Skip to main content

Pre-Birthday Time

Right about this time of year, I start freaking out.

It's the "pre-birthday" time.

Not my birthday (although my own years seem to be passing ohsofast), but my son's birthday.

Six, this year.  Six.

This baby that we hoped for and prayed for and wept for.



He came.  And he stayed.

And he took our lives and shook them up and pushed them forward and took all the breath out of us.

And so, as this time approaches each year and our discussions turn to cake and invitations and a couple of special gifts, my heart begins to beat at an incredibly rapid rate and I try and fit just a little bit more into the current age.

More outings.

More snuggling.

More activities.

More sitting and staring at him and squeezing him and begging him to please stop growing.

I try and sit and listen more when he tells me about the ninja-ship-training station he's made with his Legos and I try harder to come up with creative answers to whether Lego Luke or Lego Obi Wan is really the better Jedi master.

I am more in tune with turning off distractions and giving time for him to ask me deep questions about spirituality or checkers or music.

I practice biting my tongue and giving warnings when I may have snapped on a typical day.

In short, I panic.

I find myself clutching at these weeks/hours/days/minutes with increasing desperation as my children grow and stages and ages fly by in a whirl of color, never to be visited again.

And yet, though all of my being screams for time to pleaseslowdownwontcha, I can't help but urge him on.

In the midst of it all, I find myself encouraging him to do more on his own.  Sure, you can go ahead and make that bread and crack the eggs, too.  Of course, you can cross the street, just be sure to look. Well, I think you can read that all on your own now, why don't you try.  Well, what do you think about that rule--does it seem fair?

And he continues to one-up me.  He'll bend down to help a friend while I'm getting frustrated at how long things are taking.  He'll spend entire evenings creating gifts for his baby cousin.  He'll entertain his sister by letting her ride around on his back.

He bombards us with questions.

"Why do flamingos stand on one leg?"

"How can it be fair that some people speeding get caught and others don't?"

"Does God still love Satan?"

Isn't this the bittersweet of parenting?  We cling to the past, but somehow, can't seem to stop ourselves pursuing the future.

As nostalgic as our past always is, the excitement of the 'yet to come' begs us to keep moving forward.

And although my little boy is quickly losing the "little," I think I'll still work, as often as I can, to hang on to those little moments.

I think they're the ones I will remember.

Happy 6th Birthday, Ward Christopher.  Thank you for being the first reason we were called mom and dad.  We love you so very much.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

In waiting

I can wait. I'm really good at waiting. For example, each year that my husband and I exchange Christmas gifts, we manage to wait until around December 15th (give or take) to exchange gifts. And every morning, I wait until the last possible second to roll out of bed when I have to be up. And I've waited to get in a decent, consistent workout routine for years . Bad examples? Fine. I can't wait.  I'm notoriously bad at being patient and letting moments 'be' without thinking about what's coming next or what I should be doing. Sit and watch tv?  Sure, while I sew or copy recipes or plan a grocery list.  Enjoy breakfast?  Sure, after emptying the dishwasher, scrubbing the highchair and wiping down the counters.  A nice road trip?  Sure, I'll pack my books, magazines, 7000 piece puzzle (ok, maybe not).  But, you get the point. Anyway, waiting is not something I'm good at, and this Advent season, I've finally gotten the message that h

I am a Parent

Well, shock of the century, here's me spouting off about something again:)  I worked on this post after reading a post from  Sarah , whose blog was the first one I ever read and happens to be my favorite to this day.  Seriously, she's amazing, and cracks me up because she gets all awesome-fiery, and does it with such tact and without apologizing--LOVE that! Anyway, she really was talking about the teenage girl (and younger) phenomenon in regards to clothing, magazines, movies, music, etc. and how we could ever combat that as moms looking to raise basically, wholesome kids.  She called for a parenting revolution--and, as usual, I TOTALLY agree with her. I've long thought that parents should have to take a vow, similar to those we take when we choose our life partners.  Although I'm sure this will evolve over time, here are my beliefs on paper.  (And, just to clarify, my husband is a wonderful partner, but I was looking at these things as something each individual w

Real Heartache

The first cut is the deepest. Isn't that how the song goes? I saw it tonight, and it shocked me into a new mama reality. Ward and I were talking about his school and how his friend, Gabrielle, is moving away next week--her dad got a new position in Alabama and they will be leaving right away. And even though he knew it was coming, he was suddenly overly concerned. "But we can go see her, right?" (Well, honey, I doubt we'll go to Alabama, but if we do, I promise we will see if we can get together with her). "But we can fly there, right mom?  It's not that far!" (Well, dear, I know it sounds easy, but it isn't that simple.  We have no reason to go to Alabama and mommy and daddy both have to work and we can't just pay for plane tickets to go on a vacation." "But why can't we build a house in Alabama right by hers!?  It's warm there and I like to be warm!" (Well, sweetheart, we live here and we love t