Acceptance

Dear Jack,

When you lose someone you love, like your Uncle James, that first year is the hardest. Every since "first" is a new stab in the gut and you have to live through them all.

The first Thanksgiving without your uncle was brutal. We had just found out he was killed and Thanksgiving was a holiday with many fond memories of James. I had even told your dad earlier that November that I was boycotting Thanksgiving turkey until James got home and could cook one the way I like it.

The first Christmas was not as hard. Losing James was becoming more of a reality and we knew we wouldn't have seen him that Christmas anyway. He was missed, but his presence wasn't expected.

The first Valentine's Day was very hard on Aunt Rachel, but in her own sweet way, she made it easier for us by coming down and making that weekend about celebrating Jamie and spending time with Will and her.

Today is your uncle's birthday and of all the firsts, this is one I never expected to be as hard as it has been. I think because Uncle James would have had his mid-deployment leave at the end of February, it is starting to really sink in that we aren't going to ever get to see him again.

And that hurts so very much.

So, when you have someone special, like your Uncle James in your life, the only way I know to get through the missing is to do something that makes you think of the person in a positive way.

I chose to landscape.

I have never landscaped before, and may never again. But I took on this project in honor of Uncle James. Because he would have helped us do it. Because he loved landscaping. Because he would have been pleased to know that his brother married a woman who would do this sort of thing.

The project is basically reclaiming this corner of the backyard, where the prior owners had a swing set, and therefore about a million tons of gravel.

So I have pulled up weeds to get to the gravel and then am slowly moving the gravel into the pit I made in the middle. It's kind of a tree circle, in the sense that a sapling is growing in the middle. But since the gravel may kill the tree and I'm okay with that, it seems mean to call it a tree circle.

Regardless, it's hard physical labor and there's nothing like staying busy, staying active, and being able to think to myself, "James would be proud of me" to ease the grief of his passing.

I hope that you don't have to learn any of these lessons about grief any time soon in your life. But since I do hope that you live a long and happy life, filled with people to love who will love you back the same, you will eventually feel the pain of loss.

So when that happens, my very best advice is simply that: stay busy and do something that would make that person proud.

And know that it's just going to hurt for a while and that's okay.

Love,
Mom

A Mundane Adventure

Dear Jack,

Your dad, your sister, you and I recently went to the Home Depot. I hadn't really thought of Home Depot as a kid place before, but going there on a family outing made me see it differently.

I saw an entire wall of fun textures for you to play with.

I saw rows and rows of colored cards for you to pick from, chew on, and play with.

I think, in short, that I may have seen the world from your perspective today.

Everything around you truly is an experience and an adventure, isn't it?

What a way to live.

What a way to learn.

I'm so glad to be with you on this journey. I can't wait to see what else we can find.

Love,
Mom

Who Loves Jack?

Dear Jack,

I'm hard pressed to think of anyone who loves you as much as your dad and I do.

But if I had to name names, I think these ladies would be the top of the list.

Your sister calls them, mostly, "My grandmother" and "My other grandmother." Sometimes we can get her to call your dad's mom, "Gram." Mostly, she sticks to her own way.

Who knows, maybe you will be the one to pick those special names for you grandmothers.

But no matter what you call them, they are going to think you are one of the sweetest boys on the planet.

Even on days when your mom thinks your being a stinker.

Love,
Mom

On Your Own

Dear Jack,

A lot of folks (ladies mostly) have asked me how I get anything done when I have you to look at and play with.

The answer is, really, most days, I don't.

Today, however, I had a lot to get done. More than I could reasonably do during your naps. So you were on your own.

What did you do?

Well, you played by yourself a lot. You spent almost a half hour in your sister's closet, playing with the kitchen and bear family furniture (and blankets). Later, you spent another half hour in your room, playing with the wooden cube that I was going to consign, but you convinced me otherwise.

You explored. You found the do-hickeys that builders put behind doors so that they don't slam open. (The rubber stops had been safely removed three years ago for your sister.) You found the trash can that holds the lint in the laundry room (yum). Then you found that your dad and sister had left both the garage doors open.

Turns out that left to your own devices, you will crawl all the way to the street. Good to know!

Then, when you could entertain yourself no longer. You helped.

And me, what was I doing all day? I was getting this ready:

A big pile of things to sell at a consignment sale (minus the wooden cube with the beads on top). The secret to marital harmony in this house. I get to buy all the clothes I want and your dad gets to spend as little as possible (and these days mostly breaks even -- or would if I handed over those consignment checks).

Everyone wins.

Even independent little boys (who, by the way, is wearing his daddy's blue romper... pretty cute, huh?)

Love,
Mom

St. Patrick's Day 2010

Dear Jack,

The Nolens are Irish. Sort of.

Mostly, like most Americans, the Nolens are now a happy mixture of many, many nationalities in the tradition of the great American melting pot. Up until recently, your dad and I were happy to just be "American" without any claim to prior heritage.

Then we lost your Uncle James.

Uncle James loved being Irish. He thought it was the coolest thing ever that the Nolen surname (and at least one Nolen male in somewhere in the family line) came over from Ireland. One of his famous tattoos even said, "Irish pride."

So it seemed only right that we celebrate St. Paddy's Day in all it's glory, to honor your uncle. Of course, as a family, we had always marked St. Patrick's Day since it was St. Patrick's Day 2006 that your dad and I found that your sister was on the way, but with you in the picture, it seemed wrong to make such a fuss over that day for her when October 2, 2008 isn't as easy to remember (in fact, was it the 2nd or the 4th?). So this year, St. Patrick's Day went from being a cool day to go out to Bennigan's (which is out of business anyway) or to celebrate your sister (who is neat and all, but you deserve celebration as well) to the honoring of a lost uncle and the celebration of heritage and family in general.

So, I dressed you and your sister as Irish as I could. Your dad wore his old "Made in Ireland" t-shirt and I even dressed up myself this year. We went out the Nature Center and then to the Riverside Park and finally lunch at Red Robin (your sister's request).

As with many of our outings these days, my favorite part was holding you while you slept. You are so beautiful to me and I love watching you sleep. I love the weight of you in my arms and the primal feeling of maternal protection as I hold you.

But I also loved watching you play. At the Nature Center, you couldn't really enjoy the water like your sister did, so we went to the Riverside park in large part to let you enjoy some time in the water you love so much.

And no, you didn't get to end the day with a milkshake like the rest of us, but you did enjoy a cheese-less grilled cheese sandwich (that would be just bread) and fries and you ate mandarin oranges like they were candy.

Mostly, though, you got to spend the day with your sort of Irish family. And as we have so harshly been reminded lately, that isn't anything to take for granted.

So Happy St. Patrick's Day, son.
Love,
Mom

Zoo Weather

Dear Jack,

When I woke up this morning and checked the weather... 55 degrees and light showers... I thought to myself:

Let's go to the zoo.

I know a lot of folks think that's not optimal zoo weather, but I knew I could bundle you and your sister up and you would be warm enough. I also knew that with that kind of forecast the zoo would much less crowded. But best of all, the animals would be out walking around, not lying down tired in the heat of the day like they will come summer.

So here you are, at the zoo in March, with a wool stocking cap, a hoodie over a t-shirt over a long sleeved onesie, jeans over baby legs and socks with Robeez on your feet, looking eye to eye with a lion. How amazing is that?

Also, because the zoo was so empty, at the otter exhibit (my favorite), I was able to let you crawl around and play.

You and your sister have really started to play together lately, and I love it. Today, you played a game where you would wait at the bottom of the otter slide and Sydney would climb up and slide down, gently knocking into you and you would fall down and giggle as she ran back around to do it again. After a few times, you would stand and wait for her and as soon as you saw her at the top of the slide, you would sit yourself down in anticipation of the collision. Fun times.

I was questioning, at one point, whether I was being foolish, driving in the, at one point along the way, pouring rain to go to the zoo not knowing if the weather would get better or worse. But by the end, as the rain turned to drizzle and you fell asleep with sheer exhaustion from the excitement of the day and your sister was beaming and talking about the fun she had, I thought what a way to live. Just enjoying the time we have together, hoping for the best, rain or shine.

I know you won't remember this trip, but someday you will, and I hope you appreciate the daring of driving to the zoo, hoping that the light rain turns to drizzle and not downpour. Prepared for either. Hoping for a time worth remembering either way.

Love,
Mom

The Feel of a Good Book

Dear Jack,

There are about a million philosophies of parenting, and I agree with at least two or three of them.

One of my philosophies is that most of the irritating and troublesome things that babies and young toddlers do are really them trying to explore their environment. By the time you are two or three, I will expect you to have learned enough about your world to leave parts of it alone. For now, though, I prefer the method where I change the environment to be more Jack-friendly.



So when you showed me over and over (and over) again, that you loved to pull books off of this bookcase and nom on them, I pulled all of mine off and put your board books on. I think the feel of pulling a book off of a shelf is a neat one, too, and I want you to have positive associations with that feeling and get to enjoy it.

Just not with my Harry Potters.

Love,
Mom