Moments

There are so many moments when my son makes me burst with pride.

Like when every teacher at Parent/Teacher conference has good things to say about him.
Or when I'm watching him give his all at a track meet.

photo courtesy of Amber White :)
And the grandmother of another athlete says to me, "You should know that every time Parker sees me, he is so friendly and nice.  And kid's aren't always like that to old people, you know."
And I replied, "Well, he probably doesn't know you're old, but I won't tell him."
But I smiled inside at the thought of my kind and caring son.  And gave myself a mental pat on the back for being such a good mother.
Yes, there are moments of pride...

And then there are moments when I walk into the kitchen and find this...

And after I finish laughing (it's a running joke that Parker is always the one who makes the tea in our house, but every time he goes to pour himself a glass, it's empty) I shake my head and think "How selfish" and give myself a mental flogging for being such a poor parent.

Parker had already left the house, so I just stuck the pitcher (note and all) in the fridge and went on about my business.
Later, between events at the track meet, he said, "Hey mom!  Did you find my note?" and he gave me a sideways mischievous grin that let me know he had done it as a joke.
Thank God!  My faith in myself as a Mother had been restored.
I rolled my eyes and said, "Yes, I saw that" and swatted his arm right in front of his friends.
There are moments when I am so proud of my son...like when he displays his wonderful sense of humor...
pat, pat

Grounds for Celebration

I had coffee with my mom today.
This is unusual for several reasons.  We live four hours apart, so impromptu visits just don't happen.  When we DO have time together, it is usually combined with many other family members.  And, historically, we have talked over a hot stove or a heaping laundry basket instead of steamy mugs of joe.
But the biggest reason is probably that it simply doesn't always occur to me to spend an unexpected free hour socializing instead of checking a few more things off my many post-it note To Do lists.
This time, the stars aligned.  My mom is in town helping my sister recover from surgery.  The rest of the family was otherwise occupied.  I had some free time.
And I thought of Hillary.
Over the last year, Hill has been in and out of my daily routine.  And while she doesn't HAVE to keep me posted about where she is and what she's doing, she chooses to make the effort to stay connected.  She texts me on her work break.  She calls me on her commute to school.  She asks me to meet her for lunch at unexpected times.
And it always makes me smile.
I have learned to put off whatever checklist I was working on and take a few minutes to be with a girl I love and like.
I thought about how good it makes me feel to be in my daughter's thoughts.  And I realized I had the power to make MY mom feel the same way.
So I texted my mom and we met at the coffee shop. I spent an hour with a woman I love and like.  We sat on a couch and talked about everything...rich people, marriage, memories.  Then she left to go to the grocery store and I came home to do laundry.

I don't know why Hillary loves so well.  I don't know if it is a reflection of things I tried to teach her or her own positive personality.  But whatever I've taught her, she has taught me at least as much.
And being her Mom has made me a better Daughter.

And that's "grounds" for celebration!  With whipped cream on top...

Coming up Short(s)

As I trudged in the door with my arms full of School Day, Parker sauntered by, "Mom, we need to get me some black biker shorts for the meet tomorrow."
"Ok," I said.
I cooked dinner.
I finished my novel.
I forgot.
Hours later, Parker came up the stairs.
"Mom!  My shorts!" (in an 'oh no' kind of panicked voice)
I glanced at the clock...threw down my book...and we raced into action.
I shimmied on some jeans (I was already in my sleep shorts for the night). Parker grabbed the keys.  I think we left the front door standing open.
If we lived in the city, this would not be a story. But there's something you should know about the small town we currently call home.  While this community boasts of having the World's Largest Rocking Chair...(yes, it has been confirmed by Guiness World Records and is a very real tourist attraction)...we also happen to have the world's second smallest Walmart (confirmed by a guy Hillary dated who worked there for several years). And the world's second smallest Walmart closes at 9:00 every night.
Parker drove like 007 and we screeched into the parking lot at 8:51.
A very old man who looked a lot like Jed Clampett greeted us at the doors.
"Good evening, folks!  Will you be needing a cart tonight?"
How much stuff could we possibly grab in 9 min?
"No, thank you."
We went straight for the men's clothing rack.
No, I didn't forget to add the /s/.  There is only one rack.
I was not hopeful.  This particular store has let me down on much more common items than men's bike shorts...qtips, toothpicks, there is no end to the things they are out of.
But, wonder of all wonders, there were two pair hanging there.
We headed to the dressing room.  Where we rang  a little silver bell for service.
Grandpa Clampett came shuffling along with a key.
Parker was in and out in a flash.
"They fit." he stated.
I just looked at him.
"They DO," he insisted.  "And I have room to grow into them."
I started laughing.  "I hope not! Since they are XLarge...sized 42.  I hope you don't grow into them any time soon!"
But they are spandex.
And it was 8:55.
It wasn't like we had much of a choice.
"Attention, Walmart Customers..." came a voice over the intercom.  "It is now 8:55.  Our store will be closing in 5 min.  Please make your final selections and make your way to the check out lane."
I checked my phone to see what year it was.  It was feeling a lot like 1989.
We paid for our purchase and made it out the door before it locked on us.
On the way home I asked Parker, "Why did you have to have these before tomorrow?  Is it part of the uniform?"
He gave me an incredulous glance.
"Have you SEEN the track shorts?  I do NOT wear stuff that short with nothing under it."
So we risked life and limb for Parker's pride...
I took a deep breath and thanked God that for once, WalMart and I hadn't come up Short!

Sweet Nothing

"So what are your plans for the weekend?" asked my far-away friend on Friday afternoon.
"A whole lot of nothing." I said and I meant.
And that's what I did.
I stood at the Band Bake Sale and watched teenagers sell cookies and make change. And I made a new friend of a parent I barely knew.
Then I drove to the next town over to have lunch with my Lovely on her lunch break from Wal-Mart.  I laughed when she regaled me with stories of The People of WalMart.  And I wondered if the over-sized, elderly lady who had come out of the restroom a few min ago.. warning me that the lights were on a sensor so if they went off while I was sitting on the toilet I should just wave my arms..had been through Hillary's line that day.  (Seriously, if you are sitting that still that long, you should probably wait until you get HOME to use the bathroom!)
Then I grabbed Hubby from home and turned a grocery-shopping trip into a long, languid conversation on sunny back roads.  We held hands and had Starbucks.
I slept in on Sunday (just this once) and drank coffee on the porch swing.
I lay in the hammock.
I read two novels.
I took Parker's heavy outerwear, still mud-caked from his four-wheeler adventures in the snow a few weeks ago, to the laundromat and tried to ignore the trashy-looking guy (naked from the waist up) who was stealing quarters from a video game by shaking it...making the alarm go off repeatedly.
I went for a run.
I sat outside until it was dark because I just couldn't bear to waste one minute of the new spring sunshine on vacuuming last week's dust off the carpet.
Yes, I know it sounds like a lot, but it was a lot of things I WANTED to do.  Not just things I NEEDED to get done.  There was a lot of "being with" and "putting off".
There are plenty of weekends with tightly bound schedules. Checklists to check and people to please.
But for now I am happy for a weekend full of sweet nothings.

By the Foot

Parker...age 2

I was at the stove, cooking salmon patties, when Parker got home from track practice.  I knew something was wrong when instead of the usual smelly hug and "Hi, mom" he walked right past me saying, "Where is the hydrogen peroxide?"
There was an angry red gash across his knee where he and the hurdle had come to blows.
It's a testament to how grown-up he is that he wasn't crying or even limping.  Of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that his friend Shawn (who, by the way, I'm going to claim on my taxes this year) had come home with Parker to spend the weekend.
Parker headed to my bathroom.
Shawn filled a plate and headed downstairs to watch tv. (I like to pretend I'm exasperated with all this company, but I'm secretly thrilled that my kids' friends feel comfortable enough to make themselves so at home.)
I took off my chef hat and put on my nurse hat and followed Parker.
Still wearing his track shorts and sweaty t shirt, he peeled off his shoes and socks and stood in my garden tub while I prepared to clean and dress his cut.
And then I had one of those moments.  You know...where time stops and you notice something that's been in front of your eyes for a long time, but which you have never SEEN before.
And I asked, "When did you get man-feet?"
Parker looked down and then at me.
"What do you mean?"
I meant that I was taking care of my little boy's scraped knee like I had a thousand times before...but suddenly there was a strange man standing in my tub.  I meant that they grow up in the spaces it takes you to blink.
But I said, "Your feet look like my brother's." (who is a handsomely grown-up man who flies airplanes for a living and of whom I am extremely proud).
And then the cut was clean and I discovered we were out of Band-aids and life was back to it's normal chaos.
Except for that slight shift in my universe that moves me closer to the truth that is life always moving forward.
One foot at a time.

May I Help You?

Having children has changed the way I see.
I used to be able to sit comfortably in my prejudices, expecting flawless service at restaurants and expecting the person in the blue vest to know immediately where I could find the toothpicks without having to ask someone on the other end of their walkie-talkie.
I didn't see people.  I saw uniforms.
And now, all I can see when the young waitress brings out our steaks is my own daughter's face.  And I smile and say Everything's Fine when my baked sweet potato has cinnamon on it even though I asked for it plain. And I wonder if she's been yelled at that night...or broken a dish in the kitchen.  I leave a tip without begrudging it.
And when that boy is scanning my items in Wal-Mart, I look at his name tag and wonder if he likes to ride four-wheelers in the snow in his free time.  And if he hates wearing those khakis as much as my Parker would.  And I think, very soon this could BE Parker.
Maybe it's because I'm getting older that everyone else looks so young.
Or maybe it's because noticing the details of my own growing-up children makes me see them in others.
So I try to be more patient.  I try to make eye contact and give genuine smiles.  I wipe stray crumbs into my empty plate and stack our unwanted dishes neatly.  I make sure I am quick to grab the bags off the turn-table and load my own cart.
Because these aren't my children.
But they are SOMEbody's children.
But, then again, aren't we all?
"Do to others as you would like them to do to you."  Luke 6:31 NLT
or
"Do to others' children as you would like them to do to yours."  Luke 6:31 Paraphrase by Me

I will extend Grace.  I will give love.
And I think our Father will approve.

Flower Girl

I've never been that woman who keeps her table decorated.
Oh, there was that short period, when I was a new bride with matching placemats, napkin rings, and place settings.  But the placemats were soon stained with baby food and the napkin rings were more useful as a toy for my toddler.
Besides, I like clean lines and blank spaces.
Unfortunately, my family likes to FILL blank spaces.  So more often than not, my table and countertops are covered with stuff like this...

and this....

And even when Hillary isn't making an art project and Parker isn't taking apart the old broken toaster, and I manage to remove all the dirty dishes and put away the clean laundry, it isn't long before it's covered again with discarded coats and my purse and keys and the electric bill and someone's half empty Sonic cup.
Alas, I am usually more interested in Practicality than Prettiness.
But God gave me a Girl to remind me that there is beauty in the world and it's important.
From the medicine cup containing two dandelions and a tiny purple weed when she was 5, to the wildflowers she cut and arranged in a vase last summer, she occasionally surprises me with bits of beauty for our table.
On Valentines day, she got real flowers.  Beautiful flowers delivered in a tissue filled box with a card that said, "From a friend."
And instead of keeping them in her room, which I probably would have done at her age, she snipped the ends and filled the vase with the packet of flower food, and arranged the bobbing blossoms right in the middle of our kitchen table.

And every time I pass my scratched and scarred old table, I am caught by the beauty and color and soft sweet scent.
My Flower Girl has opened my eyes to so much that is Pleasant in this world...an interesting photograph, a funky piece of jewelry, a melody written from the heart, a flower in a vase.  She reminds me that beauty is worth taking time for.
I am so thankful for this Flower Girl...without her, my life would never have Bloomed.