If you have found me through Mother Letters, welcome to my house. Feel free to make yourself at home and look around.
Put your feet up on the coffee table, see what I have in the pantry, and enjoy our time together.
If you would like to read my entire Mother Letter, click here.

Monday, May 18, 2009

One Brief Moment

Yesterday, for one brief moment, time stood still. My big, lanky nine year old (He looks big and lanky to me no matter where he stands in his class pictures.) came and snuggled up to me on my bed. As we lay there, he let me stroke his hair and reminisce about how he has grown and my good memories of him as a baby. Sometimes, I miss my first baby terribly. We argue about homework, and how he chooses to use his time. I worry about the world out there, the one he is immersed in daily. To a mom, it is a minefield of influence and corruption bent on attacking his innocence and wearing down his self-esteem. I miss the days when his whole world was contained in his parents' arms. The worries are bigger and scarier and loom even larger for the future.
But... for a moment, I held him again, basked in his innocence, and the love he freely shared with me. Just for a moment, it was just the two of us in our own little, snug world.

Saturday, May 9, 2009


The boys recently learned the subtle joy of refering to bathroom happenings as #1 and #2.  Freckles had to use the restroom during dinner last night. He came back to the dinner table and asked, "Did you know there is a #4?" He somehow skipped #3 and I didn't ask. The mere hint of the continuation of this descriptive conversation had me shouting, "No! And I don't want to know! Especially not during dinner!!" And, like every 6 year old who gets his mind wrapped around telling you something, he was determined to explain his reasoning. He continued talking as I shoved my fingers in my ears, and said, "no don't tell me". With a gleam in his eye, he said, "I don't have to tell you, I'll just show you". This sent me into a full blown panic causing me to squeeze my eyes shut, push my fingers so far into my ear canal it endangered my brain, and begin chanting la, la, la, la, la, la, la, la! Needless to say, my childish response was understood by my intelligent 6 yr. old and I was spared any further references to the #4. Meanwhile, Hubby was having trouble staying in his chair due to the gales of laughter!
Despite the fact that I still don't know what he was thinking and that I mentally refuse to dwell on the topic too long, I fear the #4 will inspire incoherent babbling for some time. Oh, the insanity (er um) joys of parenting boys!