My little guy turned 5 today. Now I understand why my own mother always waxed poetic on our birthdays, why she remembered the exact times of our births and noted that time each year, why she recounted the events leading up to our births. It is an extraordinary event, bringing a life into the world, and commemorating that event involves both remembering how it all started-- and then marveling at how much has transpired since.
I'm really grateful for our Davis. He is, in my very biased mommy-opinion (and only to add to the list of the characteristics of all of our amazing kids) uncommonly sweet, sensitive, and enthusiastic. He has had some struggles in his young life, and we have seen him move through so much with great perseverance. We have consistently appreciated his kindness, his attentiveness to those around him, his eagerness to please, his delightful laugh, his capacity to love.
And so it was really a joy to sit at the dining room table tonight, our family of 5 and his good buddy, eating the birthday dinner which he had requested: hot dogs, macaroni and cheese, carrots, and fruit. We talked about our days and then Daddy asked each of us to say one thing we liked about Davis. This was Luke's report: "He has lots of smiles. He's gentle, and he's kind." Kudos to Luke for having such a kind spirit himself, for being willing to praise a friend without any return. Praise God that our little boy has such a friend. And praise God, for our sweet Davis, for whom we are so grateful on his fifth birthday.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Focus
When I had two kids, the prospect of a weekend without Daddy struck panic into my heart. I would do just about any amount of traveling or begging to find a way to have help for the weekend. It seems kind of silly now, but in defense of my silliness, my first two were pretty rotten sleepers and pretty intense little people, not to mention that their mommy is on the intense side. Or so I'm told.
But since the advent of the third, my perspective has changed. I certainly don't relish a weekend without Daddy, and I would never choose one, but I feel confident in my ability to get through the days and even to enjoy the kids along the way. I think perhaps my expectations and the reality of parenting have finally collided. I don't really expect to be rested or that the kids will follow my plan for their napping schedules or that the weather will be perfect or that friends will be available, and so I'm freed to just enter into the weekend, not sure what it will hold.
One thing I do notice about single parenting, though (and man, do I respect single mothers more every time I do it!) is that I can become more stern and joyless as I have sole charge of all the chores and transitions of our days from morning to night. I forget to laugh sometimes because I'm so focused on the preparing food, serving, cleaning it up, dressing, diapering, pottying, tidying, maintaining order.
This afternoon was classic. We were trying to get out the door to go get favors for Davis's upcoming birthday party and then hit Chick-Fil-A for some playland action and dinner. I'm feeling pretty magnanimous for providing such fun, and the kids had been enthusiastic about the plan until some sort of disagreement broke out between the oldest two. Now Davis is sulking and complaining, refusing to put his shoes on, and I'm delivering this classic lecture about how "this whole trip is for you and if you don't have a good attitude about it, we really don't have to go." I mean, cue the Charlie Brown adult voice: "wah, wah, wah, wah, wah wah." I'm even annoying myself.
Then I realize that Zoe, aged 2 1/2, is behind me, also delivering some sort of lecture. I've been tuning her out but as I pay attention to her little voice, here's what she's saying: "Focus, Davis. Focus. Focus, Davis. Focus."Her lecture not only propelled all of us into hysterical laughter, but it reminded me to chill out a little. As Charlie Brown would say, "Good grief!" Lord willing, Daddy will be home tomorrow. We'll be just fine until then. And if I can remember to laugh, we might even enjoy ourselves until he comes home.
But since the advent of the third, my perspective has changed. I certainly don't relish a weekend without Daddy, and I would never choose one, but I feel confident in my ability to get through the days and even to enjoy the kids along the way. I think perhaps my expectations and the reality of parenting have finally collided. I don't really expect to be rested or that the kids will follow my plan for their napping schedules or that the weather will be perfect or that friends will be available, and so I'm freed to just enter into the weekend, not sure what it will hold.
One thing I do notice about single parenting, though (and man, do I respect single mothers more every time I do it!) is that I can become more stern and joyless as I have sole charge of all the chores and transitions of our days from morning to night. I forget to laugh sometimes because I'm so focused on the preparing food, serving, cleaning it up, dressing, diapering, pottying, tidying, maintaining order.
This afternoon was classic. We were trying to get out the door to go get favors for Davis's upcoming birthday party and then hit Chick-Fil-A for some playland action and dinner. I'm feeling pretty magnanimous for providing such fun, and the kids had been enthusiastic about the plan until some sort of disagreement broke out between the oldest two. Now Davis is sulking and complaining, refusing to put his shoes on, and I'm delivering this classic lecture about how "this whole trip is for you and if you don't have a good attitude about it, we really don't have to go." I mean, cue the Charlie Brown adult voice: "wah, wah, wah, wah, wah wah." I'm even annoying myself.
Then I realize that Zoe, aged 2 1/2, is behind me, also delivering some sort of lecture. I've been tuning her out but as I pay attention to her little voice, here's what she's saying: "Focus, Davis. Focus. Focus, Davis. Focus."Her lecture not only propelled all of us into hysterical laughter, but it reminded me to chill out a little. As Charlie Brown would say, "Good grief!" Lord willing, Daddy will be home tomorrow. We'll be just fine until then. And if I can remember to laugh, we might even enjoy ourselves until he comes home.
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