Tuesday, February 15, 2011

"I'm going to get married when I'm twenty."

That's what Banana informed me tonight when we were taking a homework break in favor of hitting the Golden Arches. There we are, driving along and jamming to the radio and out of the blue she asks me, "do you like being married?"

So many answers.....most of them way more complex and inappropriate for an eight year old's question.

"Of course I do." I tell her. "I love your Daddy and our family."

She mulls that over for a second and then asks, "how old do you have to be to get married?"

"Well," I hedge "I think you have to be at least eighteen to just run off and get married BUT that's pretty young too; I think it's a good idea to go to college first." She nods wisely.

"Then I'll get married when I'm twenty." she decides.

"That would probably be okay, but you won't be done with college yet, especially if you want to be a bug doctor." Are you seeing a theme to this conversation yet? I mean, naturally I don't tell her what I want to, which would be more along the lines of "over my dead body, you need to experience the world on your own and have friends and go to clubs and date and learn to cook and pay bills on your own first. You'll get your heart broken and break a few yourself, and overdraw your checkbook and buy your first brand new car and get a job and take a trip and cry over margaritas with your girlfriends and do all sorts of other stuff first." I can't say that. That's pretty heady stuff. So I stick with the basics. Like wanting to be a bug doctor.

Banana contemplates this. "Okay." she decides "Then I won't get married until I'm at least twenty four. And after I'm a doctor."

Works for me, kid. We'll work on the hard numbers later. Just stay my little girl forever.

Thursday, February 3, 2011

More and more and MORE

Look at my adorable little man. My Chunk. My Buddy. My Boy.

Having a son....at the very least I can say that it's nothing like having a daughter - and not just because diaper changes are WAY easier - because it's way more than that. Boys are definitely wired differently. And even though I look ahead to the tween and teen years of raising two girls with apprehension and sometimes a dose of straight up dread, I don't really worry about not getting along with my girls when the hormones kick in. We will still be close. We will still be friends. We'll muddle through it together. And I work hard every day to make damn sure that they will never doubt that I am there for them.

But boys....boys are different. It's not that I won't be there for him. It's not that we won't be friends. It's not that I don't dread parts of the tween and teen years of raising a son. It's just that it's DIFFERENT. I can't really explain it. But it's what I'm sitting here pondering tonight after finally getting my Chunk into his bed.

Chunker zonked out on the couch earlier tonight, so he and I stayed up eating popcorn on the couch and watching the last twenty minutes of Twilight, New Moon on Showtime until just a few minutes ago. When the credits started rolling, I scooped him up and took him to bed. And once I got him settled under his Cars bed tent with his pillow pet and his puppy, snug and warm in his Batman jammies, with hugs and kisses said and done, I straightened up and moved towards the light switch. And just like every night, our script went into motion:

"Good night baby." I say.

"Night Mama." comes the sleepy reply.

I turn off the light.

"Mommy?" says that little voice in the darkness

"Yes Colin?"

"I wub you."

"I love you too sweetie." I tell him. And as if on cue, he replies

"I love you more and more and more and MORE."

And with that, I leave my little boy to his dreams of puppies and ice cream and hot wheels and anything else that passes through his beautiful blond noggin in the night.

Here's the thing: I know he will always love me. Just like I know that there is nothing in the world that can make me stop loving him. But I know that someday, he won't tell me as often, or with such amazing abandon.

I can hope that he'll always tell me that he loves me more and more and more and more. I already know that he won't. Not like he does now.

But I can hope. Because nothing is sweeter.