Wow, it's been a busy month! Of course, earlier in the month was Mother's Day. I had a wonderful, very low-key day. Mike and the kids got me the movie Walk the Line (Adam chose it, after Daddy informed him that mommy "likes country music and falling in love"), so I just scrapbooked and watched movies all day. Can't beat that with a stick!
Tuesday was our anniversary. We did what we usually do on that day - took off from work, ignored the phone, and just spent time decompressing and enjoying each others' company. Seven years, now, and still no itch my man can't scratch!
Last night, our friend Nanci took the older three kids for awhile so that we could enjoy a nice dinner (almost) alone. Lindsey joined us, of course, but she was mostly quiet and pleasant. Dinner was barbequed country pork ribs, wilted fresh kale, fried potatoes, crab salad, and regular salad. Delish!
This past weekend, Lindsey and I flew down to Dallas to attend my nephew Don's graduation. It was a fun trip, but exhausting. Traveling with an infant is do-able, but not pleasant by any means. I was glad to see everyone, and also glad to get back.
And now, to round things off, I leave you with a fairly recent picture of Lindsey and her boyfriend Mitchie.
At long, long, lonnnnnng last, we finally have the T1 line we've wanted since we moved in. Our connection is roughly ten times faster than what we had before. So what have I done with my newfound speed? Well, among other things, I watched this. No buffering! Instant play! I am SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO addicted. w00t!!!
How many of the world's oceans have been filled since the beginning of time, by mothers shedding tears of frustration, joy, hope, fear, or anger? How many of us wonder if we're doing this Mommy thing good enough, long enough, often enough, fast enough, slow enough, softly enough, or just... enough? How do women not crumble under the weight of the guilt we feel?
Surely the fiber of a mother is the strongest substance known to man.
This is what happens if you fall asleep and you have an older sister. Kayla says she was putting earmuffs on him so he wouldn't wake up.
Just because it's been awhile.
Happy National Scrapbooking Day! I got a late start today, because of Adam's soccer practice/game. Here's the first layout I've finished.
Yesterday, I took Kayla to see The Wild, and afterward to the park to play. Lindsey had fallen asleep, and I was lucky enough to get a spot where I could watch Kayla playing ten feet from where I was parked. She was the only little girl on the playground at first, and she bored of the play equipment and started collecting pine cones. She had a nice handful of them when a couple of older boys (maybe 7 or 8) showed up and started playing. She noticed them, and started toward them, telling me, "I'm going to go give some pine cones to those kids."
Something went through me. I saw my little girl, all innocence and syrup and heart-right-on-the-surface, heading over to this group of boys that were bigger and stronger and (to my mind, at least) more jaded than my baby. I imagined how badly this might go - she might offer the boys her carefully-chosen pine cones in her sweet little almost-lispy voice, and they might meanly reject her. These more worldly boys might tell her they didn't want her pine cones, that pine cones were for babies, and why didn't she just go away?
But I couldn't protect her. She was throwing her own dice now, and I had to let her. I held my breath as she approached those boys, and I thought to myself, "If you break her heart, I'll put a hex on you."
I didn't hear what was said; they were too far away. I saw the first boy turn his head toward Kayla as she approached him. I saw her hold her tiny little hand out, and I saw him take something from her hand. I saw the same scene repeated with the second boy. Then she scurried back to me, all lit up like a sunrise. I asked her what they said. "Thank you," she replied.
I realized, even as it was happening, that I would feel this way again. This was not my last brush with this fierce sense of frustrating helplessness, this fear of my child's rejection, this unfounded and unwarranted mistrust of someone else, someone who had the power to hurt my baby. It will happen, again and again, and I will hate it just as much every time.
And eventually, someone WILL hurt her. Someone will make her cry. Someone will break her heart, and in so doing make her a little less eager to go bounding over to a stranger, offering her heart in her hand.
When it happens, I will grieve with her, I will hurt with her, and I will listen to her. I will assure her that somewhere, there is someone who is truly worthy of her pine cones, and who will treasure them as much as she did.
And I will put a hex on the person that hurt her.