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Twinkling Lights of Disobedience

16 Dec

Though it unquestionably annoys me at the time, I’m actually quite glad my kid thinks for himself. It would be more convenient to have a child who obeyed my every command, but I’m wrong sometimes. Aidan has no qualms about pointing out my flaws or poking holes in my rationale. And though I have to admit he can make my blood pressure rise faster a Michigan State game gone bad, I secretly harbor a bit of pride in my stubborn individual thinker of a child.

At the end of the week, I rise between 4:30 and 5 am to start getting ready for work. My reason is two-fold: I’m able to meet with third shift employees at my job this way and it also affords me the opportunity to leave work at a time conducive to picking Aidan up from school.

I try to be as quiet as I can, tiptoeing around the house gathering the necessary items to depart for a work day. But Aidan has a sixth sense about his mama – he knows when I’m up and around, and he does not like to miss a good-bye kiss to his mother.

I was doing a final pass through the house yesterday, just ready to leave, when I heard a loud whisper.

“Mom? Can I get up and wave good-bye to you out the window?”

I went to his side in bed. “No, darling. It’s super early. Just go back to sleep. I love you.”

I quietly slipped out the back door and got in my car. As I was rolling backwards down the drive way, I saw our Christmas tree illuminate the front window, and my crazy-haired child peek out from the side. He waved ferociously, mouthing the words, “I love you, Mom.”

I couldn’t help but to shake my head and smile. Even though I specifically told him to stay in bed, I’m glad he disobeyed and snuck out to see me off. He went right back to sleep after the sly farewell, and both of our mornings were undeniably better.

No one was ever memorable without making a few waves.

In the Rain

27 Sep

I think when I am older, and reflecting back on those “crazy” days of young motherhood, I will rather like my memories of tonight.

The sky was light charcoal, the rain opening down on the field. Aidan was dressed in soccer cleats and I had just laced up my hot pink running shoes. He ran back and forth across the field, scoring a goal at one end, fighting to defend at the other. I looped around the three youth-sized fields over and over, at first warming up, then running a couple of miles at race pace.

The precipitation never let up, and neither did our determination. He was in his world doing his thing, I was in mine. But there was never much distance between us. I could see him from most angles of my run and, when he had a moment to break, he looked up and waved in my direction.

One of the most imporant lessons I’m trying to teach him is that he is not responsible for my happiness, nor am I for his. I gave birth to him, of course, but the life he leads is his. I guide him, shape him, show him unconditional love, support him.

But ultimately I am giving him a foundation to be independent. I know I am not like the other mothers there, the ones under golf umbrellas, just watching their little ones move across the field. In my own way, however, I am always there. I am multi-tasking per usual, getting my work out in while he practices. I want him to be okay without me, but I always want to be close enough to sprint to his side if he needs me – metophorically and literally. 

After his practice, we were both pretty drenched. As every other child scampered towards the parking lot, Aidan looked at me through wet lashes, “Mom, will you just practice with me a little while longer?”

It is my inner hope that he sees me circling the field and doesn’t think his practice is anything less than important to me. Instead it is my wish he is motivated by his mother’s drive to balance being a good mother and being a whole person on my own.

First Grader

30 Aug

Dear Aidan,

It’s official. We had to give away nearly all of last year’s school clothes and start fresh. You join a new soccer team next week that has you practicing twice a week and putting your game face on every Saturday morning. You actually understand and make funny jokes. You know far more about various things (StarWars, Legos, MarioKart, some animals) than I do. You’re a first grader.

It’s a little overwhelming. You spend just over seven hours a day in your awesome Montessori school. We pack a lunch for you. You have to find your way academically, socially, artistically and athletically – with lots of support, of course. But you’re certainly your own person. One who still kisses his mom unabashedly as he walks with confidence to his new building.

It’s seems like not that long ago you were a baby unable to put your own arm through the sleeve of your shirt. Now you’re all opinionated about what that shirt looks like.

Last night you were at your dad’s, not feeling the best. Perhaps it was something you ate, or you were just tired from your first full day of school. I talked with you this morning, and you’re doing just fine, you tell me.

When you read this in however many years, know that you’ll always be my baby. (Yes, even when you’re taller than me.) 

Know that it will always break my heart a little bit when I can’t be there for you – even if you don’t really need me and I’m inflicting that worry on myself. Know that as I analyze spreadsheets and engage with employees and work hard, part of me never stops wondering what you’re doing in this moment.

I’m so very proud of you.

Love,

Mama

(And to the small handful of men who read this blog – call your mother. She’s thinking about you.)

Aidan’s First Concert

27 Jul

Like much of the US, we suffered from last week’s heat wave ‘o summer eleven. By Saturday, we were ready for reprieve. Something to the effect of an impromptu drive up north to see a band we love outdoors, accompanied by a picnic dinner, lawn games and stellar family time. It didn’t hurt that all the money raised went to Michigan Midwives and when the sun set I *almost* needed a sweatshirt.

I’ve mentioned them in this space before – Breathe Owl Breathe is a band worth your time.

It was a night that held all of our very favorite things: finishing Charlotte’s Web, playing Go Fish, dancing, snuggling and engaging in family Washers competition. In short, the kind of summer night I live for.

I’m so enjoying sharing details from our wedding, and I love the comments and notes I’ve been getting about them – thank you. I have many more wedding posts for you!

But I thought I’d take a break from that tonight and show you what I’m most excited about: this beautiful family we’ve created. Kiddo is quite happy about it, too.

I Would Have Been This Girl

15 Jun

If it wasn’t for him, I totally would have been this girl.

The girl I am right now, who is sitting on her laptop in Chicago, furiously responding to e-mail, so as not to get too far behind.

I would have train schedules committed to memory and would know the quickest way to  hoof it from Point A to Point B. I would be trying to climb faster, overly obsessed with my career.

Thanks to him, I’m a balanced girl. Thanks to him, I got to feel the true pang of missing another human being when he called last night before bedtime to say, “Mama, I just really MISS you.”

And though there is sporadic longing for more travel, or things I know I’d do and have if my bank account was selfishly motivated, it always comes back to him. I’m me because he exists. I know what really matters because he shows me. Kyle has said on more than one occasion that he wouldn’t have been quite as attracted to me without seeing what an amazing mother I am to Aidan.

In these last couple of crazy planning and doing weeks before the wedding and the stress of a seemingly endless to-do list, he keeps me grounded. The really important things? Well, I already have them. And they’re sitting at home, waiting for me to come back home tonight.

I can’t wait.

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