Wednesday, March 17, 2010
For this edition we are going waaaaay back to a time when I when I wore pink spandex shorts and Keds. Green was my favorite color, but not just any green. The type of green I loved was the one that burned itself into your retinas if you stared at it too long. When I hear this song I think of summer time and running around outside all day. We had this large peach tree in the backyard and I used to try and climb it when my mom wasn't looking. I think of summers that I laid on my deck in my bathing suit reading The Babysitter's Club and wishing that I could be Stacy or Claudia, but never Kristy because she was kind of bossy and she liked sports. If I skinned my knees, I would cry, but still wear shorts. I would swing all day and play elaborate pretend games with my sister. If I happen to come across this particular song while switching songs on the radio and happening upon a easy listening oldies station, I freeze and then turn it up. I hear this song and immediately one image springs to mind. I am with a childhood friend dancing around and singing into a hairbrush. I didn't know then that this would be the beginning of using inanimate objects as pretend microphones, but oh how that moment changed my life. True that I have moved onto bigger and better things such as remote controls and the occasional kitchen spoon, but the fun of it? Well that has never changed.
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Dear Bugga Bugga Baby,
A month already? Wasn't I just writing one of these the other day? Oh..... yeah. I was a bit late on the last one. You are now sixteen months old. I am getting emails saying things like: Your toddler at 66 weeks. I know. They said the t-word. Toddler. Can it be? Aren't you still a baby?Well, despite the fact that I have taught you to point to yourself and say, "me" when I ask, "Who's Mama's baby?" it is now becoming undeniable. You are growing up. Your hair is longer, and absolutely has a mind of it's own. You're taller, even if it's just a bit. You can eat things using utensils, although you still prefer to use your hands. But you still have those rubber band wrists and chunky baby thighs. And when you sleep, I can still catch little traces of the little baby you used to be. I love those moments, but I love the little boy you have become.
When you are awake you are a swirl of constant movement, ideas, and excitement. You go, go, go and never stop. Sometimes you even shout, "go, go, go" as you run from here to there. You find lots of things hilarious, and laugh often. I hope you always laugh often. Laughing is delightful, and I think there is nothing better than watching a delightful little boy with a delightful little laugh. You suddenly have lots of ideas about what you want to do, and when I don't agree you voice your concern, by screwing up your face and crying like you are devastated. It breaks my heart a bit, but I think one day you might thank me for protecting you and not letting you do all the dangerous things you want to do like jump off the slide at the playground.
You are a little sponge. You know shapes, and particularly like the star and heart. You are picking up words left and right. The other day I wrote a list and came up with 72 words that you say, but later on I kept remembering new ones. You can follow simple commands, and sometimes even multi-step directions without repetition. You somehow know how to do things that I have never taught or shown you. You still don't say I love you, but you request "hugs" and to "snuggle." You particularly love to snuggle with me. You sing along to the radio, and pretend to fly your toy airplane in the sky. You rock your little stuffed animals, and love to point out when you see a "baby" in the store. I could continue forever, but this little snapshot would not ever do you justice or convey just how lucky I am to have you. And I, sweet baby boy, am so very lucky to be your mama.
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
Long ago, I worked at a grocery store. I worked there for a long time. Seven years actually. If you have ever worked at a grocery store yourself, you know that is approximately equivalent to 25 real life years. But that is not my point.
My point is that customers would often ask me, "What exactly are your future plans?" They might do this after asking me to put a plastic bag inside of a paper bag inside of a plastic bag. Other times they would ask after requesting that I put each of their 100 items in a separate bag. (Seriously, we were not so eco-friendly in 2000). I always answered, "I want to be a special education teacher."
Sometimes I did this while counting out their $19.50 total that they had decided to pay in change that they dropped onto the conveyor belt rather than my outstretched hand. Or while I listened to them instruct me on how to bag each and every item. ("My ground beef must be on top of all other meat or else it will be squished! Don't put a hole in the plastic wrapping of the paper towels because then I will make you get a new one for me!") "Oh, you must be so patient!" they would exclaim as requested that I price check the item they bought against a similar item that I would have to go find somewhere in the store.
My response was always the same too. "I guess I am."
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
Jaded- By Aerosmith
This song reminds me of the Spring of 2001. Spring typically represents beginnings. This particular spring represented an ending for me. This song reminds me of my little black Neon with the purple racing stripe on the side, driving with the windows down, blasting music and singing this song. I think about quaint coffee shops and explaining what happened over and over again to all the people that I knew in our small little town. It reminds me of sleeping all day and night for two months straight. But it also reminds me of other things. Things that are more worth remembering, like dropping 20 pounds without doing a single thing. I listen and I think of a handmade card from this wonderful new friend, skipping statistic classes, and a beat up Chevy Cavalier with crayon on the door. I am reminded of first kisses and talking on the phone until 2 in the morning. I think about boat launches and fishing in a rowboat on a deserted lake. I am reminded of hikes, holding hands, and thinking, "Oh my goodness. I have no idea what I am in for."