Once upon a time Brandon was nothing more then a twinkle in our eyes. We got married in September. One month later this happened.
We had tried for nearly a year for a baby so imagine our shock when I got pregnant so quickly after getting married. I took the pregnancy test at work. It was left over from all the earlier trying. I had no real reason to think I was pregnant except for the fact that I was craving green olives. This struck me as odd since I have never in my entire life tasted a green olive and suddenly it was all I could think about. A jar of olives later I came to work and peed on a stick. When it popped up positive I had no idea what I was seeing so I came running out of the office flailing a pregnancy test in my hand asking my mom to tell me what in the hell it said. No one had a clue I was taking the test so she had to stop and figure out what I was talking about. Sure enough I was pregnant.
We did all of the usual things. Guessed the gender (I knew it was a boy, I was so sure it was a boy I made the babies’ song ‘Simple Man’ even before I found out the gender). I nested out of control. I washed and washed and folded and OMFG how man times can someone repack a diaper bag? Aside from nine months of puking I had a pretty easy pregnancy. Nine months after that first test on his due date Brandon came.
Here he is, only a few hours old and already totally bored with the nursery. I can never explain what I felt the moment he first cried. I cried, we all cried and I was changed forever. How does that quote go? "Being a mom is like having your heart walking around outside of your body." That is exactly how I felt. I was a mom in an instant. There was no waiting period, no getting used to it, my maternal instinct kicked in and I was instantly that crazy mom. I never knew worry until I became a mom. I never knew what being protective meant. I never knew what it was like to love that much. The moment Brandon was born everything changed. I set out to be better. To be the best I could. This little person was my responsibility. If I screwed up everything in my life it was fine as long as my son came out perfect.
I’ve never had as much fun as I’ve had being a mom. Brandons very first bath Rob and I lovingly wrapped him up in a sweet little towel to which he responded by crapping bright yellow poop all over himself and the towel. He was already pissed of at me for the first bath, you can imagine how mad he was during the second one. I loved playing dress up with him, nursing him, having him sleep on my chest, and seeing his first smiles.
I loved being his mom.
One thing I never expected though is that one day, my baby would turn one. I took one pretty hard. Where had the year gone. The first few months time drags as you wait for them to crawl, walk and talk. Then suddenly the fast forward button is hit and your putting a little candle on the cake wishing you could have it all back, only slower this time. Having a one year old was really fun. Brandon was a huge dork, running in circles, riding my cat like a horse, having a 20 minute phone conversation that consisted of two words, dog and outfide (outside).
When two came i was a little more prepared. Not much but some. Two was Brandon’s last year alone. Soon he would have a brother. I soaked up every minute of that time with him. My only child, my first child, my baby.
Brandon also took two hard. He crashed out before the party even ended and I was glad, glad I got to hold his tiny sleeping body one last time before he began the terrible twos.
Then like a flash before my eyes my little baby turned into a little man and he went and turned three on me. That saying, two is bad, three is worse, and four will kill you, was true at times. Three year old Brandon kicked my ass. He knew he was already smarter then me and used that against me. He had more energy then I could have even with an IV of java running in my veins. Suddenly toward the end of three Brandon just grew up. He started saying words and phrases that a 30 year old man would use. He lost his baby cheeks and baby hair and baby anything. Any remnant of my little baby that was once in there was gone. He was a boy. He started swimming lessons. He had no fear of anything. I started to see the future; kindergarten (gasp kill me die dead), high school, prom, marriage, babies and every day i wanted to cry. Who lets kids grow up this fast. Who lets time fly so quickly. Why is it when I wanted to turn sixteen every day felt like ten days, and now every day feels like ten minutes. He goes to preschool. He’s so smart. He is the tallest in his class. He has TWO girlfriends. And he is still the love of my life. As much as three scared me, nothing prepared me for four.
Saturday Brandon turned four. I took the whole day very hard. I’m still not okay with it. As he jumped on his trampoline yesterday yelling out LADIES AND GENTLEMEN PLEASE ENJOY THE SHOW I wondered what happened to my little boy who called yogurt honcrean and who called lotion loshish. When I tell him to get dressed he says, "that’s not even an option mom." My heart breaks a little more each time. Can’t he just sleep on my chest one more time? Wear footie jammies one more night?
I never knew what being a mom was about. How much you could love people. I didn’t know the love would grow every day. That every day I would wake up loving these little people more and more. I never realized that as scary as parenting is it’s the most magnanimous thing I’ve ever done. No matter what I do in my life I know these two boys will be the best thing I ever did. I could end world hunger tomorrow and these boys would still be the greatest joy in my life, the greatest thing I ever did. I loved watching what kids did to the world. How they made my husband a dad. My big manly husband suddenly became all soft and "be careful putting his onsie on you don’t want to break him." My parents became grandparents. My dad became Papa and I swear it’s like he woke up and entirely different person that day, just like me. My mom finally got the chance to show someone how to put a stink bug in their mouth with out them (read me) running away squeeling like a girl!
So. As hard as four was for me to handle, I’m happy for him. He loves telling everyone he is four. He loves getting bigger and taller. And he loves his Nilk, and if anyone ever tells him it’s pronounce Milk instead of Nilk, I’ll break your face, that is the last little piece of baby I have left, even if he doesn’t know it.
Happy Birthday my dear sweet Brandon.
*Yes I have to finish the Vegas story. I will. It might even include something about a hot pink gorilla
**Yes I need to post actual pictures of Brandons birthday party which might include a very phallic looking ear of corn.
***Yes I need to write about my recent trip to the lake where I discovered playing volleyball hurts like hell and I think I’m still bruised.