Posts tagged as:

happy birthday

The best description of what it is like to be a parent is a comment left by suesue on Merrilymarylee’s Weblog:

Having a child was deciding to have your heart walking around outside your body forever

.

My oldest turned 12 this week.

12.

That is a full Zodiac Cycle. I am sure it means something.

I am lucky in the sense that I only have boys; boys mature much later both physically and emotionally than girls, as I was assured by many moms with preteen girls. Therefore we really have not hit the “preteen” stage until recently. Like, a month ago.

The heralding moment? Facebook. As in,

“Mom. Can I have a Facebook account? Why can’t I be on Facebook? EVERYBODY ELSE is on Facebook!”

.

You should be scared. Very very scared when your parents are on Facebook...

.

It took me one month to go through the entire grief cycle and I am finally calm and collected enough to talk about it without sobbing uncontrollably.

It all started when he came home one Friday afternoon when I happened to be working from home. He seemed a bit jumpy. Happy jumpy.

“Mom… Can I tell you something? Hmmm… Well… Something happened at school today… NO. Nothing bad… Hmmm. Uhhhh.”

“Would you like to IM me about it? Would it be easier for you to tell me?”

“Yes!” He ran to the family computer and Ping! <<Begin transmission>>

son: mom
so…
me: yup
what’s going on?
son: um
i didnt tell u b4 but
ive always kinda…
me: i am fat?
son: liked
[this girl]
and
me: ohhhhhh
sorry dude
son: 2day
she said she liked me 2
:)
me: awwww
son: happy
me: :-)
son: :)
yay
ok
bye <<end transmission>>

.

The :-) from me was a big fat lie. Acting skills came in handy in motherhood I learned. All through the exchange I was screaming inside my head. Headless chicken running around. WTF? He’s only in 6th grade! Elementary school. Why is he liking girls already?! Ohhh WOE IS ME! WTF?! Take a deep breath. Try to stay calm. You don’t want to make any wrong move. ’cause if you startle the snakes, you’ll never catch them again…

Thus began the Grief Cycle…

Denial: “No. Not him. Not my son. The 6th grader. Wasn’t he just a baby not too long ago? Aren’t 6th graders supposed to be safe from these things?!! I thought he hated girls. What happened to ‘Ewww. Girls’?! I thought I had to wait until Junior High for this? What’s happening?!”

Unfortunately, this phase lasted about 5 minutes since later when I signed his weekly school report, I saw:

“Dear Parental Unit…The best part is that the most beautiful girl in the scholl like me! Awesomeness!!”

Anger: “WTF? Why is this girl ruining my life?! Why is HE ruining my life?!”

My Facebook status read: “[Son] just said he wants a Facebook account. Then he showed me just HOW MANY of his classmates are on Facebook. 6th graders? With hundreds of friends? Already? Seriously? WT[beep]?! What happened to my baby?! I need to seriously get those evil women away from him…”

.

Ok. Maybe I won't be the worst mother-in-law in the world...

.

Soon the anger was channeled towards my husband who dared to laugh out loud when I informed him of the blossoming puppy love.

Unfortunately, this phase lasted for the longest time. I was mad in advance at the cruelty of my children, forsaking me for THAT OTHER WOMAN in the future. In my most irrational moments, I even called him SOB in my head as in ME being the Biatch. I said I was being irrational… Yeah, I know. I am going to be the worst mother-in-law in history. I can tell already from the boiling blood inside my skull…

Bargaining: “If I am a better mother, maybe he will not become wayward like this.” “I wonder whether supplying him with more video games will help divert his attention away from girls.”

The bargaining goes both ways – Facebook time & privilege has now become a major ACE in my card deck when bargaining with my oldest. I can also threaten him with, “I am going to write on your wall!” <cue evil laughter>

Depression: “Fine. He’s going to leave anyway. He’s going to grow up. My baby….”

This phase actually started from the beginning as I alternated between cursing and sobbing, especially when I went through his baby pictures.

Acceptance: “It’s going to be ok. I can deal with this. We can do this. I will survive without killing anybody.”

By talking to people about their “OMG my child is on Facebook” experiences, I learned that there are ways to tame this monster to your own parental advantages. After some trial and errors, Facebook turned out to be not as evil cradle robber as I expected. I can now spy check on my son and see who he is talking to, and what.

All in all, reflecting on this agonizing month, I am glad that I bit my tongue and played it cool. Yes, at the beginning there were a lot of dramas that provided record-high number of WTF moments in one sitting. 6th graders? Lamenting about love lost? Say what? Not to mention the “F” letter scattered throughout the conversations, most of the time unnecessarily. Do you seriously need to use LMFAO? The initial excitement over the “declaration” has apparently worn off.  My son’s Facebook status now consists mainly of game score updates. THAT’s my boy.

As I said to my husband, I feel better that my baby still prefers video games to girls. I don’t mind if my boys are geeks. I am sure that Bill Gates’ mom didn’t mind at all. Not one bit.


{ Comments on this entry are closed }

Every Thanksgiving since 2002, I know what to be thankful for…

I had deep vein thrombosis when I was five months pregnant with my youngest. I limped for two weeks without realizing that, Hey, it is more than a muscle strain since it is not getting any better after so many days. Oh, and look! Your left leg is swollen and purple and you cry when you move. Is that normal? Oh, by the way, you are pregnant. Perhaps you should go have a doctor check it out just in case? You dumbass!?!

When I did see my Obgyn for my regular monthly check-up, one look, and she sent me to the emergency room. When there, I was whisked away to the ICU and promptly had an umbrella filter inserted to prevent any clog from going into my lungs. X-ray was involved. Blood thinner medications. Lovenox shots. I cried every day.

“What an idiot?! Now I am endangering my baby by being such an idiot!” I could not have been more upset at myself.

We were so relieved and grateful when he was born. Perfectly healthy. A beautiful baby boy.

My Thanksgiving Baby

He is the child that keeps me on my toes.

He is the child that asked me, “Is it hard to take care of us?”

He is the child that sidled up to me while I was doing the dishes, patted my hand, and asked, “Did YOU yourself have any dinner yet?” while his father and older brother were wrestling on the floor.

He is the child that is sensitive enough to suggest, “Don’t call me Mr. Monk!”

He is the child that dances the interpretive dance while the Casio plays Canon in D.

He is the child that speaks with a British accent after watching too many episodes of Charlie and Lola and Kipper.

He is the child that wears a fedora and tips his head at the ladies.

He is the child that is already really worried about what he is going to be when he grows up.

He is the child with an old, old soul.

He is the child that says, “I am different. Deal with it!”

He is the child that makes me question myself all the time whether I am good enough as a person.

He is the child that makes me wonder whether all the love you could give is still not enough to love your children with.

4th birthday

He turned 7 today.

Happy Birthday, G.K.!

{ Comments on this entry are closed }