easier/harder

Do you ever feel like you’re wishing away the age that your child is at because it’s harder than what you anticipate the next stage will be?  I guess I wouldn’t say I’m wishing it away, but I find myself thinking “it sure will be better when…” Fill in the blank with anything the boys will be able to do 6 months or 6 years from now.  There is always something easier and harder than the way it used to be…there is always something easier and harder about the way it will one day be.

When the baby is a newborn, you’re thinking it will be nice when they can sleep through the night, tell you what you want, and doesn’t need to be held all the time. Later you remember how snuggly they used to be, how they used to nap 6 times a day, and how they didn’t ever say “mommy, I don’t like you anymore.”

When they are 6 months old you wish they could walk or crawl so you don’t have to carry them every second of every day anymore.  Once they start that, you’ll remember what it was like to sit them in one spot on the floor and leave the room, knowing they would still be there when you got back.  You know, as opposed to licking electrical outlets or something (mine have safety plugs, I’m just saying!).

Then they turn 2 and they start throwing tantrums like you’ve never seen. The kind non-parents didn’t know existed.  Then you think, man, it will be nice when he’s 5 and can be reasoned with at times like this.  You think it was a lot easier when we didn’t have to try to talk him into peeing in the potty every day.  Or bribe him to eat.  Or bribe him to do just about anything because he’s so dang independent that he wants to do what he wants to do when he wants to do it, or else (see first sentence of this paragraph).

Needless to say, I am only 2 years and 5 months into this parenting thing.  I can only imagine how I’ll be sitting around one of these days, feeling pretty sad about my boys driving away from home on Friday night to go to a high school basketball game or pick up their dates.  I’ll remember how they wanted me when they were sick and how they reached for me to pick them up out of their cribs.  I’ll think about the joy on their little faces when they were only 1 & 2 years old and they had just discovered something so simple and new.  Every time I find myself idealizing how wonderful the future will be, I bring myself back to the right now because these little kids of mine?  They are pretty much perfect and the most fun that they’ve ever been.  Will there come a day that I don’t feel that way anymore?  Hope not.

~C~ 

goodbye, grandpa.

Last fall, my mom called and said my grandpa’s prostate cancer had spread to his back.  Chemo, weekly doctor’s appointments, labs, hospital stays, good days, and bad days followed.

Come spring there were times when we couldn’t believe just how well he seemed.  A month or so ago he ended up in the hospital due to what turned out to be 2 bleeding ulcers in his intestines that were easily fixed.  That’s what Theo thinks of when he thinks of Pappaw.

Huh?  I know.  My mom told me on the phone while I was in the car that grandpa had been throwing up some blood and that my grandma said it looked like coffee.  I explained to Ryan while Theo and Dexter sat quietly in the backseat.  I said it sounded bad and I thought we needed to get over there and visit ASAP.  When we got home, as I was getting them out of the car, Theo told me.  “We gotta go see Pappaw.  Make him feel better.  Pappaw don’t like coffee anymore.”  Theo repeats variations of those phrases all the time.

Pappaw’s sick, him’s not feeling good today.
I’m gonna see Pappaw and make him smile.
Make him feel better.
He don’t drink coffee anymore.
Pappaw don’t like coffee anymore.

2pm.  Yesterday.  We were driving through the town where they live so we stopped for a quick visit on our way to another get-together.  He’s been in the nursing home for two weeks, rehabbing.  He hasn’t had the strength to walk or pull himself up, so they were doing physical therapy with him.  He was supposed to go home this week.  We visited for 45 minutes or so.  He was lying down the whole time, seemed tired.  We left quickly, after Theo announced that he had pooped; we told him we’d see him at home next time.

6am.  Today.  My mom called, crying.  I knew before I answered the phone because there would be no other reason for her to call so early.  “Dad died,” she said through tears.

I can’t really remember what she said because I didn’t believe it.  Still don’t.  The whole conversation is a blur.  How could this be?  We just saw him yesterday.  Saw him. Talked to him.  Hugged him and told him we loved him.  Didn’t think he would die before we’d see him again.  Didn’t think my grandma would be a widow today.

I’m unbelievably grateful that we took the time to stop by.  I hope we made him feel a little better, made him smile.  I told Theo today that Pappaw passed away and he told me that he wants to see him again, wants to make him feel better.

I knew he wouldn’t understand but I felt like I owed him an explanation.  I did the best I could.

Pappaw don’t like coffee anymore.

~C~

this little thing he does.

We haven’t abandoned Dexter’s bottle yet.  He still gets one in the morning and one before bed.  With all the other change and uncertainty going on in our lives, it’s hard for me to take away that one comfort he’s got.  While I’m holding him at night, as he’s drinking his bottle, there’s this little thing he does.  I want to remember it forever.

What does that have to do with this?

Ryan got me this beautiful silver necklace for Mother’s Day this year from Uncommon Goods.  Are you familiar? They have a lot of neat gift ideas, but I really love that they use a lot of recycled materials in their products. 

Mama bird sitting on her nest.

My 2 blue eggs inside.

Nest detail.

The “nest” is copper.
I wear it every day.  Back to bedtime…
Dexter drinks his bottle, holding it with one hand.  Eyes closed, his other hand searches until he finds my necklace.  He manipulates the pieces with his fingers until he gets it just the way he wants it.  When the eggs are out of the nest and out of his way, he rubs the inside of the rounded pieces, holding them between his thumb and forefinger, switching between the silver and copper pieces.  The bottle drains, his eyes get even heavier.  His hand gets heavier until it falls onto his own chest.  That’s when I sit and stare at him for a bit longer before kissing his blonde head and whispering “good night, my little egg.”  
This mama bird will protect her nest til the end of time.  I wish the little eggs weren’t in such a hurry to hatch and fly. 
xo, 
mama bird in the midwest