Wordless Wednesday

 

Okay, I have to say a few words. ☺

 

My kindergartner son painted this picture in art class, and I'm proud to say it was one of the works chosen to be featured at a schoolwide art exhibit last week. People keep telling me I have an artist on my hands. I think so, too—but he certainly didn't get it from me!

Wishing you all a beautiful—and colorful!—Wednesday. ☺

Six-word Saturday

Oldest turns six on Thursday. Wow!

I can't believe six years have passed so quickly. I look at my son sometimes and still see him as the baby I brought home from the hospital. I think time really does go by faster once we have children.

Wishing you a weekend full of happy memories. ☺

Through the eyes of babes

My five-year-old son made this chalk drawing of me a few weeks ago:

It's pretty close, don't you think? ;)

Have a happy Thursday!

Indeed, it's a wonderful world

My five-year-old son climbed aboard the school bus and roared off to kindergarten today, and although I did shed a tear at his impatient "I want to go now," I'm doing surprisingly well at the moment. My three-year-old and I spent the morning running errands, picking up library books, and baking brownies. She's now taking her nap, and I'm glad to have two hours to myself. I don't plan on doing much—no laundry or dishes or other chores. Instead, I think I'll read and celebrate the fact that I'm making it through the day. And you know what? I'm happy. ☺

Louis Armstrong's "What a Wonderful World" has always held special meaning for me, and the lyrics have been going through my mind most of the day. I love this video. Armstrong's smile is infectious—who could feel anything but happy?



How is your day going, friends?

Saying thank you isn't enough

I'm finally back!

Image courtesy of sundesigns, rgbstock.com

It was a difficult few weeks, but I'm happy to say that everything turned out much, much better than I could have expected. I don't have enough words for how grateful I am for your comments, thoughts, e-mails, and prayers. It meant so much to know that others cared and were thinking of me, and I know it was that—and faith—that made the situation easier to get through. Thank you so much.

I'm happy to be back on my blog, and I'm looking forward to posting again—it's been a while! However, for a couple of reasons, I'm going to be easing my way back to daily blogging. As some of you probably know, my son will be starting kindergarten in the fall. He'll be attending all day, every day, which of course is something this mom isn't really ready to think about, much less deal with! (I'll probably cry for days.) I had wanted to spend the summer doing fun things with him and his little sister, but several situations and events prevented me from doing as much with them as I would have liked. There's a little over a month left until school starts, so my plan is to spend more time doing things with the kids, which will, sadly, leave me with a little less time for blogging.

I'm also participating in Camp NaNoWriMo this month. I'm using it to jump-start my memoir project, which I've put on the back burner for far too long. I'll spend part of the month transcribing interview notes and conducting more interviews (and then transcribing those as well). Once I see what I have to work with, I hope to get a good start on putting it all together. This project has been pretty daunting, but I'm hoping that Camp NaNo will help give me the momentum I need.

So although I may not post every day this month—(or maybe I will; who knows what the weeks will hold?)—I still plan on posting several times a week. I love blogging—it's one of my favorite outlets—and I love connecting with other people through their blogs. I'm looking forward to catching up with all of you!

Regardless of what happens with my posting this month, I'll be back full force once life settles down a little in the fall. Thank you for being patient with me and for everything you did these past several weeks. I appreciate it all more than I can say.

(And it definitely feels good to be writing again!)

I survived (but just barely)

At my son's preschool graduation last night, I saw kids who looked like this:

Is it over yet?
(Image courtesy of Michael & Christa Richert, rgbstock.com)

and this:

Why are all these people staring at me?
(Photo by Tiene Alles, rgbstock.com)

and a lot of them that looked like this:

Yay!
(Image courtesy of Billy Frank Alexander, rgbstock.com)

And all of them were completely adorable!

However, I, as predicted, looked a lot like this:

Where have all the years gone?
(Image courtesy of Michael & Christa Richert, rgbstock.com)

and used up my share of these:

*sniff, sniff*
(Photo by Shari Weinsheimer, courtesy of Public Domain Pictures)

Surprisingly, though, my tears weren't sad tears, at least during the ceremony. Some of the kids did the funniest (and sweetest) things as they walked into the gym, and I couldn't help but laugh until I cried. One little girl skipped down the aisle, her ponytail flipping from side to side; a little boy with spiked hair loped to the front of the gym, his hands in his pockets (I nicknamed him Rico Suave); and another little girl speed-walked to her chair, a wide grin splitting her little four-year-old face.

My son looked a little worried as he waited for his turn, but once he started down that aisle and heard the applause, he was smiling from ear to ear. I was so proud of him!



Image courtesy of Chris
rgbstock.com

When we got home, however, it was a different story. I lost it then because all I could think about was how quickly these five years have gone and how recently it seemed that I was holding my newborn son in my arms. So much has changed since then, and I know so many things will continue to change, but that doesn't make the changes any easier. Last night I cried the sad tears.

However, when my wonderful preschool graduate saw that I was upset, he went to his room and came back with his beloved Mickey Mouse doll, which he handed to me. "Mama, you can sleep with him tonight if you want to," he said.

And you know what? I did. And today I feel much better.


Have you ever been comforted by a child?

Break out the tissues...

Image courtesy of Moi Cody,
rgbstock.com

my son is graduating from preschool tonight!

I can't believe how quickly the school year has gone. It seems like yesterday that I was taking his first-day-of-school picture on the front step. He was so excited, thrilled to be going to preschool at last, but now it's all old hat for him, and he can't wait to move on to kindergarten. Yesterday he had his kindergarten screening, and I took him for a walk through the halls of his new school. His eyes lit up when he saw all the cool, "big kid" stuff, and he told me he wants to start going there tomorrow!

I know I'm going to be a teary mess when I see him walking into the gym tonight, and I'll probably be sobbing outright when he receives his diploma. It's hard to believe that the baby born by an emergency C-section in late February 2007 is now a smart, capable, independent little boy ready to go off to all-day kindergarten without me.

For the past few months, my daughter has been telling me that she doesn't want her brother to go to school because she's going to miss him too much.

All I can tell her is that I will, too.



So does anyone want to cheer me up and keep me from crying all over my keyboard? And more seriously, for those of you who have trod this path before, do you have any advice for me?

Will you dance?

I Hope You Dance [single]

Happy Thursday, and welcome to Blog Me MAYbe's "May I tell you something about someone else?" day.

Many of you are probably already familiar with country singer Lee Ann Womack. I admit that country isn't my usual genre and I don't know much about Womack's musical repertoire, but she sings one song that really speaks to me as a mom: her 2000 hit, "I Hope You Dance."

I discovered the song one day just after my son was born in 2007. My little boy was finally napping, and I had logged on to the Internet to do some research. Somehow I ended up on a page that featured the lyrics to Womack's song, which I read and thought were beautiful. I searched YouTube for the video and was so moved by it that I thought I'd cry. It said everything I wanted to say to my son: all my hopes for him, all my dreams. I decided that moment that "I Hope You Dance" would be the message and the wish I'd pass down to him--and now to my daughter as well. I've included the song in their baby books, and I'm looking forward to the day when they'll be old enough to understand it and listen to it with me.

This is the video. The two young girls featured in it are Womack's own daughters.




Lyrics here.



Music is such an important part of most of our lives. What song or songs hold special meaning for you?

Have I told you the one about the klutz?

Hi to old friends and new! I had so much fun with the Blogging from A to Z Challenge that I decided to participate in a blogfest that begins today: Blog Me MAYbe, the brainchild of writer and blogger Sara McClung. Basically, throughout the month of May, participants can choose (or not!) to blog five days a week following this predetermined schedule:

Mondays: MAY I tell you something about writing?

Tuesdays: MAY I tell you something about myself?

Wednesdays: MAY I ask something about you?

Thursdays: MAY I tell you something about someone else?

Fridays: MAY I share something funny?

You can find out all the details by clicking the banner in this post or the button on the right side of my page (both created by the talented Tracey Neithercott). I hope you join in. This blogfest promises to be a lot of fun!


So, then... May I tell you something about myself?

I am a Klutz with a capital K. If there's a wall, I will walk into it. If there's a toy on the floor--and when isn't there, in a house with two small kids?--I will trip over it. If there's a hole, I will fall into it. If there's a set of stairs, I will fall down (or up!) them. I think you get the picture.

My life of klutziness began the moment I learned to walk. I, of course, don't remember those days, but according to witnesses (mainly Mom, Dad, and Brother), I couldn't walk two feet without slamming into something, bumping into something, or falling on my face. Apparently I was a walking bruise, which, come to think of it, probably helps to explain all those pictures in which I'm wearing hats and long sleeves. Curiously, no one seemed to be bothered by my apparent klutziness. (Well, I was probably bothered.) It wasn't until I was nearly five years old that people (namely the kindergarten registration people) determined that maybe--just maybe--I couldn't see very well.

They were right, and off I went to get my first in a long line of glasses. (I've been wearing them now for almost thirty-five years. Yikes!) Once those glasses were firmly in place on my face, everyone sat back and breathed a sigh of relief: Dana's klutziness was cured!

Um, not so much.

Not my thumb--but how easily it could be.
Image courtesy of Jana Kollarova,
rgbstock.com

Apparently, my eyes have nothing to do with it. I am--I confess--completely and utterly uncoordinated. I can't control my limbs; I certainly can't dance. I can, however, walk into doorways, trip over coffee tables, bump my head on open cabinets, walk into the corners of the kitchen table, slice off the tips of my fingers while cutting vegetables, walk into open car doors (not to mention slam my fingers in them), and trip over invisible objects.

I have no excuse. I'm just a Klutz.

Unfortunately, my five-year-old son seems to have inherited my klutziness gene. Just last Sunday as we were getting ready for church, I heard a cry from the kitchen and ran downstairs, nearly breaking my leg as I stumbled over a blue Mega Blok and my two-year-old's stuffed Minnie Mouse, only to find my son sitting dazed on the floor, crying and holding his head. This is the conversation that ensued:

Me: (panicked, looking for blood) What happened? What happened? Are you okay?

Son: (gasping for breath between screams of blood murder) I bumped my head.

Me: (looking around and wondering what he possibly could have hit his head on, as he was sitting on the floor in the middle of the room) On what? There's nothing here.

Son: (wailing) On the wall!


(And sadly, this wasn't his first time at the rodeo.)

So there you have it. I'm a klutz, and unfortunately, it appears that I'm raising another one. I guess what they say is true: the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.

Poor kid.

T is for Tulips

I always thought tulips were pretty flowers, but they were never my favorites. I preferred roses, lilies, carnations...even marigolds and pansies. Tulips, while beautiful, never even made my short list of flowers I absolutely adored. But one day that changed, all thanks to my then four-year-old son.


Photo by Vera Kratochvil
Courtesy of Public Domain Pictures

My son first spotted tulips about a year ago at the grocery store, and he begged to "buy" me some. I didn't need them or particularly want them, but there was something about the look on his face that just melted my heart, so I gave in to his request. He jumped up and down with his excitement, and I watched as he examined all the bunches carefully, trying to decide which one was his favorite. Finally he handed me a bunch of orange tulips, a big grin spread across his tiny face. "These are for you, Mommy." My heart melted again.

Since that moment, tulips have moved up high on the list of my favorite flowers. It's not so much the tulip itself that I love but the way my son reacts when he sees them and how proud he is to share them with me. When I look at them now, I see my son and his big heart and handsome, smiling face. I never want to forget these moments.

My son continues to choose tulips for me each spring when they're available in our local grocery store. Right now I have a vase full of yellow ones on the kitchen table, and I believe he said that the next ones are going to be the pink ones he saw last Friday night.

I can't wait!

Before I end this post, I wanted to share this short piece I wrote one day after coming home from a shopping trip with my son:

He points out the tulips whenever we pass them, shakes my arm and urges me to look at the colors--the reds and pinks and oranges, the greens and blues and mahoganies, the deep purples and their more subtle and muted lavender sisters--and he presses me forward until we stand at the front of the display, he, clasping his hands and staring with wide, child eyes and I, watching him, the flush in his cheeks and the way he bounces on his feet, the light inside him breaking through to shine upon those flowers and us all.



Do you have a favorite flower? Is there a story behind your love for it?

Stream of consciousness--and a good thing

Today's 100 words:

I feel out of sorts, not myself, like something isn't quite right, and I don't know if it's only the respiratory infection I've had for a couple of weeks or the ear infection I was just diagnosed with or the fact that ever since the end of February, everything in my life has been go, go, go when all I want--all I need, really--is to rest, to relax, to take some time to breathe and just be because honestly, I don't know how much longer I can go on this way at this pace: too fast, so fast.

As much as I've felt strange lately, I was able to push those feelings aside yesterday when my little boy, only five years old, ran up to me in the library, a book clutched in his hands. It was a "big kid" book meant for much older children--no pictures, chapters, lots of words--but he was so excited to check it out, so excited for me to read it to him bit by bit. We started it yesterday, and although I'm not sure he has the focus yet to really concentrate on such a story, I'm so proud of him for wanting to try, and I'll never forget the excitement on his face and the look of pride in his eyes as he clutched that book. I guess it's true that there's always a silver lining if one looks carefully enough.

No sick days?!

Today's 100 words:

My son asked to stay home from preschool today, which is how I know he must really be sick. He's like I was as a child--always eager to go to school, afraid to miss out on whatever his teacher has planned for the day. I didn't like to be out of the loop, and neither does he. So today I have a sick son watching TV in the living room and a daughter coughing as she eats her waffle. Then there's mom here, typing, coughing like her head will explode, and wondering again why mothers don't get sick days.

Happiness

Today's 100 words:

My son's birthday party went really well. Even though our party hosts at the play center seemed to rush us all out of our private room pretty quickly, the kids all appeared to enjoy their pizza and cake and had a great time playing after they ate. My husband and I (and the other parents, too) spent several hours watching the kids climb and bounce and bike. It was tiring to try to keep up with them as they raced from one side of the center to the other, but the smiles I captured on film were worth the exhaustion.

I took several pictures yesterday, but two are really special to me. They show my son jumping off a slide and starting his sprint across the play center, the widest smile I've ever seen stretched across his just-turned-five-year-old face. Remembering that moment makes my mom-heart melt.

Party day!

Today's 100 words:

My son's first-ever friends-invited birthday party will be starting in a few hours, and while everyone else in the house sleeps, I'm frantically trying to pull together the last-minute details. We're holding the party at an indoor play center, and after the pizza, ice cream, and gifts, the kids will run loose, jumping in the bounce houses, playing the video games, using the climbing structure and rollerskating or bike riding. My just-turned-five-year-old son has been looking forward to this day for weeks, and I hope he and his friends have a wonderful time.

Bittersweet

Today's 100 words:

My son is five now, officially since 9:50 last night. My children's birthdays have always been hard on me, as the older I get, the more I realize how quickly time passes. I love these early childhood years when the kids are learning so much about their worlds and are home all the time with me. I'm finding five to be a particularly difficult age. It's the beginning of full-time school and signals the real beginning of independence for my son. For me five brings the sad realization that my little boy won't always need me so much.

Cake!

Today's 100 words:

This year my son wants a Spider-Man cake for his birthday. I've made sculpted cakes before but have never made one using a character cake pan, so I'm a little nervous about how it will turn out. I think if I can just get the cake out of the pan in one piece, the decorating process should go pretty well. It's an intricate design, and I've been told it can take about three hours just to complete the icing. I'm up for the challenge. I enjoy making the kids' cakes. They love them and talk about them all year.

Knot in my stomach, lump in my throat

Today's 100 words:

I woke up this morning with a knot in my stomach as I thought once again about how quickly my kids, especially my son, are growing up. It's kindergarten registration time here, and the fact that he'll be in school all day after this summer makes me want to cry. I wish I could stop the days from passing so quickly. I don't want to miss a moment, and while sometimes I can push my sadness aside, as my son gets closer to finishing preschool and grows bigger and stronger each day, I can't help the lump in my throat...

Unexpected friendship

Today's 100 words:

Today I talked to the parents of some of my son's classmates about the birthday party we're hosting for him, and I was surprised by the enthusiastic responses I received. I've been seeing these people for months now as we've dropped our children off at preschool, yet I've never had more than superficial conversations with them. But when I finally introduced myself this morning and invited them to my son's party, I couldn't believe how friendly they were and how eager to talk. I wish I would have introduced myself earlier in the year. After all, can't we all use more friends?

Siblings

Today's 100 words:

I don't think my son, who will be five soon, remembers a time when his little sister wasn't with him. She was born when he was nearly two and a half, and I remember worrying about how he would react when he met her, but all he did was look at her a bit and go about his playing. Now they're very close and play together daily--sometimes taking a break to fight, of course. I'm glad they have each other. My sister and I are separated by about the same number of years, and we've almost always been close.

Lost!

Today's 100 words:

I have a tendency to get lost when I'm driving. A couple of years ago, I wanted to take my son to the children's museum downtown. I'm not from here, and I rarely venture out of the suburbs and into the downtown labyrinth of one-way streets and traffic, so I Googled the directions and set off, hopeful that we would get to our destination. I missed a left, however, and couldn't see a way to turn around in the traffic. Somehow I ended up miles away, near the lake, and only a frantic call to my husband got us home again.