Nico turned 10 this year.
It’s so weird. I worry so much about him. I worry about him at 30- I worry that he’ll be depressed and aimless. I worry that nothing will bring him joy or happiness. I worry that he won’t like to do any job or basically have any thing that gets him out of bed every day.
I wonder if I’ll look back on moments during his childhood for proof. Like, “I knew this was going to happen! I worried so much about it! If only we had done __________ differently!”
Something I’m starting to realize as he gets older is that he is his own person. And that soon he’ll be making choices that will have a lot more impact than doing some things differently now.
He is his own person.
That’s weird, right? To think of him as a person separate and distinct from me. Just ten years ago, we were literally bound by flesh. We shared oxygen and blood.
Now he is his own person.
There are so many choices I won’t be able to make for him in the future. Maybe that is good. I mean, how awful would it be to make decisions under the burden of another person’s 40 years of fears, anxiety, and cynicism?
Because he is his own person.
So I’m trying to appreciate and enjoy him for the person he is becoming. It’s cool to see him changing- he is starting to care about how he looks, which is funny. He’s not too old to have idols (or be open about his admiration). He is fairly certain Javy Baez (Cubs’ SS) is the greatest athlete to ever play any sport- but recognizes that there are phenomenal athletes on other teams.
He’s starting to recognize how his actions impact the world around him. A couple of weeks ago, he put a can of soda on the counter so it’s bottom was partially hanging off (a nod to me always re-positioning things further back so he doesn’t knock them off). He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I’m giving mom anxiety right now.”
He is mastering the fine line between sass/humor and disrespect. Earlier this week, he asked me to homeschool him. It was a conversation during homework and Dave continued to be incredulous that Nico didn’t just memorize his times tables, because that is literally the easiest thing in the world to do. I told him, “Absolutely not! You don’t even know your times tables. And you’re in fifth grade! I learned mine in 3rd!” And he laughed, saying, “Easy nerd! I don’t care!” Which is such a funny thing to say.
We spent the week leading up to his birthday on vacation; seeing Cubs v. Brewers with his oldest cousin, aunts and uncles, we camped in Michigan, and went to the Wisconsin Dells for the first time. It was a good time.