This beautiful little boy arrived last night. He’s a wee bit early…wasn’t scheduled to be here until mid-January. But maybe he just didn’t want to miss out on the Christmas festivities. And at 7 lbs, 9 0z, and 20 inches, maybe he didn’t need to wait any longer!
Jack joins big sister Riley, and proud parents Stephanie and Matt. What a joy, and a wonderful affirmation that life is amazing!
And now I am “Gram” to two! Thank you, Stephanie, for this precious gift to all of us.
It’s that time of year again. Unlike the decorations that deck the malls, I save my Christmas music until December. Well, sometimes I sneak a few favorites after Thanksgiving. But the real celebration begins with December. I trot them all out…carols, the old traditional standbys…Bing Crosby and Mannheim Steamroller, Frank Sinatra and Christmas choirs, Celtic Woman. I love it all, from instrumentals to old folk tunes to soaring choral arrangements. For this month, my Pandora and Spotify stations are set to sentimental.
Sentimental is where my heart is…I have some old Disney Christmas CDs that take me to a time in my life when I had little kids, and the magic of making Christmas cookies and wrapping presents was a family event. Every step in the season was momentous…picking out a tree, choosing the special ornaments for the year, shopping and decorating, and the great light debate..colored or white…the favorite Christmas movies and holiday plays…each event had it’s place on the calendar. And the smells! The smell of the tree, fresh from the cold and filling the house with the fragrance of forest…it was better than baking cookies. To each his own, but if I can’t have a real tree…like this year, when we’re going to be out of town for Christmas…I don’t have anything. I can’t quite make the switch. I decorate with wreaths, and other holiday trimmings, but no fresh tree…no tree.
I listen to the soundtrack from A Charlie Brown Christmas and I’m transported. What is this time warp I’m caught in? My children have moved on, and I’m still here…here in December, loving the little trips back in time; they come in the flash of an instant, sometimes triggered by the strangest things…little, insignificant glimpses that take me, by magic, to another decade…literally to another century. The 90s were golden with the two little kids who filled my life.
Music is a touchstone to memory, and my memories are good.
I remember reading the classics to my children, books like The Polar Express, and A Christmas Carol, and even now, years later, I’m still caught by the stories, charmed and touched by the faith of childhood. That’s the real spirit of the season that flavors everything else…faith…accented by the sounds of beloved and familiar. And for a few weeks every December, I live and re-live sweet moments from the past, and precious times of the present. This month, more than any other, blends the years and melts my heart. A little sprinkling of snow, frosty temps…all good.
December morning glory
Thanksgiving is done, and December is around the corner. In “normal” years, I’d be thinking Christmas. Gifts, cards, food, decorating, tree, travel…all the trimmings. This year I’m thinking baby. Little Jack is just a few weeks out, and I’m ramping up to get work projects done and make sure the home fires stay burning while I’m on baby duty. Not that I mind. It’s a treat to look forward to, and whether I’m caring for little Riley, precocious two-year-old, or snuggling newborn Jack, I’m excited to experience the miracle of life again, courtesy of Stephanie.
Riley was five weeks early. Jack may stay tucked until his due date, mid-January. But if he’s an early bird too, Christmas could bring a little extra excitement this year. Of course healthy is the goal, and no one is rushing him. But the clock is definitely ticking. Good thing Seattle is only a short flight away!
Being with Riley this last week reminded me again that children are vessels of wonder. They’re work, and expense, and a never-ending draw on energy. But beyond the effort, there’s effortless charm. She turns it on, and I’m hooked…this little girl melts my heart, and she isn’t even trying.
I thought I was having a great time with one little one. Now, for a few brief months, I’ll have the best of both worlds when we visit: a cuddly baby, and a busy little girl who is a sponge, picking up language and making it her own. She’s a funny little commenter on her world, and you never quite know how she’s going to interpret the moment.
This year, I’m streamlining tradition. There’ll be other years for decking the halls, and rolling out the red carpet. This year, I’m just packing a bag and getting prepared. When babies come, you go. Thankfully there are many helping hands, so I’ll wait here until I get the call. Then, whatever the date, my Christmas present will be here, right on time…Jack time.
Riley and Jack
Riley, Princess and Explorer
This girl has snuggled in deep in my heart. Love this Little!
How lucky am I to be her “Gram!”
Last week I heard Riley, two-year old explorer and budding princess, say quite clearly over the phone, “I did it! All by myself!”
A lot of the good things in life are built through cooperation. Working together, sharing, joining hands and hearts to create something big, something meaningful, is a joyful experience. It is good to be part of a team, and a team effort.
But if there is strength in numbers, there is also satisfaction in self-reliance. And though, as was famously noted in our national political discussion recently, no one succeeds without help, still, a lot of success can be ascribed to individual effort.
Even two-year old princesses understand that, and celebrate it, with their cry of recognition: “I did it, all by myself!”
Our son is learning this in a new way. He is establishing himself, all by himself, without ready-made structure in place around him. He’s moved back to Colorado, to the home of his heart, and he’s creating a home that will nurture his heart.
We watch from afar. We talk, but he’s doing the work. We mentor and advise, but he’s doing the heavy lifting.
When he left home, it was to join the army, and surely, there is no more structured environment for a 19-year-old to land in. Now he’s out of the army and navigating without a team around him. He’s job hunting, apartment hunting, life hunting. He has some big decisions to make. Will he, or won’t he, after resisting for six years since high school, choose college and more education? Will he find himself working in whatever job he can land with his skills and experience and be content, or will he choose something that is out of reach at the moment, that he will have to work to attain?
I don’t know, and I’m not sure he does either, at this very moment. He thinks he’s been independent since he joined the army, right out of high school, and to some degree, that’s true. But I see him gaining a whole new footing in the world of adult responsibility. I see him learning, doing, saying, “I did it, all by myself!”
It is good to be 25, and independent! I’m proud of him for doing something I never did…for jumping out there and going for it. He’s not always successful, and we don’t always agree with his decisions. But he owns them, and he stands by them.
My husband says “He’s becoming a man.” It’s an anxious time for me. For all my sunny nature and positive outlook, when it comes to my kids, I’m a first-class worrier. I try to see ahead and around corners and think with them, sometimes for them. But I know, in my heart of hearts, that’s not the right approach. I squelch my anxiety and wait for news of this interview, or that application. No 25-year-old needs a nervous mom hovering in the background. I am not picking him up from kindergarten. This is not his first date.
I thought I already did this. I thought I let go years ago. Funny how you find pockets of emotion as you watch your kids move through different phases of life, through experience. This new bid for independence is exciting for Alex. It makes me nervous. He’s pumped, I’m scared.
But like the earlier moments of letting go, I’ll manage this too. First, because I am physically removed, literally many states and two time zones away, and I don’t have a lot of option. Second, because it is the right thing to do. Though I wish I could provide a safety net for him, the truth is, beyond a certain point, no parent can really protect. The next generation has to find their own way, make their own decisions and mistakes, and celebrate their triumphs.
I’m just waiting to hear, on the other end of the line, “I did it, all by myself!”
So this week I get to be the proud mom in my blog posts: yesterday with a birthday wish to my son, and today, an announcement from my daughter:
Baby #2 is joining the family. Riley will be a big sister in January, and Stephanie and Matt will be in the thick of parenting with a not-quite-three year old and a newborn. The lucky guys! Lots of work, but wonderful, meaningful…the best stuff of life.
Watching this unfold is fun, almost as much as when I was in a leading role. It’s a lot more restful, from this vantage point! I can’t wait until Riley understands her new position. She’s already quite the little firstborn. I recognize the type you know, since I am one, I’m married to one, and I gave birth to one. Firstborns are a little bossy. We just can’t help ourselves. We like to make sure things are done. And Stephanie and Matt have exactly the same mix in family order that Rob and I had. Two firstborns married, had their firstborn, and now will add a baby to the mix.
I always say that any family dysfunction we had was the result of our mix of three first-borns and a baby, in birth order. Three of us always wanted to direct, and the youngest one marched to his own drummer. Well, maybe that was his best option, with three of us leading the way all the time.
Anyway, exciting, happy news! I got it as a mother’s day present, but it wasn’t my secret to share, until today. Today the little ultrasound image is up on Stephanie’s Facebook page. I’m a believer in letting the one with the big news share the big news. So now that’s done, and I can share it too.
Can’t wait for January and a new little to cuddle!
Today my son is 25. Alex is twenty-five! My baby, so grown up and definitely, not a baby anymore. That’s been true for a long time. But there’s something about the number that catches me, pulls a bit.
Maybe it’s the “quarter of a century” thing, or the fact that 25 year olds are considered by car insurance companies to be a lower risk to insure…or some other vague and hard-to-pinpoint marker of this year. Regardless of the reason, this seems like more than the ordinary birthday. It feels like a milestone.
We talk two or three times a week, and he sends me funny texts…usually something to do with bacon, or a YouTube link that will make me laugh. I send him books, sometimes by favorite authors we both enjoy, sometimes by someone I want him to come to know.
He tells me how his latest kitchen experiment turned out and sometimes asks for a recipe of a childhood treat.
He brags on his workouts, and gives me updates on his gaming status. I never can follow the video game storyline, but he shares it anyway.
He is a blend of Rob and me. I see pieces of us in him, apparent in his talents and his tastes. And his faults. I’m a loving mother, but I’m not blind.
But I think I see an amazing man emerging, leaving behind the last traces of boyhood. Five years in the army, right out of high school, and a young marriage that has already weathered significant separation by deployment, have fostered maturity. He bought a house, has purchased vehicles, navigated his way in, through, and out of the military, all with little to no help from us. He informs us, he asks our advice. But he has been largely independent. Like we raised him to be.
He’s strongly opinionated, and right or wrong, he has the courage of his convictions. A Gemini, he has the characteristic twin personality, and can move with lightening speed from joking and humor to the other half of himself, the old soul that has been part of his makeup since birth. He’s a tough, motorcycle-riding, battle-hardened veteran who loves dogs and can discuss CS Lewis and mythology with ease. He has soft spots in unexpected places. He has an old-fashioned sense of honor and a kid’s appreciation of animation and game-playing. He’s a clean cut guy who doesn’t look his age, but when I listen to him, I think he’s already older than twenty-five.
Sometimes I am exasperated. He can be stubborn, and sometimes his honesty could use a wee bit of diplomacy mixed in. He’s smart, but not a conventional student, and I worry that unless he decides for himself that there’s value in more education, his options will reflect the lack of higher degrees.
But I’m also proud. This boy has grown up to find his own way, and to stand on his own. He’s loyal to his friends and commitments. He keeps the family ties that bind. He keeps his truth, and his faith. He thinks for himself, like we raised him to do.
Happy birthday, Alex! Happy 25th!
Riley turns two today. We’ve already had this little joy in our lives for two years!
She’s been in the toddler stage for a while. She runs, she climbs, she’s a big girl. Tall for her age, she looks more like a three year old. But there are still some traces of babyhood, when she’s sleepy, or tired. She says a lot of words and phrases, but doesn’t quite pronounce all the consonants yet, so you have to do a little interpretive work to follow her conversation. Still, it’s obvious that she has the family gift of gab.
She’s a bit of a foodie, fascinated at her young age with life in the kitchen. She loves to explore in the pantry, and she knows where her favorite foods live in the fridge. And she likes to stir things.
She’s a modern child, she knows how to push buttons to get things…at least some things…that she wants. She watches babies and cartoon characters on You Tube. She likes to play little games on her parents’ Kindle Fire.
She knows the word “no.” She sometimes says, “No, Riley,” as if practicing on herself. She drops the “l” in Riley (one of those consonant things), but she gets the tone jussst right.
She rides a little trike, a “Dora the Explorer” trike that has lights, turn signals, and plays music. She has a few books. Just a few! The child has her own mini library, but I like that. Always a reader myself, I love to see that potential for children.
She has a bit of a temper. She’s explored the terrible twos, wandered in and out a bit already. But she’s a happy child most of the time, and is a cheerful little companion, singing in her car seat while out and about, chattering in her Riley-speak about whatever is on her mind at the moment.
She has nicknames…”Little,” or sometimes, “the Little,” and “Poo.” She knows them too. She hears them often enough, at least from me and Stephanie. I’m not sure if anyone else uses these. But they are names of affection and play. I am “Gram” to her, although I haven’t heard her say that yet. But she knows Rob’s name, “PB,” and she says it frequently, putting the emphasis on the “P,” “PeeeBe,” she says, calling him to come and see something, or identifying him in a photo.
This little girl has made a place in my heart, effortlessly climbing in and making herself at home. The child of my child is reminding me of the joys of discovery, the value of intangibles, and the strength of ties that bind. Happy birthday, Riley girl! Happy birthday, Little!
When my kids were little, baby and toddler stages, I kissed them frequently. One morning, picking up Alex, I said, “First kiss of the day!” as I was getting my first soft snuggle from his baby cheek. I knew it was only the first of many kisses I would give during the day, and it became a frequent phrase in my thought. Sometimes I even voiced it out loud. Mostly, it was a way of marking a brief moment, recognizing that for that day, I had the ability to scoop up my little ones and hold them close.
But things change. I rarely get to kiss them now. Distance makes that impossible. They’re all grown up, and the time of easy, daily interaction has passed.
Not long ago, I walked by the sofa where Rob was sitting and impulsively bent down and kissed him. I thought, “First kiss of the day!” Of course, I don’t have the constant interaction with him that I had with my little ones all those years ago. Most days, we are busy with work, errands, to dos. Most days we don’t have, or take, the time to just sit with each other. But I thought, in that flash of insight, why don’t I mark the moments with him? The big ones are easy to see, and we do mark those. But the little ones, the day after day ones, those slip by so easily. Mostly because we see each other as two busy adults. We know children are growing fast, and one day won’t be within easy reach for a kiss or hug throughout the day. But adults? I think even in good marriages, we just take it for granted, too often.
So my new thing…I’m going to mark the little moments more often. I’m going to try to really see the person drinking coffee with me, running errands with me. I’m going to practice saying, once again, “First kiss of the day!”
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