Letters For Lucas

Wonders, Mishaps, Blunders and Joy.. commentary on my life as a mom in the form of letters to my son

What I Love About Being A Mom

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The top five things I love about being a mom:

1. My kisses make boo boos all better.

2. I get to play, act really silly, sing and dance, color with crayons, blow bubbles, use sidewalk chalk and squish Play-Doh between my fingers.

3. I love hearing “mommy”, even if it’s three o’clock in the morning.

4. I have to listen to my instincts, go with my gut and trust that the decisions I am making are the “right” ones for my son.

5. There’s a little person running around growing, learning, thriving, smiling and being super cute all because of me and my husband.

What do you love about being a mom? 

I threw this question out on Twitter the other night and here are some of the touching and humorous responses I got (names have been withheld to protect the innocent, sentimental and exhausted), in the order in which they were received:

  •  Bedtime 😉
  • Earlier today my kiddos and I were hanging out on my bed goofing around. I like those moments best.
  • I love feeling needed. And I love how proud I am of my son. Every day.
  • Not a mom but I crave the chance to relive the wonder of life thru the eyes of an innocent child. To see reactions at tastes and the feeling of sand on their toes the first time they realize it feels different. Reactions to music.
  • I love that they are mine.
  • The unconditional love you get in return. Kisses & hugs & laughs & funny conversations. & the pride when they succeed/excel.
  • What do I love about being a mom? Right now I really love bedtime.
  • Little stuff: my kiddo holding my hand, knowing how to make him laugh, comfort him. Big stuff: watching a person I created learn and explore. Passing on my values. Seeing a person emerge.
  • I love being there for everything, from small scrapes to huge milestones. I love every second of their lives.
  • I love morning bed snuggles and kisses from my 4 yr old who says *I Love You Mama!!*
  • I love that I get to nurture and take care of my little ones’ needs.
  • I love being called “mama”.
  • I love the snuggles. little I love you’s at random times of the day. The idea of a piece of me in them. Seeing myself in them.
  • I love pressing my cheek against their little cheeks.
  • Coming home from even just the grocery store, and opening the door to huge eyes full of excitement while they are all jumping up and down chanting “mama! mama!”…and Tater says “I missed you so much mom!”

 

This post was featured on Natalie’s blog, Mommy of a Monster, in her weekly feature, Monster Likes #16 on April 30, 2011.

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A Fact Of Life

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Before Nichole, Cheryl and Katie paired me up with Jessica as my Red Dress Club’s Red Writing Hood writing partner, I didn’t know her or her story at all.

Jessica is the mother of an autistic teenager, gave birth to triplets and lost one and then had a son that is nearly Lucas’ age. Her blog, Four Plus an Angel is beautiful, heartbreaking and inspirational. I’m honored to call her my friend and her writing, her story never ceases to move me.

Sadly, we have both suffered great loss in our lives and we write about it often. We write about our grief not because we want (or need) pity, but because it is always with us and writing about it helps. It’s healing.

I am over at Jessica’s today talking about why grief sucks. I promise it’s not all that sad, just a fact life.

Please stop by and leave us a hug.

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My Legs Are Still Hairy, But…

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My toddler-free weekend was equal parts relaxing and busy.

I didn’t make it to a yoga class, finish reading that book, spend time on my computer or shave my legs, but I did watch four movies (one in the theater!), tackled a pile of magazines while walking 10 miles on the treadmill, had fun girl’s night out, enjoyed a long lunch with my besties and their adorable babies (which only made me miss Lucas cuddles) and I ventured into the kitchen and made lasagna roll-ups for our Easter dinner.

I missed my boys, but I relished my time alone.

Todd said Lucas was perfect (of course he was) all weekend, so here’s hoping another Daddy/Lucas trip is in my future. In the meantime, seeing as Daddies deserve time off too, I planned a weekend trip for Lucas and I to visit his grandparents next month.

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Home Alone

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I will be staying home alone this weekend while Todd takes Lucas to the Bay Area to visit his parents.

Yes, you read that correctly, an entire toddler-free weekend! Whatever will I do with myself?!

Honestly, I don’t care if I don’t see another living soul for the next 48 hours.

After much consideration and deep deep thought (yeah, right!), here is my Top 10 List of Things to do While my Husband and Toddler are Away, in no particular order:

1. Shave my legs.

2. Read and possibly even finish a book I started nearly three months ago.

3. Walk 10 miles AND take a yoga class.

4. Enjoy a leisurely lunch with girlfriends.

5. Organize my recent mail, e-mail, desktop folders, edit my media kit and update my About Me page on my blog (I don’t have high hopes for any of this one but added it, in case I feel like being productive).

6. Sleep. Nap. Daydream. Cat nap. Sleep some more.

7. Spend some quality time in front of the TV.

8. Plan a weekend for me and Lucas to be out of town.

9. Enjoy having the bathroom all to myself.

10. Make a special Easter dinner for my boys arrival home.

Check back on Monday to see how much I actually accomplish and in the meantime, Happy Easter!

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A Woman I Didn’t Know

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I had a good mother but she and I did not have the type of relationship that I would have liked. We didn’t share intimate secrets or inside jokes. She wasn’t the first person I would think of to call when I had a dilemma. I loved her dearly but I didn’t know her at all.

It’s taken me a long time to be able to admit that my mother and I were not close, especially since she has been gone for over three years.

My mother was a sweet and giving person. She taught kindergarten or third grade my whole life. She loved to celebrate each and every holiday with gusto. She sent heartfelt greeting cards and made the best chocolate chip cookies on the planet. Her motto was a cliche that I grew to hate: c’est la vie because it became her “go to” response to EVERYTHING.

My mother was a very intelligent woman and I can recall hearing my father comment many times on her high IQ, but she didn’t talk very much.

I don’t think she knew how to express herself.

Until I realized that, she seemed disinterested, oblivious and even intimated by me. I know she must have had a lot of opinions, but she didn’t share them, even after much probing.

There were nightly conversations in our home on a variety of topics ranging from entertainment and politics to current events and religion and it was always my father, sister and me having the discussions, while my mother sat quietly on the sidelines not contributing a word.

Was it our fault?

Did we not include her enough?

Did she think she couldn’t relate?

Did she feel as though her opinion didn’t matter to us?

It did. Very much.

She appeared to be listening and taking it all in, but there was zero exchange.

I was once at a job for more than two years before she ever asked me what it was that I did.

I can accept the things my mother was, but to this day I cannot accept the things that she was not.

I wish we had both tried harder.

If my mother blogged or even kept a hand written diary when I was Lucas’ age, I feel like I would have been privy to a woman I don’t feel like I knew. I would have learned of her inner most thoughts and feelings on motherhood, dreams for me and herself. I would be able to read about her passions, joys, sorrows, strengths and weaknesses and love for me.

I would have very much appreciate, benefited from and cherished a Letters For Tonya blog.

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 2.) If my Mom were a blogger…

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I Wonder…

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I wonder what kind of teenager Lucas will be?

Will he be a loner with his head in a book or hold an office on the Student Council?

Will he be the captain of the football team or sit on the sidelines and cheer on his friends?

I wonder if he’ll wait until the last minute to complete his home work assignments or turn reports in early?

I wonder if he’ll play an instrument in the school band or land the leading role in the annual production of Romeo and Juliet?

What will he major in once he gets to college, if he goes to college?

I wonder if he’ll want to join a fraternity or avoid the Greek system all together?

Will he be a nail bitter, volunteer at a homeless shelter, want to get a tattoo?

Will he complete his college education after four years, or decide to go for a PhD.?

As an adult, will he be an early riser or enjoy sleeping in?

Will he bounce from job to job or be loyal to the first company that hires him?

I wonder how many hands he’ll hold, doors he’ll hold open, chairs he’ll pull out and girls he’ll kiss?

I wonder if he’ll bike, run, or practice yoga?

Will he’ll like spending time at the beach, or if the sand will only annoy him?

Will he be a black coffee drinker or enjoy something fancier, like a caramel macchiato?

I wonder if he’ll be comfortable traveling and fill his passport before he’s 30 or prefer staying close to home?

Will he be a people pleaser or stand his ground and always be ready for a debate?

I wonder if he’ll ever know how much he’s loved.

I wonder…

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In These Small Moments

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I love Nichole.

We have bonded over many things, most notably our mutual adoration for Dave Matthews. **swoon**

I love Nichole’s blog, In These Small Moments. Her writing is strong, effortless and breathtaking. I can’t wait to meet the woman behind these beautiful words at BlogHer in August.

I look forward to Nichole’s Small Moments Mondays feature each week and I’m honored that this week, she is featuring me!

Please stop by and say hello as I share a very big small moment in my life: the moment we found out we were pregnant with our son, Lucas.
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Silence

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It had been five years.

Five years of old wounds, words left unexpressed, tears and pride.

Five years with zero communication.

No I hope you are smiling today text messages, no family photos were e-mailed, no three hour phone calls just because, no humorous you’ll always be older birthday cards or holiday greetings. There were no weekend visits or three glasses of wine long lunches.

Silence.

Regret.

Loss.

It was as if their connection, their friendship never even existed.

One

Two

Three rings

Part of her was relieved when she saw the name appear on her phone screen, although, it was after midnight. What a strange time to choose to extend an olive branch she thought.

The name she saw illuminated in the dark was one that had crossed her mind so many times as she wondered how the person who it belonged to was doing. She would always silently send love and light and then would go on about her day.

She was relieved to see the name now because at last, the ice had been broken and she was grateful that she hadn’t had been the one to take the first step.

She was angry too. At herself. She should have been the bigger person, she should be the one reaching out.

Lastly, she was surprised that the name and number were still stored in her phone. But, then again of course they were.

Four

Five

Six rings.

Letting the call go to voice mail would be the easiest course of action and the most cowardly.

She turned on the lamp on the bedside table, took a deep breath and answered the call.

Before she could say a word, she heard:

“Hello, I’m Sean.”
Who? Was he crying?

“You don’t know me. I’m your sister’s husband.
What the hell? She got married?! I suppose a lot can happen in five years.

I’m using her phone. I, um found your number in her contacts.”
She still has my number in her phone too.

“Okay?”

There was a long pause and a very heavy sigh and somehow she knew that the next words out of his mouth would change her life forever.

“Well, you see, um, there has been an accident. She didn’t make it.”

“What?”

“Your sister and our daughter died tonight in a car accident. I thought you should know.”

Silence.

Regret.

Loss.

Nothing would keep me from talking to my sister! This post is fiction and was written for The Red Dress Club’s writing assignment, Red Writing Hood. This week’s prompt was to write a piece surrounding the following details: In the middle of the night, you get an urgent call from a friend you haven’t talked to in years. Something terrible has happened. What is it and why is he/she calling you?

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Hot Stuff

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I thought I was hot stuff the minute I earned my first pay check.

I spent half a summer telemarketing and I hated every second of it, but the pay check at the end of each week was awesome. It made me believe that I didn’t need anyone or anything to make it in the world. School schmool. As long as I could make money, I would be alright. At 17, that’s what I thought it was all about.

The problem was I actually enjoyed school and I believed what my parents were telling me: I could make a lot more money if I had an education. Win-win!

I thought I was hot stuff the moment I graduated from high school.

I thought the friends I had then, I’d be friends with forever. I thought I knew exactly what I wanted to do with my life and was completely full of myself. In reality, I didn’t have a clue in my head who I was or what my place in the world would be.

Luckily there was college… the epitome of hot suff!

I partied my ass off, attended class most days (as long as they didn’t interfere with my soaps), changed my major four times, held a part time job and thought I was learning everything I’d ever need to know about the world around me.

Now that I had a degree under my belt, I quickly found out I was more lost than ever.

No longer having school to fall back on, it was time to get a real job… a career.

I accepted the first $22,000/year job offered to me and felt very much like an adult. I was making decisions left and right about my life; how to spend my time, money and energy, I was paying rent and choosing where to shop, vacation and whether to call it a night or have another drink, knowing full well that I’d be hung over in the morning as I sat in a mandatory meeting.

But by golly, finally I was an adult!

Or so I thought.

I gained years, perspective and experience, but it wasn’t until almost 12 years later, when I had my son that I truly felt like a grown up.

It wasn’t until I was responsible for another person’s health, safety, well being and comfort, that I felt grown up.

It wasn’t until I loved to my heart’s fullest capacity that I grew up.

I can go from zero to irate in less than 38 seconds so while I may still be working on my maturity level, I am definitely a grown up now and my son thinks I’m hot stuff!

This post was written for Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, Prompt 1.) The moment I realized I was a grown up, inspired by…(drum roll, please) yours truly! Thanks, Kat. 🙂

 

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No Fair!

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This post is for Wordless Wednesdays and if you want to link up, or see some really beautiful photographs, please visit Alicia at Project Alicia. This week, she is seeing yellow up close and personal.

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