I have been pretty MIA on my blog lately. I think with Will growing up and life being busy, I never seem to find the time. But I wouldn’t miss this. The seventh annual update to Will’s donor. Although after a Mother’s Day convo with Will, he’s been renamed.
Will: ‘Mom. I’m so happy that you are my mom. Thanks for being my mom.’
Me: ‘Well dude, thank YOU for making me a mom!’
Will: ‘Umm. Maybe you should thank that guy that helped you?!’. Okay. So now you are ‘that guy’.
This year has been remarkable. He’s lost teeth. He’s lost more skin on his knees than I can imagine without a graft. He’s navigating the waters of friendships and fights. He’s reading. He’s singing horrible pop songs that I vowed I would NEVER let him sing. He’s dealt with his first big emotional trauma. He’s mastered snapping his fingers. He’s lost any trace of ‘baby’—he’s a boy.
He’s done all of these things and remained my ridiculously happy guy.
What isn’t he doing?
He’s not yet riding a two-wheeler. 99% of his friends are. He could care less about it which I absolutely adore. If he can hold on to one trait from his childhood, I hope it’s this one. We all end up caring way too much about what other people think.
He’s not rebuffing my smothering of affection towards him. I’m unable to believe there is a time that I won’t be allowed to cover him with kisses and get my running hug at the end of the day. Come on! He’ll still do this when he’s 16. Right?
He’s no longer sleeping in my bed at night! Like everything else, I let him do this on his own time and now it’s very rare that he ends up hogging the bed and grinding his teeth next to me. And yes, everyone was right, I do sort of miss it.
He’s not at all bothered by not having a father. This seems to be coming up a lot more lately. A couple weeks ago he said his friend asked if he was mad that he didn’t have a dad. He laughed telling me the question as if it was the dumbest thing ever and said ‘it’s so awesome just being you and me.’ But I do check in on it with him from time to time. Oh and he also knows how he was made… right down to how the sperm gets in a cup —which he thought was ‘awwwwesome’.
He’s not slowing down on the talking. I’m not sure if this is my mother’s sweet revenge as I know I was a constant natterer but man oh man the talking. Thankfully, he’s also very amusing but there are sometimes when a muzzle would be great.
He’s also not slowing down on the growing. It seems like once a month his pants turn into floods. Summer and the shorts could not have come soon enough. He’s convinced he’ll grow past me by his tenth birthday. I’d say 15th, but it will happen. I can already see the concussions from walking down our stairs.
So as we do every year, on Sunday, we’ll release some blue balloons and thank you as they float away. I’ll be thinking how incredibly lucky I am to have this smart, funny, handsome kid all to myself. How I get ALL the hugs. How I get ALL the cuddles. How I get ALL the love from this amazing little creature that you helped me biologically make. So thanks That Guy – you have some pretty sweet genes.
*Will will no doubt be thinking that if the balloons fly far enough, they could land in a time machine, and be transported back to the time of dinosaurs where a zombie could mistake it for brains and then eat it. All to a soundtrack by Sean Mendes or something.*