Lock The Door

Some days my face is twisted with stress and my mind in spinning like a top. I am out of answers, dry of ideas and simply weak.  On those days your arms around me aren’t just a loving embrace, but my protection from all that I cannot fix.  I can hide my face in your chest and press the pause button, call a “time out” on life. You have an ability to sense when I cannot stand tall next to you as a partner. When I am fragile and run down, you don’t think twice or need to be asked, you instinctually know to carry me.  When I have a problem, you present a solution. When I am in trouble, I look for you to save me.  When we don’t have enough, you always get more.

When the chaos of the evening routine is in motion, you bring order. When tears swell up and slide down little cheeks, you can find laughter. You sharpen the pencils and break out the books to see them through their school work. You help dole out portions of a hearty meal to our little one’s hungry bellies and help pull their arms through their pajama shirts.  As bedtime draws near, you aid in scrubbing their little teeth clean and kiss them atop their head while pulling the blankets to their chin.

As nighttime arrives, our eyes are heavy and the day has ended, you are just starting to begin.  You collect your things and tie your laces, prepare your bag and get ready to leave.  One last kiss goodnight as you zipper your coat before it’s time to head out.  You walk down the stairs with your keys rattling in your hand and close the door behind you, for your day has just begun.  But before you start your car and travel to work and become  the person you need to be to do your job successfully, you always manage to take a second, even in the pouring rain or blistery snow, to turn around and lock the door. Of the many roles you play in our family, Dad, father, fixer, Santa, human toy, you always remember, without being asked, to be our protector.  You always lock the door.

My words will never be sufficient for the love and gratitude I have for you, so this will have to do.  With everything that I am and all that I stand for, please know that I love you deeply.

Now if you could just remember to take the garbage out with you!

A Letter To My Son

My son just recently turned eight!  I am in shock as I sort through photographs of him, tiny and chubby, but still ever so handsome.  Now when he hugs me his head rests just under my chin.  In his class, his teacher plans a week long celebration for the birthday child.  One of the ways to celebrate was to have me write him a letter.  So I did. Here it is.

Dear My Eight Year Old Boy,

In Paris, France there is a bridge called the Pont Marie. This bridge is known as the “Kissing Bridge” because it is believed if you kiss your true love and make a wish as you pass underneath, the wish will come true.  Some time ago, your father and I took a boat ride down the Seine in Paris. When we passed under this famous bridge, we kissed, and I made a wish.  Nine months later, my wish came true, it was you.

As my first child, you changed me from being just a woman to a mother. I will always be grateful to you, as I believe being a mother is one of my purposes in life.

You have grown into an amazing person. You are athletic, smart and funny.  You are extremely talented in your writing and drawings. I have seen you be a great friend to others and a role model to your sisters.  You are compassionate, caring and patient, you have to be with three younger sisters!

As you know, I always ask you to do your best.  The reason is because I know that your best will take you wherever you want to go in life.  Please always remember this. Oh, and good hair helps! 😉

To an awesome, extraordinary 8 year old, Happy Birthday! We are always here for you and will always support you.

Always know, all the love I have in my heart, I have for you!

Love,

Mommy

xoxoxoxoxoxox

Write letters to your children and save them! I am grateful to have been asked to do this and intend on continuing to write all of my children a letter every year.  What do you think?

Rainy Days

I sit here hanging on to the last few hours of the morning, sipping coffee in my comfy sweats, my legs curled under me and the television gently humming out the sing song rhythm of a children’s show.  I have put most of my children on the bus with no chaos, no arguments over clothing or meals, a victory as far as I’m concerned. Perhaps it is attributed to the rain pouncing down, leaving the windows a dark shade of grey. When I reluctantly stepped foot out of bed this morning, each child was safely nestled in their blankets, eyes tightly closed, absorbed in the sleep where dreams come through.

The last little girl of mine is now playing contently with the sound of plastic clattering as she sorts through her toys. I feel content, a gift from the rain I suppose.  I am in total serenity when I watch the water beading up on the windows, what looks like several hundred at a time.  The drops slide down the glass making the outside world look like a distorted image from a painting I might have seen before.  The branches on the trees are mostly bare with a few soggy leaves hanging on before they surrender to winter and collect in piles on the ground. Its on days like this I wonder what it must be like living in a place where the clouds cover the sun and the forecast almost always calls for rain.  Perhaps it will lose its effect, but for today, for right now, I am appreciative for the rain.

Photo Credit: http://www.wallpapersphotography.com/Rainy%20Days/index.htm