Monday, March 30, 2009

Saturday Night's Alright (For Fighting)

Saturday night, the family was invited, en masse, for dinner at a friend's house. They have three boys, ranging in age from 2.5 to nearly 9. Daughter was so far outnumbered it was pitiful. She had brought prizes and nomination sheets for the Kids' Choice Awards, but the boys could hardly stop roughhousing long enough to glance at the screen. Ultimately, she had her own KCA party in the playroom, screeching from time to time her now-signature "OMG!! OMG!!" whenever her choice won.

The boys were working up a sweat, burying Eldest under cushions, hitting him with pillows, and heaving themselves onto him. It was a vast change from what normally happens. Eldest isn't used to being the oldest in these situations. He's used to being one of the heavers not the heavee. I picture him with Che-Che's former boyfriend and with her current husband. I see him with his cousins from Manchester. I see him with another cousin's husband.

I won't see those images in real time again. To see him throwing himself at these teen boys and young men, I will have to dredge up memories. Or look at Youngest and imagine he is Eldest from years ago.

As is my reaction to all life stage changes, I'm saddened to realize Eldest won't be the young lad showing off anymore. Seeing how happy it made him Saturday night, though, to be the one idolized tempers the sadness. Time marches on as evidenced by the changing of the guard.


Janet said...

We had a similar experience with the Mountain Man's nephews. 10 years ago, they were flinging themselves bodily at him with great glee. Now, our son is the one barreling toward them at the speed of light. And as you say, they enjoy being the center of a small one's universe.

Tricia said...

I'm trying so hard to embrace these changing of the guard moments, but I struggle as we close doors and open new ones.

gudnuff said...

Your timeliness is spooky, Patois. I spent this weekend almost suffocated by the sense of loss as my darling Q morphs from sweet young child more toward tween, rounding the corner on full-blown teen after that. Without any warning, I felt the words, "I'm going to miss you" reverberate within me as we snuggled on the couch. And later that day, as she was sneering at me about something, I said to her, "Well, hello Teenage Q! How long will you be visiting us today, Teenage Q?" and the sneer melted and the 8-year-old returned and walked over to hug me and climb onto my lap again. But she's pretty much gone, that sweet 8-year-old, and I know it. It's nice to have a place and people to talk to about it. Thanks for posting this.

D... said...

It is hard for a mom to adjust. I'm well aware it's going to be even harder when it's my baby.

BTW, we had lots of squeals on Saturday also. Lots of choices won! Yes, by my 14 year old. ;)


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