I gave birth to a human after all

Ten years in, and my purple-faced alien has undergone a mysterious transformation 

Having kids can be a shocking experience….one that starts with the terror of the delivery room and continues seemingly forever after that.

Right from the start, my first born seemed like a lovable alien. From the tidal waves of green poo and vomit to the hours of screaming, it was as if he was from another planet.

He never seemed to do anything ‘on time’ according to the books. Exhaustion and frustration marked those early years where I did my best to teach him to be a normal, functioning person. ‘This is not an earthling’ I would think to myself as he threw his dinner across the room. Maybe he only eats alien food?

Toddlerdom didn’t help…it was a period of wild irrational anger on his part and very rational anger on mine. He evolved into an emotional and hypersensitive child who seemed to require extensive ‘management’. Oddly aggressive behaviour was disturbing and we looked for solutions everywhere.

The scale of the challenge just seemed enormous. Only giving him chocolate, crisps and videos would give us a break from this unhappy, eight-legged, purple-faced  monster. The years went by, we marvelled at his developing talents and handsome features but it still seemed as if he had fallen down to earth from space.

But somehow, around a decade after he ripped my perineum in two, he now appears to resemble a human. I’m not sure exactly when it happened, but he really does. He seems like one of us, but on his own terms. My perineum also now resembles a perineum, which is a relief.

I’m not sure if anything I have done has helped this transformation or whether he has simply grown up, but it is amazing to have a small guy around the house who stops me for a chat and cuddles me just because.

When he was first born, my mum told me not to hug him constantly and that he was crying to ‘manipulate me’. I believed her but have since discovered this is the biggest heap of manure in the (old fashioned) parenting manual.

Now, I am refusing to believe the grave warnings that my boy will turn into some kind of teenage monster who will make my life hell. A few spots and grumps won’t be anything we can’t cope with given our extensive training period.

I won’t be charging in all-guns-blazing when things go wrong. It didn’t help when he was a toddler so I doubt it will when he’s 15.

Actually, I’m positively looking forward to the teenage years and all the triumphs and disasters they may bring.