Toe-may-toe, Toe-mah-toe...Breasts, Ribs

I have a long-seated hesitancy in telling our boys proper names for certain body parts. (The private ones if that wasn't obvious).

It is irrational. It is immature. It is something I need to get over, I know.

I'm trying to overcome that by easing into it. Having a new baby has allowed me some opportunities are you kidding me, I have nothing sacred left to hide to step out of my comfort zone. In those first days of healing, especially, nothing remained covered up. Airing out my incision, changing pads, my catheter bag...they witnessed it all.

"BREASTfeeding," in particular, was one of my first hurdles to clear. Believe me, I was tempted to call it "nursing" or "suckling" and be done with it. But then I felt like a Puritan or a pig farmer and everyone knows Asian girls look funny in curly wigs and those accordion neck collars aren't practical in this Texas heat anyway.

So, I stepped out with breastfeeding. The two words used together posed no threat to my conservative soul. It was the BREAST part that I didn't want to explain or hear the boys using. Noah has, for some reason, taken to calling them "paddies" over the last year. I have no idea why, only that I never bothered to correct him. I mean, come 25 years old, yeah, I'll correct him. Who wants a married man calling them paddies, after all?

Unless his wife is named Patty. Then it would be fine to call them "Patty's."

I do want to mention that the boys also call nipples "nickels." Which we've never corrected either. But mostly because we think it's cute.

Our boys are going to be confused come sex ed or anatomy class.

It turns out saying "BREASTfeeding" and calling them "BREASTS" wasn't difficult once I said those words for the first few times. And it was all working out well and good and I felt like I'd finally laid aside the accordion collar and joined the 21st century.

Until Tyler walked into the kitchen today and announced that his breasts were hurting.

Confused, we looked down to see him pointing at the base of his ribs. Nowhere near his "breasts."

Back to square one.

And the 17th century.

Warp Speed...Ain't Happenin'

Noah had his first homework assignment of his school career his first week of school. To help generate ideas for creative writing on their journaling days, each kiddo had to fill out a Me Tree. On one side, we helped Noah think of his favorite things (food, friends, interests, etc.). On the other, he was to find magazine pictures of things that interest him. Easy enough.

Or so I thought.

If you know Noah, it should come as no surprise that he cut out pictures that were related to sports and video games. He had the Aggies, sports equipment, Wii, Playstation 3 and Nintendo DS covered. All things that mean Brian can't deny his paternity very six year old stuff of interest.

Then he spotted a full-page ad and insisted he wanted it on his page.

Now, it's only kindergarten and I certainly don't want to be "that" parent that hinders their child's creativity and initiative when it comes to doing their own homework. But, for this, there needed to be an intervention.

And, naturally, the kiddo wanted to know, "WHY?" On the spot, the only thing I could think of was that I didn't think it was a good idea because it was too large to fit on his tree and, um, would cover everything else up and, um, wouldn't he rather put his twenty seventh picture of a video game on there instead?

I was able to refrain from saying...

AND ALSO BECAUSE IT IS A PICTURE OF A LIFE-SIZED MAXI PAD, NOAH.

I think the "warp speed" was the hook. You can't tease a kid with a product that promises warp speed anything. This thing even looks like it's about to take flight. Wings expanded, sparkly stars in the sky. All things that get pilots and little boys excited. Not sure why it's marketed to women this way. Of all the things I look for in a solid maxi pad, "warp speed" never occurred to me.

But, really.

Ain't happenin', Son.

(I do, however, thank you for generating an idea for this blog).

Noah's First Day of School

Well, we survived the first day of kindergarten. There were less tears than I imagined and no wailing like I'd envisioned. There was no need for a box of tissues and no need to peel us apart at the doorway.

I did much better than I thought, thank you very much.

Oh, and Noah was a champ, too.

The day started off around 6:40 when Brian went to wake the guys.

I use the term, "wake," loosely. Man, 6:40 is early!

He'd fixed a waffle breakfast and we kicked off the big day with giving Noah the backpack Brian had picked out. Not because we planned it as a first day of school surprise, but more like, of all the things we needed to buy for school, somehow we waited til the dead last minute to buy this. Brian made a run to Wal-mart around 9:00 last night.

Either way, Noah was delighted.

Tyler was even feeling the love as he told him, "I'm goina miss you."

First, we sent the big boy off to school.
And then began the anxiety wherein Noah followed me around the house all morning and made statements like, "Seven hours is a long time. I'm going to miss you. Preschool was only five hours." And, finally, he asked if I could get on Facebook to ask my friends if kindergarten is fun.

Facebook much, Jen?

I obliged and my friends came through with wonderful words of encouragement. He got on a few times before we left so he could read them. He also felt a sudden need to practice writing his name using lower case letters (he'd been writing in uppercase throughout preschool).

I've been trying all summer to get him to do this. It was 20 minutes before we needed to leave for school. I think he inherited my procrastination gene. So, I broke out the dry erase pad and wrote his name. And he practiced.
I think his nerves got the better part of him again since the last one he practiced reverted back to the capital "A."

We took this picture of Noah to mark how he looked his first day of school.
Incidentally, it dawned on me later that it's no good taking pictures year to year to mark how much your child has grown if you take them next to a tree THAT WILL ALSO GROW.

We loaded up the car and I was a happy camper. We live about three minutes from school. I was soooo proud of myself for getting the crew out of the house with 20 WHOLE minutes before school. This is a feat for the girl who has Asian blood coursing through her veins. Which basically means I'm perpetually late. Only 179 more times to go. Oh my word.

Anyway, we left with 20 minutes before the tardy bell.

Rookie mistake.

Because, on the first day of school, it turns out, it takes two WHOLE minutes just to pull out of the neighborhood.

And then whomever designed the school modeled the pick up lane after the Bermuda Triangle. Once you get in, you cannot get out. I wasn't really panicked until I turned into the parking lot and realized I was committed. There was no getting out. Even if I were not driving a honkin' huge bus Expedition, I couldn't have squeezed my way out of there. There is a small part of me that wondered if I could barrel across the grassy field as I was in a SUV. But I get the feeling that would've been frowned upon and I'm really trying hard to get accepted into the PTA. I was either going to get a parking spot or I was going to make Noah tardy on his first day of school because it was going to take forever to break out of the parking lot, find a place to park and then walk three kids into the school in nine minutes.

On the hottest day on record this year.

Enter PANIC MODE. Oh, how I sweated. Oh, how I kicked myself for making Noah late on his first day. And, oh how I prayed and begged God to open up a miracle spot. Just as things were looking dismal and I was in full panic mode, my prayers were blessedly answered in the very last parking space. I threw that monster truck in park and unloaded the crew.
We entered the kindergarten pod with minutes to spare.

And then...the big moment that I'd been dreading for six years. The big goodbye-to-your-babyhood-what-happened-to-yesterday-when-you-were-still-blowing-spit-bubbles-at-me-and-are-you-sure-we-didn't-enter-some-warped-time-zone-where-six-years-vanished-just-like-that-does-anybody-else-hear-Billy-Dean-singing-Let-Them-Be-Little-playing-in-the-background moment.

BUT MY BOY ROCKED IT. I was so proud of Noah! I planted an air kiss in his hand and squeezed it shut. I showered him with words of love and excitement. And then I did the rookie parent thing and lingered in the doorway so I could snap these pics.Oh, yes, and he did return to me for one last hug before he disappeared into the pod. You can see the anxiety on his face. But, he bravely marched on into his room and found his table.
Tyler, Anniston and I headed to the cafeteria for the Boo-hoo's and Yahoo's breakfast.

Until I realized that the only worse thing than crying while you down OJ and bagels is doing it in front of a bunch of strangers, so we left.

Brian's school lets out thirty minutes before Noah's, so he was able to jump in the car and go with us to pick him up. I think the only time I was that close to being so excited to see Noah was the day I met him. I kept tearing up and even caught myself clapping my hands, so great was my anticipation.

Brian's take on the whole Kindergarten deal was that we were,"One step closer to some one-on-one time."

Only 18 more years to go, Mr. Sentimental.

Our boy finally came out of the building. More like burst out of the building and ran to us. This is the picture Brian snapped when Noah spotted us.

Other than pointing out that I forgot to pack his snack (who forgot to tell me I was supposed to pack a snack??? Mommy Fail!), he breathlessly announced that "everything" was his favorite. His cheeks were pink, his eyes were dancing and he was completely and fully in love with that thing called Kindergarten.

When we got home, the schoolboys had a surprise waiting for them. We've decided to start a new first day of school tradition where they get a bag of treats when they get home. I orginially was going to put them in tube socks and call them, "School Socks." Until I realized...School Socks. School. Socks. Sounds too much like, "School Sucks." So, it looks like I'll need to come up with another name for it.

The first day wouldn't have been complete without his first homework assignment.

And, finally, here is the picture taken at the end of a very sweaty, satisfying day with a door that WILL NOT GROW.

Insert Sappy Celine Dion Song Here

For some unknown reason, Noah's been saying this last week that he wants to see the sunrise. He even asked me to wake him early to see it. As he was birthed into a family of night owls, I have a feeling he's in for a rude awakening in the morning. Tomorrow is the first day of school. The first day he'll likely see a sunrise. And, possibly, the last day he'll ever make that kind of crazy request again.

KINDERGARTEN.

Be still my heart.

How did we get here so fast?

How did we go from the sleep all day phase that Anniston's in at four weeks to a sixth birthday last Wednesday?

Sometimes I think the scenario in the movie Groundhog Day doesn't seem so bad. I could re-live these last six years over and over. They have had their low points, but those low points would be worth re-living the days of seeing his toothless first grin, watching his ape-like toddler walk, the way he called me, "Boppy" instead of "Mommy," the fact that he still loves to be tickled...yeah, these six years have been full of the highlights of my life.

We had a good last day of summer, all things considered. My cold sore bout has been a thorn in my flesh the last three weeks, but today was still special. Brian and Tyler spent a few hours at school while Brian got his classroom ready for tomorrow. Noah and Anniston stayed home with me. As Anniston sleeps all day, it gave Noah and me plenty of time to play. Which always magically makes him pleasant to be trapped in a house with. He is just a different kid when he's got all the attention and we're doing things he likes to do. We played dominoes, soccer, dodge ball and read three Berenstein Bear books. I don't always do a good job of treasuring how much he craves my attention, but I recognize what a gift it is that Noah is young enough that he wants to play with me. I know that won't always be the case.

Until today, Noah had displayed a surprising level of excitement over kindergarten. He loved seeing his classroom and finding his desk at Meet the Teacher. He smiled and made eye contact with his teacher as he shook her hand. And that is huge for my shy guy who still wouldn't greet his preschool teachers at the end of the school year in May. I think that one year of holding him back made a huge difference in his confidence and I'm grateful. His courage has given me courage. But, this afternoon, I think the anxiety began to set in. He began to say he was going back to preschool tomorrow. That he wanted me to come teach his fitness class as I have the last three years. He began to call tomorrow "the sad day."

I had hoped to read The Kissing Hand to him tonight. A friend was going to give me her copy and I found out a few days ago that it had been misplaced and was likely donated to the church preschool department. That's okay, some other child will be blessed by it. But, as the day was winding down, I found myself needing to mark the start of this new phase of life with some sort of special reading. As Lord of the Flies is neither topically fitting for this situation nor age appropriate, I settled for a made up story. I knew enough about the story of Chester the Raccoon and his fears about the first day of school that I decided to wing it. I had the boys' rapt attention as I went on about a raccoon and what I supposed his fears might be. In the middle, I nearly got too choked up to finish my made up story (how pathetic was that...didn't I know what was coming?) but was able to regain composure. We concluded with the promise that Daddy and I would plant kisses that stick on Noah's palms in the morning. Mine may turn out to be air kisses because kisses full of herpes viruses that stick are no bueno. He, of course, asked what happens if he opens his hands. Thank goodness Mommy and Daddy kisses are really, really sticky and they don't fall out. At least, that's what I told him. So, we'll see if holding our kisses to his cheeks helps him get through the day. I'm really looking forward to seeing the grin on his face when his whole family goes to pick him up.

Anyway, the boys are now tucked snug in their beds. Noah's favorite bedtime wish is, "Sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the big buggy bite you." And, if he hasn't said it to every member of the family, he tells one of us to pass it on. Tonight, it sounded especially sweet to me. Again because there will be a day that he no longer says that and this kindergarten thing is a great reminder of how fleeting time is.

So, here I am, on the eve of the first step to letting go.

My Dear Noah Jack,

I'm sitting here on the couch, wondering how we got here so soon. Tomorrow morning, I'll wake you up bright and early (maybe even dark and early) and get you ready for the first day of your school career. Preschool was practice, this is the real thing. Tomorrow begins a 17+ school career. But, really, it signals to me how one third of your time under my care has already flown by and how much faster these school years are going to go.

Tonight, you and Tyler played in the backyard while Daddy mowed. You ran in for a drink (cheeks all flushed, body all sweaty and heart all HAPPY) and I gave you a five minute warning. Just as I gave it, I realized that was the last one of the summer. Then I began to think that it was really the last one of your childhood, pre-school. From here on, you'll know what the end of summer brings. From now on, play days are no longer unlimited. You will not have seven days a week with which to play and be a kid.

Tonight, you are innocent to what it really means to be in school five days a week for seven hours each day. Tonight, you are still my baby but there is something new on the horizon. It is the last night before the lifelong process of letting go each parent faces. Tomorrow, August 23, marks the day that you step out into the world as your Daddy and I release you into God's care. Before we know it, we'll be making the drive to drop you off for our first night in your college dorm.

Shudder...

I think the weight of that is still hitting me. It's been so hectic the last few days with me fighting this cold sore outbreak from Hades and preparing for your combined birthday party with Tyler last night. This evening, I finally paused long enough to realize what it meant that I was making your lunch, setting out your clothes and writing you a love note for you to find in your lunch. I felt compelled to go into your room, where you and Tyler are soundly sleeping. While I normally pray in whatever position I'm in, tonight I felt the need to get on my knees as I faced your bed and prayed aloud. God had a Son, too, that He had to let go of so He could fulfill God's purpose for Him. Because He knows the love of a parent, I know God gets my Mommy heart. My heart tonight feels something like this...

Father, I thank you for the blessing of raising these three children. For the gift that you've given Brian and me in calling them ours. Father, I pray that our children are a blessing to You and that we are equipping them in the way that brings You glory. I pray for courage tomorrow, for Noah and us. I ask that You release him from any dread in the morning and allow him to fully enjoy his first day. Please help everything to go smoothly in the morning and let Him feel your peaceful presence throughout the day. I pray that he will be a blessing to You even as he is learning who You are. I pray that we have equipped him to be a blessing to those around him. I ask that You will help us release him and live with open fingers, knowing that these children are first Yours. You know how very much I long for these children to stay as they are; young and simple and free from the cares of the world. I want so much for them to stay this innocent and have such a funny way of looking at life. But, God, I know one of my most important roles as their Mother is letting them go, so help me do that. Let him be fully clothed in Your armor as he goes into the huge, wide world. Please help Noah to bless You in his mannerisms, his words and his thoughts. Father, I ask that you would bring people into his life that will strengthen his developing faith this next year. Please protect his heart and his mind as he goes into the world. Thank You for blessing my heart with his life.

P.S. Dear God, help me survive this letting go thing. And, also, sunrise.

In Jesus' name. Amen.

I love you with all my soul, Noah Jack. You'll always be my baby. I am so THANKFUL to be your Mommy!

These Golden Years

I've been feeling melancholy lately. I suspect it has to do with a combo of post partum hormones and a lack of continuous sleep. And, possibly feeling like I've turned into a dairy cow, always ready for the next milking. Whatever the cause, I found myself deeply missing my childhood yesterday. Maybe it was the simplicity of it. The security of it. No hospital bills to figure out how to pay. No desire to escape our town to find adventure (and cooler temps, oh my word). It was everywhere. No sense of boredom with the everyday routine of life. All we did was play in the sunshine and life was complete. So simple.

What triggered yesterday's episode was watching Charlie Brown with Noah and hearing the tinker of the piano music come on. Something about that sound brought back memories of dining at the Officers' Club all my growing up years. There was something so warm about those days at the O Club...dimmed lights, linen table cloths, quiet conversations, family time, someone tinkering on a baby grand...warm fuzzies. And something in me yearned so deeply for those days again. I love military bases. Remind me so much of my childhood, when happy days abounded because things were easy and I felt secure.

We headed out to a shaved ice vendor on the east side of town last night. The east side, full of old brick buildings that have been there since before I was a child. Something about those reminded me of my Dad's hometown and the visits to see my Granny. I suddenly felt a longing for my Granny's old stone house with the green astroturf that covered her patio. The smells of Aquanet hairspray and Caress soap and her gas stove. The sign in her bathroom that read, "We aim to please. You aim, too, please." Crowding into her kitchen or gathering on the couch in the living room after a full meal. My Granny's quick wit and easy laugh.

So, by the time we pulled into the parking lot of the shaved ice trailer, I was near tears. Noah and Brian jumped out to get their treats while Anniston and I waited in the air conditioned car. Tyler was with my parents. As I sat there, though, something changed while I watched Noah jump around in anticipation. I soaked in the vision of his daddy lifting him into his strong arms as Noah rested his arm comfortably across his shoulder blades. His arm fit so naturally across Brian's back as his long, tanned legs dangled down Brian's side. My boy who will be six in less than two weeks and who will start his school career in less than three. I witnessed this child of mine press his face up against the glass so he could watch magic being made. (I'm sorry, Mr. Man in the booth, for the smudges his squished up nose left behind.) And, as they waited for their cups to be completed, I saw my son jump around the grass and explore, dimple in his right cheek showing up in his huge satisfied grin. He delighted in finding someone's lost pair of blue flip flops and dashed back to the car to show me what he found so that "Tyler can have some blue ones, too!" Of course, I gently told him to return them in case their owner came back and he immediately did so. I watched my boy's brown eyes dance as he dashed back to the car to show me his rainbow-colored dessert, red, green, blue and yellow. His life so complete, his joy so simple.

It was after 8:00 and there is a reason photographers call that last bit of sunlight the golden hour or the magic hour. Somehow, the lighting softened everything about what I was watching. And I felt my soul quiet. And I realized that I need not long for the old days, when things were seemingly more golden and magical. I have magic right in front of me right here, right now. Someday, I'll long for these days again. Someday, these days that are so routine and yet so complicated will be the golden years for me. Someday, I'll long for the simplicity of spontaneous trips to blow hard-earned money at shaved and flavored pieces of ice. Someday, I'll miss those dancing bright eyes.

And, my soul let loose a long sigh. Not in resignation, but in contentment, as I responded, "Okay, God, okay."

I am thankful for the lesson.