The G man was 6 last month. We still haven’t had a party. He is, after all, #4.
Some of you have been around these parts since before his arrival.
I could write all manner of things about him but at the moment I just want to remember this. Since he was born hated sleeping alone. Still does. But to fall sleep in my bed – or me in his – he had to have his feet resting on my thighs. As a baby this meant me curled up tight so his toes could reach and now, they have the slightest of bends.
I want to remember that.
My little man who tells me he’s lonely in his head or that his legs are bored when we’ve been walking for a long time or how earnest he is in all his endeavours and that his kindergarten teacher says he is a model classroom citizen – I just want to never forget how he loved having his feet rest on my thighs to go off to sleep.
I had a disagreement with Mum late last week. She was adamant Grover’s birthday was today. I was equally adamant it was tomorrow. I had to check his birth certificate. Yes, it does appear, he was born on the 2nd of July, not the third.
I do not find it hard to believe this happened five years ago, becoming a mother to four children broke me big time for quite some time. If you want to really see the cold hard reality of new motherhood just go read any number of the posts I wrote in July 2007, it’s not pretty. To be honest, it makes me sad. I remember Grover arriving and me basically not being able to enjoy him, relax, recover or draw breath until I had a breakdown in May 2008. And even then that was hardly the kind of drawing of breath I had needed or imagined. Reading those posts I see how stressed I was, how tenuous my sanity must have appeared (and was) and how it was directly reflected in him. Poor little mite.
But here he stands, tall, brash, hilarious, stubborn, independent and wild. We’ve got a whole lifetime ahead of us but for some reason I feel like I’m finally drawing that elusive breath.