Family Gatherings

Ahhhhhhh, the joys of family gatherings. Good times sitting around talking about the good ‘ole days, laughing as we recall all of our favorite memories. The warm feeling of the bond that is shared between us all running deep through the room as we sip our drinks and devour the massive quantities of food that always seem to be present at family events. These times are precious and we all seem to acknowledge that silently as we go back for another plate or another glass of wine, listening to the trail of laughter as we leave the room.

And then something happens. We start talking about Cub. Specifically about what he is eating and I go from happiness to dread because I know what’s coming next. You see, my family is from Europe (in fact, my sister and I are the first generation actually born in the States) and we all know everything is done differently in Europe…especially 30-50 years ago when my mom and dad, aunts and uncles and grandmother were raising their kids.

I get asked what I am feeding him. When I tell them, they giggle and start down the path. Down the path of what their kids were eating by Cub’s age. My mother is the biggest culprit. She watches Cub 3 days a week and while I know he is in wonderful hands, I know she can’t wait to give him more food than I am ready for him to eat.

“I want to give him an orange or cheerios…and I have!!”, she proclaims. I just sigh and look at my aunt, whom I know is on my side. John and I have decided to follow our pediatrician’s recommendations on feeding and let’s just say that oranges and cheerios are not on the list quite yet. But what are ya gonna do? The kid isn’t gonna die if he sucks on an orange or gums a cheerio to death but I think the part that she doesn’t understand is I want to be the one to introduce these foods. I want to be able to see the reaction of joy or disgust on his face as we give him something new. I want to make sure he isn’t reacting negatively to the food. Basically, I just want some control. Sadness envelops me because I feel like I am already missing so much having to work out of the house full time and I always thought I’d at least have control over his eating. I am quickly learning that I really don’t have any control when other people are with my son longer during the day than I am. And I am working on giving it up and learning to enjoy the time I do have and the things I do get to see. And just because it may not be his first time eating that cheerio, the time will come where it will be the first time he eats that cheerio with me and I will choose to not be sad. I will choose to be proud that Cub is developing enough to eat that cheerio or suck on that orange.

Or crawl for the first time. Or take that first step. Or complete his first sentence. And y’all, that is what this all comes down to. I cringe at all these firsts that I know I am going to miss and while eating his first cheerio isn’t really that big of a deal, I know it’s leading to bigger and better firsts in the very near future. My kiddo is growing up and every day, it gets harder and harder to leave him. As I kiss his little head goodbye in the morning, I wonder what he is going to do today that will be new? What’s going to crack him up and give him a giggle fit today as he notices something that maybe he didn’t yesterday? It makes my heart physically hurt. Yet, at the same time, it bursts with pride knowing he is developing as he should be.

And then I am pulled back to laughter as I hear my grandma talk about how she used to mix my uncle’s bottle with half milk and half coffee. “How old was he, grandma??”, someone yells. “Ooooh, I don’t know, maybe 6 or 7 months,” she retorts. Oh boy. At least we’re one step ahead of the game. Cubbie hasn’t had his first cup of coffee yet…or maybe he has. Who really knows at this point!