Once I Was Seven Years Old

We were forced to slow down a bit last Monday due to a brief visit from a stomach bug and wicked bad allergies. Noah’s perfect attendance record for the year was shattered as he missed two days of school.  (Let the record show, I would have sent him if he didn’t thrown up an hour before he had to be at school.  I mean, who wants to be that kid – – you know, the one that pukes all over the rug at morning meeting.  Although, my always helpful and logical five year old assured me that Mr. Bob, the custodian, would have cleaned it up.  Noah’s in first grade.  He’d never live it down.)  I stayed home with him and while I worked he watched his choice of TV shows, built Legos without ever having to rebuild because of his younger siblings’ destructive tendencies, and did a craft suitable for children ages 6+.  He was loving being an “only child” for 8 hours and I would have to agree that he was perfect company for me as I pitter-pattered away nearby on my laptop.

After lunch, we turned our attention to a stack of library books I recently brought home. He was interested, but seemed too weak and asked if I would read to him.  Maybe it was all an act and he was taking advantage of being alone with me, but I jumped at the opportunity.  We snuggled in on the couch.  He laid his beloved penguin pillow on my lap and cuddled deep into the folds of his cozy orange and white chevron throw blanket.  He laced his fingers in between mine and I began reading.  Every so often I would pause and offer up an explanation of a word or phrase that I thought he might not be familiar with.  I soon noticed he was fast asleep.

Noah is not a cuddler and it has been a while since we last shared a sweet moment like this. With his seventh birthday looming, he is a busy boy moving swiftly through life.  I barely blinked out of fear that I would wake him.  I listened to his labored breathing.  Poor kid.  I looked down at him, squinting, struggling to see any glimpse of my first baby.  The baby who took his naps in my arms and on my chest for the first six months of his life.  There were few signs of a little Noah Matthew.

This couch. This comforter. This baby. My everything in the Summer of 2009.
This couch. This comforter. This baby. My everything in the Summer of 2009.

Noah now has a full head of dark, straight hair – not the bald dome he rocked until he was one.

Sorry, dude. Still nothing, but fuzz up there.
Sorry, dude. Still nothing, but fuzz up there.


He is rational and likes order which is why he can still be emotionally high maintenance, but thankfully he doesn’t cry nearly as much.

His shoe size rivals mine. I give him two years before we’re looking eye to eye with each other.

When Noah was the size of a shitzu-poodle.

Noah’s world has grown exponentially and naturally, I am no longer the center of it. I am working on accepting the fact that in the years to come this circumstance will only become more evident and while he’ll always need me it will never be as much as I need him.

All the heart-eye emojis!!
All the heart-eye emojis!!

He woke too soon and with a start. By Wednesday he was awake at 5:45 and pronounced that he was ready to head back to school.  It was a fleeting, but oh so sweet flashback to a time in my life when I had him all to myself.  It ended as abruptly as it had started.  I’m glad I was able to savor some down time just me and my big boy.

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