Sentimentality Strikes Again

A few months ago I worked through the emotionally difficult journey of bidding farewell to all things baby in our home -- clothes, most importantly. I was a bit surprised at how hard it hit, making the conscious decision to have no more children and moving on from there. Cleaning out bin after bin of clothing -- 0-3m, 6-9m, 2T, and so on -- was bittersweet, smiling at each little outfit, remembering either Aidan or Grace at that particular age, and then placing each little shirt, each tiny pair of pants, in a big plastic bag. It was hard, but I did it, with no regrets.

Over the past couple of weeks I embarked on another phase of weeding out, this one proving to be much easier. Our apartment is small, and we have as much of our belongings as we can possibly fit in here, with no extra room to spare. We had to be selective in deciding which pieces we wanted to live with, and the rest is currently furnishing an upstairs apartment in my uncle's home, used occasionally when my cousin and her family comes to visit, enabling them to now have their own private quarters. Don gave me a quick tutorial in operating Craigslist and I set to work, selecting certain items that we just do not need, or can be replaced in the future if need be. Tough choices need to be made -- especially for a pack rat like me.

So far it hasn't been too bad and we've made a few bucks, selling our fire pit, a pair of funky lamps, and so on. I was on a roll. But then today hit me a little harder, and I wasn't quite prepared for the wave of sentimentality that washed over me. I just sold a rocking chair and pocketed $25.

But it wasn't just any rocking chair.
It was a chair that we purchased when I was pregnant with Aidan, in anticipation of his arrival.
It was a chair for which we hunted high and low, just the perfect size for both myself and for Don.
It was Mission-style, more to our liking than some other versions.
And most importantly, it was a chair in which I spent many, many, many hours rocking my baby.

The buyer called, saying he was on his way. I went out onto the porch and looked at the chair. Suddenly and very unexpectedly I got choked up. I was back in the "nursery" -- Aidan's room -- my boy is crying, struggling to sleep ... again. I pick him up and he instantly snuggles in a way that was unique to him. I sit and rock, and rock, and rock. I know I got frustrated -- angry, even -- at the wasted time, or at least time that I deemed wasted then. "Why can't you sleep?!" I would cry back to him. How many times did I look at those many hours as a loss, feeling frantic and upset and -- yes, even selfish -- wanting time to myself instead of that constant gluing to my baby? All in that chair ...

Now my boy is made of bony corners and gangling limbs, still fitting on my lap but certainly not in that snuggly baby way. And his lap-time with me now is rare. How many mothers look back and wish for that "wasted" time again? So much time spent in that chair ...

Before the buyer came I rocked in the chair for a while. I could almost smell that wonderful baby smell, as Aidan's silky head would rest on my shoulder, those fabulously soft squeezable arms and legs positioned just right, that perfect sound baby breathing. I rocked by myself today, sorely missing those moments. All in that chair ... and now the chair is gone.

Yes, sentimentality struck again. I guess I was due for a few choked up, glistening-eyed moments again. It's not a bad thing, though -- it's really not. It's a good reminder of how much love a heart can hold.

Hearts A-Bumping

Yesterday Aidan and I had an opportunity to visit his new school for the morning with other prospective parents and children. It began with a half-hour chapel, a truly heart-lifting and inspiring time when 200 kids sang their little hearts out in worship. Wonderful. Chapel was followed by an hour spent in the classroom, meeting the teacher and observing what went on. Well, most of us did the observing ... Aidan jumped right in and participated.

Here are a few memorable moments of the day:

- On the drive to the school, Aidan suddenly started giggling his beautiful, bubbly giggle. "Mommy, I just can't stop giggling!" he said. "It means I'm just so excited!"

- We parked in the lot and walked up the path toward the main door. We held hands, Aidan squeezing mine off and on. I looked down at him and he had a wide smile on his face. "Mommy, I'm happy. My heart is bumping!"

- Once in the classroom, he suddenly and unexpectedly pulled a bit of a shy routine, suddenly grabbing my legs and wanting to sit on my lap rather than join the kids on the rug. I was a bit surprised -- with his bumping heart and uncontrollable giggles, I didn't expect this rare display of reservation. But it only lasted about a minute. He knew one of the girls in the class, a friend of his from church, and he ditched his shyness and found a spot on the rug next to her. From that point on I didn't even exist.

- Aidan raised his hand in response to almost every question, most of which dealt with things he doesn't even know yet, like telling time and counting change. But I was proud of my boy for feeling no apprehension, getting up in front of all of those kids, trying to count out 19 cents when he absolutely no idea what each coin represented. He was beaming as he took his seat, oblivious to the fact that he gathered about 33 cents in change, but proud of himself for doing it.

- He participated in another exercise, one of his favorites: writing. He sat next to his friend at the desk and was given a sheet of paper and a pencil. He wrote his name (first and last), and wrote a few sentences: I like red. I like cars. My dog is Jack. No ... he'll have no problem in school.

- On the way out, he was given a rice krispie treat from one lady, and a chocolate chip cookie from another. With one treat in each hand, and a mouth full of food, he asked me a question. I had no idea what he said, as crumbs flew out. He repeated himself a few times until I understood (and kind of wished I didn't): "Mommy, can you itch my butt for me?" OK ... I've done a lot of things as a mother, and I have been asked a lot of questions, but never -- ever! -- have I been faced with this scenario. Thank goodness "it" worked itself out on its own on the way back to the car. Phew.

What a day -- a promising day. I was so proud of my boy, and I feel so hopeful for his future.

Flashbacks

I was going through Don's iPhoto, looking for a particular picture, when I stumbled across a few photos of my kids that I didn't know he had! Ooohhhh ... they're precious little ones. What a treat to see these "new-to-me" photos, to look back to a time seemingly so long ago -- a lifetime ago in some ways -- and feel that warmth flood my heart. What sweet, sweet kids.

A fuzzy-topped Grace, 5 1/2 months old, struggling with her first pair of new orthotic shoes.
(Look at those fabulous legs!)

A 3-year-old Aidan teasing his little sister. My big boy ... how young he looks here!

Apparently Grace didn't mind the teasing ...

God Speaks ...

After dinner last night, we spent the time in our usual way -- outside in the back yard. Steve and Rosa (my oldest brother and his wife) had come for dinner at my parents' house, and their son, Steven Henry, spent most of the playing with my kids on their new slide (which repaid itself in just a few hours!). All day long severe, wild, strong thunderstorms were predicted, yet they never came. Finally, at about 7:30 p.m. the sky started to change -- from blue, to gray, and then to an eerie yellow. The thunder got louder and louder, and finally at the first strikes of lightening, we ran indoors. Good timing -- it was bedtime, anyway.

As my kids were getting out of the tub from their Saturday evening bath, the phone rang. "Look outside!" exclaimed my mom. "There's a double rainbow!"

A double rainbow?! We threw some pj's on Grace, while Aidan just carried his clothes in a state of au natural, and we went onto the front porch. And there, set against an odd gray sky, was the most amazing rainbow I have ever seen. Not only was it indeed a double rainbow -- one faint arc set above a most brilliant arc of color I had never seen before in my life -- but it also stretched from one point of the horizon all the way to the other. A full, double rainbow so incredibly brilliant that it looked like God had a great time with His Heavenly Crayolas. It was truly, indescribably, amazingly beautiful.

Don snapped a few pictures, but of course a dinky digital camera would never, ever do justice to the sight before us. Yet here's a mediocre representation of what we saw. Don suggested I try piecing them together in Photoshop to get an idea of its hugeness, so I tried ... it's a bit dorky but you get the idea. It was stunning.

You can see the faint double arc on top

Suddenly Grace broke into that (annoying) children's song, "Arky Arky" ... how perceptive of her! She even made up her own lyrics about the rainbow before us. Indeedm Noah's ark Revisited. Is this what Noah saw? What a sight, and what a revelation. No wonder he said it was a sign from God, a promise from the heavens. God reveals Himself in ways far, far beyond our understanding ... and as we stood there, we felt small.

It was awesome.

Trash and Treasure

I LOVE garage sales!

Today was Designated Garage Sale day, along with 90% of the community. Before heading out, we laid down a few rules: we allowed the kids one toy each of their choosing (seen above, individually and obviously), and promised them one shared toy (which turned out to be the game of Elefun, to keep them busy in the yard, now that summer -- with no school and loads of free time -- is right around the corner). And the slide -- the slide! -- was an incredible and unexpected bonus. Not to mention that we picked up "new" bike helmets for each of the kids at a buck apiece, and a birthday gift for Grace (looking ahead only costs a dollar!).

What a great day ...

We've Been Swindled!

Depending upon the acidity of your soil, the lovely pale pink hydrangea you planted with tender care just might turn into an unexpected -- and perhaps, undesired -- shade, such as blue or lavender or some combination thereof. This might dredge up a wide variety of feelings, from complacency, or delight, or downright disappointment.

But ... does the same thing happen to roses?

Last September, I bought a rose bush for Don for his birthday. His life (as he knew it) had fallen apart; he felt like he was wandering in a proverbial wasteland. He needed something -- anything -- to focus on, something that would bring beauty and joy to his life.

At our second house in PA, we had a stunningly beautiful rose garden -- Don's domain. We had several bushes, but one was his absolute favorite. The large, full blossoms were unlike any other we had seen before -- a burst of orange, salmon/pink, and yellow. It literally, truly took your breath away. Don tended that bush with tremendous care.

So as I strolled about the seemingly hundreds of rose bushes for sale at a local nursery, I almost jumped out of my shoes when I saw the very same rose bush we had in PA. It's providence! I would have yelled had I been more extroverted. But since I am not of that persuasion, I shouted with glee inside my soul as I picked up the bush and brought it home. We planted it in the perfect spot, between two existing rose bushes along the fence (one red and one yellow), and Don has been taking great care of it ever since. We have all been longing for this time of year, when the bush showed great promise, full of many buds just waiting to explode with their phenomenal color. Any day now ... any day now ...

"Your roses bloomed!" my mom announced this morning. I jumped for joy, grabbing my camera to take the first snaps of our favored bush.

So ... So ... So ... What happens when you expect to see one thing, and end up seeing something very different?

This is the bloom I was expecting to see:


And this -- this! -- is what I actually saw on our beloved bush.


WHAT THE HECK?!

We have been utterly and completely swindled. So now what? I'm almost embarrassed to write this, but I am SO terribly, terribly disappointed! So much so that I want to give this bush away and try again! Is that crazy? Maybe. The thing is, it is exactly like the red bush we already have in the garden -- the very same! How boring is that, two identical red bushes right next to each other? Seriously, I am so tempted to dig this thing up right now and find it a new home. Any takers?

No, a rose by any other name does not smell as sweet. Or at least, it sure doesn't look the same.

Laugh Lines for the Week

We had some friends over for dinner recently -- a grilled fiesta! -- and when darkness began to fall we took the shin-dig indoors for awhile before it was time for them to go home. The kids sat on the floor and played with every toy imaginable, while we adults sat around and continued our conversation. At last, as bedtime came and went, Aidan asked if we could send them off with a rousing version of "Mama Mia" -- his toddlerhood title for "Bohemian Rhapsody" by Queen. This has been a bit of a "tradition" in our family, with kids big and small rocking out with every air-instrument you can think of, along with two plastic guitars we have on hand. Our friends were game -- bring it on!

So Don went to his stash and pulled out the desired record.

As he placed the musical disc on the turntable, we suddenly heard from our friends' young daughter ...

"Mommy, what is ... THAT?!?!"

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My parents usually entertain Grace when I take Aidan to school -- a nice half hour for all three of them. She's a charmer and an entertainer and truly a joy to be with. My mom was having a particularly lovely time with her, and she spontaneously gave Grace a hug and said, "Oh, Gracie, I love you."

Grace's response:

"And I love Grandpa!"