Baby Gutsy and aunt Katie, 2003

Gutsy turned the big 0-8 on Saturday.

I threw in the zero because I realized that two digits sounds more powerful; more omnipotent. Since Gutsy informs me he wants to be ruler of the universe (he'll have to fight me for it), he deserves a more impressive announcement of his most recent age change.

We rang in his birthday with an iPod Touch (Did you know you could buy them used from the online Apple store? They come with a pretty package and a one year warrantee, and the price is far more reasonable than a new one. This works well, considering I tell my kids that Dad and I aren't made of money. In fact, we're usually made of overdraft. I don't think they get the joke. Frankly, I hope they never do.)

A couple of months ago, I asked Gutsy if he'd like a party and some small gifts, or no party and a nicer gift. He immediately squealed, "Like an iPod Touch?!" to which I replied, "Maybe something like that."

I made a real point of telling him that if we got him a big gift, there would be no party. It would be a pretty typical day with something shiny to play with. He seemed completely fine with that.

Gutsy was perfectly happy to get an iPod and iTunes gift card. We were to follow that up with a quiet dinner out as a family at one of the few restaurants that can cater to my gluten-free self: Swiss Chalet. Apparently, the quarter chicken and baked potato are a pretty safe option. You're welcome, vast quantities of gluten-free lifestyle Canadians who read my blog. I'm sure all 2.7 of you will want to know that.

What ended up transpiring was one of the very best birthdays he's had.

It turns out that our friends decided to throw a rather impressive birthday for their son who turned 9 on Friday. On Saturday, they had a party at their house, complete with cake, hot dogs, hyper children and a reptile zoo. Gutsy and their son are friends, so off we went to take part in the festivities. Gutsy was impressed that, not only only did he get a nice gift, but he he also went to a party on his actual birthday. He didn't care a smidgen that it wasn't for him. Who cares when you get to hold a scorpion and pet an alligator?

After the party, we decided to go chill out at home before heading out for dinner. However, by the time we were going to leave, we had a total of nine people in the house. Gutsy's friend Jacob, Intrepid's friend Aidan, my mom and brother had all come by. We decided to just fedd everyone take-out Swiss Chalet, and jokingly referred to it as the "After Party".  Gutsy grinned the entire time. As it turns out, would-be Ruler of the Universe attended two parties on the birthday that wasn't supposed to have even one.

It took me most of Sunday to recover from Saturday.  We had a great time, but there isn't enough coffee in the world to keep up that pace for 14 hours straight. We are such unintentionally awesome parents, aren't we? Let's hope Gutsy remembers that when the iPod honeymoon period wears off.  I hope they're happy together for a long time. A really, really long time, because he sure as hell isn't getting a DS for Christmas.

I spent an entire year waiting for reason to kick in. Kids start to reason at seven, you know. It's when their cute little brains start registering that the universe doesn't revolve around their every whim, and that maybe they should start taking notes about how it actually works. "I do this and this happens. I don't do this and that happens." Neat-o concept, isn't it?

Frankly, I don't think Gutsy ever got the memo. Seven wasn't an easy year for him by any means. In fact, I'd say it was probably his worst. His anxiety peaked, we had to do an emergency class change in the spring, he had bullying issues, had a hard time making friends, we were in therapy all Summer and are waiting for a psychology referral to go through now. We had more tears, more panic attacks, more fury, more worry and more heartbreaking moments than ever. Geekster and I spent many hours talking about what we could do to make his life easier, and how we need to help him manage this stress before he gets into the teenage years. With a brilliant mind that never stops running and a propensity toward anxiety, this is a kid who needs special attention now. Put simply, last year was a really hands-on time, an exhausting time, but hopefully it will pay off later.

Between you and me and the internet, I'm happy to say goodbye to seven.

Too cool for school, 2010 Photo credit: Trinque Photography

Eight is great, or at least it should be because it rhymes. You don't rhyme something with "great" unless you expect it to deliver, right?

Come to think of it, "seven" rhymes with "heaven" Shit. There goes that theory.

Okay, so seven might have been a bad year, but I believe we made a lot of headway.

I sound like a CEO during a bad quarterly report, don't I?

Put a different way, after some maturation on his part and work on all our parts, Gutsy's outbursts (which are usually panic attacks regrettably disguised as tantrums) are becoming less frequent and often less severe. We gave him his own room,  which means he now has a quiet place to go to think and calm down. He relies heavily on schedules to keep his life routine, so we make sure those are in place as much as possible. He tires easily after a day at school, so we've left homework open-ended this year.

And truly, I can't say enough about his teacher. She has been nothing short of phenomenal. Patient, understanding, supportive, and seems to genuinely understand who our son is. The two Teachers Assistants have been really amazing, too. Thanks to them, he's doing well both academically and socially so far. I don't worry about him at school. Now if only they could bottle up that essence and send it home...

This year, we're focusing on making life less stressful in Casa Maven. Geekster and I have realized that we're all wound up incredibly tight, like snakes ready to pounce.

Strike. I mean strike. Why can't snakes pounce, anyway? Do you need feet to pounce?

It stands to reason that, after hundreds of explosions in the house, everyone is going to have their guard up, waiting for the next one. Unfortunately, anxiety breeds more anxiety, and before long we have ourselves a perfect storm. We need to stay calm. Easier said than done, but we're trying. I've even cut back a little on caffeine.

Only a little. I'm already alcohol-free, drug-free, smoke-free and now gluten-free. Caffeine-free is not on my list of priorities. Do I look like someone who wants to suffer every day?

I'm also working on rebuilding my relationship with Gutsy. We're butting heads less, laughing more, and enjoying each others' company again. I hate to say that I all but shut down around him for a while, but I did. I'd be lying if I didn't admit to that as well as a bit of unreasonable resentment for the stress we all felt. That couldn't have helped him whatsoever, and it certainly didn't help me. And it royally sucked, because this is a child we tried to bring into the world for five long, frustrating, sad years. This was a very wanted, anticipated little boy. Words can't describe how amazing it is to hold a baby you've wanted for so long and thought you'd never have. It was truly one of the best feelings in the world.

I always said that it needed to be one stubborn little egg to lay anchor in the unfriendly waters of my PCOS-riddled uterus, and Gutsy most certainly fits that bill. He needed to be who he is in order to be here today. At least, that's what I tell myself. And yes, it does make it easier, so don't burst my bubble. Stubborn egg, stubborn sperm, got it?

Despite any issues we've had, we're so happy to have him here. He is loving, thoughtful, kind and gentle - when he's not throwing chairs or launching ottomans. I love him even on the most challenging mornings. I love him when he strokes my cheek and smiles, or tells me that I'm beautiful. I love him when he buys his little brother a donut with his own money, just because he loves him so much. I love him when I'm trying to follow what he's telling me about cabling and networking and movie editing software, and it's going right over my clueless head. I love him when he tells me the funny things he and his friends do at school. I love him in the evening when he tells me he loves me, half asleep.

I especially love him when he's sleeping. Just sayin'.

I love him, and because of that, I'm going to do everything I can to make eight better than seven. Happy birthday, my sweet little boy. Just try keep the claws retracted and the horns tucked away a little more this year, ok?

Gutsy and Spawnling, Fall 2010 Photo credit: Trinque Photography

PS: Many of the great pictures on my site are via Trinque Photography. My sister is one talented chick who does everything from family shoots to weddings.