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.

Melancholy

Feeling a little melancholy this morning, maybe it's the season?  The leaves are changing, it's getting cooler outside - Fall is here.  Soon, Thanksgiving and then all too quickly Christmas will be here and gone.  Another year, passed.



Where has time gone?  Maybe it's because my days and weeks are spent the same - I treasure the quiet of my days off work, with time to myself to spend as I wish.  My work days are made better because I get to see my friends, not because of any great feeling of accomplishment anymore.  When did that change?  Am I making a difference there?  Occasional glimpses of a higher purpose appear, but they're few and far between. 

I got to spend some time with Mama last week when she and Dan-man came to stay with us while Greg was gone on his annual fishing trip.  I don't know how good my company was, but I really enjoyed her visit.  (Thanks, Mama for taking care of me!) You always amaze me with how you never complain about doing something for one of us.  Well, maybe you do, but I never hear it.  I know very few people who would make an apple pie at 10:30 at night just because.  If the grand kids want pizza, and then want something else, and then something else...you're on it.  And the #1 rule: 'Grandma overrules the Mama' stands well and true.

My memories of my childhood are fleeting - I don't remember many day to day events, and as I get older, even things that I thought I'd always remember at the time, are gone.  That makes me sad. 
I allow things to come and go, moments that I think to myself, "I need to go write that down" only to be distracted by something - the moment passes, along with the memory.  

I want time to stop sometimes - or at least slow down for goodness sakes!  Maybe it's me?  Maybe I need to savor each moment as it comes a little more.  Allowing the moment to sink in a little deeper, grow roots...so that when I want to re-visit that time, I'll be able to remember. 





photo credit: Shari Weinsheimer

9/11

Earlier tonight just before little man's bedtime, as we were watching the beginning moments of a show remembering 9/11, the footage showed one of the poor souls who fell or leapt from one of the towers.  I quickly put my hand over Ben's eyes and ushered him out of the living room to his bedroom - all the while listening to: "What was it, Mom?", "What was that falling?"
I told him that there are some bad things in life that I feel like I have to protect him from, and at this point, I didn't think it was something he should see.  He's 7, I'm....um, not....and I have a hard time watching it and wrapping my brain around the horror - how is his little mind going to process something so terrible?  

My baby is still my baby - at least for another day.

Happy Birthday, sweet friend

Today is your birthday and I've got a bone to pick with you. I want to tell you a few things. So sit down. And hush.

1) I think you are just the cat's meow; I want to be just like you when I grow up.
2) I think I've never met anyone so beautiful - inside and out.
3) I think you are the epitome of Southern Hospitality, grace, beauty, warmth, humor, style, and class.
4) I think I've never tasted anything better than your cakes.
5) I think you work too hard.
6) I think I would have loved to have you for a sister for all my life, not just the last 10 years or so.
7) I think I'll never have a better choir buddy and I miss standing next to you every Sunday morning. And Wednesday night.
8) I think I want your clothes. And your shoes. So, hand 'em over.
9) I think you are the most beautiful Grandmother I've ever seen.
10) I think your husband is a nut (not earth-shattering news, everybody knows that)
11) I think you are talented beyond belief. And humble to boot.
12) I think you are smarter than a 5th grader.
13) I think I would have loved for my son to have had you for a Sunday school teacher.
14) I think I miss you something terrible.
15) I think I need a tissue.
16) I think God loves you very much.
17) I think I do too.
18) I think I need another tissue.
19) I think you're my hero and quite possibly an angel here on earth.
20) I think there's no possible way that you're 60 years old today. Oops, was that a secret?
21) I think I'm so very thankful that you have occupied the same place in time with me - my life wouldn't be the same without knowing you.
22) I think I'm so very grateful for the friendship and love you've offered me and my family.
23) I think I've been so very blessed to have you in my life.
24) I think I need another tissue.

Have a wonderful day, my sweet, sweet friend. I love you so much.

Happy Birthday Sweetest Boy

Little man,

You're sleeping now. You breathe in and out. Your eyelashes, so long and soft, still and quiet on your sweet face. Your beautiful mouth is open a little; sometimes you speak a word or two straight out of your dream - what is your dream tonight, baby? Could it be dinosaurs or Transformers, Power Rangers and fighting Bad Guys? My little man - you're always the Good Guy - keep the town safe. Sweet dreams, little man.

I remember the very first time I saw your beautiful face. You came into our home and into our hearts in the arms of one of God's special angels - and our lives haven't and will not ever be the same again.

Your light shines so brightly it's sometimes blinding. Your spirit fills the room. I watch you from a distance and see the changing expressions on your face and am still amazed at this gift God has given us. I see your happiness overflowing even when you are just outside playing, or running for the sheer joy of running; your energy is abundant and contagious. I see your eyes sparkle and your entire face break into a smile when you run from home plate to first base - your batting helmet too big, wobbling on your noggin - you sneak a peek at the bleachers to see if I'm watching. Yes, baby. I'm watching - I'll always be there to cheer you on - whatever you choose to do. I love to watch you and Daddy give each other high-fives when you make it to first base after taking a serious whack at the t-ball.

I love your voice - silly and serious, early-morning hoarseness, or late-night sleepiness - my favorite words in the whole wide world: "hey, ma-ma". If I could bottle that sound and have nothing else to hear the rest of my life, I'd take it and consider it enough.

You made our life so sweet when you came through our door. You're loved so much, my little man. You celebrate your birthday this week and we celebrate with you. You're a whole hand now! You're going to be 5 years old. Unbelievable. My fairy tale happily ever after has reached another precious milestone. I thank God for this; I thank God for you, my one and only sweet little boy. Your Daddy and me love you so, so much.

Happy Birthday my sweet, sweet 5 year old.

I love you,

Mommy

Remembering....

Yesterday, sweetest hubby and me went to pick up little man at school. When we got there we noticed his class seated on the floor listening to the afternoon teacher reading a book. It always amazes us how they can corral a roomful of 4 year olds into one small area and keep them there, relatively quiet and still, for any length of time. Must be magic.

We didn't want to interrupt the story, so we stood outside the door and peeked in, observing the class in the reflection of the mirror over the sink in the classroom. When the story was finished, little man - who'd been sitting on the front row - stood up and quietly walked the two steps to his teacher, leaned over and gave her a big hug. She hugged him back and he went to sit back down, but as he turned around he caught sight of us outside the door and came running.

I thought how sweet my little boy is. I don't get to see much of the interaction of my child and others; I drop him off in the morning as I head to work, and pick him up in the evening after work. But his day to day activities, I really don't know much about. I get daily reports from his teacher and they'll occasionally have a blurb about something he did - but mostly, I'm in the dark. It was nice to see a completely spontaneous act of kindness shown to someone other than his mommy or daddy.

These are the things I want to be able to remember. I know I'll forget most of the daily happenings, good and bad. But I want to remember how I feel when I see the smile light up his face when he sees me or his daddy. How he smells - fresh from a bath, still warm and a little damp; or after playing all day he 'smells like a billygoat'. How he thinks 'shaking his bootie-bottom' is a dance that is funnier than anything. How he says "watch this, daddy" a million times a day. How he giggles when he toots. How he wants somebody to snuggle with him in the morning. How he always wants his chocolate milk first thing like I want my coffee. How if he wants to tell you he loves you more than anything, he says he loves you "more than the city" - I have no idea why that means a lot, but to him it does. How he likes to show off his 'moves' which are essentially contorted, convoluted, made-up karate kicks - but to him that is some pretty fancy footwork. How his imagination can keep him occupied and entertained when mommy is too busy doing something other than paying him attention. I want to remember things that are even now getting fuzzy after time. When we played with the water hose for the first time in the backyard of our home in Columbus; he was only in a t-shirt and diaper and he splashed around making a muddy spot in the grass and he thought it was the greatest. Or the day we had a huge rain shower and we let him run out into it until he was soaked to the skin - how he laughed and laughed and splashed in the puddles made on the driveway.
I want to remember it all. His hugs, his smells, his voice - oh, his voice! - when he sings or talks on and on. How he wraps his fingers around mine when we walk through a parking lot, or sometimes as we walk into school he'll slip his hand into mine without my asking and how I love the feel of it.

All these things I want to remember, but I worry that I won't.


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Got a little help with the housework this morning in the form of a little man who wanted to make up his bed before school (!) and he wanted to do it
all by himself; with Mama out of the room:

"I'll call you when I'm dunned".

So, I went to get his bath ready and wait.

Just a few minutes later he calls me back into his room, a big smile on his face:

"look, mama! I made up my bed and I put all of them close together because
they're best friends" (stuffed toys on his bed)

Great job, little man.

Ok, so if you know me, you're aware that I'm normally a little OCD about bed-making, but there's no way I'm gonna mess this up by straightening it and making it 'right' by my so-called standards. He worked very hard to get it just so and was so proud. I may just have to change my way of thinking when it comes to bed-making.

Merry Christmas!

Man, it's been a while. Sorry.

Can I tell you how great it is that Christmas is almost here? Can I? Can I?
The sweetest little man is just over the moon about it, and it's rubbing off on his mama. We took our annual trip to Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge a couple of weeks ago. We love making a trip up in early fall to see the leaves when they're putting on their show; but since the arrival of the little man 4 years ago, we've discovered another reason to make a trip in December.

The real Santa Claus lives in Pigeon Forge. Yes, he does. Oh, and he sings and plays the guitar.

On our inaugural visit to this magical, amazing Christmas store (really, I've never seen anything like this place) we got there right as Santa started a song. There were probably 5-6 kids sitting on little benches down in front of him as he sang. They were entranced.
So was I.

I listened to Santa sing as I held my little man. I was a goner. I had my sweet boy in my arms and I watched his eyes as he was so captivated by Santa.
The wonder, the awe. Santa!

I couldn't help it; I had tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat and all I needed was a little push and I would have gone full-out blubbering, over the edge.

His song? "Thank God for Kids".
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AHWaTXMKT3s
(ok, so the video is a little cheesy, but the words.....sheesh! I'm all verklempt!)

Yep. Thank God for kids. And I do. This sweet, precious little boy - thank you, God.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Barbie suitcase?

So, I go to pick up little man at pre-k yesterday afternoon, and find waiting beneath his cubby, a Barbie suitcase. With a note. From his teacher.

This month at school, his class theme "All About Me". The project for each kid in the class will be to take the suitcase home, and bring it back in two days with it chock full of anything that defines them: things they like, things that make them special/unique. Then, they'll share everything with the class. Little man was completely over the moon about the suitcase and the project, in fact, when we got home, he pulled it out of the car and said, "I'm gonna start now!"

Well, I've got ideas in my head of the things that represent/define him to me; but when we walked in the house, he went straight to one of the baskets under the coffee table (that I got at Target, and really think are the cutest......anyway.) and started pulling out toy after toy after toy, to fill his suitcase.

I think he did pretty well, actually, with the toys that he pulled out......
Spiderman mask.....if you know him, you understand.
Bumble bee.......from happy meal at Het*.
Train/locomotive......his sweet Aunt ToniMac gave him.
Spongebob......well, because he's the man.
White Power Ranger......newest hero and idol, thanks to Nanny.
Black Spiderman......old standby.
Bobble-head Star Wars creature from yet another happy meal.......no comment
Red Power Ranger......again, thanks to Nanny.
Optimus Prime........because he's Cool.
Microphone..........certainly not for volume control, that's fer shure.
Bob the Tomato........another old standby.
Can o' Flarp.........because fart sounds are just the funniest thing to a 4 year old.
Super Cool Sheriff Deputy Badge.......because he rules the roost around here -truly.

So, as I'm sitting here going through this Barbie suitcase filled with these treasures, I can see in my head, the picture of him going through the basket and the built-in cabinet in the living room. Pieces and parts of toys - all sorts and sizes - probably hundreds of things that he's collected over the past 3-4 years. Most of the stuff he doesn't even play with anymore, but he took the time yesterday to sit and sort through it to find things that he deems as special enough to take to school to show his friends.

And in my head, I can remember times with each of these toys. And a little man. With an imagination and energy to bring each and every one of them to life; for himself and the luckiest mommy and daddy in the world.

*het is a shortened version of our name for McDonalds = HetMcDonalds. It's been HetMcDonalds since little man started talking.....we think maybe it's because someone once said something like "At McDonald's", but he heard "hetmcdonalds". So, it stuck. It's Het.