The Miracle of Parenting

The miracle of being a parent is that, in spite of the fact that our children may give us a hard time going to bed, or may throw convulsive fits because we tuck them in the wrong way, we are still eager to see their little faces in the morning.

Husband took the boys to school this morning and I was at a training all day followed by class this evening (so he picked them up and fed them, too). I got in my car to drive home, completely exhausted, and found that I was excited to get home and tuck my little angels in to sleep. Of course, as is often the case in parental-land, I got home to find one of the said angels confined to his room and in bed early for being mouthy and disrespectful to his dad (I hate to name names, but I know you're going to think it's Connor, so I just have to clear him and say that, no - it was Kirby). Disappointed, I went upstairs to tuck him in. When, shortly afterward, I tucked Connor in, I was met with protests over the style of tucking-in that I was using. I was giving a tummy rub when he really wanted a back rub. I brought the sheet up to his chin too early (excuse me - but that's the way he usually likes it!). Refusing to be prey to his control issues, I said good night and walked out, which resulted in screaming and crying for about 10 minutes (and no - I did not go back up. I stuck to my guns, thank you very much).

Isn't it a miracle that, in spite of all that, I've already been into their room to peer at their sweet little sleeping faces? I'm even excited to see them tomorrow morning. I guess it's God's way of making sure we don't take the little guys for granted!

Something I Haven't Mentioned...

There's something that I haven't written about yet that has really been weighing on my heart. Connor is having surgery on Tuesday morning to remove his tonsils and adenoids and put a new set of tubes in his ears. I know this is a very routine surgery, but when a parent thinks about kissing their child goodbye and trusting them to someone else's care, it's a very scary thought.

Connor will be at Children's Hospital, getting what I know is the best care. We're lucky to have a good friend performing the surgery and she adores him. While I know that there is always a slight possibility of routine surgeries having complications, that's not what is bothering me. It's the moment that Connor wakes up and comes out of his fog and realizes how much pain he's in. The thought of that makes my heart want to burst. 

When Kirby got his tonsils out two years ago, I had no idea the full extent of what he would go through during recovery. Now, I do know and I wish I didn't. Oh, I know that this is all for the best, and that Connor will be much happier and healthier once we get this taken care of, but it doesn't stop me from thinking of how changed his little world will be when he wakes up Tuesday morning. I am trying to keep this in perspective, and am thankful that this is a tonsillectomy and not something more serious. While I'm at the hospital Tuesday and Wednesday, I will be praying for some friends who have spent a lot of time in hospitals over the past few months, as their daughter, who is the same age as Connor, fights leukemia.

Hip to Be Square?

Tonight, Stephen and I had an interesting conversation with a young hipster while we were gassing up. I needed a study break, and we decided to go out for a quick Chinese dinner to celebrate his closing a big account today. Kirby is at a sleepover so we only had Connor (it was a really nice dinner, by the way - fun to give your attention to one child at a time sometimes!).

So, Stephen just finished pumping the gas, and a handsome, professional-looking guy (who's dressed pretty hip and riding in a nice little VW Touareg with two other similar looking guys says:

"So - what's up, you two heading to the clubs?"

Me: (extremely sarcastically) "Yeah, we're just going to valet our mini-van and walk right in."

A friendly banter ensues where he and Stephen exchange pleasantries about the local club scene (okay, there isn't one, we're in the suburbs! and even if there were, we've never been there!) Husband really tries to hold his own, asking which clubs they're heading to downtown. The guy then says:

"Seriously, you guys should come with us, we're fun, and we don't do drugs or drink very much." (Well shoot! That right there was the deal breaker for me!)

Husband: "Well, we've got our little guy in the back, but which ones are you going to?" (like we would be driving a mini-van if we didn't have kids - and again, like we have any idea which "club" is which!)

Me: "The ones that we don't have the wardrobe for."

The guy: "Man, what's wrong with you two? You guys are young! You look like you're my age!"

Husband: "We have our little guy in the back." (this is the part where I kept waiting for Stephen to offer the guy a tour of the inside of our van - show him the "stow and go" action - he's been known to do this before)

Me: "We have to go home to bed - it's 8:52!"

God bless the man for thinking we look young. I know we think we're young, but at the end of a day, when you're tired, need a haircut, have no clothes that fit, and you're driving around in a white, extended length Chrysler mini-van, you feel nothing but middle-aged!

Of Learning and Legacies

I find that since my spring semester ended, I'm less inclined to blog. I think it's because my brain went on hiatus. I started my summer session last week, easing into it with my first class. Next Tuesday I will re-enter the academic world with full force, as I start two more classes. That will be three concurrent classes during a four-week period. Anyone who has stopped long enough for me to bore them with the gory details knows that I'm dreading the next month. Already I'm having such a difficult time staying disciplined to do the work from my one class. I'm going to try hard to grin and bear it for four weeks, knowing I have the sweet reward of a family vacation to New Jersey at the end of it all.

Today I realized just how much of an impression my going to school has left on our boys. Whenever I used to leave by myself, the boys would ask, "Mommy, are you going to sing?" Not that I've done a whole lot of singing over the past few years, but I have managed to wrangle a few gigs with my old band. Now however, they automatically assume I'm "going to school". During the fall semester, as Connor was coping with my absence in his own two year-old way, he would tear at my backpack whenever I entered the house and say "Take it off! Mommy, take off your pack-pack!" Now, he's adapted (and thankfully, I think we all have). Today, as I tidied up the kitchen (my way of compensating for a day of doing nothing but lounging with friends who dropped by to visit, and watching my kids play with their friends), Connor decided he wanted an "office". He asked if I would get him the little table from the basement, so I fetched it and set it up for him. He then told me he needed his "'puter", which, as I soon found out, is the portable DVD player taken out of its case. So I set him up with his own little imaginary computer. He proceeded to spend the next 30 minutes writing on index cards with one of my hi-liters, pretending to type on the DVD player and setting up a railroad track next to his desk as part of his "working job" (he has always loved what he calls "working jobs"). When I went over to ask him what he was drawing on the index cards, he told me that I need to be quiet because "I have to study".

Connor "Studying" in His Office

I know that we all know what an impression we are capable of making on our children, but it is eye-opening to have something fly right in your face. For a moment, I felt panic. "Is this the legacy I'm leaving my children? Are they just going to remember that their mom went to school and holed up in her office studying?" Then I looked at it from another perspective - one I was not capable of seeing only a few months ago. I sensed a bit of pride in Connor. He really felt big playing office and studying. I mean, he and his brother have often pretended to be like their dad and have customers, so why not be like Mom too? For the first time I realized that maybe my kids will look back on this time, even if they don't really remember it, and realize how hard their parents had to work to make it all come together. Maybe they'll realize that we're doing it because we love them and we want the best for them and for our family. It's a bit much to expect that realization any time soon, but when they have kids they'll probably understand. If not, at least I'm able to make myself feel better by telling myself they will.