Archive for the ‘Favorites’ Category
July 19 2010 ·
12 CommentsPosted in:
Daily,
Favorites · Tags:
motherhood It starts first thing as the sun rises through the window blinds.
“Mommy!”, she whines upon waking.
I walk in to lift her up, good morning. “Mommy”, she whispers softly. Not long after, her brothers stumble in, too, crowding around me in the chair with bed head and sleepy eyes. Elbows and knees poking into sides. “Mommy, what day is it?”, Jedi asks, curious. “Mommy, how many days until the weekend? Mommy, I had a dream. Do you want to hear about my dream, Mommy?”
“Mommy, I’m hungry”, they demand in a rare form of unity. I fix waffles or pancakes or omelets. Some days, when it’s already too much, it’s merely Pop Tarts. I fill three cups with milk. It’s briefly still while their mouths are full and then it begins again.
“Mommy, he’s hitting me! Mommy, make him stop! Mommy, she scratched me!”
Mommy, help. Mommy, sit. Mommy, boo-boo. Look at this, Mommy. Buzz is a bear, Mommy. Mommy, come here. Can I play video games, Mommy? How long until Daddy comes home, Mommy? Mommy, what are we having for dinner? Can we watch Toy Story, Mommy? Come watch with us, Mommy. Mommy, what are you doing? Do you see my belly button, Mommy? Mommy, I’m thirsty again. Do you remember when we went to the zoo, Mommy? Mommy! Hey, Mommy! Even when they don’t say it in so many words, it’s there in intention, pulling in three different directions.
It doesn’t halt until they’re tucked in bed. When I have a few minutes left to just be me.
“Is Grey Kitty going to die?”
This is what Jedi asked me the other morning. My first instinct was to immediately search for our cat, to make sure he was still in good health. I’m not Kitty’s biggest fan, but we’ve had him for 12 years. We picked him and his brother, which we creatively named Orange Kitty, up as kittens when J and I first moved in together. Orange Kitty passed away a few years back.
“Um, sometime, yes”, I replied carefully.
“What will happen when he dies?”
At this point, I was preparing myself for a grand tale about running free on a farm with all of our other deceased pets from over the years. I thought it might be time for a deep discussion of God and heaven and heavier questions of spirituality and mortality for a 6 year old. I paused briefly, treading lightly into intense territory. I also considered apologizing to Grey Kitty for discussing his death when he was very much alive.
“Well, he’ll go to kitty heaven”, I told him as an initial step. I figured he’d surely have more questions where we could elaborate and delve further into the circle of life.
“OK”, he said in turn. “But what I meant was, if Kitty dies can we get a dog?”
I am participating in Momalom‘s Five for Ten. Today’s topic is about Happiness.
As a little kid, there seemed like so much I couldn’t do. I’d watch in awe as my brother, who is 6 years older, went on teenage adventures that I wasn’t a part of. When you’re young you can’t help but believe those older share a secret that makes them happier.
Then I got to high school and was miserable. I was quiet, too afraid of what everyone else thought yet trying too hard to be different. I spent the majority of my days blending into a desk, willing the clock to tick faster. I couldn’t wait to graduate. To get out. Happiness has to be waiting somewhere else.
Mere months after graduating high school I met J. A few months later, we moved in together. Away. We didn’t have much at the time. It was a small apartment with creaky wood floors. There were respites of happiness, but it was exhausted by a dead-end job that I abhorred. And so began a search for a better career to make me happy.
Eventually I was awarded my own desk, where I twiddled my thumbs for hours on end. It wasn’t the best job, but it was good. I liked having someplace to go, a reason to dress up. Yet it was so quiet when I came home at the end of the day, even with J in an adjacent room. I needed whatever was missing to make me happy.
And along came my son, my first born. Eventually, my world shifted focus to bottles and diapers. When Abby and Buzz arrived, my days turned from quiet and steady to hectic and onerous. It’s not easy. Having children in and of itself did not make me happy.
But there are flashes. Like lightening cutting through the night sky. When my 4 year old, who is speech delayed, tries to sing along with a song or says “Mommy, I love you”. When my daughter cusps my face in her hands and squeals “Hi!” or peek-a-boos around a corner. The ridiculous stories my oldest shares and how he’s always trying to make me laugh. In finding them, I found true moments of happiness.
When I was pregnant with Buzz, I heard a constant question from countless people. “Are you hoping for a girl?” I honestly wasn’t. Either way would have been fine, but I thought there would be something truly special about my son having a brother. That’s what I envisioned. Two boys, friends, brothers.
And when that became our reality, I was overjoyed. I couldn’t have imagined anything different. They were perfect, my boys. My sons. I was soon to be in a house full of action figures and Light Sabers and burping contests. There were times when I felt outnumbered, but it was exactly as it should have been.
Still, people would ask, “Are you going to try for a girl?”. As if we had somehow failed. Third time’s a charm. The answer to that was no, I don’t think so. We thought our family was complete, already a handful. Bony knees and dirty fingernails and all things blue. Perfect. To imply that something was missing would have been wrong. At least I thought it was.
Then, along came a surprise. And we weren’t sure how we felt about it at first. I was in denial for longer than I should have been, actually. But we gathered our wits and our courage and we prepared once again. Whatever it may be. Three boys, three brothers, would have been just as well. Easier even, maybe.
When I met her for the first time, though, they said “It’s a girl! You have a daughter.”, and I cried. This girl that took me by surprise. Who I didn’t know I was missing until she was here. We are still outnumbered, but at least I have someone on my side. And she will always have me on hers. My beautiful girl. It’s so much better than I could have ever imagined.
March 26 2010 ·
10 CommentsPosted in:
Favorites,
The Kids · Tags:
Buzz,
life It was raining as we left the shelter of home for Buzz’s speech therapy appointment yesterday afternoon. Not to the point of lightning flashing thunderstorms, but windy and cold nonetheless. The kind of dreary day that my adult stodgy self feels would be better spent sleeping away, instead of sauntering out into. Jumping in puddles just isn’t my thing.
The drops beat sideways against my back as I struggled to lock Buzz in his carseat. By the time we were on our way, I was drenched and cursing mother nature.
When we emerged from the 45 minute session, the steady downpour had formed large puddles in the parking lot. The biggest of which just so happened to encase our car. It looked like a small lake had swallowed it whole. I maneuvered my way up a curb, over the embankment, hop this way, put your left foot in that way, trying not to lose a shoe in the mud, and holding on to my son’s hand at the same time. All in a futile effort to keep dry. Buzz, however, viewed it as an opportunity. Where I saw an uncomfortable mess, he saw a scene straight from a dream.
Landing with both feet, he splashed and shuffled. His parched pant legs drinking up the water, like drops of bliss. I felt him tug on my hand, reaching for an inch more. Just one more, as the rain began to blend between us.
Sometimes, I forget how remarkable and jubilant that kid is. He deals me such a monumental fit the majority of most days, it’s easy to get lost in. Yesterday, though, the rain brought with it that reminder. He truly is a bright light of a little boy. Jumping in puddles may not be my thing, but he is. And whatever makes him happy, as long as it doesn’t involve sharp metal objects and electrical outlets, makes me happy as well. Even if it means my socks get soaking wet in the process.
