First born, second born

A couple of weeks ago, I dropped Soccer Girl off at a friend’s house so she could take the bus to school from there while I went to the gym.  I casually asked the mom if we needed to walk the kids to the bus stop.  The mom was a little shocked that I asked the question, because, as she jokingly said,  “she’s your first born!  Of course you should be walking her to the bus!  My kid’s the third, so she’s lucky I don’t just leave her on the doorstep in the morning as I speed off to work.”

The other day, IT Boy started imitating me at the dinner table.  I was getting frustrated because he refused to eat, and to calm myself I decided to sit there silent.  I didn’t realize that my body language gave me away until Boy crossed his arms over his chest and frowned, just like I was doing.  We went back and forth in a little imitating game for a little while, and it was so much fun.  I practically put out a press release about the event, I was so excited. 

It often seems that I have the kids in reverse.  When SG was younger, people often remarked what a calm mom I was, and were surprised that she was my first born because I was so at ease with her.   When she would have a “first”, she had a first.  Good for her, but please people, she’s a kid, and that happens.  I would be proud of her, but I was NOT going to be one of THOSE PARENTS who go off the deep end and practically bronze their kid’s first diaper out of misguided love. 

Now, when Boy hits a first, it’s a much bigger deal, for many reasons, but namely because he has to work so hard to achieve them.  So I do get a bit more excited, but I sure as heck am not bronzing anything.  Maybe it’s also because I know he’s my last kid, and the firsts he hits are going to be my last first moments.  So I revel in them, and enjoy them, as any parent should.