Old Spice. Old Soul.

I cried when I found out that I was having a boy with my second pregnancy. I had no idea about boys and their needs and parts. I also didn’t know how much love they had to offer. All I knew at that point was that I was huge. Circus freak huge. Largest pregnant-lady you have ever seen kinda huge. Shirts did not cover my belly and I resorted to a little skin, and a shawl.

It was actually a small blanket. A BLANKET.  I will tell you now – because I have a sense of humor.

The hospital I was giving birth at was extra full that week, so as my labor went on they kept sending me home, sending me for walks and looking at the floor while apologizing for sending the biggest woman walking – walking. I was still fairly enamored with all things natural so I endured a long and uncomfortable labor. It took about five days of back and forth before we all decided to break my ever refilling bag of water.

{It’s totally cool if you just puked a little in your mouth}

My son was born not long after the flood at a healthy 11 pounds. May 14th, 2005. He is seven and I have peed my pants every day since.

While on vacation recently I called home to say hello to the kids. It was my first full day away and I was looking forward to a cheerful hello from humans that adore me.

What I got was my emotional and pre-emmy-award-winning drama queen 10-year-old daughter, exclaiming,  “Mom. I can’t talk now. My brother is stuck in the big tree out back. He’s tied up with rope.”

I asked, “Is he okay?”

Her reply, “Yah, Dad’s in with his Spanish Teacher, I’m going to get him now. I’ll call you back. Bye.”

Not exactly what I wanted to hear but none the less those are the normal sounds around here. The boy is active, brilliant and injury prone. He has a personal relationship with the school nurse who he sees most days either for an injury or a flirt.  I am sure at this point he sees each band-aid and ace bandage as a medal. At any given point you can see him walking by flexing a muscle and explaining his latest tumble with pain. I shake my head. A lot. Comparatively speaking my daughter could sit for hours and build an entire town of little people while singing along with PBS children’s shows. When my son was eighteen months old he unscrewed all of the screws in my thresholds in the family room.  I stepped on a screw. I trusted he was clever from then on.

Breastfeeding and a natural lifestyle of parenting was already established in my house when the boy was born. I was happy with cloth diapers and was used to the constant demands of a nursing infant. I wanted to be more easy-going with my son. Most importantly – I wanted to leave the house. I was so sick and depressed when my daughter was a baby we hardly left the house for months. I had the boy on my shoulder in Whole Foods when he was three-days old. We didn’t miss a beat for weeks, until I was exhausted. I am still exhausted and he is getting stronger by the day.

Reading instructions is one of those things I really don’t mind doing. Unless of course the directions are telling me how to build something. I hate that shit. What I truly enjoy is a manual. Kids don’t come with manuals unfortunately. The book I decided on and studied was “The Baby Book” by Dr. Sears. It was my go to book for everything and I do not regret the style of parenting I chose. I would have to say the biggest thing I was questioning before he was born was what to do about his thing. It became somewhat of a crusade for me for a couple years until everybody was sick of me discussing the rights of baby boys and their foreskin.  Aside from that I had lightened up quite a bit and didn’t find it necessary to make all my baby food from scratch. I just fed him real food smashed up. He had the tit for over two years and hasn’t missed a meal since. Basically I stopped sweating the small stuff with him. I had to. By the time the boy was three I was too tired. And fat. My marriage was depleted of any sort of “coupling” –we had the whole picture on the outside but I was getting tired.

He is always clear about what he likes, recently switched from Axe to Old Spice deodorant; and last week he asked me to pick him up some plain haddock and ginger ale at the market. Like his late grandfather reincarnated. He really may be, they share a good sense of humor and a way with the women.  The boy is an old soul and has quite a thing for teenage girls with boobs. He has always commanded attention from the pretty girls and always approaches the biggest boy on the playground.

Aside from his natural gift for bravado he loves Jesus. He has since he was little and always says his prayers. He is very friendly with the Holy water in the church and believes more is better. (the apple doesn’t fall far) I have pictures of him spending free time after school praying in front of the Virgin Mary statue.

One particular event sticks out in my mind today. It was early spring maybe and the boy was in kindergarten. For a few days he kept telling me he knew what happened to Jesus. I listened to him halfheartedly as I went about my daily business assuming he was listening to mass at school. Finally, I asked him how he knew what happened when he just kept talking about it. He told me he saw it. He saw it like a movie IN THE FRONT YARD. Right there under that branch. Yes, the whole thing. It wasn’t the first time he had mentioned these type of situations around him or around the house. My husband talked to our priest at the school and was essentially told to keep it close to our hearts but not to mention it or he could be labeled unkindly. That kind of scared me and I hushed up about it pretty much. He still loves Jesus, and says mass is boring so I am sure he is quite normal.

My son continues to challenge me and I mostly keep my nerves turned down or else I would be a jumpy as a bed bug in a main street tenement.

I couldn’t finish without telling you how much he loves his family.  His early fascination with hunting didn’t start with his never-ending quest for a new weapon – but rather as a way to feed his family in an emergency.  I came home from the beach one afternoon a couple of years ago to find my mother shuffling quietly through the grassy back yard. When I asked what was going on she hushed me so as not to scare away the bird the boy was stalking for dinner.  He loves watching animal shows, especially those with “survivor types” on it.  He says,  hello mom!,  and I love you mom or I love you Dad, many times throughout the day. My son adores and respects women, he always has a hug for his grandmothers and other special women in his life. Including his older sister who he loves to pieces. They fight like all siblings do, but I love nothing more than seeing them together and the way he looks at her. So much adoration and love in his eyes. His old soul shows when he pats you on the back with an affirmation of some sort.  My biggest wish for him, and both my children is that they can keep that look of content that can be found only – by true love.

Copyright © 2011-2012. Eggs.Smoke.Sex. All rights reserved.

Words and images on this blog are copyrighted and not to be reproduced in any way without my express permission in writing. Please contact me with any queries at cognitive-ly@live.com

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