Back when I was painting Kyle’s nursery, back when he was growing safely inside my body, I had moments of doubt:
I often stand back and try to imagine what it will look like with a crib and a baby in it, and wonder if the baby will like it. What if he gets to be four years old and tells me “mommy, I hate this color”? Will I be heartbroken thinking of all the work I put into painting the room, or will I hate the color by then, too?
It’s funny now to think about how I could only imagine my baby as far as four years old, and look – now he’s twice that age. He is all arms and legs, and when he scrambles up on to my lap to snuggle, I am engulfed by Boy. We often compare him to Marmaduke. He loves his video games, karate, geocaching, and Spongebob. He has discovered pop music and asked for an Owl City album for his birthday. But he still likes it when I sing him my special lullaby and rub his back before he goes to sleep.
It is incredible to me that this child is eight, an age when you can remember everything, and gone is the consolation that he won’t remember my parenting missteps. I do my best, of course. He didn’t seem to mind the baby-peas-colored room, and we live in a different house in which his bedroom is blue, anyway.
Now that I am a parent of boys instead of babies, my moments of doubt come faster and stronger and more often, but I’ve learned to weather them and continue doing the best I can. Whether or not he remembers that in eight more years is immaterial, as long as he still has that curious, kind soul to guide him through whatever life brings him.
Honoring the years gone by, here is a song that stabs me in the heart.
Did he even notice the color of his room? He is a boy, you know.
Don’t beat yourself up, particularly over mistakes you haven’t made yet. Like cornerbacks, parents need to have a short memory so they can get back to the line and focus on the next play.
my older son just turned 27. when it sunk in a few days before his birthday that, yes, he really was that old — with daughters who are 3-1/2 & 9 months — hokey smokes, bullwinkle.
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You write, “Now that I am a parent of boys instead of babies, my moments of doubt come faster and stronger and more often.” I remember in the early years worrying at every small stage … what might happen during pregnancy, SIDS, autism, who might snatch them from their (very safe) preschool. I asked my mom, “at what stage do you stop worrying so much about your kids?” Her answer: “I’ll let you know when I get there.”
His eyes! Are your eyes.
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TA: Holy smokes indeed!
I never realized his eyes were so like mine, Deb A.
Deb L: Yes, I remember well all of those first-timer uncertainties. Or do I? They have faded into the long-ago past!
Chris: He is my boy, though, so he has a certain style!
Yes, those moments of doubt come fast and furious the older they get. (Odd, since you’d think we’d sort of have the hang of this parenting thing right now.) My oldest baby is twice Kyle’s age (as you know) and as cliche as it sounds I cannot believe how quickly the years zip by. And I am willing to be he remains a curious and kind soul forever. Happy Birthday Kyle (and to you too mama!)
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@Charlene – thank you. It’s nice to have your lovely boy as a good example!