No, this is not a braggy “my kid is better than your kid” post. I just realized that I do a lot of complaining about the challenges of parenthood on this here blog, and it would be a nice change of pace to tell you all what makes Lucas such a dynamite little boy.
Adjusting to being a parent, even three-and-a-half years later, has been the transition of my life, but throughout those difficult times—the sleepless nights and the potty training and the whining and the refusing to listen—there have been moments when my son has just astounded me, just simply floored me. I never did the baby book thing—my memories of Lucas as a baby and toddler are encapsulated in random journals and photos. And I know it’s trite, but I wanted a space for those moments to have their moment on the Internet, too (even if it’s only for me to look back on one day and go, “Oh my God, Lucas, remember when you used to do that?” And for him to go, “MAAAAAAA. STOP!”)
I realize that this blog officially makes me an Overbearing Italian Mother™, but I’m here to tell you 10 reasons why I love my kid (in no particular order). And don’t you stop me, Smee, don’t you dare try to stop me.
1. His beautiful long lashes that close around his eyes like Venus fly traps.
2. His gravelly little laugh he’s had since he first started chuckling at the stupid things we do. (Apologies for the portrait-style filming. This was before I knew better.)
3. When he mixes up his sentence structure by saying things like “I want balloon red one” (I want the red balloon) or “I want something want” (I want something else).
4. His incredible compassion. Even at such a young age, if he sees a friend get hurt, he runs over to make sure he’s okay. And when my back is acting up, he comes over and in a soft voice says, “You got ow-y on your back, Mama? Awwww. It’s okay.” And I feel like I must be doing something right.
5. His complete obsession with the randomest of toys. Some kids like cars and trains. My child plays with fans and lights and rocks and marbles and plastic containers and yes, I said fans. Any kind will do: ceiling fan, portable fan, window fan…if it turns on and whirls, he’s set for days. Possibly years.
6. When he pops into the kitchen when I’m cooking and says, “What’re you doin’, Mama?” And when I tell him, he acts all excited (no matter what I say), and replies, “Oooooooooooh! That’s cool!”
7. The fact that he cheers for the Red Sox, even though they are TERRIBLE. Just awful.
8. When he sings along to 80s tunes and makes me get up and dance with him in the living room. Kid’s got moves. Also, pretty decent taste in music. (Except for Katy Perry. WHY, LUCAS, WHY?!)
9. He’s got this incredible natural athletic talent. Him and Alex kick the soccer ball back and forth, and he loves to play catch, and I swear to God, if my child ends up playing soccer or baseball in any capacity, I will be that crazy mom in the stands (Overbearing Italian Mother™!) no matter how hard I try to play it cool.
10. Shit, I’m already here at number 10. He gives me a reason to live and breathe every day, no matter what kind of day I’ve had, no matter what frustration or grief or pain I’ve experienced. It’s him. It was me for 30 years, but it’s been him for the last three-and-a-half, and for the rest of my life, it will always be him.
The Olive Gal
green of skin, black of heart
