The Princess Turns 5

Cats in the Cradle

I am walking up a gigantic hill with a giant of a man. He's my Dad & I am able to dawdle in his presence. We are going up this enormous place, where sits a barn & some old horses that tower over my small head. Their long thick tongues eat up the apples we've prepared for them. Moments later, maybe days, perhaps years, we sit on my bed, composing our own symphony on my Magical Musical Thing. These moments stand still in my memory. As also, the days we sat for hours at the kitchen table creating noses of playdough. The dough clings to my face, filling my nostrils with that playdough smell and my mind with a security nothing can snatch...

She'd say: I'm gonna be like you, Dad. You know I'm gonna be like you.

I sit at her feet and watch her tenderly nurse my sister. She never scolds me back to bed, but allows me to linger there and just spend the delicate minutes of the night with her. Years later, early in the morning I rise, to climb into a pallet she's created in the back of our Dodge, while the sun still sleeps, yet my own Mother doesn't, to supervise the paper route to make extra money. She continues every morning on warm summer days, to fill our plastic wading pool with water from the hose, so it will warm in the morning sun.

She'd say: I'm gonna be like you, Mom. You know I'm gonna be like you.

Decades later, Roy sits in the car deeply in thought following his small group. His teacher, a man of many years of wisdom (ah-hem, yup, that's my Dad!) has spent the time in Genesis. Roy has been reminded about the importance of our time with our children; the words that pull at him the most are from a song from Harry Chapin, Cat's in the Cradle. Though our goal as a family, as a team, is to promote the family through spending quality time together. We are still reminded and convicted to make this a priority.

Watch me, Mom! she screams from the top of the slide. Within moments, she is toppling down the twisted slide, but not from a sweet trick. Emma has actually fallen and slid down the slide in her Emma-clumsy way. She laughs, even though she has messed up her performance. The next morning, she will stand at the top of the adjacent slide, eager to meet with and play with her new girlfriends. She will topple again, but this time, because the slide is straight, she will tumble quickly to the ground, her face quick to scrape the ground. But this time, instead of laughter, sadness and embarrassment will fill her face. She will cling to my chest for comfort and wait awhile to gain the courage to recover her pride.

She'd say: I'm gonna be like you, Mom. You know I'm gonna be like you.Roy pushes him as high as a high can be, well, at least high enough for ten month old Mr. Squishy Squishyton. He giggles and laughs and enjoys every moment of being probed by his Dad's hands, tickling every bit of his squishy legs. That evening, Will is nursing lazily on my lap. He stops for a moment to say some quiet words to himself. Early in the week, nursing again before bed, he has spied the cat peeking from the window's curtain. I say to him, Cat. Cat. Cat says Meow. with confidence. He repeats Cat in his best 10 month old voice.

He'd say: I'm gonna be like you, Dad. You know I'm gonna be like you.Jack turns two and with his new number has brought a sudden interest in all stereotypical two year old things... He has suddenly become interested in puzzles and is learning to master them quickly. Jack loves trains and can play for moments (indeed this is long for a tornado of his stature) at a time, driving them various places around the house. With his new fascinations, comes a temper that can flare with any sudden frustration. And managing this beast is a new skill. So he spends moments in the corner, sweaty, frustrated, angry. In between the fits he begs for water and to be cuddled. He falls into my arms. He rests his head on my shoulder. Peace, for the moment.

He'd say: I'm gonna be like you, Mom. You know I'm gonna be like you.We sit on the couch, just me & her. I read her Someday. I hide my tears with pauses between her numerous questions. She sits on the couch in silence, staring straight ahead. That's so sad. That is such a sad book she ponders. Why is it sad? I question. Because Auntie says it is... Brilliant little parrot...

Someday I will stand on this porch and watch your arms waving to me until I no longer see you. Someday you will look at this house and wonder how something that feels so big can look so small... Someday, a long time from now, your own hair will grow silver in the sun. And when that day comes, love, you will remember me.How can I commit to memory (again a favorite phrase) these small moments & cling to my blessings' childhood, when, really, I know they will fade just as quickly as they happen... But we live every day with the hopes of knowing that our children will grow, just as I did- they will cling to and remember small priceless times with Roy & I. They may not remember specifics but will grow up knowing they spent their childhood with us, not merely wishing to be with us. And want to be just like Mom and Dad... And when they think on these moments, they will remember us...

Quiet Halls

Jack is crouched down in a squat position next to the coffee table. He is eying a bug that is crawling along the ledge. From where I sit, I can see only the top of his head to his eyes. He is both scared and fascinated at this bug, lazily walking along. We shared our lunch together, watching Narnia, after a great morning together. We took a date to a local bookstore for story time. After story time, we visited the doctor for his check up, just the two of us. He wore his Lightning McQueen backpack to the exam. The backpack seemed to swallow his back and he walked into the office with his Jack-confidence.
I have been blessed with the opportunity this week to drink Jack & his Jack-ness in. After I returned from Southern California, Roy's grandmother, Ma Fisher, went home to rest in the arms of her Saviour. Roy quickly packed his bags, as well as Emma's, to travel back east, where I wish our entire clan could huddle. But being a single mother of two boys this week, has given me many opportunities to just be with & savor my boys.
Later in the day, Will giggles every time I cover the air between us in obnoxious kisses. He is covered in bananas, white cheddar macaroni, applesauce, and vanilla yogurt. (I, apparently, am not looking to educate the youngest on the importance of the variety of colors in foods.)
After the giggle bug is put to bed for the night, I am able to cuddle with Jack on the couch watching The Wiggles, his new favorite. He drinks the attention in. Jack clings to my hand and presses it to his face. I tell Jack that we don't cuddle enough. He keeps repeating in his soft voice, Let's cuddle...
I cannot imagine raising these boys on my own. I feel as though I have reached my survival mode, just keeping enough energy to motivate myself to make it through bedtime. (And, thankfully, I have had the much needed, always appreciated, help this week from my mom & dad.) I have thoroughly enjoyed my time with Jack & Will. But what I have noticed is, with the absence of a third child, the house is more orderly, there is less laundry, the halls are quieter, the dog doesn't get as riled up, and there has been absolutely no sibling rivalry (just a little sibling comradeship when it comes to bedtime and both boys protest with their cries!)!
I talk to Emma this evening. My heart literally hurts to hug the small being that produces such a squeaky voice over the phone. When I just hear this voice, it reminds me how little she really is. How I miss this little sweet craziness. I know I may lead a chaotic life & there are days I scream inside, for fear I may not make it through, but I miss the halls that scream with my blessings laughter, fights, sharing and teaching moments, and their play. I love spending this time with my boys, but I long for my family to be complete once again.....

Beach Walk

I have walked this road to the water a dozen times, but every time, something new stands out. Like this morning, I notice an old blue home with flags hung on the porch, sun bleached with time. Jack has woken early, the rest of the home still slumbering. We take our walk hand in hand, he holds his other hand up in the air, careful not to let the oversized sweatshirt sleeve cover his free hand.
We play "I Spy" as we examine the colors & the range of flowers that thrive in this climate. We walk along the sidewalk that parallels the docks. Jack is enamored with all the boats. We watch the pelicans dive into the water, gathering breakfast. He picks sage flowers and is eager to share this moment with Sissy. His Dad joins us & Jack is peaceful.
On the way back to the beach house, he clings to my neck, tired from his morning walk.
I am taken back again and again by the love I have for each of my blessings. It consumes me, surprises me...
We collect Emma- the two pirates share a carriage ride in a wagon pulled by their mighty Dad. Everything they come across, every flower, every bird, every boat, they breathe in. They pick flowers together, each helping & encouraging the other.
How can I commit to memory the smell of the fresh cold air? The sound of the morning birds? The way Jack's nose crinkles as he smells the different bouquets of flowers? The morning is priceless...

My daugher of five...

You entered our lives five years ago & we found out too quickly there was no owner's manual. You have survived our shortcomings & rejoiced in our accomplishments as parents (and you cling to dad & me, regardless!). Until, you were born, we didn't start to grasp the love our Father has for His children. Dad & I will do anything for you... And I stand in awe of you, Jesus sung through my head continuously, days, weeks, after your arrival.
The color of your hair matches your eyes almost perfectly. It's stunning, beautiful, exotic. You are all girl, yet not girly at all. You are tough, brave, & love blood (just not your own). You are clumsy & filled with gas, and that makes you proud. You are goofy, a joker, and very verbal. You are compassionate, a fighter, a lover. You delight in others' successes and go to battle for your causes. You will wear a sundress as you fight the 'bad guys' with your pirate sword. You can ride your bike for miles in the heat, still looking beautiful in your carefully selected garb. Your love for elephants is so great, you have collected perhaps every elephant collectible there is available...
What amazes me most of all is your tender love for our God, as well as your excitement and love for your family. Your prayers are constantly filled with thanksgiving. Our prayers bring you peace & comfort.
You have your Daddy's coloring, but my eyes. And every now & then, the reaction that fills your face reveals my Grandmother, I nearly get weepy.
I want nothing short of complete success for you. I want whoever who is blessed to come into contact with you, to know how absolutely special you are. You are a NICE girl- one of a kind.
Jump high on that trampoline. Master your cartwheel. Become an avid cyclist. Slay dragons & fight pirates. Sleep in the grandest of grand castles.
My desire for you, sweet Princess, is that you will know my Lord, your Creator at a young age. That He would be your true Prince Charming. Follow where He will lead you. Further His Kingdom.
So continue to grow, though you may experience pain. Laugh until you cry. Befriend & continue to share your sweet Jesus with others. I love you beyond words or expressions.