by Sarah | Jan 24, 2012 | All About Denver, The Teenager
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
Thirteen 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 had said boy.
My morning walk to induce labor I had 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 utnil I “Finally” stopped screwing around and gave birth already. (For the record, Brandon 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 Brandon 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 14.
In so many ways.
He is my baby.
In so many ways – he always will be.
Happy birthday to my oldest, my first born.
14 is a big number. But you’re just getting started.
[flickr id=”5748019048″ thumbnail=”medium” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”center”] [flickr id=”5888954984″ thumbnail=”medium” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”center”] [flickr id=”6087274981″ thumbnail=”medium” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”center”]
by Sarah | Jan 4, 2012 | All About Denver, Crap, Random, The Teenager
[flickr id=”6087274981″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]At first I thought it might be the special needs babies, toddlers, kids…
I thought it might be the mountains of paperwork to deal with it all.
The endless doctor visits, medical terminology, therapists and IEP’s.
No. It’s not going to be any of that.
It’s going to be 1 word.
TEENAGER.
The surly attitude. The lack of common sense. The lack of respect. The lack of hygiene.
In brief shining moments you see the brilliance of his brain. The kindness of his heart.
Covering it all is the teenitude. The fact that we, as his parents, are just the biggest jerks, the meanest people, and so frickin’ annoyingly embarrassing.
According to the Scout leaders they see it all the time…and then there is the “lightbulb moment” when it all clicks and he becomes a human being.
We wait for that day.
Or death.
Whichever comes first.
Right now I’m thinking it will be death.
by Sarah | Nov 7, 2011 | All About Denver, The Teenager
[flickr id=”5888954984″ thumbnail=”small” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]For many years when he was little all we ever heard was that he wanted to grow up and work at NASA. Space was the thing. That was it. No questions asked.
Then around fifth grade there was a weird flakiness that popped in and he said he wanted to be a birdwatcher.
A BIRDWATCHER?
Archie & I both cringed and hoped it was one of those things that would pass.
Thankfully it did.
Tonight I learned something new.
He wants to be a doctor.
Not just a doctor.
He wants to work at Riley Hospital.
That’s our hospital. The one we’ve been going to since Angel was a baby. That we’ve seen so many specialists in.
We love Riley Hospital.
Now we know that our kids love it just as much.
Big dreams.
But the kid is brilliant. Being a doctor is something I know he could do.
If he worked at Riley Hospital – nothing would ever make me prouder than to have my son pass on the love and caring to more families. To grow from being a patient at an amazing children’s hospital – to being a doctor at an amazing children’s hospital.
by Sarah | Jul 22, 2011 | All About Denver, All About Me, The Teenager
[flickr id=”5888954984″ thumbnail=”medium” overlay=”true” size=”small” group=”” align=”left”]Once upon a time it was us against the world.
There were no secrets.
Lots of snuggles.
Lots of talks.
He told me everything.
Now he’s 13.
When I had to tell him about the neighbors passing, I expected something…words…hugs…tears…
Instead he asked to go for a bike ride.
He didn’t want to deal with it when I was there. He didn’t want to talk about it. He tensed when I tried to hug him. He tried to force back every tear that threatened to fall.
Selfishly I went outside and threw a class-action temper tantrum a kindergartner would be proud of.
I wasn’t mad at him.
I was mad at me.
Where had I gone wrong? Did I not have enough patience? Have I been too focused on the girls that I lost touch with him once they were old enough to survive w/o constant attention? Do I just suck as a mother?
I miss the little boy that truly believed he could tell me anything.
I miss the feeling that he and I have a connection that no one could take away.
The teenage years have just begun.
I already hate them.
I don’t blame him. I don’t blame me (usually).
I still hate them.
I don’t know how I will survive these teenage years.
by Sarah | Jan 24, 2011 | All About Denver, The Teenager
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
Thirteen 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 had said boy.
My morning walk to induce labor I had 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 utnil I “Finally” stopped screwing around and gave birth already. (For the record, Brandon 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 Brandon 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 tween was 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.
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 wants to (i.e. is going to) get a tattoo – and has forbid her to do so…(*snort* Like she’ll listen). 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.
He struggles to fit in.
He is 13.
In so many ways.
He is my baby.
In so many ways – he always will be.
Happy birthday to my oldest, my first born.
13 is a big number. But you’re just getting started.
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 Brandon 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.
