Surgery Schduled

Surgery for Zach is schedule for tomorrow, July 25, 10:30am.

Thanks for your concern, prayers and support.

Zach's Surgery

Feel free to skim and get the Cliff Notes version --I will give more details than are necessary but I have a few people I know will ask so I'm just going to lay it all out there.

Zach is fine.  The x-rays confirmed what I always suspected --Zach is a bone head.  *ahem*  But in all seriousness . . . .

A week ago while playing basketball Zach got elbowed in the eye.  He was in a lot of pain and kind of disoriented so the coach called Jerry and told him what happened and recommended Zach get checked out by a doctor.  Some friends drove Zach home and then Jerry took him to the ER.  At the time, Amanda and I were off at the movie theater seeing Dancing in the Rain on the big screen (it was fabulous) so of course being the polite movie-goers we are, our phones were turned off so Jerry was not able to reach me.

When Amanda and I got home my motherly instinct kicked in and I immediately knew something was wrong.  I could just tell the way the house was left that the guys left in a hurry.  I called Jerry and when he told me he was in the ER with Zach my first reaction was, "I"m so excited my motherly instincts were right!"  I mean, I was sort of gloating until I realize --uh, my son is in the ER.  They were just about to finish up and Jerry assured me Zach was okay; he just had a mild concussion.  I waited for them to get home and as soon as I saw my boy all in one piece and okay, I went to bed. 

The next day we all resumed normal activities, including Zach.  Later that night I was in my jammies and all ready for bed.  Jerry was also getting ready for bed as Zach was coming in from work.  A short while later Zach was in the bathroom and as soon as I snuggled myself into bed, I heard Zach yell, "DAD!"  Before Jerry and I could even react Zach walked into our room and said, "All I did was blow my nose."  Zach's eye and half of his right side were complete swollen.  It was as if someone blew him up like a balloon --and just a few moments earlier he was completely fine.  I jumped out of bed and grabbed my clothes as I knew we needed to get him back to the ER.  Jerry and I scrambled around to get dressed then off to the ER we went.

Okay so long story short(er), they originally did a CAT scan of his entire head but this ER trip, the doctor wanted to get a closer look at the eye area so that's what they did and it did show the fractures.  We were sent home with a referral to a facial surgeon the following Monday and orders for Zach to keep it low; no jumping, running, swimming, basketball, etc.

The next Monday, meeting with the surgeon we learned Zach's orbital floor was fractured.  There's also another possible fracture to the eye-socket bone but that's not real clear in the CAT scan.  Additionally, there is some nerve damage that is causing numbness around his eye.  The orbital floor (a thin bone between the eye and sinus) will not heal nor will Zach's condition get better without surgery.  He has double vision in that eye when he looks down and also, his eye is set 20% further back because its no longer being supported.  It is not really noticeable when you look at Zach but when the doctor pointed it out to me, I could tell the difference in his right and left eyes.  Also, since his eye sets farther back it causes his eye lid to set down lower.  Again, not really noticeable unless you're specifically looking for it however; if he does not have the surgery it could continue to set back even further.

The good news is, Zach's vision has not been injured/damaged at all.  Actually the eye itself has not been injured at all.  In addition to the surgeon, Zach also saw an ophthalmologist today who was in agreement that Zach needed to have the surgery done but he was also very encouraged that Zach eye/vision had not been damaged.  He said the orbit, bone structure, etc did exactly what is was supposed to do; protect the eye.  The surgery will correct the temporary double vision Zach is experiencing.  The ophthalmologist will see Zach again after surgery.

As far as pain, Zach gets frequent headaches, has weird sensations in his face (were the nerve damage is) and occasionally he said it feels like someone is sticking a pin in his eye.  Overall, the pain is very manageable.  The difficult part for Zach has been KEEPING STILL --and no basketball!

The surgeon will go in and insert a metal plate replacing the broken orbital floor.  The doctor could not see the extent of the second fracture on the CAT scan so once he gets in there and see everything, he might also need to put an additional screw in Zach's skull bone to support the fracture.  The metal plate is permanent and will also be screwed onto Zach skull bone.  We saw a skull model with one on it --it was both really cool and really creepy.  Everything should be back to normal immediately after surgery except for the nerve damage; that may be permanent. There's nothing they can really do to repair it and the doctor said it may or may not restore on its own.

Surgery is scheduled for Wednesday.  It will be out-patient but he will undergo general anesthesia.  Jerry is currently in Georgia for his annual summer visit.  Zach told him he didn't need to come back for surgery so it looks as though Jerry won't be home until next weekend.  I am having a slight pity-party for myself at the thought of sitting all alone in that surgery waiting room for Zach.  Jerry told me if I wanted him home he'd come but he doesn't get to see his family very often so I hate to ask him to cut his visit short.

Below is Zach's x-ray.  The view is as if Zach was laying on his back and you were standing at his feet looking up.  The triangle at the top is his nose.  The black holes on either side of that are his eye sockets --notice how the right side is nice and round and in tact and the left side is smashed in.  Also notice on that side, the swelling where his face is protruding next to his nose.   All of that swelling has now subsided and like I said, you can barely tell just by looking at Zach that anything is wrong.

So that's the story.  I'm allowed to have my phone on will in the waiting area so feel free to text/call if you'd like.  I'm sure I'll be bored and would love the distraction (from the worry).  We'll be at the hospital most of the day.

The Simplicity of a Boy

My children were fortunate to have met three of their great-grandmothers, though they only really remember one; my paternal grandmother that we affectionately called, Meme.

Meme was the only grandmother I really knew myself, as my maternal grandmother lived much of her life in Puerto Rico and also, she didn't speak English. I only remember a few occasions of even seeing her and even then, communication was limited by our language barrier. But Meme I grew up with and was very close to and thus, my children not only personally knew her too but grew up hearing my stories about her.

And both as an extension of my own love for Meme and the relationship they themselves have formed with her, my children were very fond of their great-grandmother, Meme. They didn't know her like the young vibrant feisty woman I knew her to be, but they knew her and loved her and she was their Meme, too.

In 2008 when Meme died, our entire family traveled to a sleepy little town in Missouri, East Prairie, where Meme was from and would be laid to rest. Though a sad occasion, it was a good trip. My children had never been to East Prairie before and so they got to see first hand their mother's family roots. My grandparents, father and aunt along with a host of other ancestors left their footprints in every nook and cranny of that town, a town my own great-grandfather had been a founder to.

After Meme's funeral service, the entire family went to the cemetery for the burial service. There at her grave site the funeral home had already arranged all of the flowers which included a beautiful pink spray from her 13 great-grandchildren and in the spray, 13 roses representing each of them. After the short grave side service, the casket was still under the green tent and the family members were assembling around, lingering a little bit saying final good-byes.

The great-grandchildren all decided they wanted to keep their rose from the spray of flowers and so, they each were picking flowers, some of which I imagined would be hung to dry or pressed into a book as a keepsake.

After everyone had collected their keepsake flower and said their final good-byes, they were making their way back to their cars and getting ready to head back to the church where they were serving the family a meal.

Everyone except Zach.

Very calmly and quietly, Zachary walked over to Meme's casket. He took his pink rose and gingerly laid it upon that casket. He paused for a moment, and then gently patted the casket and then very simply and quietly, he walked back to the crowd of people.

And that is the simplicity of a boy that without one uttered word, spoke volumes.

Missing You

I say to you

Come home, come home
I've been waiting for you so long, so long

Right now there's a war between the vanities
But all I see is you and me
The fight for you is all I've ever known, ever known

So Come home

Third Time's a Charm

Last fall Jerry and I packed up our van, Zach's 1995 red Chevy Blazer and a U-haul truck. There were clothes, hand-me-down furniture, kitchen supplies, food --A LOT of food and other college essentials. All loaded up. Destination, Three Rivers, Michigan.

Where ever in the world that place might be.

And when we got to Three Rivers, Michigan, we (they) started the unloading process and moving all of those clothes, hand-me-down furniture and stuff up three flights of stairs into a 2-bedroom apartment that would be shared between Zach, Trae and Austin.

There were emotions for sure but they were mostly in check. No tears. No break-downs --just your usual moving in stuff. Carrying boxes, unpacking boxes. Not that I particularly did much of any of that.

The apartment complex was -- it was an apartment complex that mostly housed families and it was not the most desirable place a mother would want to leave her 19 year old son. Separation anxiety I seemed to have none but this place was unsettling to this mother's heart.

Because giving your child over to a dorm is a whole different experience than giving them over to . . an apartment.

I walked over to a tree and under the coolness of it's shade, I began to doubt everything but mostly, I doubted leaving our son here in this place. There were tears. It's me, there always are tears and though the third time leaving a child at college, these were different tears.

Leaving Amanda at Miami and Monica at Kent my heartache was in all honesty, it was my own. It was about me missing them but behind those tears, there wasn't any fear. I didn't fear for their safety or well being. I had peace there. I also had no doubt that they both were in the exact place they should be. I had peace there as well. Miami suited Amanda. Kent suited Monica. They were both pursing their education, careers, futures and dreams and it started there, on those campuses. There was direction in the hearts and minds and though not without confusion and doubt, there was a plan.

Here in this place, Three Rivers, Michigan there was less clarity. Less certainty and really, we all seemed to lack direction. Though I did have peace in that this was the right path for Zach to pursue his own educational endeavors, I had no peace at all in this place we were leaving him.

And it made me feel like a bad mother.

It's six months later now. In some ways, things are better. In some ways things are the same. And probably, in some ways things might even be worse but I think my son is too kind to allow me to worry about those things. Ignorance is bliss.

Lessons in letting go. Letting go of your children is never easy. And the letting go experience is different for each child. Just as unique as each child is, your experience with them is also unique.

A few weeks ago Zach called and said he had a 3-day weekend and wanted to come home. I hurried myself into the kitchen to whip up a batch of his favorite chocolate cupcakes.

The weekend with my boy was all too short. Monday he kept putting off his departing time and when it was getting into the evening hour, I suggested to Zach he stay the night and get up early the next morning and get back in time for his 10am class. But Zach decided he wasn't much of a morning person and he thought it best to get back that evening.

And I walked over to the kitchen sink and the tears could not stop. I so much wanted another night at home with Zach.

That night when Zach finally left we hugged and said our good-byes. As soon as I heard the blazer drive off I ran up to my room and looked out the window --I watched the red tail lights on that blazer until they were completely out of site, sobbing and hurting.

The letting go lessons are hard for this mother. But they are good lessons, too. It is good for me to see my children spreading their wings and growing and learning. It makes a mother proud.

I cried leaving Miami. I cried leaving Kent. And well the third time really is a charm --because my boy really is a charm.

And I miss him.

Embracing the Empty Nest (with a puppy)

We took Monica back to Kent last weekend. I think I’m finally “getting over it” –leaving my kids (or them leaving us). I mean, it only took me 5 years but this is the very first year we took one of the kids to school and there were no tears for me on the way home. In fact, we practically did a “drive by drop off”. After we dumped Monica’s boxes and college stuff in her room, took her out to lunch and did the traditional “Newsome last trip to Walmart” (all those things for the room/dorm you forgot or didn’t realize you needed) we pulled up in the parking lot in front on Monica’s Sorority House and said, “Well, okay –we’ll see you later.” Monica was like, “Uh ---so –you’re not coming up . . . we’re just saying good-bye right here?” Jerry said, “Well, your Mother can go up with you. I’ll just wait here but don’t take too long or I’ll start blowing the horn.” I thought it was a good idea to walk up with Monica because well, I really needed to use the bathroom ---oh yeah, and stay with Monica a little longer too, yeah that too. When we got up to Monica’s room and I was done using the bathroom I said, “Well, give me a hug” as I was scooting towards the door and poor Monica looked and said, “You’re not going to help me unpack or anything? You normally make my bed for me.” I looked over at her bed, which was piled with clothes and things and said, “I can’t even see your bed! Besides, you need something to do for the rest of the afternoon –your roommates won’t be here until tomorrow.” We hugged, said our good-byes, Monica walked down to the van with me and then –all she saw was a black streak as the van made its quick get-away.

Poor Zach, our third child, won’t get any of the drama his sisters got. The summer before Amanda and Monica’s freshmen years our living room was piled high with dorm/college stuff. We shopped, made lists, planned, prepared, cried, lamented, dreaded . . . Now let’s see—it’s Wednesday, Zach moves up to Michigan on Saturday and we have ZERO purchased, ZERO packed. Last night Zach said to me, “So . . don’t you think I should be packing or getting ready or something?” I kind of sighed and very nonchalantly said, “Well yes, I guess so. I’ll get some boxes from work ---but you know, I took a ½ day off from work on Friday so we’ll be fine.” Amanda got three months of preparation and packing, Monica got probably two months and Zach well, he gets a good solid 4 hours. I mean, I’m going to pack my butt off for the ENTIRE 4 hours. Even my friends are shocked. They ask me when Zach leaves and then they pause waiting for the water works but I just stand there and they say, “So . . . then, uh ….this Saturday, huh?” Again, pausing waiting for the emotional breakdown but I’m cool as ice and they comment, “I guess then this is getting easier, huh?” One of Zach’s roommates (three are sharing a 2-bedroom apartment) is the oldest child –that kid’s Dad emails me 2-3 times a day, “Do you think we need this . . should I get that . . .we need to coordinate . . .does Zach have . . “ I read his emails and think to myself, “Gosh, was I that bad with Amanda? Calm down, dude. It’s going to be Okay!!!!”

I suppose it’s a good thing we didn’t have four kids. By the time we got to the fourth going off to college I’d probably be like, “So uh, your Dad and I are going to be off on an Alaskan cruise the day you move into the dorm –so we were just wondering, do you think you can fit all of your stuff in your car? I guess you could take our van but then we’d have to come get it and well, that would just be a big hassle.

See, Zach is lucky he’s not a fourth child ---and in my defense, I am devoting an ENTIRE four hours to the boy’s college moving preparations.

Like I said, Zach leaves on Saturday. His roommate is from Cincinnati so his parents are renting a truck then driving it to our house, we’ll load up Zach’s things and then the 6 of us; two sets of parents and 2 college freshmen, will head to Glen Oaks. I feel sorry for Jerry. Monica’s freshman year she lived on the fifth floor in the dorms and though there were elevators, the lines were so long –Jerry just hauled her things up the stairs. Amanda had a third floor dorm her Sophomore year, sans elevators and then a second floor apartment. Now Zach’s apartment is on the third floor. I’m not gonna lie –I make as few trips up/down the stairs as possible. I make 1-2 trips just to make it look good and then I busy myself with unpacking or I walk up and down the hallway with the same box pretending I just made another trip up the stairs. I might even make it look good by panting and saying, “Whew, those stairs are kicking my butt!”

Biggest news -- we got a puppy! I know, such a proverbial Empty Nester thing to do, right? With our "baby" leaving us, I needed someone to love and care for. Our little male Yorkie is named Franklin Graham. We wanted a hearty name with dignity –not a traditional doggie name and something Presidential seemed befitting for our pup so we landed on the name Franklin, after the honorable President Franklin D. Roosevelt. I was set on the name McKinley but I was out voted and the children gave Graham as a middle name to appease me as that was also one of my top choice names. Graham, not being presidential but I thought being named after Alexander Graham Bell was dignified, too. Besides, our little black and tan pup looks about as big as a graham cracker. George was also a name of distinction that was in the running. I’m so in love with our puppy and he loves me too. Kids? What kids? Jerry, do we have kids? I’m so smitten with Franklin I’d almost forget we have three human kids of our own –except when the tuition payments hit us and then I remember, “Oh yeah, we have that one girl up at Kent."

I’m off to pick up some paint samples –with all these kids moving out there are so many possibilities for all of those empty bedrooms . . . .

P.S. Make that THREE solid hours devoted to Zach's moving preparations! I'm taking Puppy for his first trip to the Groomer on Friday and possibly an outing to Pet Smart (I've always wanted to stroll around in there with my very own doggie). But I mean, it is going to be a SOLID three hours --its all about quality, not quantity and I promise Zach, I'm there for ya, buddy!

The Ugly Side

As I wrote the post below, Zach is playing X Box (again) after sloppily rushing through a job I asked him to do, after first complaining and groaning how unfair I am and how it was too hot outside . . . .

Monica took her crabby self upstairs because she's sick of "my music" because after all, the house should revolve around her and her likes/dislikes . . . .

And Amanda is (again) MIA -- because she comes and goes like she's just a tenant in an apartment (that --ahem doesn't exactly pay rent) and not a family member in a home . . . .

I guess that's why they call a Mother's love unconditional.

My Children

My first born. Though in eager anticipation I awaited your arrival, I was at times wrought with fear. I was afraid of labor and delivery and if you would be okay but mostly, I was afraid of becoming a mother, what if I wasn't good enough? During my pregnancy I loved you even not knowing you and I thought that was the extent of my maternal love. What I did not know is the very moment you took your first breath, you unlocked recesses of my heart I never even knew existed. I discovered a new love that was amazing and fresh. With you everything was new and with each of your own discoveries, I learned more about myself, our Creator and this world we live in. My heart would leap just at the sight of you. You grew my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable joy. My first born, you are my joy.

You have filled my heart with greater joy. Psalm 4:7

My middle child. You broke the mold. Just when I thought I had motherhood all figured out, you came along and I soon discovered I had nothing figured out. I didn't know loving you was going to take me by surprise as it did when my first child was born. Your new life took my breath away. Thinking loving you would just be an extension of the motherly love I already experienced, I was simply blown away the first time I laid eyes on you. You led me on a path of discovery as I discovered not only who you were but who I was as your Mother. Your brand new life brought to me a brand new love. You stretched my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable love. My middle child, you are my love.

And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. I Corinthians 13:13

My last born. You are like the happy ending of a story you don't want to end. When saying good-bye to the characters of a good book, you can be left wondering, "What comes next?" And the first time I held you I thought, "What comes next?" When you were born I realized you were the secret desire of my heart, I longed for you before I even knew you. I could not wait to show you the world, to introduce you to all of creation and everything that is good. I wanted to teach you and help you grow but in the midst of that, you taught me and helped me to grow. You made me a mother I had never been before. Not just a third addition to our family, you were the culmination of joy and love. You opened my heart and my mind and in that, I found indescribable delight. My last born, you are my delight.

Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Psalm 37:4

My Children. You are my joy, love and delight. I marvel at the creation of you.

For you created my inner most being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. Psalm 139:13-14

WHY ARE THEY STILL HERE?

When we lived in Georgia, one of our neighbors was a single woman that had a 30-something son that lived with her. Gathering from small-talk conversations here and there, the son had fairly recently moved back home with Mom, after losing his job and unable to live on his own. But it was just a temporary arrangement, the Mom would say.

I'm usually not very chummy with our neighbors because for one, I am an extremely shy person. Most people wouldn't guess that about me but I find it PAINFUL to engage in conversations with people I don't know. Also I'm not a lover of the outdoors so standing at the fence for hours upon hours talking to a neighbor isn't something I'd be very apt to do --but Jerry, my socially equipped husband, would find no greater way to spend an afternoon. And he did, many times.

And so our dear sweet neighbor would often tell of her son, "He's very hard working, such a nice young man --he just fell on some hard times but he's working hard to find another job . . ." But as far as I could tell, this 30-something man was well --not so hard working and not really looking for a job. He'd often say to Jerry, "I heard such-in-such place was hiring so I thought I'd go over there and put in an application." I mean, he thought a lot about things but putting those thoughts into action seemed an insurmountable task to the young man er, I mean --fully grow-up adult son. Jerry and I found it amusing how the mother spoke so highly of her son and yet, as far as we could see, he was just the opposite of everything she'd say. The son never stayed at one job every often as he often spoke of many different places, “. . when I worked over at . . . " and in a short amount of time too. We hardly ever saw him leave the house and not that we were the Mrs. Cravitz type but you know, in the course of our daily living, we hardly saw him out of his sofa-lounge wear or going to and from places. So maybe I'm being judgmental or harsh? Perhaps but most telling of this man was the condition of the neighbor's yard. The back yard was a disaster. The son brought his dog to Mom's with him and the dog did what dogs do in back yards, and the son never cleaned up after the dog --and the front yard had grass (weeds) 2 feet tall. The 30-something man would say, "Yeah, I'm 'bout to mow that grass for Mom." but much like the job hunting, the thinking rarely came to fruition and it wouldn't be long before we'd see the Mom mowing the yard.

Jerry always says of our own children, they can always come home. No matter what their age or circumstances, our home is their home –FOREVER. And I agree. We’d never turn our children away from living with us no matter their age or even how many they had in tow with them; spouse, children and a pet or two. That’s what Home should be – a place you can always go back to. Then again, if my 30-something year old unemployed son was living with me, my yard work would not be left undone and not because I'd demand that of him but hopefully because we instilled that in him --sort of that "earn your keep" mentality.

But this really isn’t about 30-something year old sons, former neighbors or yard work. In my lessons of learning to let go, I find this very strange phenomenon; that we as parents spend the entirety of our children’s childhood raising them up to be adults. It’s the end result, the goal, what we work towards. We teach them and prepare them, as best we know how, and then we let them go.

Let them go.

Everything we do is in an effort to make our children independent. Roughly at the age of two, they start grasping some of that concept when willfully demanding, “Mine! Mine!”, of almost any belonging, theirs or not. Along with trying to brand every item they ever touched as their very own, my toddling children used to also love to exclaim, "I do!" because they loved being so independent and free.

We cheered them when they learned to walk and talk and mastering using the potty was a celebration indeed. Early in life our children were taking these tiny steps towards total independence and as parents, we longed for it too. As a young mother I remember being anxious for that next milestone --I can't wait until they can walk, I can 't wait until they are out of a car seat, I can't wait until they can sit at the table and reach, I can't wait until they can . . . .

And now they can.

This is what we worked so hard towards, right?

So why is it so hard?

You see, I don't want a 30-something year old son living at home, not working nor attempting to work and not at the very least, helping around the house --and I certainly don't want his dog's poop piling up in my back yard. . . .

I don't want dependent adult children and Jerry sometimes jokes, "I'll be glad when I can walk around my own house butt naked."

But you know, that's just Jerry's way of saying he longs for some privacy in his own home.

I don't even know where this post is going except to say, this is a very strange stage of parenting for me. I want them to go and I want them to stay. All at the same time and at any given time, I can sum it up as feeling this way about my children --

PLEASE DON'T EVER LEAVE ME! WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

In some ways I'm still looking forward to those new milestones --I can't wait until they graduate college, I can't wait to see them choose a career or spouse --I can't wait to see where their lives go . . .I want so much for them and their future . . so much that does not include dog poop piling u in my back yard.

All I know is this, new Moms think they have so much to learn and they think at some point it finally clicks. It doesn't because as soon as you have one thing figured out, your children grow into a new stage. Parenting is constant learning and growing.

The best I can do is try to be the best learner I can be and open myself to growing.

They don't need me as much anymore and I guess in a way that says we accomplished our goal. Just like the first time I let go of a chubby toddler's hand and watched them walk away, I'm letting go now too --watching them walk away. And it leaves my heart screaming . .

PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!

Then when they stumble or feel insecure and try to grab hold of my hand again it leaves my heart screaming . .

WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?

*sigh* I just can't figure it out.

I just hope they all go before Jerry starts strutting around in his birthday suit.

Peace and Quiet

I remember coming up to Mother's Day one year I was in the midst of cooking dinner, the washing machine going, tripping over towers of toys, TV blasting and three children running around the house when Zach approached me and wanted to know what I wanted for Mother's Day. I didn't really have anything in mind but more than that, it was just really bad timing on Zach's part. When I told him I really didn't want anything he kept pushing the issue and wanted to know something concrete.

but you know, like I said . . it was really bad timing. I finally said . .

"Peace and quiet! I'd just like some peace and quiet!"

But as three year olds would do, Zach took my request literally. In fact, so literally when his Cubbie Leader was asking the children what special things they had planned for their Moms for Mother's Day Zach said, "My Mom just wants some peace and quiet." She got a chuckle out of it (Judy Campbell).

Fast forward 15 years later.

Jerry is away at ROTC camp, Amanda is out to dinner with friends, Monica is at work and Zach is at the Y playing basketball.

*cricket cricket*

Be careful what you ask for.

Peace and quiet feels a lot like just being alone.

Letter To Batman

Dear Batman,

I miss you! It has been so long since we talked. I think of you often and sometimes I wish you would come back to visit me. Remember your friend, Zachary? He’s soon to graduate high school now. I bet you miss him as much as I miss you. Sometimes when I look at his 6’5” frame, I remember you and I look deep into his eyes trying to find you.

I realize when you used to come over every day I didn’t always greet you with the warmest smile. Sometimes you were just loud and would climb on my furniture and I would get annoyed. But now, in the quiet of my almost empty nest house, I’d give anything to hear your voice again, see you climb and “fight the bad guys”. I know you used to get annoyed with me too when I’d say to you, “Batman, its time for a nap now. . . .Batman! Use your inside voice! . . . Batman, don't climb on the back of the couch!” Or at the dinner table when I’d tell you, “Batman, you need to eat your vegetables to have strength to beat the bad guys.” Yeah, I was too bossy sometimes especially to a super hero such as yourself but you know, I just wanted what was best for you.

We had some good times too though, remember? Remember that one time it was around Christmas time and I had a tablecloth and centerpiece on the table? I walked out of the kitchen and saw pine cones scattered all over the floor and then I saw a broken red candle. I looked up only to find you all wrapped in that tablecloth and you looked at me and said, “I need a cape.” I didn’t get it, how important your cape was to you. Then one day I heard Monica, saying, “Oooo! I’m telling! You’re in trouble!” So I peaked around the corner from the kitchen and there you were standing on the back of the couch trying to climb onto the curtains and I not knowing you were able rescue yourself, went to pull you down and you said to me, “I need a cape.” I finally understood how important a cape was to your heroism so I made you one, you wore it out and I made you another one.

I suppose Moms like me don’t understand that a little bit (or a lot) of dirt on a cape isn’t such a bad thing. I mean, I used to have to wrestle that cape off of you to wash and then I just started sneaking it out of your bed while you slept so I could wash it but you were such a smart super hero; you would wake up the next day and sniff your cape and give me a look of suspicion. I guess you knew what I was up to, huh?

In a few weeks your friend Zach will graduate high school. He will put on a green cap and gown and walk down the isle to Pomp and Circumstance but when I look at him there marching in with the Class of 2010, in my mind I won’t see a green gown on him but a dark blue cape and in my head I won’t be hearing Pomp and Circumstance but that theme song you always used to sing, “Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na BATMAN!!!” because beneath that green gown and in the heart and soul of that 6’5” frame, there’s a Batman –he might not have come out for a very long time but you and I both know he’s there.

And I miss him.

Love,

Zach’s Mom

Leaving and Cleaving

Yesterday we took Zach on a campus visit and you know, I'm familiar because after all, I've done this before with our daughters. Even though visits to Miami University and Kent State brought me to tears, I was strong this time. Maybe I am growing up, learning to embrace a pre-empty nester stage. Maybe I finally get it.

Maybe.

Today our Pastor started a new sermon series on the family, Family Focus, you know --not to be confused with Focus on the Family because that's been done. And Pastor began at the --well, at the beginning. You know, like Julie Andrews did with the von Tapp children, he said, we'll, "start at the very beginning, a very good place to start."

I was ready to start --and possibly break into a musical stance because I know every word of every song from the Sound Of Music --oh but this isn't about that family so time to pay attention now.

And pay attention I did. I really did. Here we are in Genesis 1, the very beginning --God's design of the family unit; a husband, wife & children. So far so good because I understand God's design of the family. I get one husband, one wife. I get divorce was not God's plan . I understand blended families and single parenting homes were not God's design. I understand a MAN and a WOMAN --not two of one but one of each. So Now I can probably sit back and coast through the sermon. Having once myself been on the brink of divorce, I understand the trials of marriage but I also understand even when you can't commit your heart and self to a person that has broken your heart time and time again, you CAN commit your heart and self to a GOD that has healed every crack, a GOD that walked me through the fire. A God that brought restoration to my marriage, to my heart.

So I was all set to sit back and only half listen, perhaps make a mental grocery list for this afternoon's commissary trip and then, and then, AND THEN --Pastor said something that put on the breaks.

Leave and Cleave.

Hold on Pastor, now you've gone too far! I was 'bout to get up and call a Time Out. This ain't no do re mi and I ain't fa la la la la-ing along!

These aren't words I want to hear. My heart has spent the last 4 years wresting with this leaving stuff. Leave? Visions of Zach on campus yesterday --far far away from me ran through my mind. I wanted to shut down but as the Holy Spirit has this tendency to do, I heard a new message in this Genesis 1. It wasn't about my leaving but their leaving. The message for me today was not about my marriage but my family and now I was listening with more intent and I was listening as a mother, not just as a woman.

And I was learning. learning more, growing into a deeper understanding.

Speaking of her future, Amanda once said something about moving out of state and I asked her if she'd really leave me and she said, "Mom, its what children do --they grow up and they leave." I seriously wanted to slap her, that cuts deep. I mean I didn't really want to slap her and I know what she said was true but you know, I'm still learning about letting go.

Left up to my own design, it would be more like --I'll let you know when I'm ready for you to leave and there will be no cleaving. But you know what? Its not my design.

Ready or not, here I come!

Ready or not, Melissa, its time for them to leave. Ready or not Melissa, they're gonna have to cleave too. Its not about them wanting to leave. Its not about me wanting them to stay. Its just not about our own choices. It's about God's design for the family. He reminded me that they will leave me, he will not. And God hasn't forgotten every aspect of his plan, his design. He knows my heart. He knows my struggles. He knows how hard it is for me to let go. He knows my pain because he's God.

A perfect God.

That knows far more than me.

What's best for my family.

And my children.

A perfect God and His design of the family.

Leave and Cleave.

Who am I to mess with that?

Its Not Just Basketball

I have long held the belief that lessons learned outside of the classroom are just as important as the lessons learned within. Books serve us well but education is not just something to read about or an equation to figure out.

Education is the learning process, helping our children to "figure it out" and then put into action the things which they learned. We hope we served them well, their educators and parents and our report card, so to speak, is how they use those things we help plant into their brains.

Accomplishments can be measured in many different ways, not just a letter on a grade card. Accomplishments are things our children excel at and those "ah" moments when pieces start to fit together.

Along with 2+2 and ABC's we help to build character in our children equipping them to make good moral choices in life.

So thank you to Papa, Debe, Hannah, Andy, Drew, Eli, Aunt Marsha, Morgan, Tete, Aunt Sam, Uncle Todd, Shelby, Spencer and Sophie -- thanks to all of you for supporting Zach, for understanding how important it is to leave your heart and soul out on the court and look up into the stands and see familiar faces.

Thank you for helping to mold our son, build his character on and off the court.

Thank you for getting it.

Because perhaps one day Zach will be sitting in the stands as a father, an uncle, a cousin or friend. . . . in support of a player out there on the court or field, pouring their heart and soul into a game . . .

And Zach will sit up there in full knowledge of what that feels like, to be down there playing . . hoping to win . . .hearing the crowd . . . . . a crowd that is there for you . . . .

And Zach will recall those lessons of losing, and winning, leading and following, being committed and working hard, making sacrifices and tough choices, being part of a team . . . .

He will remember those days he left his heart and soul out there on the court . . .

Win or loose . . .

And he will realize how those lessons served him well in life. On the court. Off the court.

He will remember . . .

That you were there for him . . .

As he claps . . .

And cheers . . .

And hopes for Victory because after all . . .

Its not just basketball

Notes

When they were younger my children often left me notes on my pillow. I loved them. After reading them, I'd slip them into my night stand drawer. Now years later, whenever I need me a pick-me-up or whenever I'm missing my girls, I pull the notes out and read them. I reminisce about those innocent childhood days. I laugh. I cry.

Here are a few of them exactly how they were written.

Don't let me forget to where my hair silly and don't let me forget my instrument. Please let me sleep as long as I can. I need some cloughs to where. Thank you very much for the lipgloss. Love, Monica

I love you Mom. Thank you for such a great birthday.

Mom,

Please don't forget to turn off my lava lamp because the last time I forgot to tell you it stayed on for 8 hours!!!!!! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU! I LOVE YOU!

Mommy,

Please wake me up early to study my spelling words. I love you soooooooooooooooooooooooooo MUCH! Amanda

Dear Mom,

My tummy hurts. But I want you to come to my room just me and you. Also I want my tooth out it is killing me. From, Monica Newsome P.S. I love you to the water tower and back. NOT :) P.S.S. I love you to heavens heaven and back a million times.

Dear Mom,

When are you coming home. Have a safe trip. I love you. DRIVE SAFE! I love you. Zach keeps crying. Make sure you wake me up so I can say by to you. Love, Monica

(this one is in colorful crayons)

39

thirty-nine

more beautiful

kids growing up another year of your life

I love you for another year

Still young

Happy Birthday

I just wanted to tell you how much I love you and that you are the best thing that has happened to me.

Dear Mom,

I just wanted to ask if there was something wrong because you seam very angry and I hope you do not stay angry for long. I hope you have a safe trip to Chicago and home. I LOVE YOU! Love, Monica P.S. Don't stay angry long. XOXOXOXO

Dear Mom,

I love you. I want to know if I can ware shorts tomorrow because I know that it is going to be hot enough and I just want to because I think that by now I should be able to ware shorts. I can't wait to get your camp kern money so I can go shopping Maybe buy my own lipgloss company, It will be called Purple lipgloss for Princesss . . .or something like that but I don't think I will every get tired of purple. My wedding is going to be purple. Love, Monica Ramona Newsome P.S. I love you!!

Dear Mom, I love you very much. I just wanted to say hi. Love, Monica P.S. I love you to the moon and back one thousand times.

(Here's one I saved from Jerry's pillow)

Dear Dady, I thank you for leting me help. I like working with you it is fun. I also like haning out with you. Most Dad's and son's don't have a good reltionship like us. I love you. I LOVE YOU! I love you Dad From, Zach your son

Respect

Mom I said this a thousand times. sometimes People say to get them off your back. Sometimes people mean it. Well this time Mom I mean it. I'm sorry I'm really sorry. I hoped that you will forgive me.

Sometimes I mean to show it but sometimes I don't. I'm sorry when I complain and stomp by feet. Or when you tell me something I indure [ignore]. Or I groan I talk under my breath.

But Mom I don't mean it. You have the right to punish me. sometimes I see it in you when your tired. You want some rest. Like you would want a big vacation. You deserve one. I see it you came home from a long day at work.

Most people rest after that but you haft to take the complants [complaints] from me. I never say hi any more. I'm always demanding something. When I don't get my way. I pout and get mad.

All I'm saying is here's your vacation. I will try not to give you a hard time. Thanks for being super Mom. Love, Zach

There are countless more. I love them all!

I love those days. I love my children. They are my heart, my past, my present and my future.

Thank you Amanda, Monica and Zachary for loving me and being such great children. It is my honor to be your Mom.

I love you to the moon and back.

The One That Broke The Mold

My Dad is one of two children, he has an older sister. My mother was the oldest of seven, with five brothers and one sister.

Mom's sister has one child. Girl. Mom's oldest brother no children. Next brother FOUR Girls. Next brother THREE Girls. Next brother THREE Girls. And baby brother THREE Girls.

So my Dad's sister had one child. Girl. Then my Dad had his first child. Girl. Then I came along *takes bow*. Girl. Then the third child was born. Girl. Later when my Dad remarried and adopted my step-sibling. Girl.

Years later we started the next generation. My sister Val had her first baby. Girl. My cousin Marsha had her first child too. Girl. Val had another baby. Girl. Marsha had another baby. Girl. I get in the mix and I have my first child. Girl. I have child number two. Girl. Val has child number three. Girl.

So just in case you lost count, let me recap that for you:

Mom's side of the family, my generation - 16 Girls. Next generation - FIVE Girls (so far).

Dad's side of the family, my generations - 5 Girls. Next generation - SEVEN Girls (so far).

That's a whole-lotta pink!!!!!!

And then . . . one quiet Sunday afternoon in 1991, on the 8th day of the month after hours of labor and pain and pushing ---- a nurse exclaimed to me, "IT'S A BOY! MOM, YOU HAVE A BOY!" And thus, Zachary Earl Newsome was born into our family and breaking the mold, the Dodges finally have a boy of their very own. A BOY!

So you're thinking I was ever so happy to have a boy, huh? Not really. You see, I didn't believe them. They rushed my baby over to the table to clean him up and do whatever it is they do and all I keep thinking is, "Dodge girls don't know how to have boys. It has to be a girl. They must have made a mistake."

It wasn't long before they brought my tiny new born babe to me --er, I mean the new born babe was 9 pounds 1 ounce so what I mean is --it wasn't long before they brought my sort-of tiny new born babe over to me, wrapped ever so snugly in a new born baby blankie and they laid that babe on my chest and said, "Mom, would you like to nurse him?" HIM? Why do they keep calling my baby a boy? Don't they mean HER? You see, probably mostly delirious from you know --that whole giving birth thing and the fact that I had already convinced myself Dodge girls couldn't have boys, I was absolutely convinced they, you know -- trained medical professionals, made a mistake and I actually had a girl. So instead of gazing at my new born baby and trying to nurse the hungry little thing, I tore the blanket off of him and low and behold -- boy parts! Boy parts?

Now what do I do?

That was my first thought, as if every moment of parenting I had ever done was now all null and void because I had a boy.

I snuggled my baby boy close to me and I assured him I'd figure it out.

My first lesson --diaper changing and no, I never did get any misguided squirts but I did quickly learn there was a lot more to cleaning up a boy baby than a girl baby. And I soon learned too that boy babies were much louder than girl babies and boys liked to climb and jump and "fly". And I learned how to buy a cup for football and I learned that playing in mud wasn't such a bad thing and riding your bike in the rain was okay too. I learned that old towels make great super hero capes and green plastic army men hurt when you step on them barefooted. I learned that the highlight of the week can be when the trash truck comes-- so when we'd hear it we had to run outside to watch it. I learned that Legos were endless hours of entertainment and not so much what you could build but what you could destroy. I learned that Batman was cooler than Superman and what a baseball T was. When my boy "discovered himself" and thought he had swallowed some marbles, I learned how to explain "boy parts" to him. I learned that snuggling a baby boy was just as warm and wonderful as snuggling a baby girl. I learned that buckets made great Army Man helmets. I learned how to use Cheerios as "targets" for you know, aiming practice in the toilet, not around the toilet. I learned how to shop for men clothes and explain to my boy how to ask a girl on a date. I learned how to feed a ferocious growing-boy appetite. I learned not to have a heart attack each time I'd come home and found my boy roaming around on our roof top. I learned to breath amidst the clouds of Axe body spray emanating from the bathroom . . . . but what I mostly learned is that a boy has his way of wrapping himself around a mother's heart. I love and adore my girly-girls and nothing compares to our "Beauty Shop Nights" but this boy, my one and only son --is my Prince.

Eighteen years later I'm still learning how to mother a boy, a boy that has turned into a man, ever so charming he is.

Happy 18th Birthday, Son!

Mothers

An Army Blogging Break to say, I'm so thankful for my children and being their mother is truly the most honoring & exciting experience I have ever had. I'm blessed beyond measure.

Any amount of love my heart is capable of flows from a merciful God that demonstrated his love for us when his son died on the cross. We love Him because He first loved us. Second to that are the lessons of life and loving I learned from two very godly strong women; my mother and my grandmother, Meme. They are both home with the Lord now. My heart is ever so thankful for having the privilege of knowing and loving them both.

Happy Mother's Day!

Basketball Mom

Is is just me or do other basetball Moms sit in the stands during a game and think of their sons:

As the team parades out in a single file line, I recall those chubby 2 year old legs stomping around the house like a soldier, "hut 2, 3, 4 -- hut 2, 3, 4 . . . ."

When he runs down the court, I suddenly get flashbacks of his first toddling steps.

When he shoots the ball, I suddently get flashbacks of him standing in front of a 4 foot Little Tikes basketball hoop - -and barely able to reach the goal.

I wonder -- How did he grow to 6'5" when it was just yesterday, I was holding him in my arms.

He grabs the ball from an opponent and I clearly remember the numerous times he'd grab a toy from one of his sisters.

He runs. He shoots. He jumps. He plays. They know him. They shout his name. They cheer him on. To this place and this crowd, he is Zachary Newsome, #32, 6'5" Junior, Forward for Northmont Varsity Basketball. I know him too. I cheer him on. I'm so proud but when I look out on the court, I don't see a 6'5" Varsity player. There, rebounding and scoring I see a player and to me he's simply . . . .

My Boy.

To My Teenagers

I do not want to be your best friend. I am your mother, the position of authority remains with me. I don't care how much you might tower over me, size or height does not equate authority. The transfer of authority from me to you will happen the first time you have to change my Depends.

The last thing I want to be in your eyes is a hypocrite so I will try not to tell you, "Do as I say, not as I do." I want to set a good example for you but be patient, I am imperfect.

"Because I said so!” now that's a cliché I might sometimes use. I will try my best to always give you an explanation but sometimes your behavior or attitude doesn't warrant me to explain myself and other times, I simply do not have the time to go into it.

Not having time for your needs does not mean they are not important to me. There is one of me against 4 other family members. Please understand and do not feel slighted when I have to take care of someone else before you.

I am not your maid, cook or chauffeur so please do not treat me as such. This is not Burger King so you can't always "have it your way". I expect you to pick up after yourself and do your part as a member of this family to keep our home safe, clean and happy.

The day you were born in blazed in my memory forever. It was the perfect culmination of God's creation in which he used two broken vessels such as myself and your father and created you and the greatest miracle of all, entrusted your life to us. I will never forget the day of your birth and because it brings me such immeasurable joy, I will tell you about it over and over again. Please do not ask me to stop doing so.

I realize you're almost an adult and you have a full grown adult sized body but when I look deep into your eyes or beyond your sassy smile, I can still see that precious baby I once held in my arms and nestled into my neck. I can't help it, no matter how old you get to be, you'll always be my baby.

When you lie to me, you are hurting yourself more than anyone else. I know how difficult telling the truth may be but when you weave a web of deceit, it will crumble the foundation of your morale character that will destroy you. Also, I can't help you when I don't know the whole truth. Do not break my trust in you.

If you ever are in trouble, no matter how terrible the situation might seem, I can help you far better than your friends can. I have the maturity, experience and resources to help you find your way out, your friends do not. Come to me before you go to them.

I would rather you have one true friend than 50 superficial friends. Popularity only lasts 4 years of high school; true friends can last a life time.

The risk of STD's and pregnancy are real as are the harmful effects of drug and alcohol use. Those are important enough reasons to abstain from premarital sexual activity and drug or alcohol use but the real reason I want you to chose not to is simply; you have been created by God, in the image of God and for God. You are a masterpiece of your Creator. Respect your body as such and do not defile His creation with such foolish sin. It will harm your body and torment your soul.

When you lose a game or competition it's probably because you and your teammates made a mistake or the other team just played better, not because they cheated or the refs cheated. When you lose, do it with dignity and learn from it and become a better player/performer because of it.

Your teachers and coaches have your best interest in mind, I doubt they lie to me about your grades or behaviors so when you get in trouble at school, please don’t try to blame them. Accept responsibility for your actions. If you tell me someone has cheated you or an injustice has been served, I will fight for your honor and if it is later revealed you were not truthful, you leave both of us looking foolish but most importantly, you harm my credibility and then when a real injustice is done, my voice may not be heard.

The world is full of mean people. Never be one of them.

The world is full of kind people. Always strive to be one of them.

The purpose of dating is for two mature individuals to eventually find the life mate God has intended for them. High school age is not the time to start looking for that person. Exclusively dating one person leads to a false sense of belonging to each other, which leads to kissing, which can lead to other things too. In your young teen years, you do not have the maturity to control those things so just remove the temptation in your life all together. You may occasionally go on dates and to dances but you will not be permitted to exclusively date one person or have a girlfriend/boyfriend. Enjoy your high school years without all that drama and when the time comes that dating is proper for your age, proceed with prayer and caution.

I reserve the right to choose your friends. You may be friends with whomever you choose however; if I see their influence on you is decaying your moral character and causing you to make bad choices in your life, I will limit the time you spend with them or even demand you sever your ties with them. This is not negotiable no matter how upset or angry that makes you, my age and experience allows me to see far deeper than you are capable of.

I want you to have the freedom to express yourself in the way you dress, music choice and other areas of personal choice however; you may not cross the line in decency or morality. If you cross that line, I will intervene.

It is not possible for me to love one of my children more than the other and everything I do is with each child's best interest in mind. You will always be equally loved by me however; you will not always be equally treated by me. Each child has their own level of responsibility and maturity at different stages in their life. What one child might have done at age 15 another child might not be ready to do until 17. It is not unjust nor is it favoritism -- it is simply weighing each circumstance with the uniqueness of each child and acting accordingly.

Though the law says you can drive at age 16, we your parents say you can drive when we feel you have earned the privilege. That's right, EARNED. It is not your birth right to take our vehicle to the road while we pay for your insurance and gas. That is earned by you demonstrating responsibility, trust, maturity and obedience to other rules set forth. The most important factor in deciding when you are able to drive is your safety. We just aren't willing to risk that.

I do not want to pressure you to be the star player, get the Varsity letter, make honor roll, be or popular among your friends or anything else however; I do want you to push yourself to the limit and employ all the gifts and talents God has graced you with. I want you to put forth your best efforts because though your father and I will be extremely proud of you, the person you will please the most is yourself.

What might seem an act of meanness to you is my sincerest efforts in protecting you.

Every time I look at you I think to myself I love you to the fullest extent that my heart is able -- and then a new day dawns and I find myself loving you even more than I did before. God keeps growing my heart bigger and deeper and every day I fall more and more madly in love with you.

But no matter how much I love you, God loves you infinitely more. Learn to lean on Him before me because I am only your mother; he is your Creator, Sustainer, Savior, & Father. Therein lies your source of significance & life with a wellspring of grace, mercy and forgiveness.


Love, Mom

Another Toy Story

When somebody loved me . . . . . . .

I always enjoyed each stage of development my children were in and with three kids so close in age, they were all practically right at the same stages at the same time. But quite often, I couldn't wait for the next stage, the next big thing! I couldn't wait for them to walk, talk, potty train, go to school -- Though enjoying my children right where they were at, I anticipated the next stage like a child on Christmas Eve night awaiting Santa's arrival.

No sooner than finding myself in a new stage with my children, I mourned for the child that was left behind. Oh how I loved my toddler walking around the house discovering himself and his world but how I missed that tiny little baby that used to be content to just let me hold him. I still do that sometimes. Now the mother of three teenagers, I still miss my babies and toddlers and small children. I mostly miss their wonderment and how they soaked up life like a sponge. Don't get me wrong, I love these teenagers and this stage in life too. I love how they are independent (sometimes). I love to see them makes choices for themselves. I even love how confused they can be at times because it's all part of this age. I can't help it though, there are times I wish I can step back 5 or 10 years if just for a day. Just a few nights ago, it happened. I got that chance.

It could not have been planned because chance was the only factor of success in this night. It evolved from boredom, mostly, and a sense of nostalgia that somehow swept us up. It was the night I got to play dolls with my 17 year old daughter and 15 year old son. It was a sweet mix of the past and present -- of all things I love about being a Mom.

I happened to stumble into Monica's room and we were talking and making plans for the new decor for her room. I looked under her bed, pulling out a box that contained doll clothes. She has an Addy doll and a modern doll from American Girl. With each article of clothing I pulled out of the box, a long forgotten memory was attached to it. Monica would recall a time or emotion when she played with her dolls; many of those memories involving Amanda too. I then asked Monica to get Addy out and I was very saddened to see this much neglected doll. Though she showed signs of being a once beloved toy, like her hair that Monica had braided, it was clear she was just a token of a life-stage long gone, sadly forgotten. Her hair had a white coating of dust and I know it sounds crazy and it's not really true but it was almost as if I could hear Addy saying to Monica, "Where have you been, Friend?"

Reminiscing with Addy made us think about Molly, Amanda's American Girl Doll, so we wandered into Amanda's room to find Molly. Oh poor Molly! Not only had she been sorely neglected, she was naked! A coldness ran down my spine realizing the cold lonely nights poor Molly had to endure over the past several years. Knowing Amanda likes comfort in her clothing, I gently cared for Molly and dressed her in pajamas, complete with robe and slippers. Zach, wondering what Monica and I were up to in Amanda's room, came into the room and strolled with Monica and I down a lane of memories of when the girls played with their dolls.

While still enjoying those pre-adult teenagers, I was able to step back into their childhood years when dolls were beloved, soldiers were green and plastic and Mom was the best playmate of all. Having 18 years of being a Mom, I've learned to live in each moment and taste each day because what's on tomorrow's platter will be ever changing, ever growing and yesterday will be ever gone. I still find moments when I try to wonder myself into the future of having married children and glorious grandchildren. But mostly, I try to keep my feet on the ground, focused on today -- in this very present stage of teenagers, high school and college.

. . . . and I knew that she loved me.

When She Loved Me (Jesse's Song)
when somebody loved me, everything was beautiful, every hour we spent together, lives within my heart. and when she was sad, I was there to dry her tears and when she was happy, so was I, when she loved me. through the summer and the fall, we had each other, that was all. just she and I together, like it was meant to be. and when she was lonely, I was there to comfort her. and I knew that she loved me. so the years went by, I stayed the same. and she began to drift away, I was left alone. still I waited for the day, when shed say I will always love you. lonely and forgotten, never thought shed look my way, she smiled at me and held me, just like she used to do, like she loved me, when she loved me. when somebody loved me, everything was beautiful, every hour we spent together, lives within my heart. when she loved me.

Boys Are Pretty Too

Things always happen for my girls first because well, they are older. It's just a natural process. So by the time the 3rd one comes along, life's special moments are still as special but they don't catch you by surprise. Or do they?

Having 3 sisters and a host of girl cousins, boys just weren't familiar territory to me. In fact, when my son, Zachary, was born he was the first boy in my family since my Dad! But it wasn't long before I learned about balls and trucks and sports and mud and all those things boys hold near and dear to their hearts. And that's how I think of my boy -- he's a rough tumbler. He smells like sweat most of the time, he LOVES to be outside, he's so loud he even talks too loud, he's always busy and bossy and boyish. Could he ever be pretty too?

Being a Freshman, my dear boy decided to go to Homecoming this year. My heart only dropped slightly instead of plummeting since he's going with a group of boys and not a girl! Now the last time I saw my boy in a tie certainly was some Easter Sunday years ago when I donned him in some dorky dressy short outfit. I can't recall seeing him in a tie since he's been over 3 feet tall!

It's just a tie! It's not like it's some flowing beautiful gown that seems a prelude to a wedding dress. It's nothing that sparkles or shines. It doesn't have a fairytale flare nor a dazzling shimmer that brings out a bright smile. It's just a tie, a piece of fabric that hangs around your neck and it's boring and black and grey and white.

So on a Friday night my husband and I take our 15 year old son shopping for his Homecoming outfit. I wasn't even sure where to begin to find man-sized dress clothes. I wasn't even sure what his personal style would be. I mean, I could filter through piles of dresses and gowns and know what my daughters would like or deem hideous. What's in a tie? What's in some black boring dress pants? We ended up at a few different stores and put together an outfit fitting for a prince! I enjoyed the entire process and even learned a few things about men's sizing. There's so much to know; pants have two sizes, shirts have well -- like a thousand numbers, jackets have two sizes and a size 14 athletic shoe is not the same as a size 14 dress shoes. Yes, I was quite educated on the subject of men's clothing. Though I enjoyed having this experience with my son, it wasn't the same as the awes and ahs and gasps my girls would let out when something shiny caught their eye. It wasn't the same as seeing my girls twirl around in a three-way mirror with a sparkle in their eye that shined brighter than any sequins on the dress. No, this was bland and plain and there we no awes and ahs and gasps and giggles.

Since we pieced the outfit together from different stores, I couldn't wait to see the whole ensemble on my son so I told him as soon as we got home he was to try everything on. We got it all; pants, shirt, tie with matching hankie for his pocket, belt, shoes, socks. Everything was black, white and grey but it was crisp and sharp and nice.

Zachary didn't know how to tie a tie and I was all too willing to teach him. Yeah, being raised a good ole Catholic girl, I learned how to tie a tie by watching all those junior high boys frantically trying to get their uniform tie back on after recess. Being caught without your tie properly tied was a big offense. But my boy said a boy should learn to tie a tie from his Dad. And that he did. Then I said to the boy, "Stand back and let me see you." And it happened.

I cried.

Almost 18 years I have been a mother and here I am still learning the process. You see it's not the dress or the tie or the sequins and sparkle but it's all about the person inside the clothes. It's the little girl that is on the brink of womanhood that brings a mother to tears upon seeing her in her first formal gown. It's the grungy dirty stinky boy all cleaned up and grown up that brings a mother to tears. At that moment when your child is all spiffy and in "big boy" clothes, images of that chubby baby boy go flashing through your mind like a life video on fast forward.

I didn't let my husband nor my son see my tears. It's not just that these manly men don't understand the emotions of a mother but in that moment, my tears were private. They were the same tears I cried when the nurse exclaimed, "It's a boy!". They were the same tears I silently cried on my pillow when I had a sickly baby. They were the same tears I cried when I put that boy on a bus to Kindergarten and the same tears that stung my eyes the first time I heard an announcer calling out the starting line-up at a baseball game, ". . . . Zaaaachareeeeee Neewwwsoooooommmme. . . . ". Yes, those were private mom tears that I wanted to keep all to myself as I relished those passing moments of my boy stepping through life and now standing at the crossing into manhood.

And he was so pretty.