Happy Birthday Devlin

It hit me today, that ten years ago, I was labouring in a small hospital room, while my birthing coaches (soon-to-be Daddy and soon-to-be Auntie Grace) were watching a soccer game (Euro Cup). Not much has changed - Daddy watched a soccer game or two today (World Cup) and I'm still labouring, although in different ways and in different settings.
But it's been ten years, ten loooong years, since:
- I've had a decent night's sleep (starting with that ridonculously looong labour that lasted some 36 hours)
- I've put my needs before those of a small child's
- I've driven a vehicle without car seats
- I've had a bath alone,without some small child jumping in
- I've carried a purse without extra soothers, crayons, crackers and other kid friendly items
- I've been able to leave the house without checking for spit up on my clothes, saliva on legs, and random boogers here and there
- I've been able to leave with house without a child crying
- I've been able to sleep in
- I've been able to enjoy a really good cup of coffee from my favorite mug (not a travel mug) while reading the newspaper without interruption or having to re-heat the coffee some 6-7 times
- I've been able to just read a book from start to finish, in one afternoon, that didn't involve colourful pictures or rhyming or inane conversations between talking coloured bears or ponies
- that poop and pee has been part of our daily conversations
- I've been able to walk across the floor in a dark room without stepping on some godforsaken piece of lego or twist an ankle on a hot wheels car
- I've drank an entire bottle of wine in an evening (after all, one has to reasonably be sober in case there's an emergency in the middle of the night)
- a bulging diaper bag has become a fashion accessory for me
- I've come to the scary realization that some helpless thing not depended on my for sustenance and survival.

I can't believe my first-born child is ten years old. He still sleeps with his blankie, and asks for help with every minor task. He's not into girls (thank gawd) and believes in the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus. He gets excited over spaghetti dinners, and shrieks his delight if there's pie for dessert. He dreams of playing for the NHL but has also expressed an interest in becoming an engineer in case hockey doesn't work out. He's into Star Wars and asked me what a telegraph was the other day. (That really made me feel ancient.) He's a pretty good kid, despite the talking back, and dramatic overacting when he gets frustrated. He may have a career as a soccer player. And just like ten years ago, he still loves to cuddle with Mommy.

It's been ten years since my life changed irrevocably, immensely and indelibly. At many times during the day, hearing "Mommy" makes me cringe or wince, or reach for the nearest intoxicating beverage. But mostly, hearing a little monkey cry "Mommy" also makes my heart beat a little faster, and melt a little more.

Happy Birthday Devlin, and thank you for the past ten years of enrichening my life and filling it with an indescribable joy. From the moment you were placed in my arms, you've brought tears of joy and frustration, chaos and laughter, moments of pride and sheer desperation into our lives.
And I'm sure there's many more years of surprises, fears, new experiences and love to come.