Click here for some great mommmy and baby freebies from BabiesOnline.com

Main Page Site Index Getting Pregnant Pregnancy Parenting Pregnancy and Parenting Journals Fertility Nutrition Pregnant Moms Morning Sickness Women's Health Child Health	Gift Exchange by Michelle Pearson From his blonde-with-just-a-touch-of-his-father's-red-hair to his tiny little feet, he was simply "in a word" perfect. Compared to the kicks and rolls that had, at times, left me breathless while I was pregnant, Sean entered the world relatively quietly. With hardly a sound, he went from the birthing bed to the bassinet, patiently waiting as a nurse cleaned him up. He appeared to be listening intently as his father spoke to him softly. "Welcome to the world, Sean." Knowing it was the only quiet hours we'd have in, well, probably in years, the three of us-Sean, my husband, and I-prolonged the bonding process as long as possible. Looking at each other with the profound knowledge that we were in for the adventure of our lives, we made the birth announcement phone calls-brothers, sisters, friends, and other family members. When we called my parents' house to tell them the good news, it wasn't my Mom or Dad who answered the phone. "Cool, Mom!!" Coming from a teenager, that comment was lofty praise indeed. We brought Sean home a few days later and our new routine began. One of the first things I had to get used to was that, after years of changing girl diapers (which I hadn't done in about 10 years!), picking out girl clothes with frills and lace, tying ponytails and braids in little girl hair, discussing and giggling about girl issues like make-up and boys, and all the other things that go with girls, both large and small, Sean was, well, he was very obviously not a little girl. Instead of dolls and tea parties, I realized it was time to switch gears and get ready for a future of tractors and baseball games. Sean's arrival has taught me how much I've grown up in the adult stage of my life. The tired cries of a sick child no longer frustrate me as they did when I was a very young mother. I've spent long nights sitting in a rocking chair comforting my son as he battles an ear infection or a cold and, when he finally falls into an exhausted sleep, I'm reluctant to lay him down in his crib. I wrap myself in the moment, realizing that it will all too soon be gone. I hold him close, becoming almost intoxicated by his baby smell and treasuring the safety and security that he surely feels in my arms, knowing that the next morning he will undoubtedly feel better and will wriggle his way off my lap when I try to hold him. Instead of being exasperated at a toddler who gets into everything from the pots and pans to his sister's make-up and perfume, I usually (perhaps not always, but usually) watch him joyfully, reveling in every new discovery he makes from his wrinkled fingers after a bath to the whistling teapot that sounds like a fire siren. Of course, having those teenage sisters around has proved advantageous. With their entrepreneurial babysitting spirit, an evening out with my husband isn't as difficult to arrange as it used to be-as long as we pay well. And my oldest daughter's driver's license isn't the dangerous weapon I thought it might be, but has actually proven itself to be a useful tool. A quick trip to the grocery store with my kids a dozen or so years ago involved something akin to a full-scale military operation-car seat straps, the toy that HAD to come along, diaper bags, snowsuits (a seasonal item)-General Schwarzkopf never had it so tough. Now it's as simple as handing my once-upon-a-time-toddler-turned-teen the car keys, a grocery list, and a few extra dollars so she can indulge in a soda and snack on the way home. In the meantime, Sean and I can simply enjoy another episode of 'Blue's Clues'. I can appreciate the sheer irony of talking about sexual issues with my teenagers while changing my son's diaper and, when my schedule slows down enough for me to think about it, it's really very humorous to be having a disagreement with them about which will arrive first-a clean bedroom or the Millennium-while my son decides the cat is hungry and throws Cheerios across the room at him. It no longer feels strange to be discussing the college application process with my 17-year-old while I give my toddler a bath, but I am still trying to get used to the fact that I may very well be holding a grandchild while watching my only son collect his high school diploma. This little person-not yet having celebrated his second birthday-has provided me with the opportunity to reach into my past, appreciate my present, and touch my future. As I watch him grow, memories of my days as a young mother with three little girls come flooding back-memories I thought were long forgotten. Watching his sisters interact with him, play with him, and mother him has taught me to appreciate these wonderful girls for the basically good, decent, responsible kids they are, despite their sometimes very typical teen attitudes. And speculating about his future has helped me realize that I can have dreams, too-for my children and for myself. While it may be true that I gave my son the gift of life, he has given me a wonderful gift in return-the chance to savor the true essence of motherhood once again. A Little About Michelle Pearson Michelle Pearson is a full-time freelance writer who lives with her husband and four children on their farm outside of Leaf River, Illinois. She often writes about family life and parenting issues. She can be reached at stoneyknoll@lrnet1.com.