A Letter to my Grown Sons: Second Edition
Two years ago, I wrote a letter to my future adult sons. I did this because I know, someday when I become a grandmother, my “mom-nesia” will kick in and I’ll forget how hard, while also wonderful, funny, and precious, these years are. As I said back in February of 2012 when I wrote the first one, “These will tell the real story of what they were like as babies, toddlers, kids, and teens. These letters will, hopefully, explain some of the behaviors they see in their own children, and temper my nostalgia.” Here’s the latest version!
Dear Nate and Josh,
What everyone says is true: in parenthood, the days are long, but the years are indeed short. Two years have already passed since my first letter to my future adult sons. Nate, you are now five, and Josh, you are two, about to turn three this spring. Where have the past two years gone? If you’re reading this as parents yourselves, know that while the hours of 4pm-8pm each day feel like an eternity, you will one day wake up and years will have passed.
But anyway, if you’re reading this, you’re probably parents yourselves, and the last thing you’re looking for is for me to say “enjoy this time, boys!” as I shake my cane at you. You want to know what you were really like at 5 and nearly 3 years old, the parts of those years I’ve forgotten.
The sibling rivalry I spoke of in 2012? It is still here. Your Uncle and I fought a lot as kids, but my mom, your Gram, only remembers about one quarter of it. I pray to whatever being watches over our planet that I only remember one quarter of your fighting. Nate, you frequently call your little brother a “cheese weasel.” Today, I suggested we make a piñata for Josh’s birthday (five-year-old Nate loves making balloon piñatas), and you said (direct quote), “That salty sea pup doesn’t deserve a piñata!” Josh, you hold your own in these scuffles, and have no fear of charging your brother head-on, though he is twice your size. You often win, inexplicably. Fighting aside, however, in the past three months, you guys have finally started really playing together sometimes, and this has been fantastic.
Nate, you are now old enough that you are making plans for your future adulthood. This has been hilarious. I hope some of your dreams come true. I say some because the latest iteration of your master-plan is that you will marry a princess, build a log cabin behind your father’s and my house, own 52 cats, never have kids, and start your own house restoration business. Josh, your future plans include marrying Princess Jasmine, having “so many babies”, living with me forever (I guess with Jasmine and all the babies also? We haven’t hashed out the details yet…) and being a firefighter “to save all the people.”
Dad and I are still wondering when we can finally have nice things in our home again. At this point, I’m leaning toward when you head off to college. However, it’s now occurring to me that we’ll probably be helping you with tuition then and unable to afford nice things. Dear God, I hope you’re not still sitting on our ancient Ikea couch with the washable slipcover as you read this. Kids are messy. You’re both very helpful with the cleaning (and you better still be, future grown-up sons!) and you are careful and generally well-behaved, but the messes seem to get bigger as you guys get bigger.
Anyway, if you’re reading this and have kids of your own, don’t panic. I’m probably sitting there telling you about what wonderful angels you were when you were little, and you’re perhaps wondering why, if this is true, your kids are currently karate-kicking each other to the ground whilst spilling their juice. Don’t blame their mothers is all I’m saying about that 😉 Well, I guess I’ll let my future self get back to waxing nostalgic about your perfect childhood where you were the best of friends and never had any time-outs. Enjoy those kids of yours– because this time really does fly!