I know, it's been a while. To make a long story short, I've been
dealing with some stuff, and as a result have been kind of a hermit. I
do that at times. I'll probably get in to that at a later date, but,
right now, I want to talk about that cute little man in the picture.
In
March of 2001, I found out that I was going to become a mother for the
first time. I was 19, and OMG was I terrified. I'm not gonna lie, I
enjoyed the practice of making a baby, but, I was in no way
intentionally trying to make one of those squirming, crying, pooping
creatures; but, alas, it was to be. And so, on September 23, 2001, a 7
lb 6 oz Nicholas Michael entered the world, after what seemed like a
long, horrible pregnancy, (I hated being pregnant, both with Nick, and
his two sister, but, I love my babies!). He was a good baby; spoiled,
of course, Grandma saw to that (some things never change...). He made
me wonder why I was so afraid to become a Mom, and made me discover that
being a parent is only as hard as you make it.
One
of the best things that happened pretty much immediately upon Nick's
arrival is that I grew up. You know as well as I do that there are very
few 20 year olds without children who are actually grown up, and sadly,
there are some WITH children who aren't, as well. Anyway, I was, and I
have my handsom baby boy to thank for it.
It's
not been all rainbows and roses, of course. I was a single mom,
starting out. We lived with my mom, and between she and I, we managed.
We were still living with Mom when Kaytlin came along. Nicholas was 4.
I have said many, many time, and will say many more, that if it hadn't
been for Nicholas, after Kaytlin died, there would have been no me. He
was my rock. Some may think it wrong to say that you look at your then 4
year old son as your rock, but, I don't care. He was; he still is.
When I cried, (which was a lot at the time), he would let me hold him,
because he knew that's what Mommy needed; when I seemed to be at my wits
end, he knew that he needed to go find something to do, because Mommy
needed a break; when I didn't think things could get any darker, he knew
that he could smile and be silly, because Mommy needed some sunshine
and laughter. He's still that way.
I'm not
saying that's he's an angel; yes, he's charming, funny, and a gentleman
to the core, but, people say he favors me, and with the similar looks
comes a similar attitude. Now that he's about to become a teenager, the
attitude has been maginified exponentially. I'm afraid I'm getting
ready to go through teenage hell with him. It's a damned good things
that I'm a master at being a smart ass, because the young grasshopper is
trying to give me a run for my money. And, holy crap, does he like to
test out the cuss words. Naturally, his favorite word is fuck (that's
my boy!). I think I've said before that I don't believe in censorship;
however, I also don't believe that children should be running around
using swear words like a second language. I understand that kids get to
an age where they cuss as a way to test the waters, to see how far they
can get with Mom and Dad, but, the way I see it, it's ok if you want to
cuss like a sailor around your friends, but until you've survived high
school, maybe gotten your ass kicked once or twice, and can hold a job
and pay your own bills, you keep your mouth clean and respectful when in
the presence of an adult. Ok, maybe not quite to that extent, but, you
get it; it's a right of passage.
Nick will be
13 in less than 3 months. I'm not ready, but, I guess I don't have a
choice. The other day, Mom and I were in the kitchen with him, and she
was kissing all over his cute little face. She was telling him that he
was such a cute little baby, and he was having none of it. He told her,
"I'm not a baby, Grandma! I'm almost 13!" She of course had to argue
with him. I had to tell her that he was not a baby. He's a little man,
and the more we try to keep him as a baby, the more he's going to fight
against us. It was one of the hardest things I had to do. it made me
so sad. Sometimes I wish he was still that squirming, crying, pooping
creature I could hold in my arms, instead of the messy, mouthy, and
sometimes smelly one that can't fit on my lap anymore. He's growing
faster than I'd like!
Since I can't avoid it,
one thing I am going to look forward to when he turns 13 is the fact
that he will only become a teenager once. Oh my god! Since the second
he turned 12, all we've heard around my house is some variation of,
"I'll be 13 soon!" Holy shit, WE GET IT ALREADY! Yes, you are going to
turn 13, go through puberty, become all angsty, and make us all
miserable. Oh joy, the rest of us are just as excited! It's so funny,
though, to mention anything about puberty. He clams up, and gets
embarrassed, or gets pissy and tells me that he doesn't want to talk
about it. Oh, except for talking about his voice changing. He's ready
for that. He plays World of Tanks, and some of the older guys make fun
of him because he sounds like a little boy (duh!) They call him
squeaky. Poor kid. People can be dicks.
So,
that's my Nicky. He's sweet (laced with arsenic), funny (and extremely
sarcastic), and HE'S GOING TO BE 13 SOON! I wouldn't change him for
anything.
I love that kid.
Take care.
Alicia
