I am in a reflective place lately. Mostly because I am one-on-one with my kids for the first time in a great while. With the exception of a few hours a couple of times a week, its just me and the wolf pack. And you know what? Its nuts. And amazing. And makes me think how much patience it takes to be with little boys sometimes and also how tragic it is that I traded any of it to anyone else ever. They are each in such different places. I constantly feel both inadequate and overjoyed. When I crawl into bed at night I am reminded how my body no longer makes polite requests of me but greedily demands what it wants. My eyes are shut tight by 9:30 each night, sacrilege to a night owl like me.
What it leaves me with is the concept of passion. I think that’s the governing concept for raising young children. I just want all of it to be so good so badly that it implodes sometimes. I want the each boy to grow and learn and behave and excel and be kind and have fun each and everyday. And it doesn’t always happen like that. Pretty much never.
Colton is in an especially challenging period right now. He is pulling away for the first time, giving me attitude and pushback. I try to tell myself it is normal but I hate it. He is my kind, old soul and I feel him becoming more independent each day in ways I don’t always like. He has always been the other half of the wishbone with me. We are so intricately, inextricably connected at some molecular level that I feel his feelings as if my own. It’s lead to some pretty hot arguments for us as of late. He too feels passion- about video games mostly and that drives me insane. Then I think back to Nikki and I skipping English class to play Wizardy on this:
so maybe he comes by it honestly and I should ease up. I am relieved to be without the middle man with regard to Colt right now. He needs me more than ever I think. For the first time he is pondering bigger questions, and trying to fit in in a way novel to him. I can see him trying to delineate his persona, asking who am I to you in social settings. I want him to shout from the rooftops I AM KIND AND SMART AND INTERESTING AND YOU WOULD BE LUCKY TO KNOW ME but that’s a tall order for a 7.5 year old. So I’ll keep reminding him that until he believes that nothing truly bad can happen. He wrote this poem the other night while I put his brother to bed. It’s telling. And for the record he does not play it everyday. In his dreams maybe.
Just when the screaming over the iPads hits a fever pitch along comes Lucca with his heart on his sleeve. My constant companion, the one who soothes me like no other. We argue sure, but if there is anything sweeter than a 5 year old boy I don’t know what it is. He makes up shit like its his job. And he continues to be the world’s best hang.
That kid just gets it. He has this innate understanding of people and what makes them tick that gives me full confidence in his future ability to be fine. Old, young, female, male. No one is immune to Lucca. He infects you with his laugh and you’re done. Didn’t clean up? Watch this move mom! and he melts me again with his ridiculous rock star dance moves. Didn’t eat anything but pasta, m&m cookies and gatorade today? Check your phone mommy, I texted you! Please don’t be mad at me!
Monday Oscar and I decided to get Lucca his very own beta fish aka a siamese fighting fish. He was overjoyed when he got home from school to see it and he was of course very interested in its ability to destroy other fish and crush all competition it might encounter.
“Lightning mom. That’s gonna be his name. Its Lightning.”
When he crawled into bed with me at 1:23 am that night I whispered, “go to sleep Luccy, its the middle of the night and mom needs her rest.”
“I know Mom but I have to tell you something.”
“What?” I whispered, trying not to wake up too much.
“My fighter fish’s name isn’t Lightning anymore.”
“Ok Lucca. Whatever you say.”
His voice had an emphatic tone, a loud whisper just this side of not waking everyone in the house up.
“Mom his name is Lightning SNAKE. Because he’s so dangerous. Lightning SNAKE.”
Really tough to stayed pissed at a kid like that.
Oscar. Babosky. Squaw. Squeener. Skaner. Oscane in the Membrane. The littlest wolf has many names in the house. He is erupting at all times with something. Laughter, energy, tears, other things. He is so big, so very big on the inside. Outside he’s still pretty tiny. And he doesn’t suffer fools that Oscar. Come correct or don’t come.
He is running things around here lately. If Oscar is happy (most of the time thankfully) then things are great. If he’s not, it all grinds to a halt and he commands everyone’s attention. As the baby of the family myself I think that’s your real margin, being a big enough baby that everyone takes care of you.
He is my gift from the universe and when I look at him I can almost forget the knot in my stomach that lasted for a year. The one that gnawed at me, telling me he wasn’t going to be ok, be healthy and strong like his brothers. He is more than that now. For all that went into his conception, incubation and early months I cannot imagine our lives without him. He is the keystone, the counterweight to Colt and Lucca.
In family news, we are looking forward to hosting a male au pair next month. Its our first foray into this territory and I think its going to be great. I am also sure there are some hilarious times ahead for us as we iron out the kinks. But I’ve got boys. Boys in spades. And I can’t make them sit and color and contain themselves for convenience. I want to celebrate all that makes them wild and crazy. So we will, I am sure.
This adventure is getting more interesting by the day. I can feel the tides change, see all that our family will be over the coming years as we watch these little wolves grow. It feels great to exhale and know the rest will unfold as its meant to. Here we go…