Dear One,
I don't know why we sometimes make each other so uncomfortable. It doesn't seem the norm in other relationships like ours, though I don't think any family has a "norm" so that's probably not the right comparison to use. Our immediate line of women though do seem to have a norm of ,um, tension in rather high levels is the best way I can describe it- at least for all the generations I've personally witnessed. Family cycles are so hard to break out of, and ours certainly isn't the worst of positions to be in when you consider the ruts of anger and abuse others must face. Nevertheless, I don't think times like what we just had is what either of us hope and dream for when we're together.
How to stop hurting then?
I think it comes down to how easily we each take offense. I'm learning that offense is more of a choice than a given, and I'm so sorry for how often I choose it. I'd love for us to embrace each other's differences better. I can't be a perfect carbon of you, and I don't think you'd want me to be even though it would make things like decorating a house or putting away laundry or making dinner or any host of other little shared activities much less controversial. Writing it out like that, it does seem silly that we get so tied up in those things, doesn't it?
I also want to listen better. I get so frustrated by feeling continually unheard, and yet now that I'm taking a breath long enough to think about it, I'm not sure I'm hearing you as well as you deserve either. In fact, I know I'm not.
I think you are wise, joyful, fun, creative, intelligent, loving, and generous.
I think those things WAY more often than I think anything else.
I also think I'm lucky to have you in my life. And I will do everything I can to do our life better.
Because you matter. To me. You matter.
Love,
Me
Friday, October 22, 2010
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
On Treading Water
Dear Ones,
I haven't written you, or anyone, for months now and I'm sorry about that. This past summer was a study in stress and how poorly I handle it in excessive amounts. I hate to think any of my angst rubbed off on you two - and I ask your forgiveness for the moments it did. I literally stressed myself sick developing everything from chronic back pain to shingles, which took me out of Love Life mode to just-keep-my-head-above-water mode. So much less than you deserve from me. I don't want to overly beat myself up, everyone has times where they're treading water like no tomorrow, and I know I can't give you The Perfect Childhood... well, okay, at least in theory I know that... ;)
On this September afternoon however, you're both asleep in your rooms, I'm watching golden aspens wave at me through an open window, your Dad just called to say he loved me, and I am overrun by the desire to get down in this blog the beautiful things from these past few months lest they be lost in the clutter of everything else. No surprise- each memory involves the two of you...
gap-toothed smiles, lion roars, mastering your pedal bikes, hikes in the trees, rocks thrown in the river, chuckle-box checks, give me 5 - to the side..., Ka-Chow! Hip- Pow Yeah!. "Oh, yeah, that's a great idea", "Last day", "Mom, I love you", mornings at the park, train song, dance parties, blue bink stink, Peter Pan, "Oh Mom, I know what the problem is", "Daddy's Home!", roasted marshmellows, Buzz Lightyear, reading books in the hammock, cuddles in the hammock, push'm play, "I did it!", dry undies, dry beds, chuga-chugs, "I can make the number V", supercalifragilisticexpealidocious, "I just love you my baby brother", cackles of laughter, hiccups from cackles of laughter, "They look exactly like their father!", bubble baths, "scared you", "I'm gonna push some dirt!", hold you higher, laying in the sun in front of the house, puddle boots, "I'll can do it by myself, I'll meet you at home", holding your cheeks together to grab your biggest smile, "Oh Sure", "I'd be happy to", blonde curls, buzz cut, big eyes, shoulder running, sandy kisses, shy smiles, bobcats, running through the sprinkler,
Ah, now you're awake and need to sit on my lap while we discuss what to do with the afternoon so this list will have to be continued later. And it will. It will continue and continue and continue because we've now made it past everything that we needed to to keep swimming. It's time to dry off on the shore and let the sun warm our skin while we laugh at the shapes in the clouds.
Maybe that's what we'll do this afternoon.
All My Love,
Mom
I haven't written you, or anyone, for months now and I'm sorry about that. This past summer was a study in stress and how poorly I handle it in excessive amounts. I hate to think any of my angst rubbed off on you two - and I ask your forgiveness for the moments it did. I literally stressed myself sick developing everything from chronic back pain to shingles, which took me out of Love Life mode to just-keep-my-head-above-water mode. So much less than you deserve from me. I don't want to overly beat myself up, everyone has times where they're treading water like no tomorrow, and I know I can't give you The Perfect Childhood... well, okay, at least in theory I know that... ;)
On this September afternoon however, you're both asleep in your rooms, I'm watching golden aspens wave at me through an open window, your Dad just called to say he loved me, and I am overrun by the desire to get down in this blog the beautiful things from these past few months lest they be lost in the clutter of everything else. No surprise- each memory involves the two of you...
gap-toothed smiles, lion roars, mastering your pedal bikes, hikes in the trees, rocks thrown in the river, chuckle-box checks, give me 5 - to the side..., Ka-Chow! Hip- Pow Yeah!. "Oh, yeah, that's a great idea", "Last day", "Mom, I love you", mornings at the park, train song, dance parties, blue bink stink, Peter Pan, "Oh Mom, I know what the problem is", "Daddy's Home!", roasted marshmellows, Buzz Lightyear, reading books in the hammock, cuddles in the hammock, push'm play, "I did it!", dry undies, dry beds, chuga-chugs, "I can make the number V", supercalifragilisticexpealidocious, "I just love you my baby brother", cackles of laughter, hiccups from cackles of laughter, "They look exactly like their father!", bubble baths, "scared you", "I'm gonna push some dirt!", hold you higher, laying in the sun in front of the house, puddle boots, "I'll can do it by myself, I'll meet you at home", holding your cheeks together to grab your biggest smile, "Oh Sure", "I'd be happy to", blonde curls, buzz cut, big eyes, shoulder running, sandy kisses, shy smiles, bobcats, running through the sprinkler,
Ah, now you're awake and need to sit on my lap while we discuss what to do with the afternoon so this list will have to be continued later. And it will. It will continue and continue and continue because we've now made it past everything that we needed to to keep swimming. It's time to dry off on the shore and let the sun warm our skin while we laugh at the shapes in the clouds.
Maybe that's what we'll do this afternoon.
All My Love,
Mom
Friday, May 7, 2010
On Memory
Dear One,
Sitting down with my family for dinner the other night I was suddenly struck by a memory of an earlier family dinner from my childhood. I had asked you to get me something to drink and you looked at me, without anger but definitely level in the eyes, and told me to, "Get Up and Get it Myself." (gasp!)
Odd the moments that stick with us.
This one did because I remember having a physical reaction to it. A feeling akin to the shock of a rogue, cold, ocean wave catching you completely unaware and knocking the wind out of you. In my limited child memory you'd always gotten whatever I asked for in the past. "You are my MOM for goodness sake!", my 6 or 7 year old self thought, "You are SUPPOSED to get me what I need!" I got up, sullenly I'm sure, and got myself a glass of water, brought it back to my spot on the table and, head down, tried to sneak a look up at you through my eyelashes. Far from the repentance I was hoping for, you were doing that small smile that is so uniquely yours and that as a mother myself I can now recognize as equal parts hope, exasperation, and trying to choke back a laugh. And that is where that memory ends.
Well, maybe not ENDS exactly... because I still carry it, and the lessons it contained.
Lesson 1: You are my mother not my servant.
Lesson 2: Do not let laziness get in the way of your own capability.
Lesson 3: Frustration and Love can happen at the same time, but the Love is always
bigger.
Lesson 4: You really do have eyes in the back of your head.
wait--- that's a different memory
Lesson 4: Ignore any of these lessons and spend dinner thirsty.
A random memory to share and elaborate on I know, but it's such a clear example of the through-line of you being my mother that I had to let you in on what a gift it was- and all the others like it! I don't know that I'm doing this small moment justice here, it's harder to verbalize than I thought, but essentially, I am better for being told to get my own drink. My children will be too, once the initial shock passes that is. In all the little moments like this, you not only taught me to care for myself, you also taught me to respect you. Which grew into respect for myself and others we share life with. It's been a building block for a healthy and happy life.
That old cliche about giving a man a fish or teaching him to fish is so ridiculously over-used that I won't give it more than a passing glance here. Besides, it's incomplete as you did much more than teach me to fish. You taught me to get my own glass of water.
And that has mattered every day since.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. Thank you.
Love,
Me
Sitting down with my family for dinner the other night I was suddenly struck by a memory of an earlier family dinner from my childhood. I had asked you to get me something to drink and you looked at me, without anger but definitely level in the eyes, and told me to, "Get Up and Get it Myself." (gasp!)
Odd the moments that stick with us.
This one did because I remember having a physical reaction to it. A feeling akin to the shock of a rogue, cold, ocean wave catching you completely unaware and knocking the wind out of you. In my limited child memory you'd always gotten whatever I asked for in the past. "You are my MOM for goodness sake!", my 6 or 7 year old self thought, "You are SUPPOSED to get me what I need!" I got up, sullenly I'm sure, and got myself a glass of water, brought it back to my spot on the table and, head down, tried to sneak a look up at you through my eyelashes. Far from the repentance I was hoping for, you were doing that small smile that is so uniquely yours and that as a mother myself I can now recognize as equal parts hope, exasperation, and trying to choke back a laugh. And that is where that memory ends.
Well, maybe not ENDS exactly... because I still carry it, and the lessons it contained.
Lesson 1: You are my mother not my servant.
Lesson 2: Do not let laziness get in the way of your own capability.
Lesson 3: Frustration and Love can happen at the same time, but the Love is always
bigger.
Lesson 4: You really do have eyes in the back of your head.
wait--- that's a different memory
Lesson 4: Ignore any of these lessons and spend dinner thirsty.
A random memory to share and elaborate on I know, but it's such a clear example of the through-line of you being my mother that I had to let you in on what a gift it was- and all the others like it! I don't know that I'm doing this small moment justice here, it's harder to verbalize than I thought, but essentially, I am better for being told to get my own drink. My children will be too, once the initial shock passes that is. In all the little moments like this, you not only taught me to care for myself, you also taught me to respect you. Which grew into respect for myself and others we share life with. It's been a building block for a healthy and happy life.
That old cliche about giving a man a fish or teaching him to fish is so ridiculously over-used that I won't give it more than a passing glance here. Besides, it's incomplete as you did much more than teach me to fish. You taught me to get my own glass of water.
And that has mattered every day since.
Happy Mother's Day Mom. Thank you.
Love,
Me
Wednesday, May 5, 2010
On Motherhood
Dear One,
It's wonderful to hear from you and I can so totally totally totally understand the rollercoaster you are on right now. I wish I was there and could just hold you for a moment. Please imagine the biggest hug you've ever had and accept that from me today. :)
I BALLED MY EYES OUT HYSTERICALLY WEEPING when 1) we drove away from the hospital and all of the people who were checking on my baby every couple of hours and telling me he was okay, and 2) when my mom left and I stood in that quiet apartment with a painful abdomen and an unbelievably needy infant. I understand completely and am going to tell you what I wish I'd know then. IT REALLY IS GOING TO BE OKAY. :) It's even going to be fun, magical, and brilliant beyond imagining. You are stronger than you know, but better than that- so is he! :) Nothing falls apart when he cries and you can take him anywhere you want to go. He'll adjust swimmingly and you'll get more and more comfortable with the load the more you incorporate living your life into caring for your baby.
And that's the other thing, it IS a LOAD to be a Mother. It is exhausting, frustrating, frightening, overwhelming and some days you'll even have thoughts that maybe you're not cut out for this and made a huge huge mistake. THAT IS REALLY OKAY TOO. :) It does not mean you are a bad mother, it does not mean you can't do this, it does not mean any mistake was made. It just means that this is an all-consuming job, a vitally important job, and that you really truly get that. If you weren't stressed out every now and then (or every few minutes...) then I'd be worried. ;)
Another thought to tuck away right now is that this season is just that, a season of time. There are incredibly precious moments in these first few months and years that you will look back on and know were some of the most valuable pieces of your life. Priceless, special and miraculous moments. There is also a lot of stress and endless servant tasks! Those parts pass though-babies grow to kids and eventually people who do, in fact, care for themselves, I promise. :) So enjoy carrying, and caring, and kissing, and breathing in that priceless newborn smell that is unique to your little man. Relax. Cut yourself LOTS of slack. Laugh at yourself and breathe. Of all the mommy's in the world he picked you out in particular - which tells me right away that your son has exceptional taste and you're in good hands. :)
Happy Early Mother's Day! You are going to be brilliant at this!
Most days. ;)
Love you,
Me
It's wonderful to hear from you and I can so totally totally totally understand the rollercoaster you are on right now. I wish I was there and could just hold you for a moment. Please imagine the biggest hug you've ever had and accept that from me today. :)
I BALLED MY EYES OUT HYSTERICALLY WEEPING when 1) we drove away from the hospital and all of the people who were checking on my baby every couple of hours and telling me he was okay, and 2) when my mom left and I stood in that quiet apartment with a painful abdomen and an unbelievably needy infant. I understand completely and am going to tell you what I wish I'd know then. IT REALLY IS GOING TO BE OKAY. :) It's even going to be fun, magical, and brilliant beyond imagining. You are stronger than you know, but better than that- so is he! :) Nothing falls apart when he cries and you can take him anywhere you want to go. He'll adjust swimmingly and you'll get more and more comfortable with the load the more you incorporate living your life into caring for your baby.
And that's the other thing, it IS a LOAD to be a Mother. It is exhausting, frustrating, frightening, overwhelming and some days you'll even have thoughts that maybe you're not cut out for this and made a huge huge mistake. THAT IS REALLY OKAY TOO. :) It does not mean you are a bad mother, it does not mean you can't do this, it does not mean any mistake was made. It just means that this is an all-consuming job, a vitally important job, and that you really truly get that. If you weren't stressed out every now and then (or every few minutes...) then I'd be worried. ;)
Another thought to tuck away right now is that this season is just that, a season of time. There are incredibly precious moments in these first few months and years that you will look back on and know were some of the most valuable pieces of your life. Priceless, special and miraculous moments. There is also a lot of stress and endless servant tasks! Those parts pass though-babies grow to kids and eventually people who do, in fact, care for themselves, I promise. :) So enjoy carrying, and caring, and kissing, and breathing in that priceless newborn smell that is unique to your little man. Relax. Cut yourself LOTS of slack. Laugh at yourself and breathe. Of all the mommy's in the world he picked you out in particular - which tells me right away that your son has exceptional taste and you're in good hands. :)
Happy Early Mother's Day! You are going to be brilliant at this!
Most days. ;)
Love you,
Me
Monday, April 5, 2010
On April
Dear One,
If there must be named a single point; a block of time out from which my entire year spins around, April- you are it. January has is resolutions, June through August their warm breezes, December of course carries Christmas, but none of that compares to the enormous weight you carry for me, April. Year after Year.
For starters, I love that you begin with a holiday dedicated to fools, or is it meant to be a day for creating fools around you? Either way. Brilliant. On a more serious holiday note... Easter. Except for very very rare occasions, Easter always falls during the month of April. Easter is my favorite holiday and the cornerstone for my increasingly important faith. I. Love. Easter. Less important on the grand scale of things -but certainly worth noting, my birthday is in April. The day when I take stock, appreciate being alive, vow to grow older - better than I have so far, and hopefully recognize the love others have for me. Love that helps build me up for round (soon to be) 34. These highs forever linked to the incomparable low of the anniversary of Matt's death each April as well. Such powerful LIFE celebrations sandwiching such a life that was lost. Each felt deeper because of the knowledge gained from the others.
Though not credited to a specific day, April is when I turn my thoughts toward Spring. Regardless of it being the snowiest month here in the Elk Mountains, it is the first noticeable shift in the weather. A slight warming of the ground that turns all this snow to slush, and a fierceness in the wind that dares you to turn your back on it. April is when things change in the year. Not January -which is remarkably similar to its bookend months- April is the beginning for me.
30 days now to seek and sense and grasp, and know those ever-so-slight shifts that steer the whole year.
Love,
Me
If there must be named a single point; a block of time out from which my entire year spins around, April- you are it. January has is resolutions, June through August their warm breezes, December of course carries Christmas, but none of that compares to the enormous weight you carry for me, April. Year after Year.
For starters, I love that you begin with a holiday dedicated to fools, or is it meant to be a day for creating fools around you? Either way. Brilliant. On a more serious holiday note... Easter. Except for very very rare occasions, Easter always falls during the month of April. Easter is my favorite holiday and the cornerstone for my increasingly important faith. I. Love. Easter. Less important on the grand scale of things -but certainly worth noting, my birthday is in April. The day when I take stock, appreciate being alive, vow to grow older - better than I have so far, and hopefully recognize the love others have for me. Love that helps build me up for round (soon to be) 34. These highs forever linked to the incomparable low of the anniversary of Matt's death each April as well. Such powerful LIFE celebrations sandwiching such a life that was lost. Each felt deeper because of the knowledge gained from the others.
Though not credited to a specific day, April is when I turn my thoughts toward Spring. Regardless of it being the snowiest month here in the Elk Mountains, it is the first noticeable shift in the weather. A slight warming of the ground that turns all this snow to slush, and a fierceness in the wind that dares you to turn your back on it. April is when things change in the year. Not January -which is remarkably similar to its bookend months- April is the beginning for me.
30 days now to seek and sense and grasp, and know those ever-so-slight shifts that steer the whole year.
Love,
Me
Thursday, March 25, 2010
On Song
Dear Ones,
I love to sing, always have. Singing in the shower, with Poppy, in the car, or on stage with a full orchestra -- singing has been one of the greatest joys of my life. The peak song experiences for me though are paled in comparison to what is only described as beyond joy that I hear coming from your little mouths when you think I'm not listening. You are both wonderful little singers, don't ever let anyone tell you different. I hope you always get the happiness from it that you so exuberantly let out right now. No qualms, no fears, no worries over pitch or lyrics or audience ... just ALL OUT SINGING. It's like you are taking your truest smile and flinging it up to Heaven. It is the absolute best sound in the world to your mama's ears.
Little Bunny FooFoo, Shoo Fly, Hush Little Baby, PollyWolly Doodle All Day, Doe a Deer, Don't Stop Believin', Dancing Queen, and of course the Thomas the Tank Engine theme song... these make up the playlist of my heart. But only when you sing them.
I love you so much!
me
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
On Body
Dear One,
You are so hard on yourself, and so sad so often. Now that you've had your cry, focus. Your legs work. As do your heart, lungs, teeth, arms and ankles. Your husband says he's a fan of your butt. So, you know, that's something.
This new exercise is good for you. And it's good that you can't do it all yet and that you're so tired and sore- it means it's working now and has room for you to grow and keep the method working in the future!
You will see change. It's only been a month. For the life-change you want you need to realize this could easily take all year. You may not feel comfortable in a bathing suit on your 34th birthday, as per the original goal. BUT you WILL feel good in one for birthdays 35- 82. At 83... well, we'll just cross that bridge when we come to it, shall we? ;)
You will get yourself up at 5am tomorrow and keep going. Do Not Give Up.
Now go play with your sons. They think you're beautiful. It is possible they are more right about you than you are.
Love,
me
Saturday, March 20, 2010
On Stages
Dear One,
When I asked you to "Sit still and be quiet" while I was in a meeting this morning and you responded with "Not Again???!!" it occurred to me that we have a gap in our communication somewhere. You see, the last time I said, "Sit still and be quiet" wasn't actually the last time this will be asked of you. In fact, since you are now 2 1/2 years old, it's entirely possible that this request will be made thousands of times yet over the course of your life. Particularly since you seem to possess truly astounding levels of energy and spunk for someone so little.
Hopefully this clears up any miscommunication we've been having and my next request for you to calm down won't come as such a shock.
Much love,
me :)
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
On Listening
Dear One,
When my children are upset, self-inflicted or otherwise, I usually tilt their face up to me and say, "Tell me when you can hear me." I know I can fix the problem, but not until the self-centered hysterics die down. After a few hiccups and back-handed wiping of tears they'll eventually nod and say they can. At least that's how it works when it runs smoothly.
When it doesn't run smoothly, their mad and I've been scared into a fury, I don't tilt their face towards me. I grab hold of their chins between my pointer finger and thumb in such a way that I could probably move their entire bodies with just this grip. And say in my deepest vocal register, "Tell. Me. When. You. Can. Hear. Me."
Which they usually respond to with a "I Can't Hear You Yet!" yell that echos off Red Lady. Even in those cases though, eventually their ears open and the muscles surrounding my voice box relax enough to let oxygen get back through and we move ahead. Together.
I don't know which tone of voice you're using with me right now Father. But I can't hear you yet. I want to. I wish the disconnect wasn't there. I believe that eventually my ears will open and your perfect voice, saying just the right words, will come through. I believe that.
But I can't hear you yet.
Amen.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
On Waste Removal
Dear Ones,
You are old enough and it is time.
Peeing in the potty is great. Keep it up.
Pooping in the potty is better. Start doing it.
That is all.
me
Monday, March 8, 2010
On Thighs
Dear One,
Your website says you can transform any woman's body- regardless of age, genetics, and/or specific problem spots. If that is true, then the salutation of "Dear One" won't even begin to cover my affection for you.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to become my steadfast partner in: Operation Feel Good in a Swimsuit Before I Turn 34.
It is a large scale attack we have taken on. There is much cellulite to defeat and many 'Lil Debbie Swiss Cakes to say no to. This is not for the weak or the hungry- although your workouts so far have made me feel both. There are obstacles to overcome: potty-training, meal preparation for non-dieters, foot deep slush covering all usable ground outside, and the fact that my two favorite foods are butter and chocolate, with salt.
Please keep that last bit between us.
This note will self-destruct in 5 seconds.
See you in the morning,
me
Dear One,
A letter came in the mail today and seeing the handwriting in the corner was enough to snap my spine straight. I'm sorry she has that effect on me. I know it hurts you.
I came across a quote today that really made me think:
Forgiveness is letting go of the hope for a better past.
Interesting, yes? Something to think on anyway.
Okay, I'm going to stop there. I really don't want this to be a sad and drawn out beating-of-the-proverbial-dead-horse type of letter. Just a pause to acknowledge this spiked moment in my day and hopefully a springboard into all the coming moments this Monday has in store- over which I garner much more control.
Love you,
me
Sunday, March 7, 2010
On laughter
Dear One,
You've managed it again, so many times now in fact that I am forced to conclude this is actually a beautiful aspect of your specific DNA as opposed to a learned or forced effort on your part. Getting us all up and going this morning, when they are screaming and I am whinny to the point of petulance, takes some doing. And you did it with humor and patience that still baffles me as I look back at it. And you were right. It did help. Getting in the sun and skiing down the snow covered peaks with child-giggles erupting, from the actual children as well... it was everything you said it would be. As usual. So much fun in fact that I can't even be as annoyed as I should be over your rising "right" quotient. You're right a lot. Lucky me to be married to you. :)
Not that there weren't sticky patches, a fussy toddler and a crashing 4 year old off and on, but without fail you again and again you use your unique combination of humor and brute strength to pick us all back up and get us going the right direction again. Physically and mentally, until we are all have a blazing good time again. And when you laugh yourself- oh my. It is a BOOMING sound. Startling, and funny, and contagious even beyond our little group, and it remains my most favorite sound on Earth.
Thank you for being our champion and super-hero and Knight.
Love,
me
Thursday, March 4, 2010
On energy
Dear Ones,
You have it today and I do not. Sorry about that. We'll leave in a moment and walk in the sunshine -- which will be nice, but I have to admit it is as much to assuage my guilt as it is to get you the Vitamin D your growing bodies need.
Always trying, I trust you know that,
me
On Help
Dear One,
You didn't have to take so much time for me today. We know each other, but don't really spend the time together or have the commitment to each other that say old friends have gained. You didn't have to take the time or spend the energy or do the work. But you did. Which makes you one of the good ones. I actually already knew this, but some things should be said out loud whenever possible.
Thank You,
me
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
On Sleep
Dear One,
I really really need you to stop doing this. Sleep. In your own bed. All night.
Please. Come get me if you are sick or scared, of course, but this constant and almost nightly routine of ups and downs is making me as crazy as a... well see... there you go- I can't even think of a good simile and I rock at similes. This has to stop.
Not only is your mood and over-all health better when you do- but MY mood and overall health is better as well. A fact that is easily as important as any other in terms of maintaining your well-being. It's nearly 3 AM as I write to you and that does not bode well for our morning interactions. Which begin in 2 1/2 hours according to this strange internal clock you seem to have inherited from my mother.
Let me explain what the night looks like on my end and hopefully you'll understand just how serious I am about this. Tonight, for example, I go to bed at 10 after checking on you and your brother and kissing your sweet sleep-pinked cheeks and after a normal toss and turn, fall asleep. Until 11. When you come down the first time. Out of bed I go, take your hand, you don't need anything, silently reaching up for my hand as I offer it and peacefully walking back up to your room and climbing into your bed. I try to fall asleep again. Just about do when...Midnight... I hear little footfalls again and ... voices? Two voices? You've gotten your brother up with you?? HOW did you get him out of his crib and down the stairs without me hearing any of that process on the monitor which hisses even his most innocent sleep sounds at me all night long?? Out of bed, take both your hands, littlest starts to cry about doing bedtime again, you don't understand why I'm cross, I'm worried now (on top of cross and tired) about the whole silent crib escape thing, what else do I not hear at night? Everyone back in bed. Take 3. I can't sleep. I hear thumping. Is it the dog? Another crib-break? My imagination? So tired, can't imagine getting out of bed if I don't Have to. Yet. I can't sleep because now I hear all kinds of sounds that could mean all kinds of danger for my nightowl children. Is someone in the house? Is it the fireplace? Your rooms are right above the fireplace... better check. UP AGAIN. Peer up the stairs, it's dark and quiet. You're both finally sleeping and I'm being foolish. Best not to turn the light on and risk waking you up. Back to bed, what's left of it anyway as each time I get up your father takes over more and more space in our bed leaving me to balance precariously on the edge while fighting mother-worry inspired insomnia and -- WHAT IS THAT THUMPING?? Is it mice? Oh no, are you really both out of bed and now sleeping on the floor being crawled on by mice?! I should have turned the light on, I should have checked, up and off I go. (Do you see how sleep-deprivation does dreadful things to my imagination?) Lights on, climb stairs, see two sleep-pinked faces safely in bed and resting my hand on your backs I feel you breathe. Everyone's fine.
No room at all now left in my bed so I'm in the guest room next to your room writing you a letter past the middle of the night and hoping for at least an hour of sleep but fear it will be yet another night of dozing a scant smattering of minutes before facing the demands of another very demanding day.
I want to be better at taking care of you than I am. I have more to give you than you're likely to get over breakfast this morning. Please sweetheart, let. me. sleep.
I love you very much, and at all times.
me
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Dear One,
I saw a picture of you this morning that took my breath away. It was such a surprise to see your face after all these years. Do you still look ten years old in Heaven I wonder? Do you see me? Have you met my husband? My children? You're an uncle now you know. Twice over. The oldest has your name and the youngest has your lack of regard for danger. If you can see us, I'd like a little extra watching-over on that account if you don't mind.
I miss you. And I do believe you know that. That you still know me. Are with God.
Until then,
me
Monday, March 1, 2010
Dear One
Dear One,
I think it's wonderful that you've decided to write letters to the dear ones in your life. You're really much better -- more thoughtful and more honest-- on paper than you have ever been able to be in verbal conversations. Sorry dear, but it's true.
Do you suppose you'll keep up with it?
Yes, I do believe you will.
Much love,
me
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