Twelve years ago today, at 2:04 a.m., a little after Tim had returned to the hospital because we'd forgotten the camera (yes, we were those parents), Aaron came into the world. I didn't have the easiest labor: it could have been uneventful (and for the most part, it was), but since the girls were born by scheduled c-section, I knew not what labor entailed. Despite my best efforts to experience a natural childbirth, I feared the pain, and thus, it wasn't until after an epidural was put into place that I allowed myself to truly relax, which in turn helped bring Little Red from the darkness into the light (or from the warmth into the cold, whichever you prefer). I marveled then at the tiny life nestled in my arms, and here we are, a dozen years later, and I'm still marveling at the tween life nestled in my arms.
And just like every other year since he's been born, I'm forced to realize that the days pass by so quickly. I have to ask myself, am I gleaning as much as I can with this child who, in just about six more years, will fly this coop?
I can't answer that question. Life is so busy these days, that moments spent with just Aaron are few and far between. In truth, I find myself appreciating the time when the girls are gone, Melina is in bed, and Aaron and I can have some bonding moments. I also find myself saying, "Time to head to bed now. But come on in and snuggle with me if you want." As of right now, he wants to. I'll give him a year at most, and I'm sure that behavior will dissipate.
But knowing Aaron, he wouldn't want me to wax poetic on the day of his birth. He doesn't want to hear about fond memories of when he was little and cute and quieter. He'd rather hear about math and patterns and Minecraft and John Cena. So in an effort to appease the little man, I've decided that I'd dedicate this post to the number 12 and all that I can find out about it.
So here we go...
According to Wikipedia, 12 is "the product of the first three
factorials...a superior highly composite number, divisible by 2, 3, 4,
and 6. It is central to many systems of counting, including the Western
calendar and units of time, and frequently appears in the Abrahamic
Well aside from that last bit--I'm not sure
Aaron is so into religion, but he humors me--12 seems to be right up
We have all the things I could come up with myself:
1. We have 12 inches in a foot.
2. We have 12 months in a year.
3. We have 12 items in a dozen.
4. Up until this year, we had 12 signs in the Zodiac.
5. The human body has 12 pairs of ribs.
6. There are 12 days of Christmas.
And since 6 is 1/2 of 12, I'll leave my list a little on the short side, which is appropriate because Aaron is, in a word, short. (Plus I don't have any time to look up how special the number 12 is in Minecraft or to John Cena.)
And so I'm back to my son, the kid who makes me a better mother, a better thinker, a better educator, a better all around person, without even knowing it. I hope this 12th year of his is one of the best, full of love, learning, soccer goals, and personal growth. I hope I continue to stand back and marvel at this third child of mine; I hope I'm astonished by what he can do, what he tells me, and what he hopes to do. And I hope that over the next year, I'm still teaching him as much as he's teaching me.
Happy Birthday, Aaron!
(Note: I'm still not back to blogging regularly, but since NaNoWriMo starts today, I'm going to do what I did last year and post my progress so that any of you who care can see how I'm doing. Stay tuned for updates on my new novel, Just Be.)