Andrew Jefferson Miller turns 13 Friday. I told Christopher last night that I'm kinda struggling with this one, and he reminded me that I say that before each birthday. Which is true. But I just can't help it - especially with Andrew. He's my first born and before he arrived I had NO experience when it came to kids. I wasn't your typical teenage babysitter. In fact, I was never really a fan of kids (and if we're being completely honest here, I'm still not). The idea of having children had never really crossed my mind - until I met Christopher.
Andrew Miller was 1 week late (due November 4) and I was induced on November 10, 2004. I was big and miserable and I couldn't wait to meet the beautiful brown-eyed, dark-haired baby (more on that later) who had been taking up residence in my belly for the last 9 months. Andrew was a stubborn newborn. He had no intentions of coming out of that comfortable gut. After pushing for an hour I told the OB that I wasn't averse to that "c-section thing". Within minutes of my saying that we were heading to the operating room.
Of course - Andrew was still a bit too comfortable to come out of my gut easily. Eventually - after what seemed like 5 hours - the doctor said, "congratulations! It's a boy!" We finally knew we had an Andrew Jefferson instead of a Carly Jane. However, that beautiful brown-eyed, dark-haired baby wasn't brown-eyed or dark-haired at all. What little bit of hair he had was reddish; his eyes were a beautiful blue. What the ...?!? I still have a hard time believing I have such a fair-haired, blue-eyed baby ...
Anyway - I can remember like it was only yesterday what happened next. After Christopher cut the umbilical cord (he said they were pushing my guts back in my belly like trying to put snakes back in a can), he came back to me (they were still doing new-baby stuff to Andrew and sewing up my gut) and sat down next to me.
I looked at him and his beautiful green eyes that were red and teary, and he said to me, "he's beautiful."
Then there was that other time we were sitting in the backyard and Andrew found some bird poop on the back gate that he promptly put into his mouth and ate. In a complete panic, I called our pediatrician who informed me to keep an eye on him and that if he started to sprout feathers and took off flying, I should bring him in immediately. Otherwise, he should be fine ...
Once Davis arrived, I was a pro. The fact that Davis DIDN'T eat bird poop (but did, in fact, eat a robin's egg that had fallen from the nest onto the driveway) was a small success. The fact that both boys are still alive with all limbs intact is probably more a testament to my husband than to me.
One thing is for certain: After Davis was born, Andrew had found his new best friend. Sure - they fight. Davis bites Andrew. Andrew tortures Davis with his words ("Hey Davis - you know I'm Mom's favorite, right. She literally just told me that ..."); but they're buddies. Best buddies. And we are sooooo grateful for that.
After 13 years, I've become accustomed to the giggles every time someone says "balls" or "nuts"; I've accepted the fact that anytime someone can work the word "poop" into a conversation, they're going to do it. I know that if the one of the boys has to burp or fart, these grotesque noises will be followed by boisterous laughter. These are the things they cannot help.
When Andrew turned 1, we had a birthday celebration at my mother's house and we had a cake for him that read, "17 more and you're outta here!" At the time that seemed like an eternity; now it's just around the corner. But I absolutely cannot wait to see all that Andrew will accomplish in the next several years before he leaves me forever ...