“Aren’t you going to write one about me?!” he asks as he sits next to me reading every word I type. This is Mr. D! Inquisitive, attentive to detail, and an endless stream of chatter can be heard whenever he is home. Let’s try to start this from the beginning. I was perfectly content with Ms. G and the thought of having another child did not cross my mind very much. My husband suggested the idea in order to give Ms. G a playmate. Truthfully, I was fearful of the prospect knowing full well lightening doesn’t often strike twice. Ms. G was a dream, but how about the next child? Would their personality fit into our trio? I don’t think I finished that thought before I discovered I was pregnant again for the second time.
Mr. D came into this world on October 9th, 2012. A full and perfectly round milk-white face with a hint of thin red-ish straight hair flawlessly placed on his head. He gave me no trouble at all as a baby. He ate, slept, and cried the appropriate amount (after a colic first child, he seemed to me to be a perfect baby). The jump from one to two children is life altering. Many tell me after the second you can just keep going as they tend to entertain each other afterwards. I have NO intention of finding out whether this is true or not. Mr. D would be my last child. Knowing this I truly pushed myself to enjoy every waking moment with him, from feeding to diaper changes and bath time, I relished in the little things. I think I was more confident and relaxed in my role as mom so the task of caring for him as a baby seemed less daunting.
Although, he quickly realized I was not the star of the show, Ms. G was! He was enamoured with Ms. G from as soon as he could recognize faces. Ms. G’s first word was ‘Mama’, but Mr. D’s first word was ‘Bah’ a nickname reserved for only Ms. G. I felt like the feeding and changing machine only. Truthfully, I felt like the older sister and not his mother when he was a baby. He was quite independent from me from the very start. He spit out his pacifier one day at around 10 months old, never to be returned into his mouth again. Around the same time, he ripped that bottle full of milk out of my hand, communicating his will to hold it on his own (I never held his bottle again). His personality was becoming quite evident. This one was independent!
Today, Mr. D’s personality is a cross between Denis the Menace (a character from a movie by the same title from the early 90’s) and Alex P. Keaton (A character from Family Ties, a sitcom from the 80’s, NOW I’m dating myself). His curiosity to press every button and everyone’s buttons often gets him in deep water at home. Although his wit and humour, and devilishly gorgeous green eyes, can often win me over (but I usually keep a strict poker face when laying down the law). He’s quite handsome with his now light brown pin straight hair, but don’t you dare call him cute because he hates it when girls at school say that about him. Ms. G did not care for designer cloths, or even cloths that matched! (but she loved her frilly dresses). However, Mr. D from a young age showed an affinity for the finer things in life. Mr. D never fought me whenever the occasion called for a suit jacket or even a collared shirt, actually I think it made him hold his head up a little higher. He even started wearing glasses soon after he turned 7 which were the icing on the cake—he really does look so cute in them! (shhh don’t tell him I used that word). Mr. D enjoys listening to us ‘talk politics’ in the house and never hesitates to express every, single, minutia, detailed, thought…(insert eye roll here). Mr. D’s nickname is “l’avvocato” which means lawyer in Italian. He always has the last word. A lawyer, an engineer, or a politician, those are my official guesses of what he will become as an adult. No pressure at all on my end, he just has the personality to be successful in either one of those careers.
Mr. D has a big heart which he reserves for only a selected few (thankfully I’m one of them). He loves cuddling up with me every evening and still enjoys being coddled…as long as no one is watching. His pride and confidence is admirable at his age, which I secretly wish I possessed. His discrete kisses and rare belly laughs I will miss as he comes of age. His goodnight whispers and tiny kisses for Luna each night reminds me of his fragility, after his endless questions and displays of bravado throughout the day. I always say I never had a baby boy in the house, I’ve always had a little man. I’ve spent less time teaching him to read and write (which he excels at), and more time teaching him some humility after kicking someone’s ass in Monopoly or chess, or maneuvering his way around a player on the soccer field (if not me who will?!).
Honestly, I think he came into my life to be my teacher instead…
Thoughts At F___ It Forties 