A Decade of Days

Me and my little Nick and my friend Jo.

Ten years ago today, I gave birth to Nick at the hospital I can see today from my bedroom window. I was young and unaware of what was in store for me, he was small and beautiful and soft.

Right about at this time on that day, my visitors left and the room was quiet. I was there all alone with this tiny bundle in the bassinet beside my bed. I distinctly remember switching the lights down low and his tiny eyes flashing open only inches from my face. It scared the living daylights out of me.

We made it through that first night in a bumbling fumbling way. Every time he squawked at me I did my best to painfully sit upright and convince both of us that my breasts were actually some kind of food source.

Morning came eventually and I watched the world outside of my hospital room grow brighter. It was the dawn of my first day as a parent. Something deep and unseen in the world was altered from the day before. I stood at the window with this tiny little person held to my heart and it was the most beautiful moment I've ever lived in my life.

A Robert Duncan painting that I have in my livingroom which is like a reflection of that morning.

I've just now sent Nick off to bed, this shaggy-haired, big-eyed, lanky kid full of laughter and stories. I can't quite wrap my brain around superimposing that tiny delicate baby and this boy half way to adulthood. Where did they go, the days that spilled into years? How did my son grow into this boy bursting with ideas and dreams while I could swear that I still feel him nestled into my shoulder?

Nick in the ravine a couple of weeks ago.

This journey he's taken me on is beyond anything I ever could have imagined. He's taught me more about myself in ten years that I'd learned in the 20 years before I knew him. He's opened up a depth in my heart I never knew could exist and he's made me look at the world through the eyes of a mother. Nick came to me at a time in my life when I needed him as much as he needed me and I could never ask for a greater gift.

Happy birthday Nick! I love you so much and I can't wait to see what the next ten years bring you!

Coming and going

Life has, unsurprisingly, turned into a giant blur of newborn care: nursing, changing diapers, cleaning up spit-up, trying to scarf down half a sandwich before baby starts howling for yet more milk. I've been here twice before, but it's been 4 years since the last time and 5 years since the time before that and memories have a way of getting smoother around the edges as time marches on.

At the same time as I'm trudging through the trenches of bodily fluids, I'm watching a massive change take place in Nick. This winter, I started to see small bits of the pre-teen boy pushing their way through the little kid in him and all of a sudden over the past few weeks he's hit a new stride in his independence.

He's spent years (yes, years) trying to learn how to ride his two-wheeler. Actually, trying is not the right word. It was more avoiding and fighting and ranting about not being able to do it at the drop of a hat. And then suddenly last month something clicked and he got it. And he's been out there biking at all times of the day. In the yard, down the road, up and down bumps, around in circles while he stands on the frame. Yeah, he's my all or nothing kid.

And then the Green Shack programs started up for the summer. The city sets up small sheds in some of the local parks and fills them with craft supplies and sports equipment and a paid employee hangs out at the playground for something like 30 hours each week.

Green Shack program + Nick biking = a kid who is gone from the house every single hour that he can manage

He grabs a bag, puts in a water bottle and a hat and my phone, and he's gone. And he's loving it. There's a different glow about him, a different kind of inner peace and satisfaction that comes with taking on a new level of independence and thriving.

It's such a strange spot to be in, for me. I watch one child make a mighty leap forward while I start anew with another. I have moments of overwhelm with the tiny body that needs such constant care, and then I look at Nick and wonder how it is that the past almost 9 years have flown past.

Nick-o

And then there's Nick. My firey, sensitive, deep boy of extremes. If Nick is happy, the world has never been better. If he's upset, it's the worst day of the worst possible life and nothing will ever make it better. His anger is quick and violent and he contorts his face into the ugliest looks of horror. And then he is calm moments later, his surface as still as water and his mind churning all the time underneath.

When he's joyful, his laughter spills out of him and his eyes twinkle. He's got a keen sense of humor and he's witty beyond his years.


Nick is a boy of projects. He's either building or scheming or reading or planning. He's rarely physically still and even more rarely mentally quiet. Ideas and memories pop out of his mouth that have nothing to do with the moment, but everything to do with the deep currents in his mind. Our home is filled with evidence of his latest fascination, whether it's origami, Lego, books, or paper airplanes. He latches on to an idea and he works it over, re-creating the project over and over until he's examined it and recreated it in his own way.


Nick is truly something else to live with. He delights and exhausts me. He entertains and amazes me. He's like nobody I've ever met before and I'm fascinated by the person I get to watch unfold. He is truly a most precious gift in my life.