Birthday Message

Prior to my blogging days, I wrote Cole a letter on his first and second birthday. For his third birthday? Well, let's just say I forgive myself for that. For his fourth birthday, it is just one day late... 

   Whoops, my sweet baby boy. Your third birthday flew by without me being able to stop to write a letter. I’m considering that a testament to how busy being two and three years old has been for us. This time has been marked most saliently by your ever growing size and verbal skills. When you meet new people, you are not shy. You will tell them any story that is on your mind. They marvel at your conversational skills and assume you are at least two years older than you are. Your height confirms that for them and they are simply shocked when they get the answer to their inevitable question, “How old are you?”  You are so social that I struggled with having “the stranger talk” with you. I didn't want to ruin your wonderful innocence as you approach others, but I also have a desperate need to keep you safe. Now, you’ll either ask if people are strangers or you will wait for us to greet them before you happily begin to talk to them. Another impressive skill has been your ability to pick up songs you hear. I have countless videos of you singing. Papa Bud recently commented that he believes you know the words to every song currently on the radio. I believe him. 

Before you turned three, we chose a new daycare for you that is on campus where I work. Despite high hopes, after six weeks, the stomach flu, and two bite injuries, we pulled you out. You've happily stayed home or with your grandparents ever since. Now that you've reached your preschool year, we have you signed up at a school nearby. We are hoping for a much more positive experience. 

I’ll be honest with you; three was a tough year. It was the year you decided that it was unacceptable for us to tell you no. We were either met with tears or anger. At times, throwing yourself dramatically to the floor. It has been difficult for you to get along with your brother because you insist that all toys are yours. On the other hand, I have witnessed you share generously with others so I’m calling this a “brother thing” and hoping you grow out of it. 

After struggling on-and-off with potty-training, Mommy took a stand after you turned three. I bought you underwear and a timer. Every hour you sat on the potty. We had to clean up a few messes but within a month, training was done. You’ve taken to the responsibility very well and now take care of business all by yourself (except for wiping). You’ve even very recently told me that you no longer need your potty seat. While you have taken well to being “a big boy” in the potty department, you have not taken so well to feeding yourself. You suddenly become unable to perform the smallest task when it’s mealtime and tell us adamantly that you are too little to feed yourself.  Mommy took another stand and yesterday, on your 4th birthday, every fork and spoonful came from your own hand. 

I couldn't be prouder of your developing taste buds. You eat raw green beans right out of the garden. Your favorite snacks include fresh mango, fruit and nut trail mix, and almond granola bars. You happily eat broccoli, peas, and sweet peppers, only turning your nose up consistently to tomatoes and potatoes.  Every ounce of these nutritious choices seem to go into making you taller, rather than adding any meat to your thin frame. 

This upcoming year will be our last before you go to school and begin your journey with best friends, teachers, and increasing independence. I have hopes that I will be able to change my work schedule so that I can participate in your experience as much as possible. While I understand and fully accept that you will increasingly need me less, you will also always know that I’m right here.  


Happy 4th Birthday, Sweet Boy.                                                    Love, Momma

P.S. You finally had your Dinosaur Party. Last year, you changed your mind at the last minute to Cars. :) 

Words have come

When my brother-in-law Gregg passed away suddenly on April 26th, I had no words. I cried with my family and found myself filling the day after with obsessively finding every picture I could of him.  Pictures have always been my solace and I was glad to have them that day, when I had nothing to say. But today, on his 50th birthday, I have things to say. 

It's hard to pinpoint when I first met Gregg. We grew up in the same neighborhood and suddenly, he was just there, driving around in his cool car with his cool friends trying to impress my sister. I'm 7 years younger than my sister, Charlene. So of course, when she was a teenager, nothing was more cool to me than anything she was doing. So hanging out in the driveway, or the yard, or the street, just waiting for Gregg and his friends to drive by and stop became a bit of a summertime pastime. At that time, what stood out most was how nice he was to me. At that age (I'm guessing around 8 or 9), not too many people were nice to me. I was too skinny, wore glasses, and was painfully shy. But he (and his friends) were nice to me. 

As Gregg watched me grow into my young teens, he became the guy that would give dirty looks to the boy in the neighborhood who was trying to impress me. If I looked sad or my sister told him a boy hurt my feelings, he would ask if I needed anyone beat up. His parents let me swim in their pool and they eventually became extended parts of our family. Gregg's father, Jim (who passed away from cancer in 2007) made a point to show his interest in my life at every family picnic or gathering. I always figured that Gregg got his personality from his father, who was always so warm, sweet, and caring. 

What bothers me a great deal about his absence from my life from this point forward is the impact that it will have on my children. When I married my husband in 2007, his two kids from his first marriage became part of my family. My family has been better than most, in my opinion, at embracing the children as their own and fully integrating them into our family. But I'm here to honor Gregg and who he is so I will focus on his part. While he was someone who the kids only saw a handful of times each year, he stood out to them in their memory. I was quickly reminded of the knack he has for making children feel special. He would talk to them at their level, and show kindness and respect that many people just don't have for children. He would get on the floor and play with them, whether it was Barbie's, Bey Blades, or just wrestling around. The kids remembered him even when they were younger and looked forward to seeing him because they knew it would be fun. That experience in their life is now only a memory. While I can help them cherish the memory, I'm saddened that the experience of having "Uncle Gregg" is no longer in their future. 

When I was talking to my 11-year-old, step-daughter Emily at the funeral home, I told her how glad I was that she had a chance to know Gregg. I was happy that she became part of my family so that she could know not only him but everyone in my family. I cherish them. I cherish him. Her family is small and distant and it grew both in numbers and love when she entered my family. I will be forever grateful that Gregg showed her what an uncle can be, made her feel important and special, just like he did for me when I was her age.  

I cannot even bring myself to imagine what my sister, niece, and nephew went through on that day. Or what they continue to go through today and every day. But I wanted to share this story with everyone who knew him because his family deserves to know how important he was to everyone. This was just my story. 

My Graduation Day. Pride in his face. Like a brother. 

Perspective

The latter half of 2013 is a bit blurry. While I had time to attend to my photo journal, my blog was left empty. Given the mental health value that I put into writing and reflecting, it doesn’t surprise me…looking back…that it was during this same time frame that I lost perspective. Many things were happening in both my personal and professional life. I won't bore anyone here with the details but suffice it to say that in September, I had my first panic attack. I don’t mean that I was anxious and overwhelmed. I mean that my body said “you’re done” and induced heart racing, nausea, blurred vision, and difficulty breathing, followed by sobbing that was so out of my control, it felt like I wasn’t inside my body. If the episode lasted just a few minutes longer, Dan would’ve had me in the car to the hospital. But it didn’t. It ended. Like all panic attacks do. It left me with the knowledge of what just happened and the knowledge to accept that I had pushed too far.

          

After that, I had difficulty with almost everything. I couldn’t concentrate. It was difficult to keep my mind focused on what I had to do. I found even normal levels of anxiety to be intolerable. By October, with the help of family and the HR department at work, I decided to take a leave of absence. I put my pride down and accepted that I needed a break or I would break. (Or had I already broke?) On the first day of my leave, I chose a bible verse, memorized it, and kept it in the forefront of my mind every day.

Phillipians 4:6-7 Be anxious for nothing. But in everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God; and the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.

Every day after that, I wrote. Not publicly, of course, and not really at length. But I took time and I wrote down my thoughts. Noticing every day a little more clarity returned. With clarity, came the peace that everything was going to be okay whether things changed or didn’t change. It’s like I had forgotten that simple fact. I’m going to be okay. I always have been. I always will be. I had gotten myself tangled up in thoughts that I HAD to do something and I HAD to make a decision or I would be miserable forever. Looking at it now, it seems so silly that those thoughts even entered my mind. I know better. But, like I said, I had lost perspective.

Glad to be back. 

By the way, Merry Christmas. Happy new Year. And all that Jazz.