Family Life Archives - Page 20 of 32

March 2, 2010

Night Owl Spawn

My kids are absolutely great. I mean they have their moments where I seriously think I will lose my mind…which is at about 4pm everyday as they morph during the witching hour. From the day the twins were born I hammered into their little ways of life a thing called “a schedule.”

They would sleep at the same time, eat at the same time, breath, bathe, everything at the same time. Each night, every night since they were the ripe age of roughly six months my little demons loves have gone to bed before 7:30pm each night. I really cannot bitch and complain about their sleep schedule because their sleep has rocked. Even Grant has had a great sleep schedule. Since starting school he starts heading to bed at 7:30pm each night as well to allow for a bit of goober time, a story, and last minute bathroom breaks.

When 8pm rolls around the only sound in the house is the typing on my keyboard and the rumble of the bulldog snoring into the nicest dog bed around, also known as our leather sectional. Yeah, that’s a WHOLE other blog post.

Tonight however, my kids decided that they would be cracked out little demons who refused to go to sleep. Not falling asleep at 7:30pm or 8:30pm or 9:30pm for that matter. Oh no, they decided to finally pass out around the ripe time of 10:30pm.

I mean what the hell? Anyone else experiencing or have you experienced a night where your kids just say “To hell with the schedule…PARTY ON WAYNE!!”

February 28, 2010March 21, 2010

Pardon my Mess

The site crashed….well really it was downÂ for most of Saturday while I made a BIG move. I also did this ALL BY MYSELF. With the love and encouragement and support of my friends I finally did it. I made the big leap to WordPress and can I tell you I am in heaven. Despite the frustrations of a small hosting issue that was resolved, I am in heaven. Bear with me while I tweak the blog more regarding the layout and I still post during the mess. But hey, that’s how I roll. Consider this like remodeling and living through it. Thank you everyone to for all the support, encouragement, and patience during this time.

February 23, 2010May 8, 2019

Drowning the Demon

I love my children. I love my children. I love my children even when they are monkey carrying, germ infested, snotting, coughing, hacking little people that they share their gooey, infectious loves with me.

YES.

I should have known that they would pass the junk onto me. So for the last week I have fought to not succumb to the whining pathetic little girl that grown men usually turn into. But I did. I turned into a jaded, pissy, crawl into my cave, I am not good as someone who is ill type of person. Basically, I slept. I slept like I haven’t slept in years. Oh wait….yes, I have not slept in years.

Then came the hacking and the fever and the bitterness again of how to drown out this demonic illness. Ah yes. Fight fire with fire. What you ask? Fire with fire?

I learned while living my entire life in the southwest that the best cure to anything is Mexican food, well the best cure to the common cold and drowning the demon is Green Chile Stew. I love green chile. I could have just about every meal with green chile if I could, especially Hatch green chile. The hotter the better too!

So I sucked it up, got off my arse and made from scratch while sweating a fever, hacking a lung, and a nose that as running like a faucet my favorite Green Chile Stew recipe. Now I want to share it with you and share my poor woes of how I have missed you all and I missed a local Tweet-up with my friends on Twitter that live here in Arizona and I missed, I missed, I missed. I know right….cry me a river Linda….but seriously wanted to say I missed you all and I am glad I am feeling better so I can get back to reading blogs and writing again. Being sick sucks a goat’s ear you know!?

Green Chile Stew
4-6 4oz cans Green Chile (the hotter the better people!)
2 tomatoes (diced) or 1 can diced tomatoes
1/4 diced onion
2 garlic cloves diced
1/4 c. finely chopped cilantro
2 T. cumin
1 t. Corriander
4 potatoes cut into cubes or 1/2 bag of frozen cubed hashbrowns
3 chicken breasts shredded or 1lb shredded pork
2 T. Olive Oil
3 C beef (or chicken) stock
salt and pepper to taste

In a large stock pot heat oil adding cumin, corriander, cilantro, garlic, and onions until onions are slightly browned. Add potatoes to toss into spices, then add in meat. Coat the meat lightly with seasoning and oil then add in the tomatoes and green chile. Stir slowly and add in stock. Cover and simmer for a minimum of one hour for potatoes to soften and for the green chile flavor to infuse. Serve hot with warm tortillas

February 15, 2010May 8, 2019

And then there were two

Hard to believe just two years ago I was ever so thankful to the higher powers that be that I went into labor THE DAY after Valentine’s. While still a blessing to deliver two sweethearts on the sweetest day of the year I wouldn’t want these two to be screwed eternally. Like being born on or around Christmas. As a child you miss out on the loots.

I went into labor at around 9am or 10am that morning. A Friday to be exact. Grant was home that day since he did not have his early learners class. I made a late breakfast and breathed through my contractions. What a joy to actually feel my contractions. My abdomen tightening and releasing was such a thrill for me. I had back labor with Grant so I prayed for mercy for any poor soul that touched, talked, or let alone BREATHED on me when I was in labor with him.

After breakfast I did some laundry and then decided to tell my mother I was in labor. The Chad called in that morning; he was having a late start since the company he worked for was on what they liked to call “Mormon Standard time” which meant everything was at least 15 minutes or more behind the scheduled time. My kind of company if you ask me.

We timed the contractions which I know this may sound sick, but I loved them. So thrilling and getting stronger by each hour or so. They were still about 20 minutes apart. I cleaned the house and mopped the floors. Did some dishes. Needless to say I was nesting at the last minute. Finally at about two that afternoon I called my mom and said it was time for us to leave and I needed her to grab the boy. He was unfortunately not allowed to come since the time of year was RSV season and I was technically in “pre-mature” labor but definitely not pre-term. Been there done that with the twins which is another fabulous story.

By the time my mother arrived and we headed to the hospital we were in the midst of rush hour traffic and the hospital was in the north valley. A good 30 minutes or more to get there on a regular traffic day so add 15 minutes for good measure. I was breathing through them still. Now they were getting closer….about two minutes apart and we were on the interchange which meant at least another 20 minutes or more to get to the hospital as we jockeyed through rush hour on the 202 to the 51.

We walked straight up to the OB floor where I checked in and was placed in the same crappy room from my pre-term experience. I was then greeted by the bitch ray of light nurse that everyone wants when in labor with twins. Condescending, cold, and just a bundle of “So glad to have you as my nurse.” Thankfully her coven must have called her back because I was greeted by the true bundles of joy shortly after her. A nurse who was ever excited and I was happy to have someone there to treat me like an intelligent human and not just a humongously pregnant blond broad.

Vitals were done and I was walking through drug options by my anesthesiologist who quite frankly reminded me of Mr. Burns from the Simpsons. Creepy! I was then wheeled into the OR buck naked and prepped for surgery. WTF!!??

I was so excited to have these babies but oh dear what in ever is holy in this world was I thinking about being cut open….AGAIN!!??? AWAKE??!!

So The Chad joined me after I was numb and was completely clueless to my lack of feeling until I felt a sensation of rushing which meant they were working on me and I was told “You will feel a bit of tugging.”

ARE YOU DAMN SERIOUS?! HAVE YOU FELT THE TUGGING!? Holy schnikes Batman that is the weirdest feeling on Earth. And so I lost it. Yes…..bawling. Crying. Wailing. Begging to know the answer:

“What the fuck were we thinking honey bunny?” As The Chad wiped the tears from my eyes and the OR erupted into hysterical laughter! I cried in my head…stop laughing you imbeciles you have no idea.

Then I heard the beautiful sound of a baby cry. Baby A. 4:53pm. Lots of scurrying about and “Oh my gawd’s.” What were these OMG remarks about. Please tell me. Again I hear, “Some more tugging” to which I want to say, are you hearing yourself man…I will show you a tug! And they say Baby B. 4:54pm. No cries. Again, the scurrying and The Chad tells me they are beautiful and they all run off.

I lay there. Cold. In shock. Really. I lost a good amount of blood, throwing my body into shock where I am borderline convulsing from the cold. I am about to lose my mind. Thoughts and fears. Lots of fear and no one is talking to me. I lay in a pool of tears unable to speak, fighting back all my urge to scream out and cry. I am given blankets for warmth but the warmth is gone like a fart in a windstorm. I am lost in my own thoughts, a sea of confusion demanding to know where my babies are what the hell is going on will someone help me.

I am wheeled back into my room where I begin recovery where I am swarmed by the medical team. Finally the swarm and their buzzing begin to subside and I see the man who looks like a boy in a candy store. He is beaming. Grin from ear to ear like the cat who ate the mouse. Telling me all about the experience in the nursery with the twins. I am hurt but ever so eager to hear. Wanting so badly to have been in there with them.

He explains the condition with Baby A, Seth Michael Herring weighing in at a strong 8lbs 2 oz. Yes. That’s right. In fact Big G weighed that when he was born. He is doing well, they were a bit worried about him but he is doing well. Had to suction him a bit extra since he had a bit extra fluid on his lungs but he is doing well. I demand the APGAR on Seth which was a 9. Oh thank heavens! I then beg to hear about Baby B Sara Noel Herring weighing in at a petite, but ever so healthy 6lbs even. She is smaller a needed a bit with her glucose levels but she is doing really well. Hardly any crying and she came out with her eyes open and bright. The OR staff called her a peanut because of her size and the OMG I heard was the sheer size of Seth. Beast!

Not until that night was I finally able to hold my children. To weep and stare at them. In sheer awe of the 36 weeks and 4 days of incubation to get to this moment. A moment of denial and disbelief. Is this my life? Are these really my children in all their beauty and perfection? Their snub noses and beautiful round heads. Grunting and nuzzling. I wanted to just look at them and hold them ever so tightly. Never forgetting this moment. I did it. I really did this. I brought life to TWO separate people in the same womb. Healthy. I could hold them and be with them. I was on the highest cloud. And at the same time my brain went into overdrive.

I now had a c-section to recover from in addition to caring for these babies. i got my ass in gear and got up as much as my body would not let me. I forced myself through my exhaustion to walk. I had to walk. Walking would jump start my bowels again. I fought. I didn’t sleep for 36 hours. I deprived myself and I was beginning to fail. I could not do this. I finally shook off the mommy guilt and asked the nurses to take the twins and feed them for me so I could sleep. A measly four hours but four hours on pain meds was better than none. I learned to sleep more in the next 24 hours. I learned to manage them and manage my time. I plotted out feeding schedules and times and who preferred what breast and what I could do to make sure these two remained healthy and strong.

And today I look at what I can do to retain my sanity for just a few more hours. As I watch them push chairs to countertops to retrieve the Blackberry, the “pown” as they call it. I watch them load the dishwasher and say ‘Cheers’ as they clank their sippy cups together. I cry at small moments when I am alone to know they are my legacy. I am saddened that I will never hold a baby of my own again. The downy molt of their skin smelling like Baby Fresh lotion and the faint smell of a new diaper. The beautiful sleepy eyes of two nursing faces. The small fingers caressing the side of my breast as I fed them. So I grieve the end of my era as a mother to a newborn. I embrace my future as a potential grandmother.

I hold them tighter today as they turn two. Strong, intelligent, resourceful, obstinate and loving they are, I am in awe that these two people are mine. All mine. How fast the time flies. How I want them to grow up and how I want them to stay this small, cherishing each moment no matter how frustrating when they unload the recycle bin together. Toss tupperware dishes full of dirt into the house. Or unload my bathroom of my toilettries and the 10 pack of razors I bought is now a three pack since seven were used as a flushing experiment and basic entertainment. I will never forget the moment I found I was pregnant with them, delivered them, held them, knew I loved them, and I will never forget how I watched them grow.

Happy Birthday Seth and Sara…love Mama.

February 11, 2010June 5, 2015

Because People Like to Say Salsa

Each day the duo have something new to say and they make me laugh! I try to get video…even though the quality is totally terrible on my phone but its the fastest pocket size camcorder I have. I need one to capture all these fun moments. So here is Seth boy with his newest word:

February 2, 2010May 8, 2019

That Love and Feeling

While I would love to serenade you to The Righteous Brother’s I will spare you my lusterless singing ability. But I will share something that piqued me to do this post. I happened to be helping a dear friend who needed to vent and was seriously about to lose her mind, much like the rest of us who are on the brink thanks to motherhood, and I was amazed at the observation she had about a loved one who is very near to delivering a baby. Mind you moms….a baby. An innocent, new car smell, bundle of peeing, pooping, boobie loving joy.

My friend told me how she thinks her dear loved one appears to not in anyway be attached to her unborn child. I was speechless. Seriously almost stupefied. But a comment and observation such as this is not the first to put me in the blond woman trance.

When I delivered the twins my mother made an astonishing remark to me the day they were born that forever lives in me; “How does it feel? Is it any different?” Okay is what different because I had a C-section so yeah that was different to have someone play with my uterus from the outside in AND I could feel the “tugging” which really freaked me the hell out. Plus the whole catheter thing…can you say GROSS! She continued to say, “Do you love them both…exactly the same, no more no less, you just love them?”

The amazing thing with carrying any child is that as a soon to be mother you truly either have that love and feeling or you don’t. You either build a primal, instinctive bond with your unborn child or you do not. I am a firm believer that although women were given a uterus that does not mean they were given the ability to love and rear a child…well rear yes, love and feeling, no. I also feel that some women are just incapable of those feelings on a higher plane period.

My pregnancy with Grant was amazing and I took so much for granted at first, but at about six to seven months when I really began to show and his kicks grew in intensity and my co-workers saw me flinch all of the sudden my belly was an alter of love. My friends and co-workers would flock to touch my belly, feel Grant kick, I knew I was beaming because I was so blessed with the creation of life inside of my body. I could feel these kicks and turns and hiccups ALL the time. To watch their faces was such a blessing, that I should cherish my pregnancy in spite of the heartburn, constipation, wetting my pants, cravings and awkward sex. A moment that these people, who were caressing my stomach like a love ball would not understand, and I needed to forget all my woes as I watched how my audience was in awe at my creation of life.

Now the twins…well…my reaction to finding out about my pregnancy spoke volumes as to my utter excitement. I had an almost acrimonious attitude, albeit I was delighted to be pregnant and that I was bound for a healthy pregnancy, but the thought of two individuals invading a very small space of real estate that is my uterus was less than a stellar thought. Once I went through my stages of grief in a rather swift fashion I was excited and I knew this pregnancy was a challenge.

The experience was all of a challenge. Carrying two healthy babies to almost full term and by not suffering from any illnesses or gestational induced diseases I had won the battle. But above all the experience was phenomenal. To feel two distinct individuals kicking, hiccuping, moving, I wanted to pet them, and so I did. I would spend hours rubbing my bulbous midsection that almost seemed alien-like. I would talk to them, sing, have big brother do the same and have him feel all that I felt, I was captivated by this pregnancy.

So upon their arrival I knew at that moment, that I heard each cry that I knew I loved these children. When Grant was born, I was overcome, I was wrought with emotion and did not want to let my baby go, ever! With the twins I was much the same and yet felt so hopeless lying on an operating table, fully lucid, unable to reach and hold my children, unable to unleash my raw emotion of birth. For hours I waited for them, waiting to hear and see them, hear more of their cry’s to know they are mine.

Finally when I was allowed the opportunity to hold them and see them I was hypnotized. I just looked at the two of them. In awe. They are mine. I did it and I just wanted to trace their faces with my finger and look at each tiny finger and toe as I had cherished so much with the birth of Grant. I broke down, overcome by the love so easily disbursed to these two tiny people. So when my mother asked me if I could love the two of them equally, just as I could one, I should have taken more sensitivity, because who wouldn’t love the two, equally and unconditionally.

But I can see now how the love for a child is so individual, how the love and feeling for a child or unborn child still in utero is based on the mother and the primal bond that either exists or it doesn’t. I truly feel for those who are incapable of loving a child in that way or unable to love any child for that matter, maybe a lot has to do with age, but I can say that the feeling of seeing your children for the first time after such a long gestation is something to be treasured, and one I feel each and everyday I see them. Regardless of the messes they make, the back talking, the fits, the absolute disasters and embarrassments I can still look at them and be hypnotized by that love and feeling.

January 31, 2010May 8, 2019

I Suck as a Mom

Not only do I suck as a mother…but just about every other uterus that has hosted the parasite child and or children that we love today is a suck-tatstic mom. I know…how dare I say you suck as a mom. Well admit..you do! Hell, all those ass hats who CLEARLY think they are such great human beings that camp out on Twitter, Facebook, blogs, in the “Self Help” section of Barnes and Noble, you know they MUST be better mothers, fathers, parent’s right? Look where you can find them.

Wrong. Here is why they can eat rat heads and suck a goat’s ass. Our parenting skills are courtesy of our parents with a twist, we take what we learn from them and put our twang into parenting. Think of it as a cubre libre, a rum and coke…with a lime. We aren’t given the master manual of how to raise our children to June Cleaver standards, which I am still researching, I believe June was flawed and…I know that if you are given a nickname like “Beaver” you are bound for fricking therapy!

I was talking with The Chad today about my blog. I told him I was so happy to take a step back, to see where I was, to look at the kids again in a different light and before I knew it we were discussing my book. Yes. A book. My book. The book I am writing based on the fact that I am a parenting expert who knows diddly shit! Just like all the other diddly shit knowing parents out there. We talked so much about all the funnies from our early parenting days with Grant. Simple items like ‘How to Feed Your Child.’ Sounds easy right? Wrong. If you were like us, we fed the poor boy until he puked. Yup. Projectile, overfilled the damn tank like they tell you not to do at the gas station, mistake of over feeding our kid. How were we to know? He just kept going….so we rooted him on like any good parent watching their child at a hot dog eating contest. Until we got the Poltergeist effect of formula hurled onto us with a projectile reach of at least five feet. Good form Grant baby….all over me AND dad.

We make mistakes. Lots of mistakes. Mistakes are not bad, mistakes are meant to be lessons to be learned. I look at mistakes as information that was mis – tooken. Yes, I mistook the information to be correct. I was not necessarily wrong, just an err. By looking at my mistake as a simple err rather than a brow beating incident that would result in endless mommy guilt that I would inevitably take out on my child who would take out on their child and we all would end up on Jerry Springer in therapy.

Being a parent is the hardest job on Earth. Our training sucks, the vacation time only gets better after 15 years of service (maybe less), the pay is wet and sloppy (but hey…I will take kisses any day of the week), and the hours are a bitch (Parenting gives a new meaning to the “graveyard” shift). So before you swing your royal gavel about being a parent or someone else’s parenting skills, take a step back and remember you may be pointing one finger at them. But you have at least three pointing back at YOU! Each of us that are parents do what we can with the tools we are given and we can build a bridge or we can build a fortress. Parenting is like a flower with each petal, each bloom, and each dormancy a new chapter in how we shape our children and ourselves. Making mistakes and learning from them is all the fun of looking back at how we have flowered, bloomed, and how we pollinated with beautiful people for whom we call our children.

Do your best, love your kids, and know that you are doing your best with what you know at THAT moment in time, in your life, and that you did and will continue to do right by your children and yourself. Because I know that I can look at my kids and know that I am not perfect, but I love each one of my children perfectly, no one can change that and no one can tell me how to raise them or love them.

January 30, 2010May 8, 2019

The Fish Out of Water

Goodbye is the healthiest action anyone can take when looking to end something. Everything truly comes to an end whether we realize the situation or not. I love to say goodbye. Closure. Finito. My finale. A closed chapter per se.

I am a soul seeker, I look for answers and when I am faced with numerous options and not the definitive answer I do what all people do…NOTHING. Why? Why act on emotion and the unknowing, why act on the drama of a three act play waiting for the curtain call only the curtains never do call.

I stated that I started my blog with specific intentions, my outlet, my freedom to express what life is like in my home (world), with my children, myself, and my husband. By no means am I saying I am “special” or a chosen one but just a socialite stay at home mom, housewife and former career woman who can share the angst’s of life and that we are not alone in our feelings, our momentary insanity, our trials in parenthood, our failures and successes as individuals in our many roles. My blog began to take a fun turn….reviews, giveaways, contests, Oh my! I was Dorothy traveling the yellow brick road, I was off to see the wonderful wizard of blogs. Only I felt more like Alice tripping down a rabbit hole, only that rabbit hole was laced with LSD and bad trips.

Taking a step back allowed and still allows me an insight into the world of “blogging” and the interaction in “social media.” What I find completely interesting is the dynamics in this virtual and alternate reality. I also saw a side of myself I did not like, someone I was morphing into that was not me. Even “me” wasn’t me anymore as I watched bits here and there of my soul being chipped away by those who could take my good heart and genuine sincerity and deplete my reserves, little by little. I watched as COMPLETE strangers made character assassinations in a weak and pathetic attempt to gain an advantage. One I can now look at and laugh hysterically at the sheer pain, anger, and rage pent up in such individuals to attack someone at such a level. Truly a sad, sad day for them in their actions, and an even prouder day for me…that I can take pity on their wretched souls as they burn from the inside out. Taking a step back allows for total and complete reflection, removing oneself from the aquarium.

Continuing on my path I would have morphed into the juggernaut of blogs. A completely destructive force to myself, my family, and those around me creating a catastrophic area of effect. Supernova is what comes to mind. A bright star becoming so consumed with itself burning into oblivion. What would be the purpose? Sure I could go forth and monetize my blog, become a “top mom blogger,” get great invites, go on trips, and then what? Really what is the next level? Total world domination. Why? What would be the reason? Is that really my goal? Is that really what I want? Nope. Why not you ask?

My goal has and will always be law school. I was a born negotiator, mediator, and royal piss you the fuck off because I am ALWAYS right kind of person. My goal is to continue to be the best, happiest, healthiest mom to my kids and so they learn what took me well into my 30s to figure out. My goal is to be a fabulous socialite wife and lover to my husband. My goal is to continue to be a strong and awesome friend, sister, and overall real deal of a human being, to continue to be true to myself and those around me.

Sometimes in life we become so engulfed in what we are doing, where we are going, who we are sharing with that we tear down the walls we had built with precision to protect ourselves from our own demise. Then we are entrenched into our situation we are blinded, almost delusional because our view of reality is so obtuse. Boundaries are created for a reason and if we do not respect or realize our own boundaries, no one else will either. Reaching center allows you to survey everything and take inventory.

January 21, 2010May 8, 2019

The Hat Diva

This little girl is something. She is overly independent, knows exactly what she wants all the time, demands it, is ornery as all get out, gorgeous, loving when she wants to be, and has her tender moments and of course she is bossy. Man, she is her mother’s daughter. But I love shoes….she loves hats, I will forgive her when I see her at Churchill Downs donning the biggest, most fabulous hat ever while sipping a mint julep.

Until then, I will enjoy these precious moments with my baby girl. Some days I cannot get over how beautiful this little girl is and she is all mine! Best of all, she plays in the mud, water, and loves to say shit…or is it ship…or chip…either way she is one of a kind and all mine. My Little Bitty, Hat Diva.

January 15, 2010May 8, 2019

The Warm Fuzzy Mommy Moment

A lot of moments in a child’s life can be considered proud parental moments but none so bright as watching your child evolve. When I had Grant I was a full time career woman, basically a child was extracurricular for me at the time. Call it status quo of life, having a child at 25 was something I was suppose to do and internally I had this drive, a desire to be a mother. I did not quite grasp the motherhood warm and fuzzy until Big G was about three. The Chad and I experienced a lot of emotional and trying ups and downs early into Grant’s life; with living in a nice but cramped Scottsdale apartment as we waited for our home to sell in Albuquerque so that we could buy another home here in Arizona, putting a dog down, losing employment, gaining employment, having a child, moving again, getting pregnant again (with twins) and losing the pregnancy, losing employment again, gaining employment again. We went through a lot so we were busy trying to be the responsible adults and basically in survival mode to care for our child that I did not get to stop and say, “Hey I am a mom, my child is unbelieveable.”

I finally was able to experience that warm fuzzy, the emotional wave of the real connection of motherhood only after our turmoils, only after I received the opportunity to stay at home with Grant and work out of the house. My baby boy was sent to daycare at the ripe age of seven weeks. I missed almost everything, but experienced and learned a lot. I look back now and am sad that our life circumstances were such, but I do not carry any regret just a pain in my heart that I know will be healed over time. But I had my moment where I watched my boy play and smile, cause trouble and push the envelope of what was allowed in our home and I was awe struck. Dumbfounded at best. I could spend all day with him, uninterrupted, raw, precious.

He is my child. I gave birth to him. No aliens will be back to take him home. He is not leaving, he’s all mine, to love and guide through life. To watch him fall down and get up, to watch him follow his dreams, to gaze upon him and he in turns looks at me to embrace me with the largest hug his small arms can muster and say:

“I wub joo mama”

I have watched him as he has evolved in his young life. I will watch him as he continues to evolve, grow and mature into a wonderfully brilliant young man. From the day he was born I knew he was brilliant. Not because of his father and I (although we do make damn fine children), but he has a spark like that of a growing star. His spark will one day reach a super nova and revolve in that state for all eternity as I do not see his brilliance overtaking him. But in the last few years I have really watched him change and become his own person.

So today was like any other day with the exception of a parent teacher conference. I chalked this visit to be like the rest, minus The Chad again as he is traveling for business. Upon walking into this meeting though I did have a new feeling, the warm and fuzzy that has swept me before, came in waves again. I began to recall Grant through the various stages of his life. From the bean sized shadow on a black and white ultrasound printout, an infant, an adventurous tot, and now he is a young boy, almost a young man with his demeanor.

One day I felt I woke up and he was this magnificent creature who has a wide and wondrous mind that sees no boundaries in his fellow man. Each carries the same features and abilities as he, ever accepting, ever loving, and he treats everyone as an equal. I am speechless to watch him interact, his bold blindness as if he were Eve prior to the apple debacle. The meeting commenced and when they told me of his educational brilliance I felt another wave, deeper than the one before. I could not believe the accomplishments of my child. Math, addition and subtraction, graphing, time and money, grammar and grammatical tenses, reading books at the first and second grade levels and progressing rapidly. My eyes began to well and I fought back the tears. I fought my feelings in the middle of a mundane, seemingly average parent teacher conference.

Tears of grief for the fact that I am slowly losing more and more time with my boy as he becomes a man. I want nothing more than to hold him tight to take in as much as I can during the ever fast moving continuum of time. Soaking in everything as I watch as the gears turn and lights click with him. Of course my tears of joy at his singular accomplishments. While I know I am his mother, and his father and I have played an intricate role at home, I know he is on his own. I am not there to hold his hand but I gave him tools and he is creating a masterpiece. For which I will always be his biggest fan, ever so proud of him in everything he does from his most prestigious accomplishments to the most dolt fall backs, he amazes me still and forever. I also know that your brother and sister are so lucky to have you as an older brother. I am so proud of you.