This time of year always brings a nostalgia trip for me. I think back to the surprise of my waters breaking at 36 weeks and then spending another four days waiting to meet large boy. Remembering that induced first labour, my body completely ignoring my plan. The jaundice, the reflux, the exhaustion, the sore boobs, and the joy. The complete naivety about birth, sleep, new borns and parenting in general. How easy that pregnancy was compared to the four that have followed it.
Sometimes it feels like yesterday, sometimes like another life. But no, 12 years have passed with large boy in our lives.
Our large boy
He's bloody brilliant. I say that every year, and it remains true.
We feel such pride for the young man that he's growing into, somewhat tempered recently with a sense of foreboding of the troublesome teenage years to come.
He's generous and kind with his friends, teases his brother (mostly with good humour), and is determined to show his parents that he's a grown up. He's developed great confidence in his belief that he is right about most things and he often is, though I take a certain amount of satisfaction when I'm right and he wrong - proving that mum does often know best still. This tee-shirt might be among his gifts.
He's now very independent, by the end of year 6 he was walking home from school four days a week. Now he's at secondary school, he is entirely responsible for his own breakfast, getting dressed and out of the door on time to walk to school. He has a cash card and is learning to manage his pocket money responsibly; so far it get spent on fizzy drinks and chocolate on the way home from school but he saves some each month too. When he gets in from school, he still occasionally brings me cups of tea, often in while I'm in video calls to the envy of my colleagues.
He did his year 6 SATS in the summer and blew us away with his scores - 90% and above in every paper. He even did his final maths paper with a tummy bug - he was sick at school first thing and the teachers offered him the option of coming home or sitting the paper on his own, with extra time, and a bucket. He sat the paper and only dropped 3 marks (he only dropped one other mark in all his maths papers). He had his prom, looked super smart and cool, ignored his parents the entire time and has an awesome group of friends (not just boys, but the girls are not girlfriends).
His independence and knowledge, confidence in his intelligence and general year-six-ness are leading him to a touch of arrogance or over-confidence. He tries to tell us how things work and what's going on. That's a learning curve for us too, not least because sometimes he's right and we're wrong!
The hormones have ebbed and flowed all year. We've had some big emotions when tired, a few tears and despair at times. He's stinks at the end of the day, his hair's greasy and the least said the better about the other bodily changes. It's all going very fast for me.
His sportiness remains entirely and singularly devoted to rugby and with a whole new level of enthusiasm. At the end of the 2022-23 season his mature approach was rewarded with the team TREDS (teamwork, respect, enjoyment, discipline and sportsmanship) award. It was well deserved as he brings a level head to the pitch, supports his team mates and really enjoys. What makes that achievement even more impressive is that he'd been playing with a good deal of pain since February - of which more later. Over the summer, it became clear that his age group didn't have enough numbers to put out a team for U12s where more players are expected on the pitch. Our club and another local club were in the same situation, so since May the two teams have trained and played together. At first, they remained in their little groups but now they're one big team. Large boy's niche is pretty well sealed now. Out of 25 children, he is the first choice scrum half - a role requiring intelligence, awareness of the pitch and the teams' whereabouts and control of the pace of play. He loves it and the whole team's development has been marvellous to watch since September. Just the two weeks before his birthday he represented his school, with 5 of his club team mates and another 6 boys who don't play regularly, at a mini-tournament with three other schools. His team carried away the trophy, decisively.
As the club team has grown since the start of the season there are new players who have a lot to learn. Large boy is, reluctantly, learning patience and how to help them grow their skills. He doesn't mind the scrapes and bruises. Between PE and club training and matches, some weeks he plays rugby 5 times!
Last year, he stood his ground and would not be persuaded up a climbing wall or an abseiling tower or high ropes. This year, in his own time, when he was ready he faced his phobia. On his year 6 trip he climbed to the top of a 6m pole, with Scouts he scaled a climbing wall, and on our summer holiday he loved the high ropes course and zip lines.
With the transition to secondary school, he's met a lot of new people. He seems to be learning the difference between fun kids who make him laugh and true friends. The novelty has worn off new kids he talked about all the time in the first few weeks. His old best mate whose amazing knowledge at primary school got him a lot of attention has turned out to be disruptive at secondary school, as he works to retain all that attention he's calling out in class, doesn't stop talking and is getting in trouble regularly for interrupting teachers. Large boy's admiration has waned. He's gravitating towards the less sparkly kids who are bright but don't make a fuss. I'm thrilled that one of his particular new friends is someone he was a pre-school with and whose mum is a really lovely lady - I hope they stay friends.
That painful leg I mentioned earlier turned out to be something serious. He had an osteoid osteoma that required surgery. It was a long road of waiting and referrals with a lot of uncertainty as we navigated a mixture of private and NHS consultants. The pain woke him up almost every night from February until he was prescribed adult (off label) painkillers in July. Before the diagnosis, he felt desperation, despair and frustration. He cried that he just wanted his leg cut off so it would stop hurting. He cried because he just couldn't see an end and didn't believe it would ever be better. He finally had surgery in late September, a couple of hours of scans and then ablation to remove the boney benign tumour. He approached the prospect of general anaesthetic mildly, unconcerned and baffled at his mother's worry. He woke up groggy, disoriented and upset, but came home the same day, took one more painkiller the next morning and that was it. Cured. We have two more weeks to be 100% sure that it won't come back but so far the signs are excellent.
In the summer, we went to the centenary running of the 24 hours of Le Mans and large boy loved it. He downloaded the app to his phone and is now following all sorts of motorsport on WhatsApp channels. He's so excited to go again in 2024.
We did a whole massive amount of work on our house this year (well the builders did), for five months we lived in the garage and our bedroom. Large boy (and small boy) dealt with the adventure calmly and didn't really mind living on top of each other for so long. When we finally moved back into the kitchen, large boy's priority was making a long-overdue birthday cake for his brother. They opted for chocolate brownie.
Large boy loves (some) books and fluffy jumpers and Chinese takeaways and Demonslayer and playing Fortnite and Le Mans and WhatsApp and tiramisu and strong French cheese and fizzy drinks and Scratch and Lego and rugby and Great British Bake Off and maths and coffee and deep fried haggis and every teacher he's ever had and his friends and sometimes his little brother.
As he's growing older (we won't mention that he's only three inches shorter than me and wearing an size 7 and a half shoe), he's becoming less affectionate and would not be caught dead holding mum's hand either in public or at home. But, when it comes to procrastinating at bedtime he loves a long cuddle on the sofa and a chat about everything that's going on. Suddenly, all the details of the drama amongst his friends comes out and he wants to tell me all about it. I love that he trusts me and talks to me, but on his own terms; that he is comfortable choosing what he wants to say.
Each year I feel like he's blossoming. This year he's started learning so many more life skills. He makes choices about hot lunches that balance cost and what he wants, he stops at the park with his friends on the way home but comes home by the time set for him, he puts his laundry away (messily), wears a blazer and a hoodie underneath when its cold, he makes a good cup of coffee or hot chocolate, his biscuit consumption is ridiculous. He's learning riddles and navigating social media relationships with his school friends. He's loves baking, doesn't really need mum's help anymore, and makes cakes for fun.
He's proud to be unusual (even if he's really very normal), won't stand for people being limited and celebrates his friends' successes - even when the same achievements come easily to him. He's responsible and mature and silly and loud and grumpy and hilarious.
By no means is he a saint, but he is totally awesome.
Being 12
Being 12 isn't so different from 11, or is it? He seems to have come a very long way in the last 12 months. Thinking back to two years, three years and four years ago he's very different from the 7 year old we once had.
He bickers almost non-stop with his little brother, apart from when they play Minecraft together for hours. In year 6, he was jokingly called Mr SmellySocks the teaching assistant. He looooves maths so much, but maybe not as much as Fortnite. He's become an even more picky reader, will not be advised or persuaded to try anything he doesn't want to, to the extent that he only reads what he really wants to and very little fulfils that criteria. This next year is going to hold some massive changes for him, properly settling into secondary school with exams at some point, new emotions, maybe discovering girls, a changing body. I know he'll face every challenge and new experience head on, acknowledging his fears but carrying on anyway (just like he did with the climbing walls).
Large boy, if you ever read this, you are brilliant, amazing, frustrating, funny, gentle, loving, and very very loved.
With oodles like noodles of love. From Mum xx
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