When I started this blog ten years ago I had an almost-two-year-old and an almost-six-year-old. I worked very part-time as an interior design assistant and dreamed of opening a shabby chic style reclaimed craft supply store and writing books. We were struggling financially more than we ever had before (or hopefully ever will again,) and sleep was this elusive thing I heard about from other people.
Back in those days I had one kid still in diapers and another kid who wasn’t strong enough to pour his own milk yet. My greatest wishes included sleeping through the night with no extra visitors, getting to eat a meal all the way through, and never having to pour another sippy cup of juice.
Ten years ago to the day I wrote my very first Mother’s Day post, and it featured the picture above,on the left, of a sleeping almost-2 year old Miles. I was so very happy that he had fallen asleep before lunch because it meant that a) I wouldn’t have him trying to eat off my plate, and b) I would be able to finish my lunch all the way through.
This year for Mother’s Day, Miles, now almost 12 years old, recreated the scene for me as my gift. He is a little big bigger, but still just as sweet and mischievous as he was then. Of course now he lets me finish my lunch every day, and I am now the one that takes the naps…
In addition to letting me sleep through night, and eating all of my food in one sitting, the boys also do laundry, clean toilets, vacuum, unload and load the dishwasher, and use the riding lawn mower on a regular basis.
And they make me dinner.
Our current routine is that each boy makes dinner one night each week – usually Wylie takes’ Tuesdays and Miles takes Thursdays. Sometimes we help out with side dishes or basic questions like “is this chicken done?” but when it is their night, they are in charge. They choose the meal and cook the majority of the food, and they clean up.
While Miles has developed a love for all things culinary and loves to take risk and try new ideas, Wylie takes a more pragmatic approach. His objectives are to get everyone fed and cook something that is easy and that he likes.
And so, almost every Tuesday night, we have the following meal:
Frozen cheese tortilini and ravioli cooked just right, served with a mixture of red and white jar sauces, and a side of lima beans with butter and salt.
It isn’t fancy or gourmet, but you know what? I don’t have to cook it, or come up with it, or worry that anyone will turn their noses up at it.
We eat it from big bowls, sitting on the couch, watching old episodes of the West Wing together.
Everyone is happy, everyone is fed, and no one needs their diaper changed.
It is a blissful thing.
It is no secret that the little years were not my favorites. I adored my babies and my toddlers and my preschoolers, and there are days when I miss their little dimpled hands, their sweet lisps, and the way they fit into my arms, but while those days were sweet and precious, they were exhausting and at times mind numbing. The truth is that I am much more wired to be a mother of older kids than littles. I enjoy my pre-teen and teenagers so much more. I like who my boys are, and I enjoy their company so very much. (And it doesn’t hurt that they can make me dinner… )
Now, the question is what will I think of my adult children? And will he do this for me again in ten more years….?
Only time (and more blogging) will tell.
Much love friends,