Every so often, we indulge in a bit of nostalgia. Revisiting old videos of the kids when they were toddling about. ‘Put on a video of me!’ comes the chorus after we’ve watched one and they marvel that they could have ever been like that, looked that little.

They love it. We love it. It sure makes time seem as if the trickle has become a roar and the minutes are just pouring away into an abyss somewhere, though.

What we do notice – every single time – is that the kids actually never *really* change. Sure their round cheeks disappear and their words get a little clearer, but if you look at each of them in turn, you see the quirks and character qualities that define them now, just in a more muted form.

Eli celebrated his ninth birthday this week. Nine! Although I realise that, particularly with him as our first, I will always be astonished that he has aged another year and that we have managed parenting (to varying degrees of success) for as long as he has been alive.

The first child does get a raw deal. It cannot be understated how difficult the transition into motherhood is. Whether you get a textbook baby (which Eli was) or a baby who screams through every nap (*cough* Hudson *cough*), the simple fact that your entire identity has to shift and morph to encompass a new human, is far more radical than we give it credit.

In hindsight, I realise how much of myself I had tangled up with Eli. That his ‘successes’ (sleeping through the night, saying his first words, making friends) were somehow a representation of my worth. That his failures, unfortunately, were also my fault, was far more insidious, with the shame that I never needed to assume ricocheting against the fragile walls of our relationship.

It has taken much work and therapy (Spiritual Direction) to healthily distance myself. To understand that Eli is very much his own person and that he deserves his own space to figure it all out. Being very independent and resistant to control, he has, shall we say, allowed us to have a very thorough crash course in this issue. But I have no regrets.

We now have a great relationship. I’ve learned to give him more leeway and a chance for greater responsibility. I’ve learned to weather the bouts of anger that we both indulge in, understanding that it isn’t personal so much as just a way of discharging frustration. I’ve learned when to press in and when to back the hell off. Of course, I suspect I will continue to keep learning these lessons at a deeper level through the span of years to come, but the fact that I can see growth and progress reassures me that we will get there.

Given the COVID situation and a party being off the cards, we decided to give him a ‘birthday week’ instead. With our family holiday to Phillip Island tailored around his ideas – including many chances for mountain biking, beach exploring, antiquing and visits to op shops – and a menu plan of his favourites, I did wonder whether perhaps we ended up spending way more than if we had just thrown an epic birthday bash! The actual day in question involved mountain biking at Lysterfield Lake with Dave, a whole lot of computer games, a trip to Savers with me, pizza from Crust for dinner and a Grasshopper Cake (mint choc chip for the uninitiated).

Eli has many strengths. He is never afraid of a challenge and he did end up with his first broken bone this year. Yet this didn’t stop him from happily taking up whatever physical opportunity presented itself, mastering skills with ease – mountain biking, scootering, skateboarding, soccer, basketball, rock climbing, ropes courses – you name it, he’ll try it.

Learning in a school environment has its downsides for Eli. When he is interested and engaged, he is unstoppable and has thrived in his new year level and school community. But when the topic or teaching style doesn’t mesh with him, you might say that he turns into his own worst enemy.

He can be an amazing leader – taking younger children under his wing and creating games and adventures. His heart for anyone who is hurting is huge, and he has regularly emptied out his savings for those who have less than him – the homeless and bushfire victims being a few examples.

This year we have seen remarkable growth – with his ability to control his emotions, channel his energy into maths (through Prodigy), getting along with Hudson as a friend rather than an annoying younger brother, doing his share of the household tasks (mostly) without complaining, (sometimes) remembering to feed his fish, reading ridiculous amounts (the Lord of the Rings trilogy being one example), writing fantastic stories and demonstrating the ability to have mature and thoughtful conversations about the complexity of life each night before bed.

Yes, sometimes he drives us crazy (and I’m sure he would say the same in return). I’m still waiting in vain for him to grasp the concept of ‘everything having its place’ in his room, wondering if his penchant for provoking anything that moves will fade with time, and wishing he didn’t have the speed dial for some of my ‘buttons’. But somehow, this incredible human who has been a part of our lives for nine years now, has taught us and showed us more about the depth and nature of reality, than anything else possibly could.

As he enters his tenth year of existence, wrestling with the big questions of life and figuring out what kind of man he wants to become, we celebrate that we get to have Eli in our family. It is line I echo every night – a reminder that each of them are ‘on loan’ so to speak, fully contained humans who exist independently of us with their own needs, dreams and desires.

Parenting is one of the hardest things we have ever done – it has broken us, exhausted us and defeated us. But it has also remade us, awakened us and renewed us – showing up what really matters when everything else is stripped away. Eli was our first induction into this strange and wonderful world, and, despite the challenges, we wouldn’t have it any other way.

…

Dear Eli,

I know you won’t want a sappy letter, even though it is very tempting to write one. In some ways, I can’t believe you are only nine, as we often subconsciously treat you as if you are much older than that.

I’ve really seen you grow up this year. Whether in your approach to learning, your handle over your emotions, the conversations we have each night – there’s a new maturity about you, and a deeper understanding about life that is emerging.

It’s crazy to think how quickly this time has gone with you already, and how quickly the next nine years will go. Can you believe you are half-way to becoming an adult? Half-way to finishing school? I wonder where life will take you – what adventures and challenges you will accept. You love living at the edge – that electric fence thing we often joke about – and I can only imagine (and also kind of shudder at!) where that mentality will take you.

You have a sense of injustice that is highly attuned. At this point it is directed towards any perceived sense of unfairness between you and your siblings, but I know that it will develop into an ability to champion the causes of those who have true need. I marvel at your strength of heart whenever you see anyone who is struggling, and your quiet ability to do something meaningful in response.

Stoke that passion and energy you have. Use it to change the world. It is a superpower that we barely fathom right now, but I know it has the potential to transform your surroundings into something you can be proud of in the years to come. For the world is in desperate need of men with conviction, men with heart, men who stand up for those who have no voice.

Thank you for unapologetically being who you are. You have taught me so much about presence and conviction already. Thank you for being willing to admit when you are wrong, to step up and be mature when you see we really need it.

We are so grateful to get to be your parents. Whatever the road may bring, we commit to being in your corner, to enforcing the strong boundaries that you need to butt up against and to releasing you into the future that is destined.

Love always,

Mum