It truly is a conspiracy. Together the parents of the world have created an unspoken pact never to reveal the horrors of parenthood to the uninitiated. Why? Because we want them to be 'one of us'! We don't want to be the only ones who fell for that silly institution called parenthood. So we smile. & nod. & say, of all things, "Congratulations!". We don't want them to know the truth - yet.
I was a normal person BEFORE they came along, I tell my boys. & yes, I tell them, their father was normal once too. (That one is a little harder for them to believe, but I do not waiver in my assertion.) It is ALWAYS the children's fault for the way their parents have turned out, I tell them. Seems only fair that they should shoulder some of the blame.
In 1996, on the hottest day of the year (117F!), in Las Vegas, of all places, my oldest son was delivered into the world, plunging his mother & father into parenthood, where the blindfold was immediately ripped from our eyes. The baby was naked & screaming & clenching it's little fists, apparently not particularly pleased with it's change in surroundings. The doctors eventually cleaned it up & told us to take it home. They told me to quit calling him 'it'.
The baby didn't even come with an instruction manual! Good heavens, I thought - even shampoo comes with instructions. It seemed somehow criminally negligent for those hospital personnel to send a baby home with just anyone!
Today it's been 16 years since my husband & I joined the ranks of parents. The proof of that now stands about 5'8" tall. When I talk to him, I have to look up. When I look up, I see my husband's unruly thick hair & my own smile smiling back at me. My son's eyes are his own, tho, blue with yellow rings around the pupils. His mind is his own as well. No longer does he look to his mother & father in deciding what to think.
My son is a sailor. He is a scuba diver. He thinks about girls. He plays a little tennis. He plays a lot of Xbox. He thinks about girls. He thinks about his future. He thinks about girls. He thinks about how it's a bummer he can't get his Learner's Permit to drive, since he does not live in the US. He thinks about girls. He is 16!
All in all, my son proves that the hospital was right in letting him come home with my husband & I. Even without a manual, I think we did a good job. After all, it is ALWAYS the parent's fault for the way their children have turned out, right? Seems only fair that we should take some of the credit...My son is a sailor. He is a scuba diver. He thinks about girls. He plays a little tennis. He plays a lot of Xbox. He thinks about girls. He thinks about his future. He thinks about girls. He thinks about how it's a bummer he can't get his Learner's Permit to drive, since he does not live in the US. He thinks about girls. He is 16!
Here are some excerpts from my Christmas Letters over the years:
2001 -
...My son has, at 5 years old, become a sort of almanac of simple reading, writing & arithmetic trivia. I cannot walk thru a room or make a simple statement without some information being hurled at me. "Mommy! Trrrain & trrrriangle both start with trrrrr!" Or perhaps I tell him to shut the door, I might then be regaled with "Door....door, floor, more, roar - they all sound the same!" Or I will hear him talking to his 3 year old brother, "If I have 2 cookies & you have 2 cookies & I TAKE your cookies I will have 4 cookies!" (& then the little one is crying, being on the subtraction end of this equation)...
2002 -
...The other day my 6 year old, who can now be considered at reader & a writer, asked for a piece of paper.
"I want to write a note to my brother."
Well, good heavens, I said, he's standing right there next to you - why don't you just TELL him what you want to say?
"No, it's a special note!"
He sits at the table & begins his note. His brother sits beside him, eagerly awaiting the magic of the written word, JUST FOR HIM! I left them there & when I returned they were off playing trains, but the missive of brotherly love remained there on the table: "You are a butt."...
2003 -
...My 7 year old is showing a potential interest in the law. He is always making rules, & oddly enough, they are always rules that work only in HIS favor - perhaps he is headed for a career with the IRS! Here follows an example of my son speaking to his little brother while playing cars:"Here are the rules. We will race 2 cars around this circle. My car will take the inside lane, so HE gets to go faster, & even if you are able to make your car go faster than mine it won't count because MY car is in the fast lane. Now, if your car comes into MY lane to try to get ahead, it won't count, cuz that is not YOUR lane. & if my car breaks down, YOU have to stop so you don't get ahead - & if you DO get ahead while my car is out that won't count either cuz that would be cheating. Also, you are not allowed to make any rules & if I think of any other rules during the race I will tell you..."
2005 -
...He is 9 now. He wears glasses & spikes up his hair with gel so that when his teachers pass him in the hallway & say, "You look sharp today!", it has a double meaning. My son self-defines as a "cool" boy. What do you do at recess, I ask.
"I hang around with my friends, being cool."
Actually, that was last year. This year cool dudes are playing 4-square at recess - a little more labor intensive, being cool in 4th grade! Of course, to be cool, there must be a girlfriend, right?
"I have a girlfriend." he tells me.
Oh really?
"Yes. I have had the same girlfriend for 3 years now."
No kidding? What is the secret to keeping the same girlfriend all this time?
"Well, I don't tell anybody who she is."
Ah...but does SHE know who she is?
"NO! I especially don't tell HER!"...
2008 -
...At 12 years old, my son is a gangster. I see no signs of machine guns, low brimmed hats or mob connections, but nevertheless, I am informed that in the world of 7th grade you are either a gangster or a nerd. & apparently gangsters do not spike their hair, as he has done away with the hair gel. But, I am sad to say, there is definitely something wrong with this boy. I am told it is just this age group & that in time he will once again be the boy I knew, who was so logical, responsible, etc. A boy who once would have known that had, say, the questions at the end of Chapter 7 been assigned, this would actually entail READING Chapter 7!
"But the teacher didn't say we had to READ it!"
Well, let me just interject here - "DUH!"
I then went on to inform him that the answers to the questions at the end of Chapter 7 can, incredible as it may seem, be found IN Chapter 7, now who'd've thought? What a time saver for those lucky students who have stumbled upon this largely unknown fact!
2009 -
...that sweet boy who used to bonk me on the head with the remote control so I would wake up & "push the button" to make Barney magically appear has morphed into a book-bag slinging, manly-looking 13 year old, with muscles & shoulders & (dare I say it?) under-arm hair! These days he is fully capable of operating the remote control (if he can FIND it!), but Barney is no longer on the playlist. Yet I can see the boy lurking beneath the adult façade. His speech consists mostly of slang words: "OWNED!", for "I showed you!" & "DIM!", for "stupid". "DIM!" is the current favorite, which is said at least 200 times a day & is usually employed to describe his brother...
2011 -
...somewhere along the way he acquired a female fan club. I first observed this phenomenon when I would come to collect my 15 year old from his job teaching sailing at the yacht club, only to find him lolling by the pool, a girl hanging from each arm & three more clinging to his legs, giggling in the pool, while he favored each of them in turn with his dazzling smile. I thought the only thing missing might have been some natives waving giant palm fronds over his head, & then perhaps the group of them bursting into song, like something out of an Elvis Presley Hawaiian movie. When at home, he wanders around the house with his headphones on. In fact, about the only thing that might cause this teen to come out from under his headphones is when he has a difficult question that only I, as his mother – the fount of all knowledge, can answer. Perplexing & thought provoking questions that have been plaguing mankind for all eternity, such as: “Where is the orange juice?” (in the refrigerator), “Where is the soap?” (in your bathroom), & of course, “Where are my headphones?” (on your head, loser!)...2011 -
Happy Birthday, son! Someone once said that it was too bad that children weren't like pancakes - at least with pancakes you can throw out the first one if you mess it up. I am happy to see that you turned out to be a really great pancake after all...
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