The Good Old Days… October 27, 2010

Joshua now- almost 7!

Joshua- 1 year old

Last night, in a quest to find a presentable photo of just my husband and I (I had to go back 5 years in the photo archives), I stumbled across photos of my children when they were just 1 and 4. Their tiny, chubby faces were so innocent and full of wonder, and their body language reminded me how dependent they were on me at that age. I found myself lingering on each photo, marvelling at how tiny their toes were, how soft their hair, how sweet their faces. 

Now my children’s faces are slimmer, more angled, their toes are big and often very stinky and dirty, and their hair is sweaty and thick.  Their faces are still sweet, as children’s faces will always be to their mothers, but as they grow older, I find myself dealing with more and more issues that make them seem less and less innocent. 

For example, when we got home after school today, Joshua cheerily announced that today he was going to try to read his homework from his communication book all by himself.  Great!  I thought to myself, he’s making an effort to be more independent.  He read each assignment off, I checked each one, then asked for his communication book to sign.  He then started to complain about why I had to sign his book (I sign it EVERY night).  I soon found out why… in his book was written a long list of offenses committed by my son today at school.  So not only did he disobey his teacher and hurt some classmates, he also  tried to pull the wool over my eyes with his little “I’ll read my homework by myself” scheme, which I totally bought. 

After a lecture and explanation of consequences from me, and a lot of screaming and pouting from him, I sent him  off to bed and I went off to my room to cool down.  In situations like that, it is so hard to remember the sweet, innocent spirit that lives somewhere inside that child still, even when he is screaming “I HATE SCHOOL!  I HATE MY LIFE!!”

And that’s the time to break out the old photos.  Even after a stressful and frustrating day like today, those photos are cute enough to make me contemplate having a third child… and to make me remember how dependent on me my children still are on me, just in a different way.  They may not need me to spoon feed them or change their diapers, but they still need me to show them the right way… to help them become good, loving human beings.  The way to do that is not always so clear, but I think it will always be easier with that memory of him as an innocent baby in my mind. 

I went to his room to check on him, pulled the covers over him, kissed his sweet face (children alway look sweet when they are sleeping), and returned to my room bearing tender thoughts of my youngest boy.  Tomorrow his almost-7 -year-old attitude may rear it’s ugly head again, but for tonight at least, I have my baby back.   And that will make tomorrow so much easier to tolerate.

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