In just a few short days, August 14th to be exact, the Thacker Reservation will be celebrating the sixteenth anniversary of crumb snatcher Sweet Pea’s arrival into this world. It seems like only yesterday I was enduring the nine months of heartburn, nausea, backaches, and headaches that came from carrying Sweet Pea in utero. I’ve always said if she had been my first, she would have been my last.
I’d love to be one of those mothers that can look at their children and say, “But it was all worth it sweetie.” I’d love to, but then what would I have to hold over their heads when I’m trying to guilt them into accepting my particular point of view? It’s especially hard when talking about the birth of Sweet Pea. I endured sixteen hours (how ironic) of labor with no pain medication because my stupid baby delivery doctor told me “you don’t look like you’re in labor”, sent me home, and told me not to come back until the labor pains created sweat on my lip! They never did, but I’m pretty sure I saw a drop or two of sweat on his brow when I screamed at him in the labor and delivery room, “Do I look like I’m in labor now @$$hole?” That was a few moments after my sister and husband forced me upstairs at the hospital because they were afraid they would have to deliver the baby in the lobby.
I’ll never forget the moment they placed Sweet Pea, screaming at the top of her tiny lungs, into my outstretched arms. I looked down at my brand new baby daughter and thought, “Awwww…..I’ll love you anyway.” Ok, so you have figured out that Mama Bread Baker isn’t always the most sensitive of mothers. But seriously folks, she wasn’t the prettiest baby birthed in that hospital. She had big round blue eyes taking up half her face, not a stitch of hair on her pointy little head, and cheeks so puffy that the nurses checked three times to make sure she wasn’t storing anything in there. I’m not kidding. Just ask her brother, The Eldest crumb snatcher. He used to stand over her bassinet pursing his lips and blowing his cheeks out as far as he could just to make fun of his new little sister.
Fortunately, especially for her, within the first two years she grew into her cheeks, her eyes became proportionate with her face, and she finally had enough hair on her head to pull into a small, but obvious, ponytail complete with a bow to indicate yes, she is indeed a girl! And now, sixteen years later, she has enough hair to cost Chief Money Maker a small fortune every few months to touch up her highlights. She has indeed blossomed into a beautiful young lady and I’m having a little trouble accepting that my baby girl is growing up. Sweet Pea has noticed this also.
It’s that favorite time of year when every stay at home mother celebrates by running naked through the house at seven a.m. with a glass of wine in her hand screaming, “They’re back in school, they’re back in school!” Or is that just me? Anyway, Sweet Pea and I went school shopping last week and she wouldn’t let me buy her a cute little lunch box. They had Hello Kitty lunchboxes, Fairy Princess lunchboxes, and my personal favorite, the Disney Princess “Handbag Style” lunchbox tote. Check it out on lunchboxes.com. (I don’t get a commission but it’s the easiest way for me to reference the usage in my blog so I don’t incur any copyright violations.) I told her she was going to miss having her lunches packed with my special notes and her heart shaped peanut butter jelly sandwiches. She just rolled her eyes and said something like, “Mom, can we stop at Claire’s and get my ears double pierced and my cartilage pierced?”
It’s apparently not just Sweet Pea that is growing up. I also tried to buy lunchboxes for the other two crumb snatchers heading back to school, and I thought I had the youngest crumb snatcher on board with my promise of homemade chocolate chip cookies, until his stupid meddling brother said, “Dude, do you really wanna be beat up every day?” When did seventh graders stop carrying lunchboxes?
I also received some flak from The Eldest crumb snatcher when I helped him get ready for sleep away camp this summer. Being the dutiful mother that I am, we went through his list twice to make sure he had everything he needed. I reminded him that he might get homesick, but it would only be a week, and he would be home before he realized it. I promised to write him every day. He also rolled his eyes and said something like, “First of all, Mom, I’m a COUNSELOR not a camper! Second of all, you don’t have to write me, you can text.”
Ok, ok, I get it. They are growing up and I just have to accept it. But no one said I have to like it. So I guess this means that I should take the Sponge Bob Square Pants themed party paraphernalia back to Party City, huh? Happy Sweet Sixteen Sweet Pea. Mama loves you. Really.
© 2011 CThacker