So my first born is three, today. It’s funny, time goes so quickly yet so slowly. I can’t believe he’s three yet I can’t believe he’s only three, it seems like he’s always been here.
The past year has seen a huge amount of change for him. The birth of his brother, a move to a new house, the absence of a close family member, starting pre school, getting used to having me around on maternity leave, and now my phased return to work.
He’s blossomed in to a boy I’m proud of. More than proud.
Of course we’ve had ups and downs, he’s been two. I was considering the other day about the label ‘terrible twos’, how non parents view it and for me it’s just not comprehendable until you’ve lived through it. I do think you might understand a bit, perhaps it’s part of why you’re childless, but you can’t understand entirely. I was thinking, how terrible has it been?, you know at times I’ve wanted to headbutt a wall (or Roo- I haven’t just to clarify), or just scream long and loud (I have done this in another room). It has been bad at times, but it’s been so so good too and I’d never change it.
Back in August I wrote a post about terrible twos but my original didn’t save, got lost. I couldn’t face writing it again. I remember that time being when I lost my baby, that post was written then lost when he became a two and a quarter year old. He suddenly realised he had power, emotions, independence at his finger tips. Mind blowing that he could choose his own shoes (odd wellies were the fave choice throughout August), he could demand dinner ideas, mix up his toys to play with, take as long as he wanted to walk up the stairs (that was when I could have headbutted a wall).
I feel honoured to be his mum and, because we had another baby, I’ve been lucky enough to spend this last year with him. I want to bathe in it, it to never end. But I’m excited for what’s next.
I’ve watched him feel different emotions, love, anger, jealousy, desire. I’ve watched how he’s learnt about situations.
I’ve seen him race to shake his calm jar, knowing he’s cross. I’ve seen him offer to wipe his friends tears ‘Joey I’ll wipe your tears for you’, heartbreakingly kind, wanting to help. I’ve seen him squeeze his brothers head (yes I’ve stopped him) overcome with love.
It’s not just emotions. It’s the power he has that he’s learning. The power to be helpful, or not. He loves making dinner or putting something in the bin. He loves dusting. He loves having his jobs. But he also tells me he’s absolutely not doing that today. Decisions, his power to make them.
There’s a thirst to knowledge, and an amazement at everything.
He’s been amazed every day being two. Stopping to examine everything.
The first warm day this year we were walking and he stopped to look at a fly ‘a fly mummy’, ‘yes’ I said (in a hurry), then I realised he was transfixed, he couldn’t really remember flies, this was all new. So we stopped, starred. Were two.
So two, I’ve loved you, you’ve bought me tears, laughter, a love I never knew, torment, confusion and frustration. But I’ve loved you.