Raising a boy is like a never ending tug-of-war between the pride of watching him grow into a young man and longing for him to be little once again.
Somewhere along the way, across all those blurry days, his fresh new baby smell was replaced with the scent of BOY—that wild concoction of sweat, dirt, and some third ingredient you can’t name but would recognize a thousand miles away.
Just as soon as you find yourself yearning to carry him close to your heart once again, you watch him run toward you with a wide grin, holding out a flower he’s picked just for you...and you can’t think of what else you could possibly wish for.
And the only words that make your heart burst as much as that very first “mama” is the wild “love you Mom!” shouted between monkey bar reaches from the playground.
rowdy and raucous
sweet, sensitive, soulful
perhaps the only thing more lovely than the memories of yesterday are the ones we’re making today. Those days, these days, & the ones in between have been the pleasure of my life.
There's alot about this whole Coronavirus situation I can't seem to wrap my mind around, but one of the things that's most hard to believe is that, next month, the new year, we all had so many hopes and dreams for will be halfway over. Isn't that insane? Time during social isolation seems to be flying by and moving at a snail's pace both at the same time.
Some mornings I wake up feeling positive and hopeful about it all. I feel we're adjusting to our new normal of virtual learning and social isolation and feel positive that we'll be able to move back toward our normal lives soon enough. Other mornings I wake up and just feel so sad. Not over the loss of busy--it actually feels pretty peaceful looking at our open calendar. I feel sad about so many other things, though. I hate hearing story after story about people coming down ill or passing away from this thing. I hate hearing about mystery children's illnesses and medical workers having to be separated from their own kids. But maybe what makes me saddest of all is that, during one of our darkest hours, we seem more divided than ever as a country.
I recently watched the biopic Jackie about the life of Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis. What I hadn't realized before watching the film was that she had actually been the mother of five children, not two. She miscarried her first child, had a stillborn daughter her next pregnancy, went on to have Caroline and John, Jr., and then gave birth to a boy that only lived for two days. What's even more remarkable was that she lost her husband only three months after her son's death.
Some may wonder why she put herself through conceiving again and again after experiencing such loss. I believe this is the power and strength of the love that comes with being a mother. We lay our hearts out there (sometimes again and again) for our babies, despite knowing the pain that could come.
I feel so lucky to have grown up rich,
to have grown up privileged--
never having had to do without.
Our family was so rich in love & laughter that, despite what I can now look back and see as a modest upbringing & tight income, it never occurred to me we were lacking anything.
I was so privileged to be raised in a home where we were the priorities--
I never once scanned the classroom or audience wondering if mom or dad would be there,
I never once went without the school clothes or the dance lessons, although I can now look back and see that my parents went without quite a bit for themselves.
I'm turning 40 tomorrow.
Just typing that sentence is crazy. Turning 40 amidst all the Coronavirus-ness is even crazier. There's a lot about this turning 40 thing I never pictured.
First, I never pictured feeling so--well--not 40. I suppose everyone feels that way. I certainly don't feel the way I pictured I would when I was younger. I guess what I mean is that I don't feel the way 40 seemed to me back then: old! I don't feel over the hill--I feel like I'm just setting out to climb the hill, just getting started on the REAL journey. There's this feeling like I'm coming into my own, dropping what other think or feel I should be doing, and just living a more free life on my own terms. It feels a little like the dress rehearsal is over and the actual show is beginning.
I also never envisioned celebrating 40 six feet apart from those I love in cloth masks but hey, given what's going on I'm just happy to celebrate another birthday feeling well and happy that those I love are here to say hello, even if from a distance. And, I have to admit, for an introvert with a bit of social anxiety I'm actually finding not having a big blowout kinda cozy. My own parties always end up feeling like a sweaty, nervous, happy whirlwind that I don't end up remembering well later because of the mixture of beverages and being in my own head the whole time. Last night my husband bought all my favorite snacks and we camped in the backyard with strung lights and wine and s'mores. As we laid down for bed my boy whispered "this was the best day of my life". I don't know if he would've said that after the big shindig we originally had planned at the nice hotel on the water with 20+ people. The best day of his life is the best day of mine, so I think it might've worked out better this way.
I'm Krissy & I'm so thankful you're here. Being a woman, a wife, a mother--it's all rewarding but also tough. I hope this is a place you can go that feels like caffeine for the soul. Check out the categories below and, if you like what you read, subscribe to make sure you always have good Sunday morning reading to go with your coffee :)