I spent a whole day with my biggest boy this week, on a field trip to Jamestown Settlement in eastern Virginia. It was such a great day. I enjoyed watching his interactions with his peers, I swelled with pride as I listened to him rattle off fact after fact of colonial life to the museum docents, I just loved being with him....when we became separated in the group, being sought out by him...still, after all these years.
I had planned, originally, to sit with a friend of mine on the bus. I assumed that, at nearly 10, my big boy would want to hang with his buds on the bus. Evan had other plans.
"You can sit with me on the bus, Mom!" he said, as we packed backpacks and lunches and water bottles the night before. "We'll be field trip buddies! Ms. G said we each need a buddy. You'll be mine and I'll be yours so we can keep an eye on each other."
It was sweet...if controlling. But that's how Evan rolls. He always has. He has a heart of gold, that double-digit kid of mine...
...as long as he's the one calling the shots.
A Decade. Today, that's how long I've been a mother. Longer than it took for me to progress through high school, college, AND my Masters program, but in the blink of an eye.
Wasn't it just yesterday? Last week at the most? No, I know it's been a journey. We've gone through so much and grown in such unexpected ways, my First Born and I. It's been a week and a lifetime all at once. The new mother, just two weeks in to her new role, who called her husband at work from the glider in the nursery, sobbing as she was unable to soothe her baby's hysterical cries. That was me. A different me. An anxious, overwhelmed, afraid-she-wasn't-up-to-this-monumental-task me. I can handle crying babies now. I know so much more.
I know the shush and the sway and the bob.
I know food allergies and reflux and colic.
I know teething and overtiredness and growth spurts.
I can DO babies now.
But that's no longer my task.
Now you're a real live human being who is actively having an impact on his world.
Am I doing this right? Am I teaching you the right things about respect and love and acceptance and kindness and responsibility and generosity and hard-work and perseverance and social justice and fundamental rights and ..... it goes on and on. The list is never-ending. Are you listening? Are you watching? Are you learning? It's my duty, as your mother, right? To send you off into this world with the tools and the drive to succeed but also the yearning to improve the world around you? Am I doing enough?
I'm back to being that anxious not-up-for-this-task mother. Only now, given the hindsight stretching a decade in my rearview mirror, the stakes seem so much higher...the time in which you are still my captive audience so much shorter. How do you raise a 10-year old? I've never done this before so, once again, you're my test subject. It's not fair but it's all we've got.
But it's not all about me. It's about YOU. As you get older and you start to peek out from beneath my wing, begin inching towards the edge of our nest, peering out into a world that is all your own, I can see you. I can see more of you than when you were just beside me. You're no longer hidden from me within my shadow of Motherhood. You are your own person, a complete person! Your strengths, your gifts, your heart, that will touch the people around you and make an impact on this world that ripples beyond where you can see...beyond where I have the capacity to influence. Your gifts, my love, are plentiful.
You are Tender. You still struggle to show affection...unless you're in the same room as a baby or a dog. You are a Whisperer. You have a way with animals and babies and young kids that can't be taught. When people ask (because they always do) why I, a not-a-dog-person, would get a puppy, I say, "For Evan." Because you're not quick with the hugs for your mama or the "I Love You"s, you needed a dog to pour your love on. Jake is one lucky pup to be on the receiving end of your affection. I'm just happy I get to witness it.
You know your stuff. You told the Jamestown Settlement tour guide this week that an American Indian living in the area around Jamestown could fire 12 arrows from his bow in the same amount of time that it took a colonist to fire his musket once. The tour guide said, "I'm not sure of the specifics on timing, but..." "It's 12," you replied. Yours is an encyclopedic mind, which drives me crazy when I'm retelling a story with generalizations, but which just makes you so damn endearing. Who doesn't love the kid who always has a relevant Fun Fact to share? No one, that's who. Your Great Mom Mom called it Nickel Knowledge...information that isn't worth much, but it sure makes you a fun guest to have at parties.
You know who you are. I've been amazed, ever since you started school, at how uninfluenced by peers you are. I mean, sure: You pick up on social cues and cultural fads like the other kids (you can be sure that it wasn't me who introduced you to Minecraft, Pokemon, or Star Wars). You don't follow the herd, though, and THAT is impressive. You don't apologize for liking (or disliking) what you do, despite how other kids your age may feel. Whatever it is that you're doing or into, you own it. And that might be my very favorite thing about you...the one thing that, above all else, I hope sticks with you forever.
Just keep being you, kiddo.
Be quirky and goofy and introspective and emotional and strong-willed and hilarious. Be a walking encyclopedia. Be stubborn and gentle and get mad as hell every now and then. Be persistent and insistent and inquisitive. Be the last one up at night and the first one up in the morning. Continue to overpack your overnight bags because you're right when you quip, "You can never be too prepared!" Be smart and thoughtful and precise. Keep bringing books with you wherever you go. Always be the one to ask just one more question....and rattle off one more answer.
That list right there? I love that about you. I love it all. I've been loving it something fierce for a decade now. It's the one thing in this 10-year long roller coaster ride of motherhood that hasn't changed a bit.
Happiest of Birthdays to you, Evan, the one who made me a mother. The one who forever changed my world 10 years ago today. Welcome to your double digits, kiddo. We can do this. YOU can do this.