With my son’s birthday fast approaching, it’s getting me a little nostalgic. Just a little. It’s hard for me to believe that I’ve been taking care of another human being for almost seven years (not counting my husband). Some days I love how independent my children are getting, so proud of their accomplishments, big or small.
Other days, I long for a time when they were babies, so tiny and cute, relying on me for everything and they didn’t talk back or whine or complain or hit or…. you get the picture. There are so many good and terrible things about every age from the moment a child is born, it’s hard to pick a favorite or least favorite. In the end, you end up loving them all, I hope.
In any case, as a tribute to nearly seven years as a Mom, here is a post from my first blog when my son was almost four months old. Also, I’m feeling a bit lazy. Enjoy!
“Nintendo: The Baby of Video Games
Here’s one for those of you who grew up in the 80’s; the rest of you will just have to bear with me. You all remember Nintendo. Even if you didn’t have one, you knew someone who did, and you probably spent much of your childhood trying to save some sort of princess. But after a few years, the Nintendo stopped working like it used to, which forced us to come up with different and inventive methods to get it to function properly.
We thought the cartridges might be dusty, so we blew into them to get the dust out. If that didn’t do the trick, we figured that the console itself must be the problem, so we blew into that. When that failed to work, the next step was to slowly insert the cartridge, but not quite all the way, and push down forcefully. This was most always followed by shoving the cartridge down as far as it would go and wedging it in with something like a VHS cassette cover. Efforts were tireless to find a ritual that would get the video game console to operate and entertain us for hours on end. Sometimes a ritual would work for only one day, and sometimes it would work for weeks. Either way, you did what you had to do.
My point here is that babies are like old, broken Nintendos. As a parent, I do everything in my power to get my son to work properly. I hold him in every position, sing every song, make every silly noise, show him every colorful thing I can get my hands on. You name it, I’ve done it, all in the name of getting him to his happy place where crying and fussing don’t exist. And like the Nintendo, some rituals work for only one day, some for weeks. Either way, I do what I have to do.
The only difference between the two is that Nintendo came out with the Super Nintendo leaving the old consoles behind. Even if my husband and I come out with a new “console,” it would be like starting out with a brand new, old Nintendo, and we wouldn’t get our Super Nintendo until they both turn 18.”
And we did come out with a new “console” about a year and a half later. She didn’t give us as much trouble in the way of fussiness back then, although she’s certainly making up for it now. I suppose that if we came out with another new “console” I’d have to compare it to the Wii or the first Xbox or something.
Not that we’re planning on coming out with a new “console” or anything. I mean, we just got to the point where both of our current consoles can buckle and unbuckle themselves in the car. It’s seriously amazing, and I don’t want to mess with that.