First Times

Since the day I found out I was pregnant I’ve been recording “first times”. I’m not overly zealous about it, I don’t, for example, recall the Boy’s first poop, or spit up, but I did make a mental, written and photographic note of all the main milestones. Up till now I’ve managed to be there with my kids for all (or most) of their first times, the few times I wasn’t there are permanently branded on my heart with an aura of regret. I missed the Boy’s first time crawling; I was at work, it was one of the reasons I decided to quit, that’s how bad I felt, and I wasn’t the first person to hold him when he was born (darned c-sections!). Apart from these two times I was always there, and I was always there for the girl’s firsts. I realize it may sound a little crazy (read anal) and probably many of you don’t feel the same, but being there, witnessing their small successes makes me feel good, complete, like I’m doing my job. But we can’t always control everything, can we?

I got home from the hospital Saturday and the Nanny was home alone with the Girl, my first hint of this was the completely alien silence in the house. As I wondered aloud as to the Boy’s whereabouts and did someone muzzle him perchance, the Nanny pipes up with a “you will never believe where he went”; you see, The Boy had gone to his first mass ever (not counting his baptism, but he mostly slept through that so it really doesn’t count). And I wasn’t there. Apparently the Nonni (paternal grandparents) decided to go to mass and the Boy insisted he be taken along. We had never taken him to mass, because we’re not church goers and we were waiting for the Boy to get a little older so we could explain stuff better. Turns out he’s plenty old enough to take an interest in that strange building in our main square and understand simple explanations as to the service.

I was a little upset (well, quite a bit upset, in fact) at first cause as I said I’m a control freak of epic proportions and I wanted to be there the first time the Boy went to Church. Again, I want to be there for all of his first times, but then I realized that I can’t be, can I? I won’t be there during his first day of real school, I won’t be there for his first crush, his first kiss (we can only hope), I won’t be there a lot, so who cares that I wasn’t there for his first mass… well, I kind of do.

Rationally, I realize that he’s going to be doing more things than I can count without me. Once they’re fully mobile we can’t expect to be together all the time, but rationality rules not the heart.

I must admit though that since I’m not even Catholic, attending his first mass with the only practicing Catholics in our immediate family was probably a smart move on the Boy’s part. This little thing made me realize that learning to let go of my children, even just a little bit, is going to be a very difficult thing for me no matter how clearly I understand the need for it.

I’m linking up today with Claire at The Grumpinator to her meme Random Acts of Kindness, because I think it’s an awesome idea that’s going to make me a much better person!

How on earth does this post relate, you ask, well, I didn’t yell at my in-laws for taking him to mass did I? That’s my random act of kindness this week. Next week I’ll do better, promise!