Birthday season is over. Anna is 11 (and will tell you so, if you catch her in the right mood), Thomas is 9, and Iain is 6. Thank goodness Lucy's birthday isn't until the spring. I am not ready for her to be 2.
The boys' birthday parties were on consecutive Fridays, and as different as they are. Iain and a dozen classmates ran around an indoor play place for an hour and had pizza. He hated being the centre of attention when it was time to sing and blow out candles. He turned away from the table, even, hiding his face, and refused to blow out the candles. Why? I asked him. He said, 'Because everyone will clap.' Iain is so easygoing and talkative at home and with friends that nobody would guess how shy he is. Thomas and Anna, with help from Iain's friend Alex, blew out the candles for him, and everyone did clap. But he survived, and wants to have a party when he's 7. I have explained to him, though, that 6 is hard enough to take: he can't possibly be
seven.
Thomas had a football (soccer) party--no big surprise there. He and about ten friends from school (and one from his football team) played hard for more than an hour before gathering for a bit of mayhem around a big supper table. One of his friends had an MP3 player with a portable speaker and got them all moving to the song from Madagascar (I like to move it...). Noisy, chaotic, and fun for all around the table. It was great to see Thomas enjoying himself so much. He had a really good birthday, and I am pleased.
Among Thomas's gifts were a couple of £10 notes and gift cards, and he calculated his birthday wealth at £50. I asked him how much he was going to give away. At first he looked at me like I was crazy (fair enough, I guess). But we talked about it, about charitable giving, and he thought for a moment. 'Maximum £8,' he said. That seemed like a lot to me--more than the 5-10% that I had in mind--and I said so. But he had decided, and didn't back down. He followed through, too, starting with £2 in the collection at church. I am amazed at him. He has a generous heart. I wonder what he'll be like when he's older, with his sensitive soul: this is a boy who cannot bear to hear of the suffering of others. He feels it so deeply.
Anna has grown, and grown up, an amazing amount. Today she looked at a picture in the Sunday newspaper, one I had noticed out of the corner of my eye. 'Mario,' she said, not perfectly distinctly, but clearly enough. Yes, that's who it was--as soon as she said it, I knew that was why the figure was familiar. How does she know that's Mario? I wondered. We don't have any video games here. She must have picked it up at school.
They know all sorts of things now, things I haven't taught them. And Thomas knows all sorts of things I don't even know. Mostly these are about football. But he is extending his knowledge of geography and is learning French at school; he's learning German from a friend. Iain knows all sorts of things about tanks, most of which Lewis has taught him. So far he hasn't outstripped me, but I can see that day coming.
I love it that they're growing up, and I hate it that they're growing up. This parenting thing is exhausting, frustrating, heartbreaking sometimes; but it is also filled with joy and amazement. I just hope that I will learn to ignore the socks on the floor and appreciate Lucy's little feet, Iain's delightful smile, Thomas's sensitive thoughtfulness, and Anna's enjoyment of the small things. I always wanted this, and now I have it: my four little dreams come true.
Nobody could have convinced me that parenting was such hard work. I would never have believed it. But if the work is harder than I thought, so also is the love deeper and the joy greater than I ever could have imagined.
Happy birthday, Anna, Thomas and Iain.
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