About a Boy

I’d like to start off by saying thank you. Thank you all so much for the kind words during my “return” to the blog world and sharing the hills we’ve been climbing over the last year. Sometimes it is very hard to be completely transparent. Although sometimes it is completely easy to be transparent to the computer screen. Then I remember once I hit post, people I love a lot will read it.  I get embarrassed or scared at what they’ll think. Luckily I’ve surrounded myself with a great group of women who are constantly reminding me that it doesn’t matter what other people think, it’s what you think about yourself that matters.

It’s also safe to say that due to my first post in 18 months, I may have found the courage to come back to this space more often. A lot of people reach out to me regularly because they just want to hear the words that come out of my fingers. I often tell them they should work with me because I write hella good emails on a regular basis!

With that, I decided I needed to spend a little time talking about a very special little boy. Sometimes I feel like I often forget about him because he isn’t as needy anymore and his little sister sometimes overshadows him. He however, does not even notice. He was and will always be the first little love of my life.

Yesterday on my Timehop a picture showed up of the sprinkle my aunts hosted when I was pregnant with Henry. Those pictures made me have all the feels. The good and the sad. There was a picture of me and my grandma. Oh how I would just love to spend five more minutes with her. For her to see this little boy who was named after her one true love. Then I remind myself that she sees us everyday and is so very proud of all we are doing.

Anyway, we can’t get too sappy. I’ve actually been doing my hair and makeup in the morning because at nearly 30 and the mother of two, it’s time I stop looking like I’m 16 and pregnant. Getting sappy will involve tears, which will make my makeup run and then I’ll just look like a hot mess.

Life with a nearly 4 year old (holy shit) is everything I thought it wouldn’t be. When I was Katherine’s nanny and she was 4, we spent a lot of time playing make believe or coloring castles while dreaming of being Belle or Ariel.

Henry’s idea of make believe often involves superheroes, legos and questioning why “boys have penises and girls have vaginas.” Yep…he often quotes Kindergarten Cop without having ever seen the movie. I for sure thought we’d get to age 6 before that question came out. WRONG! When you have a  little sister and she has different parts than you, there are LOTS of questions. Thank goodness for Ben. He is much better at not laughing during these moments than I am.

Three is tough. Not tough in that we have too many tantrums, those went out the door a long time ago, but tough in that pulling the wool over his eyes is not so easy anymore. Not to mention, three year olds are the biggest sponges EVER. Besides remembering every little thing you say, they also hear every little thing you say. I fear the day when he finally knows what words I’m saying when I’m spelling them out. Last week I dropped something and said “shoot.” His response, “at least you didn’t say shit.” The one liners kill me!

Three is also easy. Potty trained. Mostly self sufficient. Put that kid in the shower and he can waste all the hot water and still manage to come out squeaky clean.  Not to mention, he can basically work the Apple TV without help. Don’t judge, people. I had a c section and a needy newborn. The movies and channels weren’t going to get changed the second he needed them, so I had to teach him. This is also not surprising. You do know that I specialize in teaching others technology for a living, right?

Besides being a tech guru, three year olds are practically drunk college students.  They know what they want and want it right that second. If you don’t help them, they will climb in the fridge to get it themselves. If they have to go to the bathroom and you’re not paying attention, they will drop their pants at their cousins soccer game and just let it out. If you insist they must take a nap, they will scream at you for a half hour before falling asleep for four hours and waking up a completely different human. If you survived college, you can survive age three.

In all seriousness though, Henry is a fun loving, kind little boy. There aren’t many things he doesn’t love. He has a huge love for all his friends. Friends are very important to him. Maybe they’re important to all three year olds? I’m really not sure, but this kid is constantly talking about his friends (even the imaginary ones). I love hearing about his adventures during the day. How he perceives others and what’s going on around him. Not to mention, it makes me smile knowing that he finds something to say about every kid each day. Sometimes it may be ratting kids out, but I know the same thing is happening in other houses across town about him!

He still gets excited about everything even if he’s seen it a million times. He LOVES his sister. Boy does he love her. I was so worried that he’d hate us when she was born. He was an only child for three years. He never had to share us. Thankfully though, that little girl stole his heart and she is his Punky. He cannot be without her, ever. He refuses to have sleepovers with Grammy and Papa “because Punky will be alone and she’ll be sad.” (Apparently his parents aren’t fun enough for her). He’s mischievous in his own ways. Has a very soft soul, is a deep thinker, and is 120% his father. I can’t remember what lead Ben to say this, but just last week he said “that boy is me. This is exactly what my mother felt like.” I reminded him Henry is the more tame version as we haven’t had any broken bones or had to shag him off a telephone pole (yet…well ever…hopefully never). Like his father, he’s completely fearless and literal. I find myself wondering what the two of them will be like once Henry is older. Good thing we have miss serious pants in our life to balance things out.

Some of my friends are done having kids while others are just starting. It’s beyond crazy to think that I’ve been a mom for practically four years. That’s when I remember that time is precious. Then I’m knocked back to reality by a toddler who is screaming “I need some help” so loudly inside the men’s bathroom that I can hear him across the restaurant. When I said potty trained and self sufficient…I didn’t mean he could wipe his own butt!

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