Mother's Day Reflection

Dear Jack,

It's Mother's Day and I stand amazed.

Amazed that this is the life I have. That I get to be married to man as wonderful a husband and father and your dad is. That you and your sister are entrusted to my care.

I keep thinking of that song from The Sound of Music... I think it's called "Something Good" and it's a duet between Maria and the Captain.

Perhaps I had a wicked childhood
Perhaps I had a miserable youth
But somewhere in my wicked, miserable past
There must have been a moment of truth

For here you are, standing there, loving me
Whether or not you should
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good

Nothing comes from nothing
Nothing ever could
So somewhere in my youth or childhood
I must have done something good

I don't really believe the words of the song, they just keep coming to mind.... I do think of the choices I have made in my life, some poor, many good, and I just don't feel that they add up correctly. The sum of all of the good choices in my life minus the difference of all of the bad choices simply doesn't equal the joy I have now.

"Nothing comes from nothing" I hear in my head, and then I answer myself, "But all good things come from Our Heavenly Father."

I have done nothing to deserve two such wonderful healthy happy children. So I thank the Lord that He saw fit to give them to me anyway.

I will continue, with His help, to do right by them and their father.

That is my promise to you and your sister, and your dad, this Mother's Day.

Love,
Mom

A Lesson in Old Fashioned Schooling

Dear Jack,

I like to look at this picture of you, edited of course, but showing exactly how I envisioned Pioneer Days to be for you... a trip backwards in time to simpler days.

Of course, I took many other pictures of you today. This is a picture of you and Peter playing in the one room school house.

I did not take a picture of the fit you threw when it was time to leave.

This is a picture of you playing with all of the old fashioned toys. They even had jacks! Your favorites, though, were the wooden cars. You had so much fun!

I did not take a picture of the fit you threw when it was time to leave here either.

This is a picture of you washing clothes. You walked from the scrubber bucket to the water bucket over and over and over again. You loved the feeling of the water and the strange texture of the washboard. You had a great time at this station.

That's right, I did not take a picture of the fit you threw when it was time to leave this station either.

It's funny to me sometimes. So many people looked on in alarm as you cried, especially as they saw I wasn't attending to you; either holding you and talking with your dad over your cries, or inside the building, standing at one end of the short hallway as you cried at the other. I sensed that many on-lookers felt that I was somehow being a neglectful parent by not consoling you in your distress. One woman came over to give us a corn hush doll to try to make you feel better. I politely explained to her and the other gentleman who did approach us that you were angry, not hurt, but that one woman still insisted on giving you that doll. Did they reward children for throwing fits in the pioneer days?

Don't get me wrong, I wasn't even tempted to take the ruler from the one room school house to swat you with; I'm not interested in going back all the way to the "good old days," but we did have a talk or five.

You are almost two years old sweet boy and you are in charge of your emotions, no one else. I am sorry that it's hard to move on from one activity to another. I am also sorry in retrospect that we didn't let you nap and then go out.

Mostly, though, I am sorry that passersby today let you see that they felt sorry for you instead of realizing that an almost two year old boy pitching the kinds of fits you threw today needed to be ignored until he got control of himself. I'm sorry that at Pioneer Day, of all places, you didn't find the kind of old fashioned intolerance for that sort of public display of anger that I think we as a culture are currently lacking.

Because you are going to grow into a fine young man. You have already come so far with your ability to manage your impulse control and moderate your own emotions and you are not even two yet! But you didn't get that way by being offered a toy or a sympathetic look every time things didn't go your way.

And because we love you so very much, you will continue to see an almost, hmm, pioneer-like stoicism from me and your dad when you are acting so very out of control. Because in that one room schoolhouse that I took your picture looking so very sweet and innocent in, there was no room for a boy with a temper, and in my modern schoolroom, there are so very many, and I love you too much to let you be one of them.

Love,
Mom

Sydney's Half Birthday

Dear Jack,

Tomorrow will be your sister's half birthday, so yesterday we went out to do pretty much whatever she wanted. Fortunately for you, most of what she wanted was a lot of fun for you, too.

You were thrilled, for example, that she wanted to go to the Playscape. You love the swings there.

Your sister has also taught you a new word, "High!" and when you are on the swing, that is all you want. "High! High! More High!"

After the park, she want to go eat at Chick-fil-a, which was fine with you, and then she wanted to go shopping at Target which was less fun for a Jack.

Then she wanted to go to Kiddie Acres, which would have been fine except that the people working there kept trying to make your climbing structures move. You loved sitting in this airplane, for example, but when it looked like I was leaving you and you could sense that you would be moving, you cried and cried. The same thing happened at the cars.

You were happy on the carousel, for one go around, but then only wanted to run around and climb on the horses after that.

So really, only about half of the day's outings were to your liking, but once we got home (and you napped), your sister sweetly let you play with ponies with her, and at bedtime, she wanted to read to you, which was pretty much the sweetest thing ever.

Your sister is four and half, which means you are about to be two.

The two of you are growing up so fast. I have loved watching her grow into a little girl and I love watching you progress through your toddler years. Mostly, though, I love seeing how the two of you are growing closer together the older you get.

Love,
Mom

Easter 2011

Dear Jack,

Easter Sunday has come and gone once again. What a busy day! What a wonderful day!

We started off at church, the whole family.

You and your sister were so adorable in your Easter clothes. Everyone just marveled at your little suit. I understand now why people pay ridiculous amounts of money for little boy suits... they make people so happy!

So happy in fact, that I convinced your dad to take us by the Wesleyan Nursing Home. We sat in the lobby watching the fish and birds and sure enough, a dozen or so of the residents passing through had to stop and just watch you and comment on your suit. "What size is that suit?" "I didn't even know they made them that small." "He sure is a cute boy."

It's not every day that a little boy can make people smile just by being.

After church and lunch, we had our annual egg hunt with Abigail, Emelia, Sean and Ava. You hunted for the orange eggs this year and I conveniently placed all of yours in the dino pit. You found a duck in one and fruit loops and sunny bears in the rest.

It was nice to have friends over to share in the egg hunting.

And after the egg hunt was over, you and Sean concocted a plan to play in the water table... by filling it up yourselves using the play sink. I finally took pity on you boys and put some water in the table myself, but then the girls complained that the "water" table was too muddy and we finally ended the afternoon with water in the pool and the water table and everyone fishing using the magnetic poles.

What a wonderful Easter Day!

Happy Easter!

Love,
Mom

Reflection at the Dahlia Cafe

Dear Jack,

I sat on the back porch of a very small town Texas ma and pop restaurant, watching you and your sister playing on their playground and I thought to myself, "how lucky am I to have you and your sister and your dad?"

This is how I know there is a God. Nothing I have done in my life has made me deserving of such a wonderful family, and yet here you all are.

With me. Loving me and letting me love you back. We are all healthy and our future is as secure as anyone's future on this earth can be. So many things going right in a world where nothing is guaranteed. What can we do but thank God for it all and cherish every moment?

Love,
Mom

Easter Craft

Dear Jack,

Today I wanted to do an Easter craft with you and your sister and was faced with the quandary of how to structure a craft so that you could really do it yourself.

You really do have a good pincer grasp and a high ability to focus on small tasks, so I decided a collage was the way to go. I gave you one square tile and one type of material to work with at a time and you had a great time putting buttons, poof balls, ribbons, glitter and little flowers on tiles.

You even tried to do the gluing yourself.

After the tiles were done, I put blue paint on a canvas and helped you spread the paint around. I used the brush. So did you... some of the time. After we did the blue together, I put white at the top and a little bit of black at the bottom and let you smear that in to give the background some texture and interest.

This is the final product. The only square I did was the fish, and even that one, you helped with the pieces behind the fish.

Not too bad for a boy's first piece of art, is it?

Love,
Mom

Kitchen Remodel

Dear Jack,

It is very strange to me to think that you are not going to remember this kitchen.

Oh the cabinets and the pantry and the general lay-out should be familiar, but the off-white stove and the wood grain Formica will, at most, be a fuzzy, indistinct wisp of a memory.

This the kitchen that we in the house when your dad and I moved it. It's the kitchen that your father moved from novice cook to amateur chef. It's the kitchen you and your sister first pulled "helping" chairs up to the counters, those wood grain Formica counters, and started your own road to chefdom.

But every chef wants the perfect workspace and this week, your father got his.

The wood grain Formica is no more.

In its place is real granite and a tile back splash.

The off-white electric stove has been replaced by a stainless steel gas range.

It's a much nicer looking kitchen, really it is.

But I find myself a little sad that you won't realize it wasn't always like this.

Your dad made this happen. He picked the tile and the granite. He chose the new sink and the new stove. It really is his kitchen now.

And I want you to know that about him.

Love,
Mom