Like Father, Like Son

After spending a wonderfully relaxing day at home with my family, it was really hard to think about going back to work.  I stood up from the movie we had just finished, stretched, and headed to my room to get ready for bed...feeling really sad, but trying not to let it show.
It wasn't long before Parker appeared.
He wrapped his long arms around me and gave me a manly squeeze.  My head tucked under his chin, he said, "I'm sorry you don't get another day off, Mama."
And in that moment he was so like his father..generously offering his strength and comfort..that tears sprang to my eyes.
I patted him on the back and thanked him for his thoughtfulness.
And I went to bed with a lighter heart, loving my Boy...and the Man he reminds me of.

Snow Day

I used to hate snow days.
There....
I said it.
I hated them because they were so much WORK.
I would spend many many minutes stuffing small arms and legs into layers, and then puffy snowsuits, and then boots and mittens and hats...until my children resembled tottering Michelin Men.
Then I had to throw my OWN warm things on quickly because the children were already starting to sweat.
Finally we would waddle out the door where we would tramp around making boot prints in the yard for all of 10 seconds before fingers were frozen and it was time to come back inside.
Where I had to UNlayer the layers and try to avoid letting my sock feet slip in the cold puddles left by shaken off snow.
And before you could say "hot chocolate" my rosy-cheeked cherubs were saying, "Mommy!  Let's go back outside!"
Thank God we lived in Missouri and not Minnesota.
I only had to fake enthusiasm 3-5 times a year.
But now....
ahh, now...
things are different.
As a teacher, snow days mean an unexpected day off work for me. And my children still love to play in the snow, but they are old enough to stuff themselves into layers...and content to ride four-wheelers and throw snowballs without me...leaving me free to enjoy this...

Which somehow makes it easier to tolerate this...

So bring on the cold snow!  I have coffee to warm my fingers and family to warm my heart.

Traveling Together

I've never been here before. In this uncharted territory of parenting a new adult.
So, as I always do when facing the unfamiliar, I tried to arm myself with knowledge.
I found a book.
I think I expected the road to divide...She would go one way and We would go another...right about the intersection of YR 19 and College Drive.  
But then I learned there's a whole other state we get to travel through first.
It's called The Land of Emerging Adulthood.
Emerging adulthood is "a phase of the life span between adolescence and full-fledged adulthood."  And the more I learn about it, the more our new landscape makes sense.  It is "the age of explorations, the age of instability, the age of being self-focused, and the age of possibilities."
Basically, she needs me now more than ever.
Just in a different capacity.
Instead of driving the car, I'm more like an encouraging friend along for the ride.  My job is to share in her excitement as she explores new things, and maybe...sometimes...comment on the scenery.  Oh yeah, and pay for things like gas.  I'm here for security and companionship.
So when she changes her major, I just nod and smile.
And when she gushes over and then complains about her new friends, I just listen.
And when she gets a speeding ticket, I just say, "It happens to the best of us." And then watch in wonder as my responsible girl pays it out of her own checkbook.
And when she grumbles about having to go to work, I just pat her on the back and say, "Welcome to the world of Grown-ups."
And when she lets me ride to the ballgame with her (bc her job with the newspaper pays her mileage), I just enjoy the pleasure of being with her, my new friend.  We listen to music we both like and we laugh a lot.
And when she can't find her purse and she needs it to go to work and I calmly help her look until we find it, I just chuckle inside.
This road is pretty curvy and it winds back and forth like crazy between independence and neediness.
But I don't mind.
Cause for now, we're still traveling together.
 

A Day Like Today

My grandma used to say that whatever you did on New Year's Day, you would do all year long.
Well, if that were true, I would be off work every day for the rest of the year.
Sigh.
Then again, maybe this day wasn't all that different from most days around here.
I left my bed unmade.
I watched tv.
I did dishes.  More than once.
I cuddled with my husband.  And then left him alone for hours while he watched football and ate junk.
I stood in the sunshine as it streamed in the window and let it shine in my eyes.
I started a project...got overwhelmed in the middle...left it for a while...but eventually successfully completed it.
I had coffee.  More than once.
I tried...I failed...I picked myself up by spending time with my Favorite Boy, watching a movie we were both too old for, but enjoyed anyway.
I texted with my Favorite Girl on her lunch break.
I played.
I read.
I kissed and hugged.  More than once.
I shared my home with guests.
I made messes.  I cleaned up.
I blogged.
So, all in all, it was a pretty full day.
Maybe Grandma really meant "live every day in a way you would want to repeat".  So I will.
Today was filled with life...fun, boring, messy, ordinary, extraordinary life.
So, Grandma, it's ok with me if every day is a day like today.

Curbed

We had to have Hillary's car fixed this week.  When Yancey and I went to pick it up, the nice man at the car shop explained that it was kind of unusual for that part to go out on this kind of car.  But then he found a "pretty deep" scratch on the wheel and thought it may have hit a curb or something at some point.  Yancey nodded gravely and said, "Yeah, it's been driven mostly by a teenager, so it's probably been curbed a time or two."  I just kept my eyes down and focused on writing the check.  No point in bringing up that she gets it from her mother, who has hit a curb or two or ten in her own driving career.
Yancey got in Hillary's car and headed home.
I got in my car, looked out the windshield, didn't see anything, and decided to just pull straight out instead of backing up.
BUMP....SSCcccraatch!
Yep, I ran right over the concrete parking barrier.
At this point I was committed....so I just gunned it and BUMP BOUNCED over it with my back tire too.
And I slunk down in my seat and drove away, hoping to God that man hadn't been looking out the plate glass window of his shop.  If he saw me, he was no doubt calculating how much he was going to make off servicing this family's cars.
Hillary won't be around much longer, but thank goodness I have a second kid just getting ready to drive, so I still have a few years of blaming him for "deep wheel scratches".  And maybe by the time he leaves home, my propensity for running over things will be curbed.

Clean Up Time

Christmas has come and gone, and the only thing left after the cooking and shopping and eating and present-opening and eating and visiting and eating and game-playing, is a garage full of trash bags and empty boxes.
I spent the morning on dishes and laundry, but by noon I realized this was no One-Woman job.
So I went downstairs where Parker and his friend were playing DJ Hero and informed them I needed Trash Heroes instead.  All I was really asking for was a strong boy to carry the heavy trash bags up to the can at the end of the drive.  And then burn the boxes on the burn pile out back.  It was a 10 min job...tops.
Still, I braced myself for resistance...
But none came.
They paused the game, hopped right up, and went out the door.
Twenty minutes later, I looked out to find this...

The boys had just traded one game for another.  They had first tried tying a snowboard to the back of the 4 wheeler.  When that didn't work, they tried this dilapidated old trailer which has one wheel held on with a bread twisty tie.  And while, in theory, this should make the job faster and easier, stopping every 2 feet to pick up a fallen bag or re-attach a wheel actually took longer. 

Did they seem to care?

No. 

It was an excuse to play in the snow with a loud and stinky machine.  

Boy Heaven.

And when I came out to see what they were doing, Parker even included me in the fun by "drifting" around me...which involved him zooming around and around me in a tight circle until his wheels slid sideways on the snow.  He is such a thoughtful son. 

Parker Playbook page 27:  When you have a boring job to do, find a way to include a 4 wheeler.  And get a friend to help.  

Little Angels

We went to the Christmas play at church last night.  Hubby and I walked in and found a seat, while Parker promptly ditched us to sit in the back with his friends.  I snuggled under my husband's arm while I watched other women dashing around with white sheets and headband halos, trying to make sure all the last minute details were taken care of.  And I thought, "I am so glad I'm not there anymore."  I have definitely paid my Christmas Program Dues in years past...Hubby and I were Joseph and Mary once, complete with a real live Parker-Jesus in a real live manger...I listened to Hillary practice her speaking and singing parts every year until I could say them myself in my sleep...and I even helped direct one program - including full choreography for each song.
But not this year.
This year Hillary wasn't even there, due to her new job.  And Parker wasn't about to put on sheep ears and get on stage.
And that was just fine with me.
Until a little girl with blonde curls played the piano, plinking out her simple Christmas song in un-even beats and missing a note here and there.
I was flooded with memories.  Hillary started piano when she was 4.  How many times did we sit through those hesitant notes until she became the fluid musician she is today?
And when two different little girls sang "Happy Birthday, Jesus" I heard it in Hillary's little girl voice, the s sounds lisping through her buck-teeth because she always sucked her thumb.
And those wise men looked a lot like a young Parker, making his "wise" face and cracking me up in the process.
I waited for tears to fill my eyes.
I waited for pain to stab my heart.
But none came.
There was only happiness.
Happiness that I had HAD those years.  That my children had lived and sang and worshiped baby Jesus.
And happiness for these children, who were getting their own chance to live it.  And their parents, who might not realize how much these rushed days would mean 10 years from now.
I smiled.  I clapped.  I savored.
And my heart thanked God for all the little angels.

Hillary 

Parker and his best friend Cassidy (aka Joseph and Mary)

Parker and Hillary as toys in Santa's toy shop