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Hand Hand Hand

Dear Hunter,

Your vocabulary and pronunciation continue to expand so rapidly that I have a hard time keeping up with all the new words you know and use, especially since the pronunciation for many of them isn’t quite what it will be in a few months.

One word I know is “Hand.” It comes out as “hanh.” But when your little fingers reach out for mine, I know exactly what you want. You want to take me some place, show me something you find fascinating or you want me to take the good china out of the cabinet so you can play with it. I know these days, when you want me with you, won’t last forever so I do my best to let go of the laundry folding, dish washing and electronic distractions, take your hand and follow your lead.

You have shown me rocks I never would have seen without your keen eye. You pull me out of grown-up-ness and back to little-hood with peek a boo and toy tractors. I play in the dirt more with you than I ever did when I was a child. We walk down the gravel road to see the neighbor’s horses. We blow bubbles. We chalk the side walk – and the fence and the doors and the house (dad didn’t like that much, but he got over it when the rain came and washed it all off).

Thank you for showing me the world through your eyes. Thank you for taking my hand. And just so you know, it will always be there for you.

Love,
Mom

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It’s Officially The First…

…birthday, that is. Happy First Birthday to Hunter Patrick!

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Dear Son,

Today is your very first birthday. Your dad and I have been blessed to have you for a whole 12 months already and share in some amazing “firsts.”

You breathed the first time and we held our own breaths.
Crying your first cry, made us cry with joy.
Your first smile lit our hearts and
The first giggle had us laughing with you.
When you first rolled over and first sat up,
We cheered your achievement.
And as we roll into your second year,
we anticipate your first steps –
knowing there are still many
“firsts” ahead of us.

Its been a great first year, my sweet little boy…

Love,
Mommy

 
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Posted by on November 9, 2013 in Letters To My Son

 

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Nap Time

…is sacred time. 

Dear Hunter,

You are nine months old this week and right now you are napping. As I reflect on the past nine months, it’s hard for me to fathom how far we’ve come.  You and me.  Being your mom adds a dimension to my life I never imagined. I work on my relationship with you every day, son.  Some days I am really good at it and other days I feel I am lacking whatever it is you need that will help you. 

These early months have been filled with laughing days, learning days, crying days and just-there days.  We wake up with your smiles and giggles. And we go to sleep with your suckling snuggles. The hours in-between are always an adventure.

Last week, you started to crawl and soon you will start walking by yourself. With every new stage, your dad and I are so excited and proud of you. We try to protect you and yet not overprotect you. And sometimes we get it wrong.  So, we adjust and move forward.

I just wanted to take a few moments of this sacred time to let you know how much I love you and how every day I feel lucky to be your mother.

Love,

Mom

 
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Posted by on August 6, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Memories

An organizer of a class reunion posted on the group’s facebook page asking for each of us to post three memories we have of our time together.  My family moved away from my childhood home at the end of seventh grade so I don’t have high school memories to share.  But that request got me reminiscing about my childhood and my 13 years in that small, wide-spot-in-the-road kind of town.

The good and not-so-good memories churn around, swirling in my mind.  Its funny how the not-so-good ones seem to jump front and center. And I think of people and experiences I haven’t thought of for years. Being teased and called names.  That sucked.  And yet, without those experiences, maybe I wouldn’t be who I am today. ????

My mom was awesome on one particular incident.  Before the 80s big hair was ‘in’, she braided my long hair and I slept on the braids.  Then I had super kinky, big hair the next morning when we took out the braids. I loved it. These two brothers in 5th grade called me Amazon at school. I was too proud to cry in front of them but I bawled when I got home and mom asked about the compliments I got on my hair. I was never doing my hair that way again!

She sat me down and asked me if I knew what an Amazon was? I had to admit that I didn’t know. She told me that an Amazon woman was a tall, strong, beautiful warrior-woman. She said the next time those boys called me that to consider it a compliment and say, “Thank you.”  I was skeptical. But I was also still at an age when I thought my parents knew everything (vs them knowing nothing once I turned 14).

Not too long after the first time, we braided my hair again. The most braids we ever got in were 17. Talk about big hair. I took a deep breath and got on the bus. Then I got to school. Then I heard it. “Hey Amazon!” And lots of giggles and snorting. Summoning up my best imitation of my mother (who was the tallest mom around at 5’10”), I stood up nice and tall, threw my shoulders back, and I looked those stupid boys in the eyes and said, “Hmmph… thank you, I take that as a compliment.” And I walked right by them, head held high, flouncing my hair.

My mom helped me; but she didn’t call the school and complain or tell the principal to do something about those boys. Mom helped me feel good about myself, helped me fight my own battles.  She helped me turn something difficult into something positive for myself. And she’s done that my whole life.

Even though its the crappy memories that bubble up more prominently, I still say I had a magical and wonderful childhood because my mother helped make it so.  Thanks, mom.

 
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Posted by on February 27, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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For Certain: Death and Taxes

A letter for my son on what is certain…

My Sweet Son,

As you go through life you will hear that saying, “The only things certain in life are death and taxes.” Sounds depressing, doesn’t it? Well, there is more than that which is certain in your life, my young boy.

I love you. Your father loves you. And that love is certain. You are bound to do things and say things that we won’t like. But we will always love you.

It really is that simple.

Love,
Mom

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Posted by on February 26, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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Rolling with the Roles

I love being a mother. As of tomorrow I will be 8 weeks into this new role. And I love being a wife. Although my partner and I were together four years prior to getting married, we have been married for about 10 weeks now. And so there’s another new role… wife.

Add those to the roles that existed already: business owner, professional coach, marriage and family therapist, and multiple interpersonal relationship roles like daughter, friend, colleague, etc.

It seems the newest roles reawakened my inner perfectionist. And she’s a real sadist, that one.

What!? Didn’t get the laundry done or get dinner ready? “BAD WIFE” What!? Didn’t pump (breast milk) on time or the kiddo had a wet diaper for an extra 30 minutes? “BAD MOMMY” And then when those roles clash with the other ones… hmmmpphh! WATCH OUT!!!

Here comes the self-inflicted cat-o-nine tails: 20 lashes for having to take baby to the office, or forgetting the breast pump at home or having to reschedule clients due to last minute change in child care. And then wear the scarlet “B” for BAD ____________ fill in the blank: coach, therapist, friend, wife, mom, pet owner…you name it.

Funny thing is, I thought that perfectionist beotch was tamed. I had her in her place for a long time. I have to remind myself that perfectionism (my perception of it for myself) does not equal happiness. And its a fricking mythical state of existence.

I grew into those other roles. Over time. And there were bumps (ok, sometimes, they were mountains) along the way. But eventually I hit my stride. I let go of the notion of perfection with those roles and learned to be satisfied with doing my very best at any given time, knowing that there were days when ‘my best’ was better than it was on some other days.

Now, to take that lesson and apply it again….and remind myself I am a recovering perfectionist.

 
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Posted by on January 3, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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