Those Fading Childhood Days

What to do when our little boys grow up -

When that child we once held in our arms,

who was so little pressed against our hearts,

is too big to carry - Oh, how I long for that baby

who once cried but was soothed as I rocked him to sleep.

Now, he's too big to rock in that old chair we've given away.

Too big to sit in that once pea-ridden high chair.

Too big to suck on that pacifier that used to stay c

ontinually in his mouth

(oh, and the one in his hand just in case).

I miss the baby he once was and long for that part of mothering

that is forever gone.

I wish I could slow down these days -

these days that I know will also be gone from me too quickly.

How can I make it all last longer?

How can I revel in these moments of firsts

oh, just a little longer?

Movies in My Mind

I gathered every available chair in the house
The dinning room chairs used for family meals
The high chair, property of my baby brother
The carraige (mine - for my babies)
And I sat.
I sat in front of the dishwasher
Just waiting for the show to begin
My mother swarmed around me
Cooking
Cleaning
Crafting her projects
In my mind, I was crafting my own project
The movie that was about to "play" on the screen before me
Was but a figment of my young and vivid imagination.
Yet, to me, it was everything.
It was an escape. It was freedom.
It was so real.
The noise of my brothers quieted.
And a world was created where none existed.
A world all my own.
How I cherished these "movie" times.
Where have they gone?
Oh, where have all the stories,
all the imaginary "real" stories, gone?

Applause

This morning on my drive to school the wind was blowing just enough to ruffle the leaves on the already changing trees. My first thought was that it looked like hands applauding - cheering the morning commuters on their way to schools and works. As I was driving, I passed a boy walking just under the applauding tree. He looked rather forlorn and an Eyore-type cloud seemed to hang over his head; he didn't notice the cheering trees. I wonder how much better all of our days would be, though, if we did pay attention to the beautiful nature surrounding us, encouraging us, cheering us on even during our roughest moments. We could all use a little more of that, I think. A little sunshine and a little applause to start our days. I'm thankful for that moment today - it's just what I needed!

Chiseled By the Hands of Experience

Yes, this is why girls love and need their mothers so much! Because they really hear us when no one else does...not really. And after all we put them through, they love us and listen to us anyway. They understand; they're there. Always.

Over the past few days my children have truly demonstrated the old adage that we're repaid for all the torture we bestoy on our parents - especially our mothers! Yesterday, Brock came home without the project we've spent the week working on (that's due today, by the way!). Then, he began complaining about football practice and guitar practice, both of which take precious time away from playing with the boys down the block. I reminded him that he chose to do those things and that I didn't want to hear it; of course, I was heard just as much as I'm sure I heard my own mother as a similarly irresponsible child.

And, of course - since I was already so annoyed, Jackson would wake up this morning completely unhappy and un-consolable with the clothes, shoes, and socks I'd laid out for him to wear. So, I did what moms do - I gave the speech to both of them about being more appreciative. More responsible for themselves. I was boiling over with stress and frustration.

So, who did I call? My mother. Thank God for mothers! I kept venting as I walked into school and then, just as poetic justice would work, I realized (upon reaching my classroom) that I'd left my badge at home and my computer in my truck. So much for my responsibility talk!

Forged by Fire

Oh, the battles we've faced and the goals we have accomplished! From college kids ignorantly blissful about our new family to successful adults who were able to succeed when no one thought we could. Fulfilling our own life's purpose; our own life's dream; making our way to our own pyramids. How can I not think of The Alchemist when I think about how we've had our own paths to take in this journey of life? It's hard to believe that we have come so far and to a place where we are really where we want to be.

Congratulations to you! And, congratulations to me!

I watched you wake up this morning and dress in your slacks, shirt, and tie. Then, I watched as you pulled your white coat over your shoulders. The same white coat I saw on the back of the couch before we went to sleep last night with a stethoscope lying on top of it. This is a man living his dreams, I thought. Even through it all - you're able to fulfill your dreams. I'm so proud of you and you should be proud, too.

Then, I drove into my parking spot at school after dropping off the children. I walked into AHS and felt at home in my profession: the room I've decorated with my books and my literary world; the kids whom I love. I'm so glad to be where I am - where I'm meant to be. How blessed and fortunate are we to live the lives we planned after all the trials and all the work; to have made it to these pyramids of our dreams. The blood, sweat, and tears that have lead us here.

Fading Sunset

Sitting on the lake, I watched the sun set behind the great Kentucky hills. The sheer beauty of it always draws my thoughts to just how quickly the most precious and perfect things in life fade away from us.

I didn't have time to grab my camera - it was simply gone too quickly. Isn't that just how it goes? At that one moment our lives are settled and things seem to be going our way, it all fades from existence. Gone. Forever denied and quickly - oh, so too quickly - forgotten. How is it, then, that we allow ourselves to hold on so tightly to those things that simply cannot last? Why do we want those quickly lost moments to last forever?

My best friend says maybe life is about that one second of beauty - like the short time a butterfly's perfectly colorful wing is witnessable before he files again from the flower. But, I do not accept that. I want more than one second of life's beauty. I want a full life of it. I want to hold on to that setting sun before it sinks behind the hills of Kentucky for longer that it's meant to be held, I suppose. But, I cannot bring myself to accept any less than that.

Faithful Gardener

There she is, standing for hours; pruning a single fern that no one else will notice. Just standing and picking, picking and perfecting, for hours on that one little flower, that one little aspect of her lawn that no one else even seems to notice. In fact, when the watchful observer spots her on the way to meet friends for dinner and sees her again working tirelessly on that same spot upon returning, nothing is noticeably different. All seems as it was before. Yet, for the faithful gardener a state of perfection is finally reached and she may retire yet again to her home. Hours of work, hours of her life that is to the observer wasted, has ended in sweet success to the gardener.

But, still…hours...? On a single fern...? On any single plant…? Really…? Is that necessary!?

And then I’m reminded how much of our lives are spent gardening our own single ferns. Those little things we place so much importance on that no one else even seems to notice. Sometimes it’s a physical attribute, sometimes it’s academia, sometimes it’s relationships with our family or friends, sometimes it’s one thing at which we failed or that one success. We stand and prune and pick away to perfect that one little thing. Do we ignore bigger things in the process? Do we forget to focus on our whole existence? Too busily slaving away for sweet success in something that doesn’t matter? Or, is that one sweet success what it’s all about?