Friday, September 21, 2012

Baby Steps

I am embarking on a big year of "letting go."

Will is in the 5th grade.  He's ready for, and is craving, more independence.

He's always been my most independent child.  And I don't feel like I've ever struggled with it.  When, as a toddler, he said "me do it" I sat back and let him.  He's a strong-willed kid, a an adventurous kid, a capable kid.  A good kid.  A really good kid.  I've never felt like I needed to worry about him much.  Is he careless sometimes?  Yes.  Impulsive?  Yes.  Irresponsible?  Sometimes.  He's a kid, after all.

But he's trustworthy.  The responsible will come as a result of this.

And that's where I come in.  I have to trust that he's worthy of the responsibility of independence.

And I'm struggling.

Because, his previous bouts of independence have always been under my watchful eye.  But the independence he craves now means he's off into a world where I can't always watch and guide him.  Where I don't have a physical presence.

Ok, ok, he just walked to the bus stop this morning with his brother.  We live down the street.  Not a big deal, right?  It's totally not.  He's been wanting to do this (and I haven't let him ONLY because of that  younger brother) and so this morning, with a sick sister, it was time to make it happen.  His eyes lit up a little, my heart hurt a little.  You WANT your children to want to venture out from under your wings, but I didn't realize it would HURT for them to want that so much.

But I have to let go of my need for control.  I have to let go of my un-readiness.  I have to let go of my fears -- my fears of not being able to provide that watchful eye.

Will, right after he began walking.  And climbing.  And running.  And jumping...

When he began walking, he immediately wanted to climb the stairs.  He had barely mastered getting across the room without falling, but was ready to move on.  And I let him.  I stood behind him, literally and figuratively.  And he took those little baby legs and made big baby steps toward independence.

The legs aren't so little now.  But they will always be baby legs to me.  And now I just stand behind him in the figurative sense.  And that means baby steps.

For me especially.

Monday, September 17, 2012

Happy Monday

Today, I am happy for a happy morning.  

No fighting, no emotions, no moods, no whining. 

Up and at 'em and happiness, despite the day.  

What could be better? 

Friday, September 14, 2012

Jen-nay is Run-ning

A little nod to Forrest Gump in honor of the hubs.

Those of you who know me well know that I am not a runner.  Yes, each spring I try to be and by summer time it's just too dang hot.  It's not that I don't like to sweat, but when it's 100 outside I leave puddles behind me on the street.  I would MUCH prefer to work out in the comfort of my air conditioned gym.

This year I liked it more than I usually do, and tried to keep up with it, but holy hotness Richmond!  It's finally cooling off, and I heard a song on the radio the other day that's on my iPod and it made me WANT TO GO RUNNING.  Which is something that hasn't happened in YEARS.  Or probably ever.  Even when I ran in high school I didn't WANT to or LIKE it, particularly.  I needed a sport and I'm too uncoordinated to do anything else and I didn't have to try out for anything.  Score!  Cross country and track, here I come!

But I went today.  And I enjoyed it! (exclamation points as I sit here sweating my eyeballs out -- you know how you sweat more profusely AFTER than during? that's me right now).  Even though I am an ungodly shade of pink.  I am not a pretty runner, nor have I ever been.  The shots of me running at track meets, well, let's just say it looks like I'm about to stroke out.  I turn the most hideous shade of red...all over my body.  My face looks like a tomato and if you look closely, you can actually SEE it throbbing.

Exhibit A

My Little Meems just ran 2 miles with me (beating me the whole way -- she had to wait for me several times to catch up -- she's 9).  Cuteness.  Her, not me.  I'm a holy hot mess.  The picture being fuzzy is actually a good thing.  It's a lot worse than it looks here.  I actually can't believe I'm actually putting this out there for all to see.

But if it gives me more energy, great.  And if it gives me a goal (matching my daughter's pace), wonderful.   And allows me to fit in my skinny jeans, well then bring on the tomato face!

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

My Mission, According to Meems

The other day after running into our neighbors’ small children (including a newborn), Little Meems gave me a directive:

“Be thinking about how we can get one of those.”

Excuse me?  One of what?

“A baby.  Boy or girl, I don’t care.”  A do-you-understand-me nod of her head, and then she was gone.  Running ahead to catch up with her brothers to make sure they weren’t snacking on the Pirate’s Booty without her.

And leaving me to figure out how to score a newborn.

Monday, September 10, 2012

Happy Monday

Today, I am happy for my good cookies, who gave up their Saturday morning to raise money for pediatric cancer research in honor of their friends, one of whom lives in our neighborhood.

I am happy at how excited little T was to be doing this.  And the fact that he asked me what we can do next to help people.  
I am happy because they have the ability to do this.  
I am happy that they can see how good it feels to give back.
I am happy they are not sick.  
I am happy they are not fighting for their lives.  
I am happy our problems are small ones.  
I am happy I don't live in a perpetual state of worry. 
I am happy they can play, and go to school, and have sleepovers and ride bikes.  
I am happy they are HERE, and that I don't have to live without any of them, the fate of far too many parents.  
I am happy that I get to kiss them goodnight.  Each and every one of them.  Each and every night.
I am happy to be able to have been a part of Cookies for Kids' Cancer.

Did you know that: 
Every day in this country, 46 children – two classrooms of children – are diagnosed with cancer. 
Cancer kills more kids in this country than any other disease  –  it’s the NUMBER ONE DISEASE KILLER of kids in this country.
Funding for all pediatric cancers COMBINED makes up less than four percent of the National Cancer Institute’s budget for cancer research.

I'm happy that this organization is doing so many wonderful, amazing things.
I'm happy to know that, God forbid I ever need them, they're working for my kids too.

Happy Monday!

Friday, September 7, 2012


Lately, Little Meems has begun telling me how much prettier I look with my glasses on than with them off.

Which is a nice compliment.  I think.  Because, truly, you DO worry about that when you get glasses.  Vanity.  It is what it is.

She does this with sunglasses too.  Huh.  And here I always thought my eyes were one of my best features.

This morning, I was cleaning their bathroom in my pjs (and glasses) and I got a look at myself in the mirror.  Those glasses are crazy crooked on my face.  I can't believe I've been seen in public like this.

Do the glasses match my crazy?  
Is that what she's trying to tell me?

Thursday, September 6, 2012

Happy Tuesday, on Thursday, Even Though it was Supposed to be Monday.

Sometimes, life’s just like that.

Monday was spent in a flurry of laundry, labeling and packing up school supplies, and anticipation.

Monday was spent having last minute playdates with besties who are in a different class this year, and doing all the play things that can’t be done once school starts.

All in preparation for Tuesday, the big day.  First day of school.

My happy moment came when, upon disembarking from the school bus and hurriedly and excitedly talking over one another about their days and their classes and their teachers my little T, in his excitement, actually grabbed my hand on the walk home from the bus stop.  And held it the entire way.

Little boy is growing up, and as such, away from me.  But that little moment, that needing to feel grounded and make a connection while he shared his day with me…well, it was not a big deal.  I mean, it meant nothing really.  To him.

But to me, it meant everything.