Tomorrow my baby turns 6. Now for most of you, that doesn't sound bad, and I know you're sitting there asking yourself what the big deal is? Well, here's the big deal.
My husband and I had a late start -- entirely HIS fault, of course. We didn't get married until the week before I turned 30 -- again, entirely HIS fault as I had chased him shamelessly for 15 years and he was just too oblivious to notice! We enjoyed a couple of years of just us (so that I could enjoy FINALLY having tripped, caught, and hog-tied him so he couldn't escape). Then we decided to have kids. (Sometimes, I wonder about the wisdom of THAT decision, but that's another story. J/K....mostly)
Our eldest little demon-darling came along when I was 34. Not too bad. We were old enough to have a little more patience and not be quite so freaked out about having this little human completely dependent on us for whom we were completely clueless about what to do.
Then the baby came along. Our little goofy darling-demon. I was 37. How I went from MORE patient and a little freaked, to LESS patient and MORE freaked doesn't exactly make sense. After all, I was older and more experienced. But all of sudden, I realized that I was OLD. Old enough to be M's grandmother. ARRGGGHHHHH!!! How did this happen??!!??!! Again, it was all my husband's fault. If he had paid a little more attention, and been a little less oblivious, I could have caught him 15 years earlier and our little demon-darling and darling-demon would be almost out of the house. I would have soon been holding actual GRANDchildren, instead of my own child.
Now, I'm 43. My oldest will turn 9 next month. And the baby is turning 6 tomorrow. And I'm OLD. I feel old. I act old. I feel too old to play with my boys. Granted, they are boys and play rough. And no matter how often their father (bless his heart) tells them, "Girls break easy. Play gently with Mom," boys can only play one way -- all out. *Sigh*
The "Now" I Can Appreciate:
1. I can still wrestle with the baby a little though. But at his age, I see the end of that approaching rapidly.
2. He still falls asleep in my arms sometimes. His brother had stopped doing this by age 3, so every time M does this, I hold the memory in my heart, and hold him until my arm goes dead and can't support him anymore.
3. He still gives me hugs and kisses in public. His brother had also stopped this by age 3, because "People might SEE, MOM!" Since M has continued to do this, I have hope that this will continue. (Please, God, let it continue.)
4. He still wants me to sit beside me when we go to restaurants.
5. He still wants to be on MY team when we play the Wii.
6. He still wants to sit by me when we have Movie Night at home.
The Future I Can See:
1. He has NOTHING to do with me, because I'm "Mom."
2. He refuses to acknowledge my existence in front of his friends.
3. He assumes (probably correctly in most instances) that I am clueless about what his life is like.
4. He realizes that I can no longer help him with his homework because his textbooks are written in Greek as far as I'm concerned.
5. He suddenly realizes that I am a GIRL!! Yuck!
The Future I HOPE & PRAY for:
1. He realizes that I'm not an idiot.
2. He actually wants my approval and respect.
3. He is no longer in a hormone-induced idiot fugue.
4. He again gives me hugs and kisses no matter who is watching.
5. He gives me grandchildren I can spoil and regard as Revenge for all he put me through as a teenager.
Now do you realize why my baby turning 6 is a big deal? I can still remember the little guy we brought home from the hospital, yet I can see the teenager he will become. I see the polite young man my husband and I are trying to raise, and I can see the gentleman he will become. I see the mischievous imp that is so much like me that I cry, yet I see the smart-aleck teenager that I'm going to want to beat into a bloody pulp in just a few years.
I see the past, the present, and the future all at the same time. I want to cry, and celebrate all at the same time. I have regrets for things I did wrong with him, and good intentions for the future. I have memories and plans.
Pray for him, and pray for me. My sweet baby is about to turn into a sweet young man, just before he morphs into a moody pre-teen, then into a monster Teenager.
But for now, I'm focusing on my baby boy that will be 6 tomorrow. I'm going to focus on the smiles, and laughs, and all the good points. I'm going to think about the snips and puppy-dog tails, and not the snails that are all what little boys are made of.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Friday, November 30, 2012
Please Help! Protect Our Children
I watched a Special Investigation segment on ABC News Nightline last night. Just in case you don't believe what I'm about to post, here is the link for you to watch for yourselves.
Deadly Discipline? Students Hurt, Dying After Being Restrained
There are actually school systems (administrators and teachers) that not only approve of, but are actually encouraging torturing our children. Physical and psychological abuse. And then saying it's to "protect them from hurting themselves or others."
Worst of all? These procedures are being practiced on Special Needs Kids such as those with Autism.
Such tactics are to include:
1. Electric Shock Therapy
2. Being physically restrained
3. Being locked in "Seclusion Rooms"
Let's take the first. Imagine 60 volts of electricity coursing through YOUR body! And they are doing this to our children! The young teenager in this video is held down as he SCREAMS and struggles to get away from the electric current. I cried. I just can't think of anything to say to this. They are electrocuting him.
The Second: Being Physically Restrained. Tell me how you would react if you discovered your child or teenager lying on the floor with between 1 and 6 grown men lying on TOP of him. Supposedly these men acted according to procedure. The young man DIED. Tell me how that is "Acceptable Procedure."
Third: Seclusion Rooms. These are small "pods" that are windowless, dark, and have padded walls so the child will not hurt himself. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't like being locked in a pitch black room for HOURS. Not minutes, HOURS. Completely alone in the dark. The "room" wasn't even that big. It gives me nightmares to think about.
I don't see how ANY of these would help. It all seems to me like it would make a bad situation ten times worse. These children are already angry, and this will make them angrier, terrified, and LESS likely to cooperate.
This is Inhuman.
This is Cruel.
This is Torture.
If I did any of the above to my children, I would be arrested, tried, and convicted of child abuse and child endangerment. And Rightfully So! So why is it perfectly LEGAL for a teacher or school administrator to engage in this! Not only is it LEGAL, school systems are ENCOURAGING THIS!!!
This is an abomination.
Fortunately, there is legislation in Congress to prohibit most of this. Please contact your Congressman to help support this legislation. S.2860 - Preventing Harmful Restraint and Seclusion in Schools Act
We need this passed to protect our children. ALL of our children. PLEASE Help me STOP this. I can't do it alone. I need anyone and everyone to help raise our voices so that we can be heard.
If WE don't protect our children, Nobody will.
For a Child's Sake, Please Help.
Deadly Discipline? Students Hurt, Dying After Being Restrained
There are actually school systems (administrators and teachers) that not only approve of, but are actually encouraging torturing our children. Physical and psychological abuse. And then saying it's to "protect them from hurting themselves or others."
Worst of all? These procedures are being practiced on Special Needs Kids such as those with Autism.
Such tactics are to include:
1. Electric Shock Therapy
2. Being physically restrained
3. Being locked in "Seclusion Rooms"
Let's take the first. Imagine 60 volts of electricity coursing through YOUR body! And they are doing this to our children! The young teenager in this video is held down as he SCREAMS and struggles to get away from the electric current. I cried. I just can't think of anything to say to this. They are electrocuting him.
The Second: Being Physically Restrained. Tell me how you would react if you discovered your child or teenager lying on the floor with between 1 and 6 grown men lying on TOP of him. Supposedly these men acted according to procedure. The young man DIED. Tell me how that is "Acceptable Procedure."
Third: Seclusion Rooms. These are small "pods" that are windowless, dark, and have padded walls so the child will not hurt himself. I don't know about you, but I wouldn't like being locked in a pitch black room for HOURS. Not minutes, HOURS. Completely alone in the dark. The "room" wasn't even that big. It gives me nightmares to think about.
I don't see how ANY of these would help. It all seems to me like it would make a bad situation ten times worse. These children are already angry, and this will make them angrier, terrified, and LESS likely to cooperate.
This is Inhuman.
This is Cruel.
This is Torture.
If I did any of the above to my children, I would be arrested, tried, and convicted of child abuse and child endangerment. And Rightfully So! So why is it perfectly LEGAL for a teacher or school administrator to engage in this! Not only is it LEGAL, school systems are ENCOURAGING THIS!!!
This is an abomination.
Fortunately, there is legislation in Congress to prohibit most of this. Please contact your Congressman to help support this legislation. S.2860 - Preventing Harmful Restraint and Seclusion in Schools Act
We need this passed to protect our children. ALL of our children. PLEASE Help me STOP this. I can't do it alone. I need anyone and everyone to help raise our voices so that we can be heard.
If WE don't protect our children, Nobody will.
For a Child's Sake, Please Help.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Our Mini-Vacation Debacle
It started off with lots of hopes and plans. I had to travel to the coast for work. One day of meetings, then the weekend would belong to my husband, my kids, and me. Mileage paid down there and back, and the hotel room provided. Sounds great, right? Well.........
Let me count the things that went wrong.
1. Car battery completely died when I was already late for one of the two meetings I had to attend. (Though I do have to admit the car battery at $100 was still much cheaper than the $1000 alternator we thought it was.)
2. Both boys managed to trash their bedroom at the hotel within MINUTES of arrival. We tipped the maid. Generously. Okay, maybe not, but after the car battery, leaving her two of my favorite Mango Fruit Bars in the Fridge were all I could do.
3. Neither boy would eat anything on vacation that wasn't junk food or a Happy Meal from the Golden Arches. I am heartily sick of McD's. And who goes to the beach and does NOT eat seafood? My oddball children, I guess.
4. I forgot to pack the oldest child any shirts. I packed everything else. But I forgot shirts for him.
5. The oldest boys swim trunks were too small, so he had to swim in a pair of shorts.
6. Our one foray to the beach ended up in us leaving almost immediately because the beach and the water were infested with jellyfish. I did not relish the idea of spending one night of our vacation in the local ER due to jellyfish stings on my children who can create major drama out of papercuts. And then refuse band-aids. Yes, I have the only child on earth that WON'T wear band-aids.
7. It was VACATION, so, of course, we all stayed up late. And children being children that we have to drag out of bed during the school week, were up voluntarily at the crack of dawn. So, for the sake of "Fun," Dad and I tolerated the whining, resisted the urge to buy duct tape in bulk to combat the bickering and fighting, bit our tongues to keep from screaming obscenities we thought we had forgotten at them, and generally decided we were going to have fun if it KILLED US!!! Dammit! And it almost did.
8. I got sick with a Sinus Infection and felt miserable all day Saturday and Sunday.
9. A half mile from home, M. decided to push the limits too far. He spit on his brother. In the car. So dad finally gave him the spanking he swore M had been begging for since we left home last Friday.
10. While we were gone, our two little puppies decided to pee in every available room in the house. Fortunately, they stuck to the laminate areas and not the carpet. Which brings us to . . . .
11. Our German Weimaraner (who has separation anxiety issues by his breed) decided to take out his frustrations and anxiety by crapping on our relatively new carpet. In multiple places. Let me tell you, big dogs make BIG messes.
12. So he's shampooing the carpet. I'm doing laundry. The boys are in the bedroom singing, "We will, We will, MOCK YOU!" over and over and over. Just that line. And, yes, I know the line is supposed to be "rock you," but at the moment their version seems more appropriate.
So, there is the story of our mini-vacation. Doesn't sound like much fun, does it? It might be salvaged if one of you three readers would come shampoo the carpets, mop the floors, and fix me a drink. A large one.
*Sigh* I didn't think so.
Let me count the things that went wrong.
1. Car battery completely died when I was already late for one of the two meetings I had to attend. (Though I do have to admit the car battery at $100 was still much cheaper than the $1000 alternator we thought it was.)
2. Both boys managed to trash their bedroom at the hotel within MINUTES of arrival. We tipped the maid. Generously. Okay, maybe not, but after the car battery, leaving her two of my favorite Mango Fruit Bars in the Fridge were all I could do.
3. Neither boy would eat anything on vacation that wasn't junk food or a Happy Meal from the Golden Arches. I am heartily sick of McD's. And who goes to the beach and does NOT eat seafood? My oddball children, I guess.
4. I forgot to pack the oldest child any shirts. I packed everything else. But I forgot shirts for him.
5. The oldest boys swim trunks were too small, so he had to swim in a pair of shorts.
6. Our one foray to the beach ended up in us leaving almost immediately because the beach and the water were infested with jellyfish. I did not relish the idea of spending one night of our vacation in the local ER due to jellyfish stings on my children who can create major drama out of papercuts. And then refuse band-aids. Yes, I have the only child on earth that WON'T wear band-aids.
7. It was VACATION, so, of course, we all stayed up late. And children being children that we have to drag out of bed during the school week, were up voluntarily at the crack of dawn. So, for the sake of "Fun," Dad and I tolerated the whining, resisted the urge to buy duct tape in bulk to combat the bickering and fighting, bit our tongues to keep from screaming obscenities we thought we had forgotten at them, and generally decided we were going to have fun if it KILLED US!!! Dammit! And it almost did.
8. I got sick with a Sinus Infection and felt miserable all day Saturday and Sunday.
9. A half mile from home, M. decided to push the limits too far. He spit on his brother. In the car. So dad finally gave him the spanking he swore M had been begging for since we left home last Friday.
10. While we were gone, our two little puppies decided to pee in every available room in the house. Fortunately, they stuck to the laminate areas and not the carpet. Which brings us to . . . .
11. Our German Weimaraner (who has separation anxiety issues by his breed) decided to take out his frustrations and anxiety by crapping on our relatively new carpet. In multiple places. Let me tell you, big dogs make BIG messes.
12. So he's shampooing the carpet. I'm doing laundry. The boys are in the bedroom singing, "We will, We will, MOCK YOU!" over and over and over. Just that line. And, yes, I know the line is supposed to be "rock you," but at the moment their version seems more appropriate.
So, there is the story of our mini-vacation. Doesn't sound like much fun, does it? It might be salvaged if one of you three readers would come shampoo the carpets, mop the floors, and fix me a drink. A large one.
*Sigh* I didn't think so.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Lost & Gained
I've written before about people I've lost. I will do that again here (one specifically), but I also want to write about people I've gained.
My father-in-law was a wonderful man. He was kind, sweet, smart, caring, generous, and loved life. My oldest boy, Z, would always make him laugh. All of his grandkids did, but this blog is from my perspective, so please pardon me if I don't mention the other grandchildren more. He called him "Sport" and would always tease me and J about the "fits" that kid was giving us, and would continue to give us in the future. He loved hearing the new things Z had done, learned, said, in a way that only grandparents can. Z was only 18 months old when he lost his grandfather. How we lost him is another blog, but suffice it to say it was a freak accident. A sudden loss. An unexpected hole blasted in our hearts.
But our family has grown since then.
My husband and I have given him another grandson, M. Wow, my father-in-law (and us) only THOUGHT Z was a handful! Whew!!! M exhausts me just watching him. He is so full of energy, and mischief. I never know what he's going to say. Or do. I have not yet figured out how his mind works, and frankly, I don't think I want to know. He makes me laugh daily. And shake my head in disbelief. And rant and rave. And pray for patience. And blame my husband for all of his bad traits (even though he clearly got them from my side of the family. Shhhhh! Don't tell J that I admitted that.) He is a charmer, though. He can smile and you have to smile with him. He laughs and you have to laugh with him. He brings joy (and frustration, lol) everywhere he goes. His Papaw would have LOVED him. I don't mean just with his heart, but with sense of humor, with his mind, and with his heart.
M would have had Papaw wrapped around his little finger, too. I have no doubt about that whatsoever. M would have pulled one of his stunts that make me want to strangle him and Papaw would have laughed, shaken his head, and said (as he did so many times with Z), "He's all boy, isn't he. It's terrible to spank a kid just 'cause he feels good." So, of course, I couldn't have spanked him then. No matter how much he needed it. Yes, M would've loved Papaw just as much as Papaw would've loved him.
My husband also gave his dad a granddaughter. We found out about her just a couple of years ago (another long story), but she is a joy. Her mother is from a previous marriage, and H just turned 13. Only 13. And she's 5 inches taller than I am. *sigh* Yes, I'm vertically challenged, but that's beside the point. H is pretty awesome. She got all of her dad's best traits. She's sweet, funny, smart, easy-going, and caring. Her Papaw B (she calls her other grandfather Papaw) would have loved her, too. See, she's just like he was. H takes after her dad, and her dad takes after his dad. Seriously, it's like they were cloned. Well, except she's a little goofier (actually more than "a little"), and she's a girl. This family is pretty amazing.
And H would've loved her Papaw B. He would've spoiled her just as much as her other Papaw. He would've given her the moon if she'd asked for it. She'd have wrapped him around her little finger, too. Just like she has her dad. But I have to say, she doesn't over-step. She doesn't push the limits. She's just so quietly sweet, that people want to give her things just to see her smile. She doesn't manipulate like so many kids do (including my boys that know exactly how to get what they want out of Mamaw B.) She's just H.
My husband's brother, K, has also gotten married, gained two step-daughters, and had a little girl of his own. My father-in-law would really have loved to see that. K had some problems that slowed down his family creating abilities (a third long story, and not mine to tell), but everything seems back on track for him. As much as I know my father-in-law would have loved to see the family that J and I have gained, I know in my heart that K's life now would have brought him more happiness and peace than any of you can possibly imagine.
So we lost one. And we've gained six. But each of those six lost one they never knew. And that was a treasure of which they can never know the value.
I do like to think of my father-in-law looking down from Heaven and smiling. Happy at what he left behind. Proud of how we've grown. Laughing at our children and how they make us pull our hair out. Yes, I can see him laughing at us all. And that makes me smile through all of the tears.
My father-in-law was a wonderful man. He was kind, sweet, smart, caring, generous, and loved life. My oldest boy, Z, would always make him laugh. All of his grandkids did, but this blog is from my perspective, so please pardon me if I don't mention the other grandchildren more. He called him "Sport" and would always tease me and J about the "fits" that kid was giving us, and would continue to give us in the future. He loved hearing the new things Z had done, learned, said, in a way that only grandparents can. Z was only 18 months old when he lost his grandfather. How we lost him is another blog, but suffice it to say it was a freak accident. A sudden loss. An unexpected hole blasted in our hearts.
But our family has grown since then.
My husband and I have given him another grandson, M. Wow, my father-in-law (and us) only THOUGHT Z was a handful! Whew!!! M exhausts me just watching him. He is so full of energy, and mischief. I never know what he's going to say. Or do. I have not yet figured out how his mind works, and frankly, I don't think I want to know. He makes me laugh daily. And shake my head in disbelief. And rant and rave. And pray for patience. And blame my husband for all of his bad traits (even though he clearly got them from my side of the family. Shhhhh! Don't tell J that I admitted that.) He is a charmer, though. He can smile and you have to smile with him. He laughs and you have to laugh with him. He brings joy (and frustration, lol) everywhere he goes. His Papaw would have LOVED him. I don't mean just with his heart, but with sense of humor, with his mind, and with his heart.
M would have had Papaw wrapped around his little finger, too. I have no doubt about that whatsoever. M would have pulled one of his stunts that make me want to strangle him and Papaw would have laughed, shaken his head, and said (as he did so many times with Z), "He's all boy, isn't he. It's terrible to spank a kid just 'cause he feels good." So, of course, I couldn't have spanked him then. No matter how much he needed it. Yes, M would've loved Papaw just as much as Papaw would've loved him.
My husband also gave his dad a granddaughter. We found out about her just a couple of years ago (another long story), but she is a joy. Her mother is from a previous marriage, and H just turned 13. Only 13. And she's 5 inches taller than I am. *sigh* Yes, I'm vertically challenged, but that's beside the point. H is pretty awesome. She got all of her dad's best traits. She's sweet, funny, smart, easy-going, and caring. Her Papaw B (she calls her other grandfather Papaw) would have loved her, too. See, she's just like he was. H takes after her dad, and her dad takes after his dad. Seriously, it's like they were cloned. Well, except she's a little goofier (actually more than "a little"), and she's a girl. This family is pretty amazing.
And H would've loved her Papaw B. He would've spoiled her just as much as her other Papaw. He would've given her the moon if she'd asked for it. She'd have wrapped him around her little finger, too. Just like she has her dad. But I have to say, she doesn't over-step. She doesn't push the limits. She's just so quietly sweet, that people want to give her things just to see her smile. She doesn't manipulate like so many kids do (including my boys that know exactly how to get what they want out of Mamaw B.) She's just H.
My husband's brother, K, has also gotten married, gained two step-daughters, and had a little girl of his own. My father-in-law would really have loved to see that. K had some problems that slowed down his family creating abilities (a third long story, and not mine to tell), but everything seems back on track for him. As much as I know my father-in-law would have loved to see the family that J and I have gained, I know in my heart that K's life now would have brought him more happiness and peace than any of you can possibly imagine.
So we lost one. And we've gained six. But each of those six lost one they never knew. And that was a treasure of which they can never know the value.
I do like to think of my father-in-law looking down from Heaven and smiling. Happy at what he left behind. Proud of how we've grown. Laughing at our children and how they make us pull our hair out. Yes, I can see him laughing at us all. And that makes me smile through all of the tears.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
WOW.......It's Been A While
I just looked back and realized, WOW....It's been a while since I posted. At least a couple of months. Things have been busy. My last post dealt with my baby graduating Pre-School, and my oldest getting his 2nd Grade Awards. They are growing up so fast.
Now the summer is almost over. M. starts Kindergarten this fall. He's going to ride the school bus with his brother. I'm hoping that Z. will look out for his brother in one of those Only-I-As-His-Big-Brother-Can-Beat-Him-Up ways and not let anyone else torture him. I'm hoping. With my luck (and M's) Z and his friend will gang up on M together. *Sigh* I can only hope. And pray.
M is excited about riding the school bus with his brother and going to big school. If you ask him what school he's going to attend this fall, he'll tell you "My brother's school." I don't think it has quite sunk in yet that it will be his school, too, now. Z, on the other hand, is looking forward to being the Big Man on Campus and instructing his little brother in just exactly how things are done. I believe this will last until the first time they run into each other in the hallway, or lunchroom, or playground. M will run up to hug his brother, and Z will look at him like he has no idea who this little runt is glued to him. *Sigh*
I have mixed emotions. On one hand, I'm really looking forward to plugging that financial leak that has been daycare and babysitters. And I'm proud of my boys growing up. But part of me already misses those rides to town in the morning when M and I would talk about what game he was playing on his DS, or what movie he was watching in the backseat, or just why he didn't want me talking to his teachers after school that day. (Yeah, that was a "good" day - but it was funny!)
My boys aren't babies anymore. Z is as tall as my shoulder at only 8. M is fast catching up. I don't know if they're growing that fast, or if I'm shrinking. Probably both.
But no matter how tall they grow, or what grade they are in school -- as all mothers know -- they will always, Always, ALWAYS be my Babies. Period. End of Story.
Now the summer is almost over. M. starts Kindergarten this fall. He's going to ride the school bus with his brother. I'm hoping that Z. will look out for his brother in one of those Only-I-As-His-Big-Brother-Can-Beat-Him-Up ways and not let anyone else torture him. I'm hoping. With my luck (and M's) Z and his friend will gang up on M together. *Sigh* I can only hope. And pray.
M is excited about riding the school bus with his brother and going to big school. If you ask him what school he's going to attend this fall, he'll tell you "My brother's school." I don't think it has quite sunk in yet that it will be his school, too, now. Z, on the other hand, is looking forward to being the Big Man on Campus and instructing his little brother in just exactly how things are done. I believe this will last until the first time they run into each other in the hallway, or lunchroom, or playground. M will run up to hug his brother, and Z will look at him like he has no idea who this little runt is glued to him. *Sigh*
I have mixed emotions. On one hand, I'm really looking forward to plugging that financial leak that has been daycare and babysitters. And I'm proud of my boys growing up. But part of me already misses those rides to town in the morning when M and I would talk about what game he was playing on his DS, or what movie he was watching in the backseat, or just why he didn't want me talking to his teachers after school that day. (Yeah, that was a "good" day - but it was funny!)
My boys aren't babies anymore. Z is as tall as my shoulder at only 8. M is fast catching up. I don't know if they're growing that fast, or if I'm shrinking. Probably both.
But no matter how tall they grow, or what grade they are in school -- as all mothers know -- they will always, Always, ALWAYS be my Babies. Period. End of Story.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Growing Up Is HARD........on Mom
Yesterday, my two sons had milestones.....and so did I. They enjoyed themselves very much. Me? Not so much.
My oldest son, Z, had his Parent Picnic and Awards Day at school. He made Honor Roll for the year (Yay, Z!!!!!) and earned over 70 points in his Accelerated Reader Program -- one of the highest in his class. I am so very proud of him. And though he clearly got his brains from me, I was still a little sad. My boy is growing up. Fast. He is only 8, yet he already reaches my shoulder. Granted, the basketball teams in school were never beating down my door (or even knocking, for that matter), but still. He shouldn't really be that tall.....should he?
Watching Z wasn't so difficult though. He quit giving me hugs and kisses in public over 5 years ago. He has grown independent and really is turning into a little man. He loves to build things and show them off to me -- and I am always suitably impressed -- but he never wants me to help anymore. He doesn't want me to read bedtime stories to him. I'm still a part of his world, just not an active part. And I haven't really been for a while, so though I brushed back a couple tears during the slide show at the end of awards, I really came through it okay.
Last night was a completely different situation. M graduated from Pre-Kindergarten school. He dressed up in big boy clothes -- pull-over shirt and khakis -- and had on his cap and gown. All of a sudden, he wasn't my baby anymore. Who is this little boy? Wait! Where is my baby?!?!? NOOOOOooooooooooo, this CAN'T be him! He's 5. He still crawls in my lap to give me hugs and kisses -- and he still fits! He loves on me anytime and anywhere, and sometimes it's even his idea. He still wants bedtime stories (though I'm beginning to suspect it's to delay bedtime more than wanting time with me) and occasionally even lets me rock him. I bawled like the baby M is still supposed to be. He walked across that stage, got his diploma and his "Imagination Award" (very apt, I promise you!) like he owned the place. I cried more.
Z is my oldest, and though it was hard, it was not THIS hard. I think. The distraction of his brother who would have been 2 at the time kept me from dwelling on just how fast all of this happened. M, though, is the baby. No more distractions. No more of these events will be happening. He is my last one. I'm trying to write all of this down so that I won't forget anything. I write it down to help myself adjust to how fast my boys are growing up.
One little man. One little boy. Neither of them so "little" anymore. What's a mom to do?
Then M came running up to me, gave me a hug, and went running off to race his brother up and down the halls (despite my admonishments not to run inside), and suddenly he was my baby again. I got a reprieve. But this fall, when they both climb on that big yellow school bus -- one to 3rd grade and one to Kindergarten -- I make no promises. Yes, I do. I promise I will cry all the way to work. Or maybe I'll follow the bus all the way to school . . . . . . .even if it is the opposite direction from work.
My oldest son, Z, had his Parent Picnic and Awards Day at school. He made Honor Roll for the year (Yay, Z!!!!!) and earned over 70 points in his Accelerated Reader Program -- one of the highest in his class. I am so very proud of him. And though he clearly got his brains from me, I was still a little sad. My boy is growing up. Fast. He is only 8, yet he already reaches my shoulder. Granted, the basketball teams in school were never beating down my door (or even knocking, for that matter), but still. He shouldn't really be that tall.....should he?
Watching Z wasn't so difficult though. He quit giving me hugs and kisses in public over 5 years ago. He has grown independent and really is turning into a little man. He loves to build things and show them off to me -- and I am always suitably impressed -- but he never wants me to help anymore. He doesn't want me to read bedtime stories to him. I'm still a part of his world, just not an active part. And I haven't really been for a while, so though I brushed back a couple tears during the slide show at the end of awards, I really came through it okay.
Last night was a completely different situation. M graduated from Pre-Kindergarten school. He dressed up in big boy clothes -- pull-over shirt and khakis -- and had on his cap and gown. All of a sudden, he wasn't my baby anymore. Who is this little boy? Wait! Where is my baby?!?!? NOOOOOooooooooooo, this CAN'T be him! He's 5. He still crawls in my lap to give me hugs and kisses -- and he still fits! He loves on me anytime and anywhere, and sometimes it's even his idea. He still wants bedtime stories (though I'm beginning to suspect it's to delay bedtime more than wanting time with me) and occasionally even lets me rock him. I bawled like the baby M is still supposed to be. He walked across that stage, got his diploma and his "Imagination Award" (very apt, I promise you!) like he owned the place. I cried more.
Z is my oldest, and though it was hard, it was not THIS hard. I think. The distraction of his brother who would have been 2 at the time kept me from dwelling on just how fast all of this happened. M, though, is the baby. No more distractions. No more of these events will be happening. He is my last one. I'm trying to write all of this down so that I won't forget anything. I write it down to help myself adjust to how fast my boys are growing up.
One little man. One little boy. Neither of them so "little" anymore. What's a mom to do?
Then M came running up to me, gave me a hug, and went running off to race his brother up and down the halls (despite my admonishments not to run inside), and suddenly he was my baby again. I got a reprieve. But this fall, when they both climb on that big yellow school bus -- one to 3rd grade and one to Kindergarten -- I make no promises. Yes, I do. I promise I will cry all the way to work. Or maybe I'll follow the bus all the way to school . . . . . . .even if it is the opposite direction from work.
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Is It Better to Choose Early or Late?
This is a hard post for me to write, but the thoughts keep circling in my head, so I'm hoping I can think through it all if I write it down. Maybe you can even help me decide, or at least reconcile my decision.
The question came up in my Sunday School class whether it is better to discover Christ and obtain salvation later in life, or be raised in the church and decide early on to be a Christian.
One lady said she thought she missed a lot by coming to Him late in life. She was 21 when she decided to believe and stated that she wished she had been raised in church. She seems to think she would know a lot more and be a better Christian. Now, I happen to believe she is an exceptional Christian, and a wonderful woman. She is always kind to people, and rarely has a bad word to say about anyone -- and I say "rarely" because I just don't want to believe that she doesn't at least THINK something bad sometimes because surely no one is that "good," are they? She is always ready to help, lend an ear, or anything else that is needed from her. She works hard to care for her sister and her grandson, plus work, and (until very recently) go to school to become a nurse. Pretty incredible, huh? I certainly couldn't do all of that. And I definitely could not do it with the perpetual smile on my face that she always has. She is quick to laugh, even at herself. She's just amazing.
Now, I, on the other hand was raised in church. Well, mostly. I accepted Christ when I was 13. And I do believe it was real. I knew what I was doing. I remember being so excited, happy. It really felt like I had been re-born as the Bible states we are. I was filled with something bigger than I am.
But then it changed. Everything changed. I changed.
My parents divorced. I moved to another town, another school, another culture almost. From the country to the city (or as close to "city" as we get around here). Everybody was busy. I was going to high school, and then I got a job, and a boyfriend. No excuses, but church suddenly wasn't on the schedule anymore. Or in my heart, I'm sorry to say.
Now whether you believe in God or not (and I really hope you do) there is still "right" and "wrong" and we are brought up to know the difference. Stealing, lying, cheating, swearing whether we believe those things are "wrong" or "sins," we are still taught by our parents not to do them. We know we aren't supposed to do certain things. We KNOW. And yet, we still do them anyway.
For about a decade, I lived a life that was wrong. I did things I knew were wrong. I did things I'm ashamed to admit. That I did things wrong is hard to admit. That I lived that life is hard to admit. The details aren't really important, well, they are important to me, and to God. But, frankly, they are really none of anyone else's business. They are private. Mine are mine, just as yours are yours. Scars are scars whether self-inflicted or obtained from others, and should never be shown just for showing.
I admit that to say, Yes, I found my way back to the right path. I'm not perfect -- far from it -- but I try now. I try harder to do what is right, what is moral, what is Christian. Judge me if you want, but judge me for who I am now. My past made me who I am, but it is also called "Past" for a reason. I don't live there anymore. Except maybe at midnight when I can't sleep and all of the insecurities, fears, and other skeletons come rattling their chains in my head.
So, if I could stray even being raised in church, believing in what was right and wrong, knowing my behavior and attitude were wrong, what does that say about me? It does NOT reflect badly on my upbringing. I chose to ignore it. I chose to behave inappropriately. They did a good job teaching. I learned. I just chose to go another way then.
She discovered him late in life. Is it easier for her to forgive herself for her sins and accept His forgiveness? Or is it easier for me to forgive myself and accept His forgiveness knowing that I CHOSE to do wrong? Each of us had to make our own decisions. Each of us had to reconcile our own behavior. Each of us has to choose to stop doing wrong and choose to start doing right. Each of us has to choose Him.
I'm still trying to come to terms with that period in my life. The Bible teaches that He forgives all who come to Him truly repentant of heart. But it's pretty hard to ask forgiveness from The One Who Is Perfect, when I am so perfectly imperfect myself. And it's almost impossible to ask forgiveness from Him, when I haven't yet forgiven myself. But I'm trying. And I'm getting there.
I told you this was a hard post to write. But if my words can help just one other person, then it will be worth it. And try to remember not to judge a person by who they were. If you must judge someone at all, try to judge them by who they are and who they are trying to be. Support is much more motivating than condemnation.
Thank you for listening.
The question came up in my Sunday School class whether it is better to discover Christ and obtain salvation later in life, or be raised in the church and decide early on to be a Christian.
One lady said she thought she missed a lot by coming to Him late in life. She was 21 when she decided to believe and stated that she wished she had been raised in church. She seems to think she would know a lot more and be a better Christian. Now, I happen to believe she is an exceptional Christian, and a wonderful woman. She is always kind to people, and rarely has a bad word to say about anyone -- and I say "rarely" because I just don't want to believe that she doesn't at least THINK something bad sometimes because surely no one is that "good," are they? She is always ready to help, lend an ear, or anything else that is needed from her. She works hard to care for her sister and her grandson, plus work, and (until very recently) go to school to become a nurse. Pretty incredible, huh? I certainly couldn't do all of that. And I definitely could not do it with the perpetual smile on my face that she always has. She is quick to laugh, even at herself. She's just amazing.
Now, I, on the other hand was raised in church. Well, mostly. I accepted Christ when I was 13. And I do believe it was real. I knew what I was doing. I remember being so excited, happy. It really felt like I had been re-born as the Bible states we are. I was filled with something bigger than I am.
But then it changed. Everything changed. I changed.
My parents divorced. I moved to another town, another school, another culture almost. From the country to the city (or as close to "city" as we get around here). Everybody was busy. I was going to high school, and then I got a job, and a boyfriend. No excuses, but church suddenly wasn't on the schedule anymore. Or in my heart, I'm sorry to say.
Now whether you believe in God or not (and I really hope you do) there is still "right" and "wrong" and we are brought up to know the difference. Stealing, lying, cheating, swearing whether we believe those things are "wrong" or "sins," we are still taught by our parents not to do them. We know we aren't supposed to do certain things. We KNOW. And yet, we still do them anyway.
For about a decade, I lived a life that was wrong. I did things I knew were wrong. I did things I'm ashamed to admit. That I did things wrong is hard to admit. That I lived that life is hard to admit. The details aren't really important, well, they are important to me, and to God. But, frankly, they are really none of anyone else's business. They are private. Mine are mine, just as yours are yours. Scars are scars whether self-inflicted or obtained from others, and should never be shown just for showing.
I admit that to say, Yes, I found my way back to the right path. I'm not perfect -- far from it -- but I try now. I try harder to do what is right, what is moral, what is Christian. Judge me if you want, but judge me for who I am now. My past made me who I am, but it is also called "Past" for a reason. I don't live there anymore. Except maybe at midnight when I can't sleep and all of the insecurities, fears, and other skeletons come rattling their chains in my head.
So, if I could stray even being raised in church, believing in what was right and wrong, knowing my behavior and attitude were wrong, what does that say about me? It does NOT reflect badly on my upbringing. I chose to ignore it. I chose to behave inappropriately. They did a good job teaching. I learned. I just chose to go another way then.
She discovered him late in life. Is it easier for her to forgive herself for her sins and accept His forgiveness? Or is it easier for me to forgive myself and accept His forgiveness knowing that I CHOSE to do wrong? Each of us had to make our own decisions. Each of us had to reconcile our own behavior. Each of us has to choose to stop doing wrong and choose to start doing right. Each of us has to choose Him.
I'm still trying to come to terms with that period in my life. The Bible teaches that He forgives all who come to Him truly repentant of heart. But it's pretty hard to ask forgiveness from The One Who Is Perfect, when I am so perfectly imperfect myself. And it's almost impossible to ask forgiveness from Him, when I haven't yet forgiven myself. But I'm trying. And I'm getting there.
I told you this was a hard post to write. But if my words can help just one other person, then it will be worth it. And try to remember not to judge a person by who they were. If you must judge someone at all, try to judge them by who they are and who they are trying to be. Support is much more motivating than condemnation.
Thank you for listening.
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