3 years ago today after many...many....many hours of labour my son, Adrian Thomas, came into this crazy world at 11:11 pm on a Sunday. I won't bore you or freak you out with all the messy details but let's just say, I'm surprised I have another.
It seems like yesterday and at the same time so, so long ago that his red, wrinkly, squirming body was placed onto mine. I remember it so well, surprising actually, given the fact that I hadn't slept in about 40 hours. I looked down at his face after they handed him to me (quite carelessly actually and I almost dropped him) and was like WHOA! Who is this child and what the hell just happened?!
Oh, I know...I'm "supposed" to say he was beautiful and it was transcendent and I completely fell head over heels for this little guy. But I'd be lying.
I think back on the first year with great memories of-course but also the thought of "Whew, thank God I don't have to do that again!" You see, he was, shall we say, a "spirited" baby. Never for moment did Adrian EVER. Stop. Moving. From the time he was literally in utero and was doing karate chops and roundhouses, creating quite the show from the inside out, did he ever stop! He still doesn't. And I love that about him. Most days.
I remember the little things and with this entry I'm going to take the time to reminisce about the memories that come forefront to my mind and it starts with the amazing feeling of him sleeping on my chest when he was just a wee babe. Well not that he was ever really "wee". A 9.6 lb baby is not "wee". How many times can I use the word "wee" in a paragraph? To taking him to the park and putting him in his first baby swing "Weeeeee"! He loved it!
He attempted to start crawling when he was only 5 months old, which should've clued me in on what the future held for me. Mind you I'd call it more of a "drunken baby crawl". Occasionally his hand wouldn't quite make it out to where he wanted it to be and he'd land on his face...but as they say "practice makes perfect" and he became fast! He'd get going, with his head down just like a little bull.
His first step, Lord help me, was at 9 months. Which to give a little bit of perspective to people without kids, that's when my second son started to crawl. Oh man, I was in trouble. Of-course at the time, I was so excited and so proud. I got out the video camera and called John to tell him the great news. There was no stopping little Bubba now!
At 11 months he was full on walking...actually more like running. And at 14 months he was jumping....on trampolines. Yes, that's right. It all started when we would wake up every.... single... morning... to the sound of Adrian jumping up and down in his crib, crying for his "Bottle, Bottle, Bottle". This was NOT bouncing, let me make that clear. My Mum would be the first to tell you that, as she was witness to the time when he jumped so hard and so high that he literally flew feet over head out of his crib...and landed with an alarming PLONK. Yes, I was there but had turned away for a moment when I heard a weird and strangled cry come from somewhere deep inside my Mother's throat. As I sllllooowwly turned I saw my baby's feet and legs in the air, pointed to the ceiling, curly head, quickly heading toward the (thankfully) carpeted floor. Thank God, he landed on his back and was totally fine. But was my Mum? I thought she was pretty close to hysteria as I looked at her in astonishment from what happened. The poor lady. She had tears in her eyes, her whole body was shaking. From shock? Worry? Terror? Nope. She was killing herself laughing. Of-course it was after she knew he was fine...right Mum?
His first crush? Dora. And the way he said it was actually with a roll of the tongue. Although, I'm not sure if it was a Spanish accent or an Egyptian one. You see, his caretaker when I returned back to work was a lovely lady named Nadia from Egypt. John and I were convinced she was teaching him to speak Egyptian during the day because the babble that was coming out of his little mouth sure didn't sound ANYTHING like English. He's over Dora now. He currently has a "girlfriend" (his word, not mine!) named Emma. That he's met twice. It's a long distance relationship. She's a beautiful little Italian spitfire. Hmmm. I see a trend happening here. Spanish and Italian women. I might be a liiittle bit in trouble. Or he is.
His second year of life was a great one. We had moved to a new neighbourhood when he was 10 months old, with lots of kids ranging from toddlers to age 6. It was clear he was quite the social butterfly already. The older kids would actually call on him to come out and play when he was only 18 months old. One of the neighbours nicknamed him the "King of the Crescent". He was always greeting everyone, and knew everyone's names. It was never just a simple "Hi!" It was always "Hello - (insert name here)" with a wave of his little hand. My little politician.
Every morning he would wake up and look out his window that faced the street and point out everyone's car. "Bull's car!" (that would be BILL) "Elmo's car!" (that would be EMIL) "Yoyd's car!" (that would be LLOYD).
At 20 months, I'll never forget this. We were playing in his room and he grabs his backpack and suitcase out of the closet. He proceeds to throw the backpack over his shoulder and grab the suitcase by the handle. He looks at me as he was about to leave his room and says "Bye Mumma!" But then he comes over, gives me a kiss on the lips, leans back and says "Keys?" Wow, is that ever a foreshadow of the years to come or what?!!!! I almost cried thinking the thought. What a kid.
When his little brother, Finley, came along I was a little worried. Of jealousy and the sort. And that happened and still does. But for the most part, he welcomed him. On his own terms. As long as he stayed away from his toys...and "his Mumma".
This past spring we bought him a cool, orange Strider bike. It's a bike with no training wheels and no pedals. It teaches them balance, therefore no training wheels are ever needed. He quickly mastered the the Strider and was onto a regular 2 wheeler bicycle. Yes, that's right. My 2 and half year old got right on a 2 wheeler bike and started riding it like he'd done it a million times before...like I've said, he amazes me everyday. The 2 wheeler quickly turned to a scooter and this winter he tried ice skating for the first time. He definitely has his Dad's athleticism!
As the days and months progress he is becomes more and more of a character everyday. From being Iron Man to Spidey to his sweet random "I love you Mumma" moments. He makes me happy, he makes me crazy, he makes me mad and he makes me laugh...a lot. Sometimes all in the span of a half hour. But most of all he makes me very, very proud.
Last night, I lay with him long past he's fallen asleep. I stared at his angelic little face. I tried to burn into my memory the last night before his third birthday. His beautiful long eyelashes curved against his sweet pink cheeks, his little button nose and his full, kissable lips. I leaned down and press my nose into his yummy smelling curls to give him my 1000th kiss that day. Today I was told "No more kisses Mumma"...and my heart broke a little. I suppose that's what happens as they get older. There will come a day when he won't want me to hold his hand either. But for now, I will cherish the moments his soft little hand is in mine and the moments he "allows" me to smother him with kisses. The cuddles at night as I read him bedtime stories and his really great strangling hugs when I pick him up from pre-school and he runs at me with abandon yelling "Mummaaa!!" jumps into my arms and says "I missed you today". Melts my heart every time.
I know in the beginning I admit that I didn't fall in love with him the second I laid eyes on him...something more amazing has happened.
I fall more in love with him everyday.
I love him more now than I ever, ever thought was imaginable.
Happy Birthday sweet son of mine!
I love you to the moon and back, forever and ever and always....don't you ever forget that.