by Sarah | Jan 24, 2014 | All About Denver, The Teenager
As a teenager, Denver refuses to get his picture taken…So this post is a nearly identical repeat of the last two years and chock full of embarrassing baby photos in hopes he’ll let me get some NEW pictures to use. Happy birthday, brat. 😉
Time sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a snail; but man is happiest when he does not even notice whether it passes swiftly or slowly.
~Ivan Turgeney
Sixteen years ago this minute, as I was in labor, I still thought he was a girl. The ultrasound said girl. Everyone said girl.
My dreams said boy.
My morning walk to induce labor I stopped not at the girls clothes rack, but at the tiny little suits, ooh-ing and ahh-ing over the teensy little ties.
After three false labors I was forced to sit in the hotel room my Mom had reserved until I “Finally” stopped screwing around and gave birth already. (For the record, Denver was only 1.5 hours “early” for his due date.) When my contractions were finally 3 minutes apart, my mom called my OB, who then demanded to know why we waited. She, in her dry and sarcastic glory informed him that she wasn’t about to take me in if I wasn’t going to actually have the baby.
And so Denver made me a parent. With his perfectly round head and surprise appendage that made him decidedly NOT a girl, & made me wonder how in hell I was going to raise a boy.
But he was perfect.
The gorgeous blue of his eyes made me fall in love in an instant.
Everything on time. Every milestone reached at JUST the right moment. Every clothing size changing right at it’s declared time (0-3 months? Gone at three months. 3-6? Gone at six…it was eerie).
He was happy. Smart. Playful. Loving.
He was my world.
He was my mom and dad’s world.
The first born grandchild. The first born great-grandchild.
The star.
Our family grew. It changed.
Not always in the best, most fair ways for him. In truth, sometimes he was forgotten, because he was so ‘perfect’. So easy in comparison. (I hate myself for it, but it is true).
It never made him less loved.
In many ways, being the parent of a teen is infinitely harder than raising the young ones. He isn’t satisfied with easy answers. He sees the world around him in such a different light. He sees things that a younger child wouldn’t. He understands and absorbs everything. Things that I sometimes haven’t the slightest idea how to explain to him, to clarify.
Right now he is struggling, battling against an internal battle I can’t resolve for him. Fighting against the common, and always unique and personal pain of being a teenager.
But in his heart – he is a good kid. He is smart. He is still loving.
He is annoyed with his parents. Embarrassed that his mother has a tattoo and plans more. He hates failure. He strives to do his best and no one is harder on him when he fails than himself. Interested in photography. Science. Math. Writing. Cross Country.
He dreams big dreams. Of being a doctor at Riley so he can help other kids like him.
He achieves big things. Advancements in Boy Scouts, Junior Honor Society.
He struggles to fit in.
He is 16.
In so many ways.
He is my baby.
In so many ways – he always will be.
Happy birthday to my oldest, my first born.
16 is a big number. But you’re just getting started.
by Sarah | Oct 8, 2013 | All About Denver, The Teenager
A few years back, Denver joined the Scouts.
He was 11, we figured it was a fad, he’d grow out of it. He didn’t seem crazy-interested.
Just under 5 years later we’re staring down the end of the barrel.
Eagle Scout.
It’s a pretty darn big deal.
Even I know that.
He’s ranked up fast.
Been elected Quartermaster three times in a row.
It’s the one area of his life where I know he’s focused and intent and his behavior is on the mark. (How I wish that carried through at home, but that’s another post for another day).
If his application is approved, if his “Eagle Project” is approved, he could be Eagle Scout by next summer.
At the ripe age of 16.
I am a proud Mama…
by Sarah | Oct 3, 2013 | All About Denver, Cystic Fibrosis, Hospital, Special Needs, The Teenager
Teenagers are expected to rebel.
When they don’t you worry. I wasn’t huge on rebellion, but I found my own way to rebel – by ignoring my scholastic capabilities.
I never expected to be faced with a whole different sort of rebellion in my kids.
Medical rebellion.
It’s a dangerous game.
The “I feel fine, so I don’t need to maintain” game.
Now we have the new, added complexity of a compression vest.
Something the teen does not want to do.
Already he doesn’t do the things he doesn’t mind, and that only take a few minutes.
Maintaining seems like such a hassle when you’re fine.
Especially to a teenager.
Even a teenager that dreams of being a doctor.
Of all the things in my life that cause me stress and worry.
Medical rebellion resides at the top of the list.
Couldn’t he just give himself a mohawk and wear black and be all emo?
That I could handle.
I lived through that as a teen w/ best friends that weren’t…preppy…at all.
I could handle emo.
This medical rebellion crap?
It sucks.
by Sarah | Sep 3, 2013 | All About Denver, Cystic Fibrosis, Hospital, Special Needs, The Teenager
As I said a few days ago, Denver is taking a mass media class. His first assignment?
A video montage.
It could be about any subject he wanted, anything across the whole world.
He could have picked Star Trek & its many incarnations and his absolute love of them.
He didn’t.
He picked Cystic Fibrosis.
And this is his video (be aware of your volume, it’s a bit loud):
Music: “Breathe” by Nickelback
Images: Many from his or my camera, the Riley logo & CFF logos are gained from the interwebs.
by Sarah | Jul 10, 2013 | All About Denver, The Teenager
I’ve been guilty of the “Take my kids – please” joke.
They can be so much to handle sometimes. Three of them, fighting, screaming, playing, appointments, school, being a teenager, being girls super close in age…
It all piles on into insanity sometimes.
So it’s to be expected that we eagerly let the kids go to their grandparents for a few days.
Or anticipate Denver’s week-long Scout camp.
I mean, they aren’t far.
It’s not a long time
But now.
This time.
It’s two weeks.
Two long weeks.
The teen is hiking through the mountains of New Mexico with Scouts.
He’s taking in views like this:
At 8000 feet above sea level.
Hundreds of miles away from me.
From us.
Two weeks.
A piece of my heart…
An annoying, teenage, piece…
A piece that is my first born.
It’s not within reach.
It’s a really sucky feeling.
I love that he’s doing something that might be once-in-a-lifetime.
That he’s taking another step forward in independence.
That he’s having a great time.
But a part of me aches.
And it will until he’s home again.
by Sarah | Jun 27, 2013 | All About Denver, All About Family, The Teenager
In high school, and into what I (now jokingly) call my “false-freshman year” of college I dated a boy. A boy that I now look back in time and thing “What on earth was I thinking?” The dissection of that relationship is a blog post for another time and place, but needless to say, it wasn’t a great relationship to be in.
What aids me in that whole 20/20-hindsight thing is the new (to me) knowledge that my parents and friends couldn’t stand him. They hated him. Hated me dating him, hated him.
At one point I looked at my mother and said “WHY didn’t you tell me?” I got the counter answer that if she’d told me, it might have made me date him longer.
Not true, but still, I see where she’s coming from.
Especially now.
With my teenager dating.
With my son having a girlfriend.
He’s fifteen now. We’ve already lived through the heartbreaking loss of his ‘first love’. A string of very short-lived relationships, and now the one he’s in. It’s lasted some time now.
The husband and I, we have opinions.
We discuss his dating status, and his girlfriend.
But, much like other details and relationships in our life, we say nothing directly good or bad about her to his face.
We will listen when he actually talks to us.
We will try to give him un-biased advice to the best of our ability.
We will let him learn his own lessons.
Be they good or bad.
Because that is how you grow up.
Even if our heart aches every time his does.
Even if our joy at his is great.
Even if we worry.
Every day.
If we’re doing it right.
Time sometimes flies like a bird, sometimes crawls like a snail; but man is happiest when he does not even notice whether it passes swiftly or slowly.
And so Denver made me a parent. With his perfectly round head and surprise appendage that made him decidedly NOT a girl, & made me wonder how in hell I was going to raise a boy.
Our family grew. It changed.
He dreams big dreams. Of being a doctor at Riley so he can help other kids like him.
