Patrick is 15 today. I remember the day he was born very clearly still. I was due on the 3rd January and spent Christmas looking like Babapapa. On the 4th the labour pains started and 24 hours later on the 5th Patrick was born by Caesarian section. It was a difficult and prolonged labour and I was exhausted but full of joy at bringing into the world such a beautiful baby boy. From day one he was a sweet natured, pearly, contented baby and he continued to be such and still is.
But at 15 he is also that hormonally deranged creature a teenager. So sometimes my lovely boy disappears and in his place is a grumpy, challenging slug who only a mother could love. And she does because I always know that this is just a phase, as hard as it is, that the boy I love so dearly and who is so special and precious to me is under there and will dispense with the slug. Today he kicked a hole in the wall and incurred my wrath (slug territory) but he also talked to me about Macbeth and enjoyed sledging down the hill in the snow. He is a conundrum but there seem to be lots around like him.
So we got together this evening and enjoyed a cake Flora and Mum made in the image of the moon on The Mighty Boosh. Patrick lit the candles (astonishingly the first time ever he had struck a match) and then in a moment of macho display put them out with his hand. I felt this said everything about boys of his age - the playfulness but the need to show that they are manly and tough. The challenge for me as a mother, particularly as a mother without a man in the house to help me bring up a boy, is to support and guide him so that these two sides to his character are melded in a way that will make him a good man who can love properly, live well, make the most his abilities and overall be a happy and contented person. As we lit the candles these were my wishes for my darling son.
But at 15 he is also that hormonally deranged creature a teenager. So sometimes my lovely boy disappears and in his place is a grumpy, challenging slug who only a mother could love. And she does because I always know that this is just a phase, as hard as it is, that the boy I love so dearly and who is so special and precious to me is under there and will dispense with the slug. Today he kicked a hole in the wall and incurred my wrath (slug territory) but he also talked to me about Macbeth and enjoyed sledging down the hill in the snow. He is a conundrum but there seem to be lots around like him.
So we got together this evening and enjoyed a cake Flora and Mum made in the image of the moon on The Mighty Boosh. Patrick lit the candles (astonishingly the first time ever he had struck a match) and then in a moment of macho display put them out with his hand. I felt this said everything about boys of his age - the playfulness but the need to show that they are manly and tough. The challenge for me as a mother, particularly as a mother without a man in the house to help me bring up a boy, is to support and guide him so that these two sides to his character are melded in a way that will make him a good man who can love properly, live well, make the most his abilities and overall be a happy and contented person. As we lit the candles these were my wishes for my darling son.
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