March 17, 2009, certainly a memorable day because my firstborn, my manchild, my boo was born on St. Patrick’s Day in 1984. James David Roosevelt Dickson was literally trying to jump into this world feet first which of course meant caesarean section for me. Don’t get me started talking about becoming a first time mother! I was absolutely in love with this little manchild who slept in a drawer his first night at home because he didn’t have a bed yet. He was a funny kid, loved making Jessica laugh – in fact, he still does. But before Jessica came along fourteen months later, James was adorable. I like to warn parents to pay attention to the clues that kids give you about who they are. It’s not always as clearly defined as it was with James but the signs are there. When James was 2 and 3 years old he began walking around with a pencil in his hand. I caught more flak from the grandmothers “don’t let him walk around with that pencil in his hand, he’s gonna poke his eye out!” Now, I wasn’t all super-intellectually-sensitive to my son, meaning, I didn’t know why he always had a pen or pencil in hand, I just knew it was important to him. I thought he was trying to use it like a microphone so I bought him a kiddie microphone. James walked around with a pen in one hand and the microphone in the other!
He grew into a huge WWF fan and on one occasion was extremely upset at the exploits of Vince McMahon (WWF owner) and so he wrote a ‘rant’ on some website devoted to such outcry. His thesis was” Is Barnum right – is ANY publicity good publicity?” When I read my 14 year old son’s dissertation I was amazed and demanded to know who really wrote it. He was totally unaware of the maturity or artistry his writing displayed, he was simply indignant and wanted to be heard. After sending it to friends and family for their perusal I gave James two pieces of advice. The first was to take a typing class (anybody who could write like this doesn’t need to be hindered by hunt and peck!). The second was to take a journalism class. He did both and as a freshman at University of Michigan was on the editorial board of the Michigan Review. In his senior year he was editor in chief and he now is an editorial writer for the Detroit News.
So here we are celebrating James birthday the weekend prior to St. Patrick’s Day because Jessica was in town and we could all be together. I called him on the actual day . . . us Moms can’t forget the actual day! And as I retired for the night I was proud of my 25 year old son. My, the kids sure are getting old! And on St. Patrick’s Day I felt a knot in my left breast that undeniably did not belong there and had never been there. Hmm, didn’t one of the insurance companies just send me something about mammograms. . .I’d better check.
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