A Moment Captured

I found a picture of you.

You were maybe four or five years old, I'm not sure. You're holding a water gun in your hands, and the look on your face is so serious. I wonder what you're thinking about? Your mouth is open, just a little. What were you about to say, buddy?

The sun is shining on your soaking wet hair - I'm not sure if it's wet from sweat or the water gun battle - or both!  I see your little-boy-dirty-streaked face, with your eyes shining.  I remember that brown and blue shirt that you're wearing - how many times did I wash that thing?

I can even recall the smell of that little boy, with his ever-present wiggling, moving, noise, and sweetness.

I remember that day - it was warm, the sun was shining on us, out in the backyard. I look at that picture and it was only a handful of years ago, but so long ago, really.

 

You turned 11 a few days ago.  Eleven, my little boy with the bluest eyes.

 

I'm so proud of you!  You make me happy, and I have been incredibly blessed to be your Mom.

 

Happy Birthday, my sweetest boy.  I love you.

Crawfish and Sausage Soup

 

This is the recipe for the soup Ben loves - we made it for the first time way back in 2010.  I was in the kitchen trying to figure out something to make for supper (hmm...is there a theme here?) and Ben was 'helping' me.  So, we literally started throwing things in a pot, and this is what we came up with!  The measurements are approximate - it's basically a dump-it-in-to-taste recipe.

 Crawfish & Sausage Soup
  
Medium-dark roux, using 1/2 of a stick of butter and 1/3 cup of flour

1 lb  Cajun Smoked Sausage, sliced
1 package crawfish tails, rinsed
1/2 medium onion, chopped
2 bay leaves
1 can chicken broth
1 can cream of mushroom soup
1/2 T dried parsley
salt and pepper to taste
Pasta of your choice, cooked
Louisiana Hot sauce, optional *

Make a medium-dark roux;  when done, add onions to roux and cook over medium heat till done.  Transfer to a medium sized stock pot.  Add sliced sausage, chicken broth, bay leaves and parsley.  Bring to a boil.  Add cream of mushroom soup, whisk to combine.  Add crawfish tails and cooked pasta, season with salt and pepper.  Heat through, remove bay leaves and serve immediately. 


*The sausage has a bit of heat to it, but if you want to add hot sauce, go for it.  Because I made it with Ben in mind, I didn't add the hot sauce.





 

Choices

On the way to school this morning, I asked Ben if he wanted anything special for supper tonight. (yeah, it's sad that I have to get supper ideas from an 8 year old...)

Well, I'll give you three guesses as to what his first idea was.  It starts with a p and ends
with an a.  Has izz in the middle....

I tell ya, at 7:45 am (that was really 6:45, due to the whole Spring Forward event of the weekend)  pizza was not high up there on my list of ideas for supper. 

So, I tried to talk him out of that - I crinkled my nose and said how about something else? 

     How about my Honey Chicken?   "Nah."

     Chicken and Sausage Gumbo?  "Nah."

He thought for a second and said, "Shish kabobs?  Without.....?"   (*)

     Without what, bud?

"Without the vegetables.  Just the steak and onions?"

     Um, I'm not sure I have any steak, but if I do, yeah, I guess we could have that. 

He was quiet for a minute and then said, "Hey! What about that crawfish and sausage soup?  That's my most favorite food ever that you make!  Could you go to the store and get some crawfish and make that?"

     Really? That's your favorite?  Um, sure.  I could do that. 

"AWEsome!  I love you, Mom!!"   Kiss!!  :)

So, I guess I'll be making a trip into town for crawfish.  Nah, he's not spoiled at all.






*We have a friend who has introduced Ben to the wonders of Mediterranean food - he thinks Mr. Sam is cool, so he's tried several new things and, lo and behold!  he likes it!!!    In fact, he was walking around the house the other day, saying, "Baba ganoush!" 
But even Mr. Sam can't get Ben to eat vegetables - cool as he is.

 

Dread.

 The definition of dread, according to Mr. Know-it-all Google:

      Verb - Anticipate with great apprehension or fear.

 

 

Oh, it's not something that I've thought about every waking moment, or even all that frequently - but when it would pop into my head, dread would be the perfect word choice. 

 

The question I've dreaded for 8 years has finally been asked.

 

We were driving home from somewhere last weekend, and for whatever reason, we were in two cars - little man rode with his Dad, while I drove alone.   As we gathered our things from the cars to go in the house, Greg pulled me to the side and told me that Ben had asked who his Birthparents were.  My first thoughts were:  Ooh, thank goodness he asked his Daddy and not me!  And, oh dear Lord, what brought this on??  Why now?  What do we say??

We huddled in the garage for a minute, deciding finally that:  if he asked, he's ready to know.

(nobody asked me if I was ready!)

 

We've had the adoption conversation before - he knows he's adopted, we use the word adoption freely - but he's never asked about Birthparents.  My baby is somewhat naive about the whole birds and the bees thing; he hasn't been around many pregnant women, so the whole idea of where babies come from is waaaaay off his radar.  Thank goodness.  So, for him to ask - out of the blue - about Birthparents?  (we found out that he'd watched an episode of Wizards of Waverly Place featuring an adopted character, who referred to their Birthparents....go figure.) 

 

So, we put all our things away and called a Family Meeting.  Ben hopped into my lap, happy-go-lucky, while I felt my stomach start to digest itself.  My sweet husband took the reins and brought the subject up again. {Because of privacy, I'm not going to go into specifics  - the folks that read this blog (most of you, anyway) know us and our family story personally, so specifics aren't necessary.}  

 

After a few minutes, with all his questions answered, the subject was closed and he was satisfied.  That, which I'd dreaded for so long, was much easier than I could have dreamed. 

I know this won't be the end of the questioning, but I think the groundwork has been laid nicely. 

Now, I'll have to find something else to dread.....
 

 

 

Mother's Day 2012

Thank you, my sweetest boy for my 8th Mother's Day as your mom. 


You are my precious angel and I love you more than life itself.



Mom

Eight

8

Eight. 

EIGHT!!


1) What can I give you to make you as happy as you have made me? Years and years we waited for you - praying, hoping all along. You were - and are - truly a gift from God.

2) Your energy is off the charts and I'm so envious.  You are always up for the next adventure; always ready to gogogo, run, play, and fight bad guys.  Keep fighting those bad guys, baby.  Always have fun!    

3) Try your hardest. Don't give up after stumbling. You'll truly learn from your mistakes - no matter how bad you may feel.   Don't stop trying - and don't stop learning.

4)  Those blue eyes just kill me - do you know how powerful they are? You'll probably break a thousand hearts with those baby blues.   Right now, though, you can just use your powers on Mom and Dad....

5) Be good.  Be kind.  Be strong.  Stand up for what is right, don't go with the crowd 'just because'.   Make up your own mind about what you will and won't do, don't allow someone else to change what you know is right...listen to the feelings in your heart and you'll always know you've done what is best.  

6) Do you have to grow up? I know, in just a few short years, you'll be driving. Driving!
Every year I think, oh I love this age - but every year it gets better. I can't wait to see how you change into the man you are meant to be. Just don't do it so fast, k?
7) Trust God.  He always knows what's best for you and loves you more than Mommy and Daddy ever could.

8) Eat your vegetables.  :)



Happy birthday my sweet boy.  I will always always love you, no matter what. 

Growth.

Sheesh.  My baby is growning up and I'm not too sure I'm all that happy about it! 
The boy has just about outgrown every pair of jeans that he owns!  This morning, I helped him get his clothes out for school -  as he pulled the jeans on I could tell they were a bit snug.  He couldn't snap them...."Mom, can you get this for me?".......let's see.....ok, suck it in......uh, no.  Too short and too tight!
To make matters worse, they were semi-new!!  (read: they didn't have holes in the knee)
Did he have a growth spurt that I missed?! 

Speaking of growing up.....

We took our new camper out for our inaugural camping trip this weekend!  We didn't go far, just up the road 20-30 minutes to FDR State Park.  Lovely place, lovely weather.  We hiked, biked, fished and roasted marshmallows over the fire.  Oh, and the boy found a girlfriend. 

Our campsite was across from the play area, so my Social Butterfly son spent a good bit of time over there playing with the other camp kids.  When he wasn't at the playground, he was whining that he wanted to go play with his new friends at the playground.  We soon found out why. 
Her name was Abby.  Or Addie.  Or Allie.  Something like that.  Anyway.  I believe it was love at first sight.

After breakfast Sunday morning, we heard the sound of kids on the playground, so he asked if he could go over to play.  He got dressed, then asked if his hair was still sticking up (he had a bit of The Bed Head going on).   I told him yes - did he want me to fix it for him?  Yes, please.
So, I moistened it a bit and tried to make it behave, which led to nice flat wet hair.. 
I asked him if he wanted me to dry it a little with my hair dryer.  Yes, please.
A few knowing looks over his head to the Daddy and we were done.
"Is it ok, Mom?"
"Is it flat?" 
Yes, baby.  You're perfect.

And just like that, my baby grew up.  He wanted to be sure his hair was ok before he went out to meet his 'friends', particularly, one girl.  As we watched through the camper screen, he walked toward the playground and the kids flocked to him.





We were thinking, though.  Our Social Butterfly who worried so much about whether his hair was flat, never thought to brush his teeth. 

Maybe I've got a few more years yet?

yo quiero taco mio!!

 

Every afternoon, on our way home from school I typically ask Ben a few things - how his day went, whadja' eat for lunch, any problems at school, etc.   Tuesday afternoon was no different as we drove the short distance home....lunch consisted of pb&j, his day went 'fine', and no, there were no problems.  Then:

me: Want anything special for supper?
him:   Can we have tacos?
me:  Sure!  I have taco stuff! 
him:  Can we have tacos tonight and spaghetti tomorrow night? 
me:  Sure,  no problem!

We get home, argue over homework for way too long, and then I piddle around a little til it's time for me to start supper.  Fast forward 30-45 minutes or so, the Daddy walks in the door from work.  Ben comes in from the living room - where he's been glued to the tv - to greet his Daddy.  As he's walking around the bar into the kitchen, he asks me if the tacos are ready. 

Crickets.

Tacos?!

Ah!  Oh no!  Giggle!

I made spaghetti!!! 

Somehow, when I opened the pantry door to get out the taco kit, I must have had spaghetti on the brain and pulled that out instead!  It nevereverever even occurred to me as I was up to my elbows in noodles and sauce that I was making the wrong meal! 
All was forgiven, though, as long as I promised we could have tacos tomorrow night - Wednesday.

Now, normally we try to eat Wednesday night supper at church - it's always good, it's cheap, and easy on the Mama - but yesterday the meal they had planned was something that I knew Ben would not eat, so I intended to go home and make the promised tacos.  Wednesday afternoon riding home from school same routine - same answers too, now that I think about it......anyway......

We get home a little later than I had intended when I made the plan/promise to make tacos for him, so I asked him would it be ok if we skip the tacos (again!) and maybe have some hot dogs?  He laughed and said, sure.  (why yes, I'm catering to a 7 year old.....what?)  So, hot dogs it was! 

And another promise for tacos 'tomorrow night'. 

This morning I was reminded of my taco promise.   My baby wants tacos!! 




Just got a call from the Daddy.  Looks like we're gonna have to skip the tacos again tonight.....







Who wants to break the news to the little man?

A day or three in the life of a boy

This n' that.  Bits n' pieces.  Here n' there over the past few days.



Thursday:
Little man piped up from the back seat to tell us that he'd volunteered to be on the Student Council at school. (2nd grade student council??) He said that when his teacher asked for volunteers,  he and two other boys stepped forward. He said if he wasn't chosen as a representative, he might still get to be the alternate when the rep wasn't there. 
So proud he wants to help!   Now, my question is, what kind of decisions will second graders be making? I can just see it now......Recess! Candy! No school on Mondays! Hamburgers every day!   :)

*update:  found out last night that Ben was not chosen to be on the SC.  They had three volunteers but only two positions, so somebody had to be the losing candidate.  Broke my heart when he told me that he didn't get enough votes.   He did tell me: "I voted for myself, is that ok?"     :)
Maybe next time, sweetie.  



Sunday morning:
A friend from church passed on a little tidbit of information to me from Children's Church.  During the lesson, the leader asked the kids what their feelings were when they saw a homeless person.  Obviously, each child gave a different answer - feel sorry for them, or wonder why they're homeless, etc.  Ben's answer?  He said he thinks, "maybe they could come and live with me".





Sunday night/Monday morning:
At bedtime last night, I asked Ben what he'd rather do in the morning:  ride the bus or be a 'car rider' to school.  (On Mondays & Fridays he has a choice because I don't work on those days.  FYI - there's a BIG difference in the time he - and I - have to get up depending on which mode of transportation he chooses.)  His answer last night was to ride the bus.  Joy.  Not the answer I'd hoped to hear.....that meant we'd have to be up by 6am. 
Goodnight kisses given, I head off to the kitchen to get the coffee pot ready for my bleary-eyed-morning-self.  Then it was off to bed for me.
Fast forward to this morning.  Awakened by the alarm, I stumble my bleary-eyed-self into the kitchen to the coffee pot.  Pour myself a cup, take a few sips (ok, half a cup) to clear the cobwebs, then head in to wake the child. 
Let me just pause here to ask, is there anything sweeter in this whole wide world than a sleeping child?  Even this wild, loud monkey boy that smells like a billy goat most of the time is a vision of angelic peace when he sleeps.   Ok, picking up where we left off....
I crawl into bed with my sweet sleepy child,  say his name and tell him it's time to get up.  He stretches and then doesn't move again.  Has he gone back to sleep?   I remind him that if he wants to go back to sleep and just let me take him to school, that he could sleep for another hour - but if he planned to ride the bus, he needed to get up now.  
My sweet baby then turned to me and asked me if I wanted to go back to sleep.  When I told him no baby, I'm ok - he said he'd go ahead and get up too. 
We headed to the living room couch where he joined me for an early morning snuggle.  40 minutes later, we were still there as the schoolbus stopped out in front of the house. 
We ignored it. 

I love that stinky, wild, billy-goat-smelling, monkey boy.

Seven

Dear Ben,

You, my little man, are now seven years old.  Seven.  S-e-v-e-n!!  Oh dear. 

To top that off - in just a few short days, you will be finished with first grade!  Now wait just a dang minute.  There's no way you're already seven and finishing first grade?!  How is this possible?  

Your feet are almost as big as mine.  I know: I tried on your flip flops. 

You're getting taller by the minute!  All of your jeans have obviously been stolen and replaced with another child's much shorter jeans (who also have the propensity to rip the left and only the left knee....amazing coincidence, yes?)

You're getting stronger and faster every day.  We wrestle on the couch and I have to remind you that I'm a girl, and we're more gentle with girls!  Then you whack me on the head.

You have your own crazy sense of humor.  You kill me with your booty-shaking dance moves.  Everything is better loud and fast.   And loud. 

You're hungry ALL THE TIME.   My ears bleed from hearing, "Mama, can I have a snack?", or after supper: "I'm still hungry".  

You have amazed and astounded me with your mad baseball skillz this season.  To see the difference over such a short period of time - what a change!  All in stride for you though. (I love watching you play!!)

You're open and honest.  A true friend and social butterfly: you've never met a stranger.

Your laugh is still as infectious as ever.  Your energy is non-stop.  (And loud.)
You meet life head-on, and wide-open, bubba!  Your sweetness is over-powering.  You grow more beautiful each and every day.  You still allow me to hold you and snuggle from time to time;  these are among the minutes I treasure.  

You are and always will be a very special little boy.  You were my gift from heaven,  I am blessed beyond measure to be your Mom.   Happy Birthday, my sweet baby boy!

me:  "I love you."
you: "I love you more."
me: "I love you most."

With all my love,

Mom

Sweet dreams, little man

At some point last night as I sat on the couch, mindlessly watching Cupcake Wars on tv, I had a visitor make his way into my lap.  He didn't say a word, just walked over and crawled up and sat down.  I covered his legs up with the ever-present fleece blanket, but didn't say a word.  For once, he was being quiet and still, so I just sat there with my 50 lb baby in my lap and breathed him in. 

A little while later,  I whispered a "thank you for coming to sit with me" in his ear, to which I received a whispered, "you're welcome". 

A little while later than that, I noticed my visitors breathing had started to change.   I peeked around the head resting on my chest to see his eyelashes make one last effort to stay open and then close softly;  revealing the peaceful face of an angel. 

I could have gotten up at that point to carry him to bed, but I didn't.  These sweet moments are not as common any more.  No, I savored every minute of it.  My visitor stayed, sleeping peacefully on my lap.  My sweet baby boy, sweet dreams. 

of chivalry and oral hygeine

While visiting (and enjoying every minute of it!) a friend's blog this morning, I came across a sweet post she wrote about her Gentleman-in-Training, Jonathan.  It reminded me of my little man and his first demonstrations of chivalry yesterday.

We were leaving for church; just the two of us -  Greg had gone earlier; and, as usual, we were running late.  Most of the conversation consisted of:  "hurry up....go brush your teeth!....why aren't you dressed?......shoes?...where are your shoes?.....no, you can't take your DS to church.....did you brush your teeth?....please brush your teeth!......did you brush all of your teeth?.....let's go....let's goooo!"   You know, a typical Sunday morning. 

I grabbed my purse, keys, etc.  Ben got his little bag that holds his Bible, and a straw.  Yes, a drinking straw.  I don't know why, he just did.  Into his mouth it goes.  (maybe I should afix a brush to it so I don't have to remind him forty times to brush his teeth)

As we walked out to the car, he's his usual chatterbox self; but as we made our way around the front of the car, he paused at my door, shifted his bag to his other shoulder, and opened the car door for me!  Then he proceeded to his door, stopped and smiled at me - complete with the straw sticking out of the corner of his mouth.  What a gentleman!  I gave him a quick squeeze, kiss and thank you, snatched the straw out of his mouth, and away we went to church. 

When we got there, we gathered our things and walked (somewhat) together to the door.  Reminders of: don't run in the hall, don't forget to give your tithe envelope to your teacher, be good in class, etc.  We get almost to the door, when my little gentleman rushes ahead, opens the door and holds it for me!  Another quick hug and kiss for my sweet boy - who is immensely proud of himself, by the way. 

Looking back over yesterday morning, after typing this out;  I see that an awful lot of the morning was spent with me saying "don't do this...don't do that....behave....remember not to...."   I should temper my reminders with a little more praise.  He didn't have to be told to open the doors for me, he just did it, out of the kindness of his heart.  All the correction and rushing and do this! don't do that!....was it needed?  Is that what he's going to remember?  Mama was always harping on me to do something or other? 
He was just being himself, a little boy.  I wouldn't want it any other way.

And besides, these baby teeth are all gonna fall out anyway, right?

Love is.....

• changing the oil in my car...
• taking the garbage out that I leave sitting by the door - 8 steps away from the garbage can...
• sweeping up packing peanuts in the middle of the night because you said you'd clean up the mess...
• buying Valentine's cards for me from you and our little man...
• building a fire because "I'm cold" is something you hear repeatedly - AND we can roast marshmallows...then, making the perfect marshmallow for yourself...
• going to work every day for our family...
• our little family...
• taking care of things...
• never giving up on me...
• sentimental...
• thoughtful...
• sweet...
• funny...
• sometimes stressed-out...
• never forgotten...
• always calling on the way home from work...
• insisting on date nights...
• a wonderful Daddy to our son...
• comfortable...
• for always...

Love is: You....and so much more.

Happy Valentine's Day to my sweetie.  I love you.

Good morning

Woke the little man this morning with a kiss and a back scratch. 
The usual: "up, down, over" directions started long before all the cobwebs were cleared. 

Scratch.  Direct.  Rub.

"No, Mom!  Scratch!"    Oops.  Pardon me, sir.

More directions:   "down, down, down".   Down to the perfect little boy bottom covered in tighty whities. 

"I am NOT scratching your bottom, mister!"  as I poked it with my finger. 

Giggling, he said, "That's not my botttom, Mama, those are my bottom boobs!" 

No, that's not a word we normally use. I've heard him say it before referring to my, um...lady parts....and have corrected him immediately, but this morning I didn't.  I laughed. 




I'm probably gonna regret that.

Change a life

   


 Spent a bit of time away from my guys this past weekend - first time ever being away from them both (at the same time) that I can recall!  Went to Atlanta with a group of 50-something gals from church to the Women of Faith Conference, where we heard several wonderful speakers:  Patsy Clairmont,  Andy Andrews, Anita Renfroe and MaryBeth Chapman to name a few.  Oh!  And music.  MUSIC!!  Oh my!! 
Mandisa - girl!  She is full of awesomesauce! 
Sandi Patti - no words can begin to describe the talent. 
And best of all:  Steven Curtis Chapman.  Oh my goodness....my heart just breaks with the beauty of the words and music he makes.

While at the conference, I learned about a program called World Vision.  We saw a very moving video about a woman who, through WV, had sponsored a child in Ethiopia.  This video and the words spoken afterward led me to make the decision to help out a child too.  I made my way to the World Vision table.  There,  I stood for a few minutes looking at the many, many photos of children from all parts of the globe that so need our help.  Many had eyes that were much older than their age.  In those eyes, I saw hopelessness and fear;   things no child should ever have to experience.

I asked for a child near Ben's age because I can't bear the thought that there are children out there, not much different than my baby, who are hungry or scared or hopeless.   So, after a few minutes of searching, I found our sponsor child.  He's 6 years old; he lives in Brazil with his mother and 4 siblings.  His name is Ruan.  

I came home with his profile in a folder, waiting for the right time to bring it up.  I want this to be something that I can do with Ben, to teach him how very blessed we are (he is) and so that he will know that not everyone is as fortunate.   Greg went upstairs to play his guitar (probably looking for a little down-time -- being the only entertainment to a very active son for the weekend will certainly wear a guy out!!)  I sat my sweet little boy next to me on the couch and told him I wanted to talk to him about something very important.  He sat still, listening as I told him about a little boy named Ruan that lives in Brazil.  We read his profile together.   We looked at his picture and we talked about the fact that Ruan and Ben are the same age, and probably likes to do some of the same things he does; but the big difference is that where our family has so much, his family has very little.
  
I asked him, "You know how when we go to the store, you sometimes say, 'Mama can I have this toy' and most of the time, I'll say yes?  Well, Ruan's Mom - even though she'd love to - probably can't do that."  

Then, after reading in the profile about Ruan's lack of food, I explained, "You know how when you ask me if you can have a snack after school, and I say sure?  Then you go to the cupboard and get whatever snack you want?  Well, Ruan isn't able to do that either because his family isn't able to afford much more than rice and beans."

I know that he probably doesn't entirely comprehend why he's able to have everything he needs/desires, when this little boy isn't,  but I know he got it.   As soon as I told him we were going to be sponsoring Ruan by sending our money to help, he got up and ran to his bedroom.  He went to his piggybank and brought back a handful of change and a dollar.  He said, "Can I send this?  Will this help?" 



I'd told Ben that one of the great things about sponsoring Ruan was that he could write letters and even send pictures to him.   So, we got out paper and pencil and these are the words Ben wrote to his new friend:

     Dear Ruan,
          My name is Ben.  I am six years old.   I live in Georgia.  That is in the United States. 
     We want to help you.  God loves you so much.  Please write me back.
     From:  Ben

Words written from my little boys heart, to another little boy half a world away. 




If you'd like to know more about World Vision, here's the link:   http://www.worldvision.org/
I can't wait to get started.  



"And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me."  Matthew 18:5 (NIV)

Needed

There will come a day, I know, where I won't be as needed as I am now.  I see glimpses of the future from time to time:  Mr. Independent has been showing up more and more frequently at our house of late.   But occasionally, I'm still needed. 

My schedule at work allows me to be off on Monday and Friday (yeah, I know:  how awesome is that?) so, those days I get to take the short one to school.   I really enjoy being able to do that; I get to talk to him about his day, make plans for the evening, and most importantly - get a last minute hug and kiss that, I hope, will go with him all day.  

This morning was no different.  As we broke several speeding laws drove to the school, I told him I wasn't sure if I'd be able to walk him in (because we were running a little bit late and I'd have to find a place to park and I just didn't know if we'd make it in time, and, and, and!)    As it happened, we made excellent time driving like a bat out of hell.  As I was about to turn into the school entrance, he asked me if we were late.  I said no, we've got plenty of time (booyah!).  Then, the sweetest question:  Do we have time for you to walk me in? 
Oh, absolutely, sweetie!  

I'm still needed.  Whew.



"In all our contacts it is probably the sense of being really needed and wanted which gives us the greatest satisfaction and creates the most lasting bond."
Eleanor Roosevelt

Top this, 5-star restaurant!

Last night's supper was basically a 'Fend for Yourself' affair.  Leftovers, check: just heat 'em up yourself.  Well, except for Ben - even though he makes a mean scrambled egg (with supervision!) I didn't force him to fix his own supper...I'm not that bad of a mom!  Sheesh!
As I'd had a cup of coffee late in the afternoon that sort of took my appetite away, I didn't eat, thinking I'd just grab something a little later. ha

Probably an hour or so later, as we were sitting at the kitchen table working on spelling words, math problems and sight words, I decided to finally fix myself something to eat.  But, before I could throw anything together, something else came up and the opportunity for me to eat was lost.

More time passed.

Even later, at Ben's urging, we trudged outside to listen to the night sounds on the back porch - we had lots of rain this weekend; happy frogs make lots of noise!  After we'd oohed and ahhed over the frog songs, The Daddy said sweetly, "I have an idea! Why don't you go make us some chocolate chip cookies, Mama?" 
To which, The Son jumped up and down saying, "YES!  Cookies! Mama!? Make some cookies!?!"
I answered, "Um. I don't think so. I still haven't had supper.  Remember?  And besides, it's after 8.  No cookies tonight."   As I laughed maniacally and shuffled off into the dark woods...
The Daddy agreed, saying he didn't realize it was that late.  Well, not five seconds after that, Ben jumped up to go inside.  I peeked in on him to see what was so important that he had to run inside, only to find him in the kitchen - obviously up to something.  So, we waited.

A few minutes later, my baby boy walked outside with a little plate.  On that little plate was a sandwich and one of his snack bags of pre-cut apples with grapes.  He'd made my supper!   The sandwich?  Grape jelly and apricot preserves.  He said he'd looked for the peanut butter in the cupboard but couldn't find it, so he just used apricot preserves instead. 
After a quick hug, he rushed back inside to make me something to drink (and so Daddy could show him where the PB was).  He returned with my drink (and the PB) and stood there,  just beaming.

I lost it.

My sweet baby made my supper!

Daddy had to explain that Mom's tears were happy tears.  I told him it was the best sandwich I'd ever, ever had.  And it was. 

I love him. 



ps - this morning, as I helped him out of the shower, he said, "you're welcome for the supper last night" and gave me a warm, wet hug. 

my sweet boy

Oh, kiddo, you're all boy.  You amaze me with your energy and your imagination.  Unless you're sleeping, you're generally moving in some manner.  Every spare second is spent using your imagination; usually fighting bad guys - complete with sound effects.  Anything can be a weapon in your imagination, sometimes it's just your own super 'moves' that'll take 'em down.  Karate, jujitsu?  Who needs 'em?  I've never felt more safe than when you're defeating the bad guys in the living room.

You challenged your Daddy to a race tonight because you're convinced that you're faster than him now.  Because we'd just eaten, the race had to be put off for a little while (somebody probably would've thrown up).  But when that day comes, I'll be the referee.  You're pretty quick - Daddy has his work cut out for him! 

At supper tonight, you spent most of the time talking and dancing instead of eating.  So entertaining - we laughed and completely enjoyed your little show. 

When we had to make a trip to the grocery store this afternoon, you grabbed my hand in the parking lot without me even asking.   And I got a sweet, sweet hug in the meat department for absolutely no reason.  Mommy needs those from time to time - even in the meat department!

You're growing up so fast.  You are a such a pleasure to have around, little guy.   I'm unbelievable blessed.

 

Vacation question and answer session.

Setting:  Post-vacation-loaded car - somewhere between Orlando, FL and Waverly Hall, Ga.



Question:  "Hey, sweetie - what was your favorite thing about vacation this year?"

Answer: "Swimming!"

Um.  And how much money did we spend on theme park tickets again??



Question:  "So, what was the next favorite thing about vacation?"

Answer:  "Sleeping in the bed with y'all!"  

O-kay...



Question:  "What was your least  favorite thing about vacation?"

Answer:  "When you got sick." 

Aww.  Who cares about how much money we spent.  That's just a sweetie right there.

Happy 6th Birthday, Ben!!!

You went to bed 5 years old.  You woke up this morning and you had miraculously turned 6!!  You're 6 years old!!   Where has the time gone, little man? 

Yesterday, you were just a little bigger than your (now favorite) stuffed bear named Bear.

Yesterday, you were all snuggled in your little onesie, playing with your feet.  I gave you your bottle and you fell asleep with your belly full.

Yesterday,  I held you in my arms while I rocked you and sang to you.  Daddy doesn't know our secret; that I would sit with you in my lap all day, just so I could look at you and memorize your every feature,  only getting up to go to the bathroom or to make you another bottle. 

Yesterday, you had your first day of preschool.  I took you and left you there at the school, worrying that you'd miss me or be scared - I was worried for nothing.  You had a ball.

Yesterday, I surprised you by meeting your class at the Aquarium for your field trip.  Your face lit up so bright when I told you that I'd been able to get off work unexpectedly and I could stay - and you didn't let go of my hand all day!

Yesterday, you started Kindergarten! You were so excited to be able to ride the school bus for the first time.  You got on board with a wave and a smile and never looked back.

Yesterday, you rode your bike without the training wheels for the first time.  We took the training wheels off and we gave it our best shot, and off you went!  Now, you're doing tricks and nothing scares you at all.  You were so excited to show Daddy your new accomplishment.

Yesterday,  you wrapped Daddy and me around your little finger.  Today, tomorrow and forever you will always be my baby.  I'm so thankful to God for the special gift of YOU.   Your heart, your spirit, your love of life,  your energy, your beauty.   All are gifts I'll treasure all the days of my life.

Happy 6th Birthday my little man.  Mommy loves you so much.