Posts from — March 2013
Your dad and I are in Maine for Easter weekend, little dude.
We can’t wait for you to enjoy and explore this great state with us.
We’ve been coming here for years, since we’ve known each other actually.
It’s where we had our first kiss, got engaged, conceived you.
All the milestones, really.
It’s your grandma’s place, meant as a summer retreat and potential retirement home down the line.
But we have the great pleasure of using it the most.
We kind of consider it our own.
(Shhh, don’t tell grandma.)
Except we don’t pay for it.
Yeah, it’s a sweet deal.
Your grandma threatens to sell it about every other week.
But once we get you up here and she sees how much you love it, we know we’ll secure it in the family forever.
So do us a favor and be extra cute when you’re up here with your grandma.
Maybe take your first step here or say your first word or something like that.
It’s gotta be something big.
We NEED this, little man.
And you can bring it home for us.
We believe in you.
PS. Just kidding on that whole conception thing. We don’t know where your little fetal life began.
But it certainly wasn’t in grandma’s bed. That’d be too weird.
March 29, 2013 3 Comments
May you be a straight shooter like your Uncle Adam, my little man.
(But maybe without the pop culture knowledge…)
That Uncle Adam, he’s really mixing up the gene pool.
Sometimes when your dad and I talk about what you’ll be like, your dad says,
You never know…I mean, you’ve got some of Adam’s genes in you…
Don’t get me wrong, your Uncle Adam’s got some great qualities–he’s quite funny, definitely fun-loving, surprisingly tender-hearted, ambitious (in the anything-to-get-rich way…a pro and con perhaps?), highly loyal (if he liked you in the first place), adventurous, and quite the charming little social butterfly when he wants to be.
But man, he gave your grandparents a run for their money.
Quite the dare devil that one was.
Maybe let’s just leave it at that. I don’t want you getting any ideas.
Come to think of it, we might have to seclude you from Uncle Adam for the teen years…it just might be too risky.
Since we’re talking about Uncle Adam, we might as well publicly wish him happy birthday.
He turned 31 yesterday.
But I think you’ll still think he’s cool.
But not too cool, ok?
Mama doesn’t want to relive those teen years.
March 20, 2013 4 Comments
So the other day I was having one of my classically morbid spells, guilting my husband into getting on top of scheduling this colonoscopy that he’s been dragging his heels on. I was being all I don’t want to raise this child alone and he was all ok, ok, I know (code for just stop nagging me. I already know I need to do it and I feel bad that I’ve put it off this long, but it’s a pain).
In the midst of my morbid moment, I told him, You know if something did happen to one of us, I’d be easier to replace than you would. Oh course he chuckled in his gracious way, just like he does when I insist (genuinely too, not for show) that he’s a better person than I am, and refuted me like always.
I was relaying this conversation to my mom for some reason the other day. Initially she was all over him about the colonoscopy…this coming from the woman who just had surgery last summer to remove a pre-cancerous growth on her colon…Oh he’s gotta do it. You tell him, he better get it done soon. Polyps grow quickly you know. You tell him I said so…
Then I move along to the second part of the conversation…So I told him, “You know, if something did happen to one of us, I would be easier to replace than you would” and she immediately jumps in, no pause even for me to relay Jerome’s sweet refute. Oh definitely. I agree with you, she says.
I chuckled to myself and tried to reframe it back to her in a playful way that would make her feel that motherly guilt for knocking her own child, like the time back in college when she told me I “had a more womanly figure now” and I reframed it to say that my own mother called me fat. That one worked. This one? Not so much.
Thanks mom, so you’re saying that I would be easy to replace? And again with the immediacy and total seriousness she responds, Oh yes. And then she starts on a little rant about how there are so few good men out there and so many of them are just selfish and there are so many nice, lovely single women but no solid men and I should be so grateful that I was lucky enough to find Jerome in college and just what a sweetheart he is and do I know how good I have it and all that jazz.
I was listening while licking my wounds and reflecting on the fact that I am certainly not my mother’s favorite. And I wasn’t even beat out by one of her other children.
Jerome, you little snake.
She’s so precious though. I just can’t hold it against her.
Besides, she’s right.
March 19, 2013 3 Comments
Alright lil’ dude,
in an effort to not wish every possible thing for you,
thereby kind of wishing you nothing special at all, I’ve decided to pick just ten.
Ten wishes for you as you learn and grow.
Wishes, hopes, dreams, prayers, all of it.
These are my priorities, the things I hope to teach you both explicitly and implicitly,
the lifestyle I hope your dad and I will model.
1. Honorable character.
This is one of the many traits that your dad lives well. He is a man of integrity, guided very strongly by a moral compass. Even in the little things, the things that no one else sees. Sometimes stupidly so even (like last week when he insisted on going to work during a snowstorm because he didn’t want it to be perceived that he was “taking advantage” of the fact that everyone happened to be out of his office that day).
But always with the purest of intentions–to be beyond reproach.
I have always loved that word.
It meant the world to me in high school–to have a solid reputation, to stand for something.
I think back on that high school girl sometimes, all pure and naive, and I smile.
I really am so proud of her.
In high school my boyfriend and I had an understanding, a “rule” if you will: when we were the only people at my house, we wouldn’t go upstairs. My house held an open door policy at the time. It wasn’t locked, people (my friends, my family, whoever) could come and go as they pleased generally speaking. And my mom and I had a solid relationship. I knew I had her trust, her full backing. I don’t think I ever explicitly told her this at the time, but I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that, anything to give a sliver of suspicion as to my intentions or my integrity.
And so “the rule” was born.
I never wanted the opportunity for my mom (or anyone else for that matter) to walk into my house, find us alone together upstairs and wonder what we were doing. Especially dating someone 2+ years older than me, I didn’t want there to be any room for a wandering thought as to my character.
Pure as a bumble bee.
I want that for you.
I want you to care what others think about you.
Not in every sense. But in this sense I do.
For the people who matter to you, the ones whose character you admire.
I want you to have morals and integrity and conviction and I want you to stand by them. I want you to think about how your actions could be perceived and to choose to be beyond reproach. Even if sometimes you look like an idiot, like your dad out there fishtailing in the snow.
It’s worth it.
I think you’ll help me to get back that girl, the one who cared about the little things so much because the little things spoke to bigger things. I think I’ve lost a little of that along the way.
But that’s what I want for you.
And for us as a little family of three.
March 13, 2013 1 Comment