I am feeling awfully sentimental and pensive today.
Today, Dylan and I had some time together. I had training at work and unexpectantly got off early 2 hours early. (Woo-Hoo!) Dylan was surprised to see me when he got home. Now that he is in the 7th grade, this is the first year of him riding the school bus home and being a latch key kid for a couple of hours each afternoon. He is the doing well with this new responsibility and freedom. This afternoon I saw him spring off the steps of the school bus and run across the street into the yard. He came inside, and I asked him about his day.
He heads directly for the kitchen and starts talking...he had chicken for lunch that gave him a stomach ache. He did well on a practice quiz in Social Studies. His geometry project is due this Friday, and he finished reading "The Pigman" in Language Arts.
I stood there realizing I remembered reading
The Pigman, by Paul Zindel, when I was about 12. I remember it made me so sad, and I am pretty sure I cried at the end. I could not recall the characters' names, afterall that was about *cough *cough* 22 years ago. So, I asked Dylan to get the book and read the best part of it to me. He looked surprised, but he did what I asked.
He started reading to me in the kitchen and I began to work on a batch of No Bake cookies for Karsen's afterschool program tomorrow. As he read their names, I remembered the characters. He kept reading and I noticed how well-spoken he was. He read easily, even with the longer words that would cause an adult to hesitate and repeat over again. He read through the climax of the book and the story all came back to me. I remembered why it was so sad, and as he was reading I could tell the story really touched his heart too. I could hear the sadness in his voice. Finally, he threw the book down and said "You finish reading it, I don't like this part!"
I was cutting up a cabbage, and I stopped to look up at him. I could tell he was getting choked up and upset. I loved that a book that touched my heart a long time ago, was now being read by my Dylan. I loved that he was reading it
to me.
I asked, "Just one more page, Dyl? I can't read it because I am cooking".
He took a deep breath, rolled his eyes, and picked up the book. So tween-like. In between bites of cheetos he finished that chapter and went into the next. I was listening, but I was also thinking that I can't believe that my son is reading to me. It was just the other day that I was reading to him.
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His favorite book when he was 2 and 3 and 4 years old was "Are you My Mother?" And he would ask "Pwease read it just one more time, Momma?"
And so I did....I read it over and over again, everyday and everynight for what seemed like
forever. Looking back forever was way too fast and fleeting.
Today, I stood in the kitchen and listened to him read and I wondered, "Where is that book? Do we still have it? Wonder where I put it? I hope we still have it somewhere." Then before I know it, he is finished with the book. I look up and asked him if he loved it, and he replies, "Yeh, I did, Mom, but I am not going to cry like you did".
Then he looks at me and says, "Oh gawd, Mom, are you going to cry right now?!"
No, Dylan I am not! (But, I wanted to!) I just said, "No, silly, but I loved you reading to me".
He grabs another snack, says he is going to watch TV for a while, and as he walks out of the kitchen he asks the same question he asks me everynight, "What's for supper?"
I answer and then get back to cooking....and thinking. Hmm, where is that book? Where is my little boy that loved it? How is it that he is now 12 years old? When did that mustache appear? And acne? Where did the time go? All of a sudden, his voice is changing and I have to look twice to see which pants are his and which pants are his Dad's when I am doing laundry. Sigh.
I hope he knows as he gets older that I loved those days when he was chubby-cheeked and I was his favorite person in the world. I loved watching him swing, dancing to Dora the Explorer, and singing songs from his favorite TV shows. I feel like the time went by way too fast. I feel like you should get a letter when you become a new Mom that goes something like "Warning!! This time will go by so fast. Too fast. Treasure it. They will be big and hormonal before you know it! Ye, be forewarned!! "
I hope he remembers the fun we had. The time when it was just the two of us. When I was a stay-at-home Mom. A young family of 3 for a minute. I remember crying the night before I went to the hospital to have Karsen. I was SO happy and excited, but a part of my heart was breaking because I knew after that day he would always have to share me.
I wanted to imprint on his heart that he was my first baby, and I would always love him in a special way. 10 years later, I still feel the same way. Even though he weighs more than me. Even though he has to share me and life is busy and we hardly have time with just the two of us. Even though he drives me bonkers at times, and even though I feel like a broken record with him these days.
Clean your room.
Did you wash your hands?
Go brush your teeth, please.
Did you flush?
Did you do your homework?
Did you show your work?
Have you done your chores?
Chew your food before you speak, please.
A broken record that loves him with all my heart. I finished dinner and prayed....
"
Please, r
emember these days, Dylan"
I prayed that he remembers when I read to him when he was 2 and beyond, and I prayed that I remember today when he was 12 read to me in the kitchen. I decided to write about it here, so I knew I would always remember. Because looking back and looking forward I am well aware that time....sure does have a way of getting away from us.
