In one weeks time, I will have a one year old son. Correction: Scott and I will have a one year old son. That I have a child, let alone a son, is something that a year in, I have yet to wrap my mind around. I still feel like I’m laying in that hospital room with my son on my chest just staring at his little face. All I remember is when he cried, my first thought was, No we must make him stop crying! Give him to me! You don’t know what you’re doing!
Fast forward to fifty-one weeks later and I just put my little monster to bed still crying. I tucked him under his fleece blanket with his Aunt Lynn blankie under his head, his lovey tucked under his arm and turned on his glow worm. And then I fled the room. Barely five minutes passed and he was out. Only then was I able to enjoy the rest of my dinner, reheated only once tonight. That right there is a win.
Now I’m sitting on my couch, Melodie curled up into her tight little ball and Mandie fussing at me because she can’t be in my lap under the laptop. We (read: Scott) are watching a rerun of Vanilla Ice Goes Amish. If I tried, I bet I could quote it word for word. Somethings haven’t changed in a year.
Our rooms are a little more cluttered (all of them; there is not a single room devoid of a Jaxen item). Even our cars have been taken over. Just the other day I found a baggie with leftover waffle I sent off with the boy when he went with his daddy to drop Grammy Lloyd at the airport. Two weeks ago. Scott’s car even boasts a “Little Racer on Board” sign.
We’re parents now. Like go to bed at nine o’clock, know all the words to wheels on the bus, watch endless hours of Disney Junior parents. I won’t sugar coat it; I don’t love every minute. It’s been almost a year and a half since I’ve slept through the night. I can be sitting in a room by myself for hours and all of a sudden, I’ll smell a poopy diaper. Half of my wardrobe still doesn’t fit and I’ve come to terms that half of that will never fit again. Between daycare costs, diapers, formula (no one really likes to talk about nursing strikes and how devastating it is when you’re darling baby no longer wants you anymore but will happily take a bottle) and Amazon (damn you Prime), we’ve spent enough money to finance a small car.
No I don’t love every minute, but every minute I love my son. In the early days when he would cry endlessly at night and I had to work the next day, I was amazed that I was capable of still loving him. As he becomes his own little person and tests his limits or breaks through four teeth all at once, I still love him. I love him with my whole being. You know the line in the movie What to Expect When You’re Expecting? The one where the dad says he loves his son so much he’s afraid he’ll eat him? Yeah creepily enough, I totally understand the sentiment. I miss Jax when he’s sleeping. When he’s awake, I can’t wait to see what he’s going to do next (while holding my breath with the doctor on speed dial).
We didn’t start our family when we had Jax. Our family started May 17, 2009 when we became husband and wife. Our family grew and was blessed when on November 22, 2013, our little boy came into this world. Now, though, it’s hard to look back ad remember a time without him. He has his father’s eyelashes and ability to charm the socks off every person he meets. He has his mother’s eyes and ability to maintain a poker face no matter the situation. A perfect blend and all his own. We love you son and will spend every minute of your last week of babyhood thanking the good Lord above for making us your momma and da. Happy birthday.