.  Now for most of you, that doesn't sound bad, and I know you're sitting there asking yourself what the big deal is?  Well, here's the big deal.

My husband and I had a late start -- entirely HIS fault, of course.  We didn't get married until the week before I turned 30 -- again, entirely HIS fault as I had chased him shamelessly for 15 years and he was just too oblivious to notice!  We enjoyed a couple of years of just us (so that I could enjoy FINALLY having tripped, caught, and hog-tied him so he couldn't escape). Then we decided to have kids.  (Sometimes, I wonder about the wisdom of THAT decision, but that's another story.  J/K....mostly)

Our eldest little demon-darling came along when I was 34.  Not too bad.  We were old enough to have a little more patience and not be quite so freaked out about having this little human completely dependent on us for whom we were completely clueless about what to do.

Then the baby came along.   Our little goofy darling-demon.  I was 37.  How I went from MORE patient and a little freaked, to LESS patient and MORE freaked doesn't exactly make sense.  After all, I was older and more experienced.  But all of sudden, I realized that I was OLD.  Old enough to be M's grandmother.  ARRGGGHHHHH!!!  How did this happen??!!??!!  Again, it was all my husband's fault.  If he had paid a little more attention, and been a little less oblivious, I could have caught him 15 years earlier and our little demon-darling and darling-demon would be almost out of the house.  I would have soon been holding actual GRANDchildren, instead of my own child.

Now, I'm 43.  My oldest will turn 9 next month.  And the baby is turning 6 tomorrow.  And I'm OLD.  I feel old.  I act old.  I feel too old to play with my boys.  Granted, they are boys and play rough.  And no matter how often their father  (bless his heart) tells them, "Girls break easy. Play gently with Mom," boys can only play one way -- all out.  *Sigh*

The "Now" I Can Appreciate:

1.  I can still wrestle with the baby a little though.  But at his age, I see the end of that approaching rapidly.
2.  He still falls asleep in my arms sometimes.  His brother had stopped doing this by age 3, so every time M does this, I hold the memory in my heart, and hold him until my arm goes dead and can't support him anymore.
3.  He still gives me hugs and kisses in public.  His brother had also stopped this by age 3, because "People might SEE, MOM!"  Since M has continued to do this, I have hope that this will continue.  (Please, God, let it continue.)
4.  He still wants me to sit beside me when we go to restaurants.
5.  He still wants to be on MY team when we play the Wii.
6.  He still wants to sit by me when we have Movie Night at home.

The Future I Can See:

1.  He has NOTHING to do with me, because I'm "Mom."
2.  He refuses to acknowledge my existence in front of his friends.
3.  He assumes (probably correctly in most instances) that I am clueless about what his life is like.
4.  He realizes that I can no longer help him with his homework because his textbooks are written in Greek as far as I'm concerned.
5.  He suddenly realizes that I am a GIRL!!  Yuck!


The Future I HOPE & PRAY for:

1.  He realizes that I'm not an idiot.
2.  He actually wants my approval and respect.
3.  He is no longer in a hormone-induced idiot fugue.
4.  He again gives me hugs and kisses no matter who is watching.
5.  He gives me grandchildren I can spoil and regard as Revenge for all he put me through as a teenager.

Now do you realize why my baby turning 6 is a big deal?  I can still remember the little guy we brought home from the hospital, yet I can see the teenager he will become.  I see the polite young man my husband and I are trying to raise, and I can see the gentleman he will become.  I see the mischievous imp that is so much like me that I cry, yet I see the smart-aleck teenager that I'm going to want to beat into a bloody pulp in just a few years.

I see the past, the present, and the future all at the same time.  I want to cry, and celebrate all at the same time.  I have regrets for things I did wrong with him, and good intentions for the future.  I have memories and plans.

Pray for him, and pray for me.  My sweet baby is about to turn into a sweet young man, just before he morphs into a moody pre-teen, then into a monster Teenager.

But for now, I'm focusing on my baby boy that will be 6 tomorrow.  I'm going to focus on the smiles, and laughs, and all the good points.  I'm going to think about the snips and puppy-dog tails, and not the snails that are all what little boys are made of.

Kids!!! The Reason I'm Medicated

I had planned a very different post from what this is going to be.  Really I had.  Especially since it has been three whole weeks since my last post (holidays, littlest heathen's birthday, end-of-year in accounting, the excuses could go on).  But after the morning I've had, I really need to vent.

I sat down earlier to write the post I wanted to write.  Z wanted to ask me a question.  Then M wanted to come in the room.  Then the dogs wanted out.  Before I could get logged in to write, the dogs wanted back in.  Then the cat started letting me know that she wanted SOMETHING, but I never figured out what.  Then M decided he was hungry.  And, no, I'm not a single parent.  There IS another adult in the house.  But my children seem to think I'm the one to go to get anything, fix anything, ask anything, etc.  Normally, this would be bragging rights as to how much my children love me.  But not today.  TODAY I WANT 5 MINUTES OF JUST ME!!!!  Is that too much to ask?  Okay, actually, I would like a couple of hours, but I will settle for 5 minutes.

I keep waiting for one of them to interrupt me again.  But since I took the Nintendo DS away because Z wouldn't do as he was told, now he's cleaning his room before I take away the TV.  Motivation.  Yep.  But that still leaves M, the dogs, the cat, and even the husband.  What?  Silence?  Hmmmmmm, they must have figured out mom's not in the best of moods this morning.  I wonder why!  Actually, I started out in a good mood.  I did.

I can tell already that this is one of the days that reinforce my need to be medicated.  Legitimately.  I forget exactly what the technical term is, but my doctor gave me a prescription that keeps me from completely losing my temper, or crying uncontrollably when my hormones hit, or deciding my husband really does need to sleep on the couch, or telling my boss exactly what he could do to help at year-end, or. . . well, you get the picture.

And for those of you that would look down your nose at me for being medicated, or whisper behind my back about my attitude toward my kids, well, I have another blog for you to read. Jill (otherwise known as Scary Mommy) says it better than I could in her post Mothering Children in the Digital Age .  It doesn't just apply to the digital age.  In fact, I think this digital age makes mothering a little easier -- we now have an outlet that our parents, grandparents, etc. didn't have.

Yes, today is a day I prove my medication works.  Or one of them (take your pick of kids, pets, husband, or any other critter in the vicinity) would be duct-taped in a closet -- and, yes, that really does work.  I know because I did it to my sister when we were kids to get some blessed peace and quiet.

But the timer just went off on the oven.  The apple-cinnamon muffins (mix, not homemade *sigh* who has the time or energy?) are ready.  So, I'm going feed the animals (including the kids), take my medication, get a cup of coffee and a muffin, then sit back, relax, enjoy my breakfast, and wait for the medication to kick in.  I'm sure my kids are anxiously awaiting that kick-in, too.

I highly recommend it.

Real Men

Maybe the media is right.  I've rarely ever considered that idea, but the old saying about 100 monkeys with 100 typewriters in 100 years could produce Shakespeare comes to mind.  Maybe television is right.

I watched one of my favorite shows last night, Drop Dead Diva.  On it, the main character tried to get one of her friends to take out her love interest to cheer him up, and in the process "learn how to be more of a guy."  Her examples were asking him if he had ever changed a tire, knew anything about sports, etc.  His answer was "No" which was funny, but it made me think.  Other shows have brought up the same question to my mind.  What DOES it mean to "be a guy."

My husband reads a blog called The Art of Manliness.  This is actually a really cool blog.  It talks about how to sharpen a tools, good sportsmanship, how a man should decorate a room (A room, not a house), and even love.  He actually gives good advice (in my opinion).  I couldn't find the writer's name, but he seems devoted to turning males into "men."  Practical applications such as sharpening tools my husband still does, but I don't know many other men who do.  And love.  This is not a topic for which most men will even stay in the room to listen!  But this writer gives a .... well, "manly" view of how to keep real romantic love alive in a relationship.  I like him.

I remember growing up, a real MAN was tall, dark, rugged.  He could hold his wife with one arm while lifting the bumper of a car off the ground with the other.  He was debonair like James Bond.  He was rugged like a lumberjack.  He was charming like Rhett Butler.  He was sweet like Clark Kent.  He was strong like Superman.  He was smart, elegant, dashing, handsome, powerful, larger than life.  He looked just as comfortable in a tuxedo as he did in bluejeans.  Do you ladies remember him?  He was Sean Connery, Tom Selleck, Christopher Reeve, John Schneider, Lee Horsley.....I could go on, but those were my picks.  Who were yours?

But then I grew up.  I looked for other qualities in a man.  Oh, I still wanted those, but I also wanted humor, sensitivity, compassion.  I wanted a friend to listen to me at night.  I wanted a lover to sweep me off my feet one night, and seduce me the next.  I wanted a REAL man, not a real MAN.  I still wanted him perfect, of course, but I wanted him perfect for me.  And some qualities can be given up for others.  A man doesn't have to be dashing or debonair, if he's compassionate and understanding.  He doesn't have to be a perfect physical specimen of man if he is attractive to me.  He doesn't have to be powerful if he's strong enough to lead my family.  He doesn't have to be genius, as long as he's smart enough to have a conversation with me.

I didn't want Tim Taylor saying, "Arrr, Arr, Arr." {shudder}
I didn't want Tarzan beating his chest. {eyes rolling}
I didn't want Anthony DiNozzo. {no time for aging frat boys}

All in all, I think I got the whole package.  My husband is stubborn, polite, willful, funny, compassionate, understanding, hard headed, smart, dashing, handsome, a little overweight, elegant, tall, dark, handsome,and.......mine.  He's perfect for me.  He is a REAL MAN.  He's a gentleman and a country boy.  He's at home in dress shoes, boots, or barefoot.  He's responsible and playful.  And he takes care of me and our kids.

And he can change a tire.  :-)

I want our boys to be just like him.  And that is really the point, isn't it.