sEntiMENTAL BrEAKdOWn

I have been on a knitting hiatus.  That is my own.  Still busy though, with my teaching endeavours, and spreading the gospel of knitting and crochet techniques to those in need.  I myself, have been busy with end of year crap.  End of year school picnics, end of year recitals, birthdays, graduations, award ceremonies.  It has been never ending.  But now that things have been winding down, and I have been catching my breath, my mood has shifted from breathless anticipation, to down right melancholia.  If someone would have told me 10 years ago, that I would be this weepy, sentimental mess of a creature that I have morphed into, I would have enjoyed hours, upon hours of uproarious laughter.  But here I am.  Weepy, and longing for the good old days.  The trigger was my nephew's graduation from 8th grade, which took place this past Friday.  It didn't dawn on me, during the course of my preparation of finding something to wear other than my Elmo sweatshirt, that this occasion would have such an emotional impact.  During the ceremony, I was busy, running around, catching every second on camera, to preserve that moment in time forever, while keeping a close eye on my six year old, as we waded through the mob scene.  But after it was over, and we were leaving, I realized, Holy Shit, he is not a little boy any more.

It all began began November 17, 1996 with his birth.  I was the first to see him as he made his grand entrance into the world.  Our close proximity gave me access to love him to itty bitty pieces, and if you will, hone my mothering skills, of which I had zero.  My sister completing her medical degree could rest assured that my beloved nephew was nurtured and cared for in the most profound way.  In short, he and I got to spend a lot of quality time together.  And so, I would be the lucky recipient of his company, much less his little drawings, hand made cards, and school pictures.  I still remember with vivid clarity his first little show with his nursery class, where they all sang (mind you he didn't sing) Baby Beluga.  I still remember getting all teary eyed looking at the little 3 year old looking out at the audience as if to say "WTF"?  And till this day, his Uncle, my husband will remind him that he still owes him a clear rendition of that song (Baby Beluga).  I remember taking him to see Monsters Inc, and A Good Boy, which by the way had me blubbering and nauseated as I was pregnant with my daughter and already a hormonal disaster.  I recall telling him about the birth of his little cousin and his reaction of disappointment that it wasn't a boy.  Living close by, made for lots of sleepovers at my house, being awaken at some ungodly hour of the morning to do an art project he received as a gift, and after having "snoozed" him for an hour, finally getting out of my bed to help make and paint candle holders.  And the holidays too took on special meaning.  From the time he was 4 years old, it was just understood, that he would stay with us to help in the preparation with the Thanksgiving meal.  I remembering him once becoming emotional that this cute little turkey was dinner.  We would look for excuses to cook and bake together, once making from scratch, cupcakes, including the frosting, for his Kindergarten class for his 5th birthday.  And Christmas' past, my sister would bring the gifts to my house to wrap, and hide, and like Santa, I would sneak in after he was asleep to put them under the tree.  I wistfully remember that anytime he would hear me on the other side of the door, that door would swing open, and it was clear he was excitedly awaiting my arrival.  But kids get older, and they and things change.

Now when he thinks he hears me on the other side of the door - he doesn't move.  And when I appear, he looks at me as if to say "Can I help you?"  And for my birthday, when I used to get hand made cards, or that birthstone ring he made his Mom buy for me (that I of course still have), I now get a text message.  Happy Birthday. I was the fun Aunt, but I am now officially that crazy Aunt that smothers him with hugs, kisses, and a lot of nosey questions.  Whose that?  What's that?  You know you can't bring home some chicken head girl to your mother, who texted you?  Who gave you that?  I really think you should reconsider, and do your Confirmation, What are you doing on the Internet?  You know they some nasty people out there.  I know you are not interested in going to those schools, but look at them anyway.  Gotta girlfriend?  Gotta boyfriend?  Did your mother talk to you about the birds and the bees? And on and on it goes.  So for my  nieces and nephews who I didn't have the privilege of close proximity to smother them with affection, they should know Chris might say I am like a second mother, and oh Lord, do you really want that?  TeeHeeHee.

I am glad for having had the honor of watching him grow, and help rear him.  And trust me.  It ain't over yet.  Not by a long shot.  Now - what can I knit for you Chris?