Wednesday, August 25, 2010

My Pride and Joy.

This post is more personal than normal, but tomorrow is my son's 14th birthday so any proud Mom would dedicate one little blog to her child on such a special day, don't you agree.?  As I write this I am reminded that 14 years ago at this very moment, I was in the most agony this body has ever endured, and I'm no spring chicken here - I've pushed this body to the limits more times than I'd like to admit.

I gotta hand it to mothers of multiple children because, despite being mentally challenged, you are all very very brave women!  And I say that with the utmost respect - not in a derogatory way - because the way I see it, you HAVE to have some kind of crazy to do it twice, let alone more than that.

Anyway, I digress. Here I go making my son's birthday all about me...he's heard it 13 times before, so I'll try to refrain during this birthday, especially during his birthday get-together tomorrow with all of his buddies, from reminding him of the misery he, as a just-about-born baby, inflicted on my body - the body that has never managed to be the same ever since.

At this time of year, I love to break out my old pictures.  I'll show him my modelling photos from my early twenties.  "You were so pretty, Mom," he'd say.  Then I'd show him the pregnancy pictures of my growing baby bump and spreading hips - oh, and of course I'd tell him how proud I was to be pregnant.  It was one of the happiest times in my life.  He believes me.

Then I'll show him the pictures taken on this very date, of me holding my 6lb 15oz bundle of joy as I lay, immobilized from the internal and external stitches they gave me "down there".

I'd always, always reassure him that his wrinkly skin and protruding ears didn't bother me in the least when I first seen him- I knew he'd eventually grow into them.  And then I'd point out my huge left leg that was sticking out from under the sheet...He'd say it reminded him of the TV show he'd once seen about a lady who was so obese that she literally lived in her bed, but he'd reassure me that I had a long way to go before I ever got to that point.  He really loves his mama!

Now, seeing him as a teenager, I get teary-eyed thinking back to those great times.  I love watching him grow.  He handles responsibility with great respect.  He's very mature for his age, people tell me.  I agree.  He's intelligent and loving, and free with compliments.  Hell, he even told me that I looked just like the lady on the box of hair dye I use, only that she has one chin.

I'm so looking forward to the remaining teenage years, and high school.  It's very promising that he is going to be an upstanding member of society.  And, just like I promised him 14 years ago, he did grow into his skin and ears.

I love you, buddy!  All joking aside, I couldn't be prouder.  Have a wonderful deserve it.

I'll talk at you all later.


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Cheryl said...

Sweet! I bet he's muttering, "Aw, Mom," like they all do at that age!

Postman said...

He really does love you, you know. But he remains male. A fourteen-year-old male. Tact is something fourteen-year-old males look up in the dictionary before a diction test in English class.

I'm sure he appreciates the fact that just because he looked like a lizard at birth you still loved him and believed he'd grow out of it.

Jackee said...

So very sweet! My son is three, but I hope one day I can say the same things about him. He nearly died twice the first few weeks of his life, had me on bedrest before that, and never ceases to remind me how boys can love their moms and the gray hairs THEY'VE inflicted on us unconditionally.

So glad I've found your blog! :o) Have a lovely, celebratory weekend!