Archive for the ‘Favorites’ Category
February 25 2010 ·
12 CommentsPosted in:
Favorites,
General · Tags:
life What matters is how you spin it.
All of us wake up in the morning wishing for just 10 more minutes. We take whatever means necessary to pry our eyes open before we dive into work. Whether that’s outside of the home or in. Whether it’s pushing papers or pushing strollers. We care for our kids, our pets, our husbands, our business, ourselves. There are errands to run and appointments to set and deadlines to meet. We throw a dinner together and clean up and watch TV and tap away on our computers. We yearn for connections. A home too messy and tensions too tight. With the weight of the world on our shoulders, we unwind however we can. Then we put it all to bed before we start again in the morning.
Of course, there are the exceptions and curveballs. There are tragedies as there are triumphs. Life has its twists and turns, but it doesn’t bend. With luck and time, it tends to revert back to an altered state of the same.
It’s all in the way we feel. It’s how we see the mundane minutiae of the everyday. When presented with the choice, would you recall the morning laughter or the spousal argument that afternoon? Would you rather strive for the extraordinary or be content in settling for normalcy? No one way is right or wrong.
It’s how we take away what we are given.
There are kids and parents. Families and friends. Laughter and cries. Embraces and fights. Many different descriptions, but they all equal the same. What matters is how you spin it. What do you see that no one else has? What do you choose to remember? The hour to hour, day to day. The structure stays familiar, it’s who we are that renders it unique.
No matter how you spin it.
My oldest boy, he’s tall and lanky. He outgrows most of his clothes in the blink of an eye. His soft-scented newborn days seem so distant, ancient, yet just like yesterday. He likes video games and playing with toy guns and he pretends he’s a soldier battling zombies. Even though I’ve been in denial, it’s safe to say that he’s not a baby anymore. To further cement that fact, he has his first loose tooth.
It was noticed during his bath last night. A very slight wiggle. The few times we discussed it wasn’t enough preparation apparently. “My baby teeth will fall out and then I’ll get big boy teeth!”, he’d say excitedly. When the time came, however, he had a mini-meltdown. He wouldn’t let us see it. He didn’t want to talk about it. He even cried. Big, fat rolling tears down his cheeks.
“He doesn’t want you to know he’s growing up”, J confided.
I remember feeling incredibly nervous bringing him home from the hospital. I didn’t know what to do with a baby. There’s a lot of things I regret about those first few months: I set him in his swing too often, I gave up breastfeeding too soon, my moods wouldn’t settle, my head was unsure, I doubted more than I believed. Through it all, he made me a mother. We fought through the trenches and came out hand in hand. And now my once fragile little boy, with a mess of curly hair and sea of blue eyes, is on the verge of a giant leap into growing up.
After he finally calmed down later that night, he urged optimistically, “Maybe it’ll fall out tomorrow!” It’s not going to be that soon, but it seems to be time I craft together some Tooth Fairy wings.
What is the going rate for a tooth these days?
December 03 2009 ·
5 CommentsPosted in:
Favorites,
Me Myself · Tags:
life This morning, I had an appointment for my annual exam. I found myself sitting in a room that I hadn’t been in since Maddie was a newborn, looking around at all the pregnancy paraphernalia. Along with signs and brochures, there was a poster on the wall illustrating the 9 month transformation from embryo to baby. Even though I had seen it all before, been witness to it’s power first hand, I was transfixed.
I did that. I had that. 3 successful times. 4 others that were not. The embryo illustrated at 8 weeks, which is when all of my miscarriages occurred, was so small, looking nothing like a baby. But it’s eyes, it read, would have been completely formed.
I felt a slight ping of envy. Suddenly, I missed being pregnant. I would almost say that for a brief second, I contemplated doing it all over again. Do I want another baby?
That’s when my doctor walked in, clearly expecting herself.
We made pleasantries, like always. She asked how I was, problems I may have been having. All while I’m dressed in a rather revealing robe. Then, she wondered how I was getting along with my IUD. No complaints, I replied.
“Do you want any more kids?”, she asked in her line of questions.
“No”, I immediately answered, without even thinking.
“Well, that was quick,” she jumped, slightly taken aback.
“That’s how done I am”, I realized. And it was. It is. I guess that’s my answer right there. I am done. I am a mother to 7; 3 here with us, 4 someplace else. But 7 nonetheless. I’ve made peace with that. I am full. Done. Complete.
November 05 2009 ·
5 CommentsPosted in:
Favorites,
The Kids · Tags:
family,
life,
Maddie Every time I talk to my mother, she’ll ask what the kids are doing. The response is usually the same: “Jayden’s on the computer. Ethan’s in the back, probably destroying something. And Maddie’s back there with him.”
Most days, Maddie wants to wear every article of clothing she comes across. This particular day, her fashion choices consist of an orange oversized skateboarding shirt which hangs past her knees on top of a blue Spiderman tee. Both from her brothers, of course. Underneath all of that, however, are pink stripes and socks with red bows.
Inevitably, a few moments later, there are cries from the lone girl of the group. From either standing her ground, or getting knocked around a little too rough. For the most part they all get along well, but when they don’t. You have to stand up for yourself around brothers. Especially a brother like Ethan.
She’ll come toddling in, voicing her frustration the only way she knows how. If she could talk I’m sure she’d let me know. 9 times out of 10, someone took her toy. It’s usually a toy that she wasn’t supposed to have anyway. A too big for her light saber or headless action figure. We have yet to fully embrace the pink section of the toy aisle.
My mom, still on the phone, listens in on Maddie’s intent wails. “She’s gonna be a tomboy when she grows up”, she’ll voice without fail. “Although when you grow up with two brothers like that, you almost have to be.” Says a woman who grew up with only sisters.
Believe me, she usually gives just as good as she gets even in her small size. Who says girls can’t be tough while still being girls? If it needs to be, though, the pink stripes and red bows can remain our little secret.
October 14 2009 ·
5 CommentsPosted in:
Daily,
Favorites · Tags:
Ethan,
life,
motherhood There was a mother out with her family, including a number of children. Her young son was a few feet away, attempting to make a mitten-ensconced prison break. She was ordering him back, in typical mom voice fashion. A hint of desperation in her pleads.
“Get back here. Don’t you run away from me. Do you want to get lost?”
He halted a few steps later. She grabbed him by the hood on his coat and directed him back in line. Just one of many battles fought in a day.
I watched this and couldn’t help thinking to myself, wow, she has her hands full. I’m glad that isn’t me.
Because really, look at my precious children. They’re like angels!
Not long after, I was alone with all the kids as J trotted off to the car for a minute. During this time, I had Maddie on my hip while holding as tightly as I could on to Ethan’s small hand. If you give that boy an inch, he’ll run for the hills. Suffice it to say, he twisted himself until he was free and off he went. Before I knew it, I was barking commands in that ubiquitous mom voice. Enveloped in desperation.
“Ethan, no. Get back here, Ethan. Ethan, I said no.”
Then my cherubic child turned, laughed, and kept right on going.
In that moment, I couldn’t help looking around, wondering how many people were watching us with a sense of relief. Saying to themselves, wow, she has her hands full. I’m glad that isn’t me.
