Sunday, August 30, 2009

I Blinked And Now My Baby's 18!

Hard to believe that just 18 years ago, I popped out my first baby after three weeks of constant contractions. The doctors kept telling me they were just Braxton-Hicks contractions, but why don't they try three full weeks of Braxton-Hicks contractions every two to three minutes without a break? I'd finally hit my breaking point and go to the hospital, only to be sent home after an hour or so of observation. The last time they sent me home, I left in tears swearing that I wasn't going back, I'd just have my baby at home.

Well, long story short, I did eventually go back to the hospital and have Digger there. By the time I had him I was so sleep deprived that I lost track of time. It wasn't until I took him for his first well baby check that I realized I'd lost a day or two. In my mind, because of being so exhausted, his birthday was September 1, when in actuality it was August 30. It's amazing what happens when you are totally and completely spent. So after I wrapped my mind around losing an entire day, I accepted that maybe I'd been wrong about the day he was born. Obviously, since his birth certificate and hospital bills clearly stated his date of birth. Oops. What the heck kind of mom was I going to be when I couldn't get his birthday right immediately after his birth?

He was an amazingly patient first child; much older than his years when he was a baby. I look back at pictures of him and see a little man, not a little boy.

Some of my favorite Digger-isms (he was adamant about all of them):
  • Mustin' Bustin' as in, "I like Mustin' Bustin' 'cause the pretty girls kiss you when you fall off!"
  • Cowboy-girl: "I am a cowboy, Ash is a cowboy-girl!"
  • Mynastics: "I don't go to jim'snastics, I go to mynastics!"
  • "The Practice have prickers!" Yes, Devon, the catus have prickers, I mean stickers. (But prickers is an apt description, don't you think?)
  • Fighterfighter: "I'm going to grow up and be a fighterfighter." I guess firefighter was too difficult to say...
  • Drunk, drive, go to jail: That's what he thought the lyrics to "Jump, Jive, and Wail" were. Hey, makes a certain amount of sense.
  • "My butt burped!": One night we were at Grandma Mary's and Digger was standing in his pajamas in the living room when suddenly his eyes got big and he slapped both hands over his butt and exclaimed, "My butt burped!". He didn't have the word for fart, and when you think about it, a fart is actually a butt burp.
I've got a million favorite memories, after all, in eighteen years a lot of memories can be made. Some of my favorites:
  • We saw a kid in Campus West who had a mohawk arranged into easily 8" spikes, each spike dyed a different color and covered with a condom. Digger looked at the kid for a minute, then looked at me and said, earnestly, "His mom's gonna be pissed!" I almost couldn't chastise him for saying "pissed" because I was laughing so hard, and besides, I agreed with him.
  • Digger got his nickname from the girl's volleyball team when I was the head trainer at Rocky Mountain High School, because every time he fell, the girls would say, "Oh, dig-ger".
  • Digger's favorite movie for a long time was "8 Seconds" and he'd act out the Lane Frost death scene over and over, beginning with the ride, the fall, and being gored by the bull. Then he'd stagger to his knees and wave for help before falling to the ground, dead.
  • Dinour, his imaginary pet dinosaur, caused a lot of trouble at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Dinour made lots of messes at the dinner table, so many that Digger had to take Dinour by the hand and lead him outside before dinner. Dinour couldn't mind his manners so he had to stay outside.
  • One time, he fell down the steep, narrow stairs at Grandma and Grandpa's house and when Aunt Not A GunDiva went rushing over to see if he was ok, he put one hand up to stop her and said, "Don't... touch... me." Guess he'd spent too much time in the training room.
  • For his fifth birthday, he insisted that all of the males attending his party come in a tie. Not a suit and tie, but a tie. At that point in time, he wanted to be the president when he grew up. Glad he grew out of that little phase.
  • When he was just a short snort, he put those big ears of his to use. He'd pull up on the tips and hiss for his scary face - was actually pretty scary.
I can't believe my little man isn't so little anymore. It certainly hasn't been easy, but he's turned out okay. I know he's no angel, but he got through his childhood mostly intact. Now, if I can just get him well into adulthood unscathed. The scary thing is that he's just ten months younger than I was when I got married, and two years younger than I was when I had him. Hopefully, he'll make better choices than I did.
Love you Digger!


Deejo said...

Happy Birthday, Digger!

Allenspark Lodge said...

He got his imagination from you, though. You and your imaginary Coca-Cola bottle. You carried it everywhere - and never forgot where you set it down! Love you, too, Digger.
Grandma Red