Monday, July 19, 2010
The middle kid woke this morning and was suddenly (whoooosh) seven and guess what? This year, I wished him HAPPY BIRTHDAY with twenty kazillion bear hugs (poor kid) and entirely without guilt.
This time, last year, I wrote the tale of his birth and feeling all the anger and frustration and sad and guilt, hit ‘publish’ anyway. Nothing like a cathartic blog post to cleanse a few still-raw wounds. Nothing like coming clean to a kid how his entry into the world wasn’t at all the way you hoped and how you weren’t there for a while and for apologising and for having your jaw on the floor at how amazing said kid is for listening, understanding, saying ‘That’s ok, Mum’, jumping into Mum arms for a speedy, squishy hug, before dashing off to construct an insect zoo. Nothing like that sort of coming clean, for drawing a line in the sand.
So, most excellent kid, who can thrash me, Ye Household Champion, at Connect Four, who is master maker of potions, who oozes creativity and mischief, who does a generally excellent line in hugs, who never forgets to spray the stick insects and who I sometimes absolutely and entirely ‘know’ but who can still surprise the socks off me...happy birthday.