"Some Good News Here"

I must give proper credit, right off the bat, to Jean Whately, my friend in writing, and a fellow co-conspirator in trying to figure out the meaning of life, love and everything in between.  Her most recent post was the catalyst for this one...

Valentine's Day.  Conjours up images of cupid... red and pink hearts... love.

I know there are many of you out there who are looking forward to celebrating.  Maybe it's a tradition to have dinner out with your spouse.  A night free of kids, a little contrived romance, penciled in on the calendar.  What else to do when you're running a household, raising a family?

Many others out there still feel that trepidation, like high school all over again.  There is this NEED to celebrate the day, to not spend it alone.

Still others are nursing a broken heart this Valentine's day.  This post is for you.

Back in 1996, Just 8 months after my wedding day, I found out I was pregnant.  I was thrilled.  Seven weeks later, I miscarried.  Sitting in my OB/GYN's office, a box of kleenex in my hand, my doctor leaned forward and gently reminded me that there was actually "some good news here."  The fact that I'd miscarried meant that I could, in fact, get pregnant.  He suggested I wait a month and try again.

Why am I telling you this?  Well, my thinking is this.  Just like miscarriage (divorce, death), it's important to remember that if we've fallen in love once - deeply, passionately, without reservation or restraint (even as our heart lies broken on the side of the road), there is "some good news here" too, no?  It means we are capable of falling deeply, madly in love AGAIN.

It may not be as simple as it should be.  And certainly, it's not as perfect as it's shown in the movies. Really, how often does it happen that eyes meet across a crowded room, and the crowd falls away as the crescendo of a thousand violins fills the air? And even when that rare moment does occur, the road is paved with bumps, my friend.  Pot holes.  Craters even.  Believe you, me.

I used to hear Don Henley crooning on the radio about how "sometimes love just ain't enough," and I'd cry B.S.  Sure it's enough!  Just send it my way, it'll be enough!  Oh, Mr. Henley was so right, wasn't he? If you've been there, you know exactly what I mean.  Sometimes... it's just not enough.

But I digress!  If you're hurting instead of loving this year, take heart (okay, that pun might have been intended).  You're hurting because you were capable of an all encompassing love.  And it'll come back to you.  Just wait.

And if by the luck of the draw, or fate, or hard liquor, you are in love this year... More power to you - enjoy!

Author's Note: In my own mental inventory of years' past, many romantic nights (and days) come to mind.  But not one of them fell on February 14th.  Further proof that true romance, real passion can not be planned.  

Happy Valentine's Day to all.  And especially to the three loves of my life...Connor, Jack, and Ella.

I Am So Proud

My son's high school held a "Mother Son Mass and Brunch" today.  During mass, the priest spoke about how the first two commandments are God's greatest commandments to us.  The first being to "love the Lord your God with all your heart, mind and soul," and the second being to "love your neighbor as yourself."  It's hard to imagine a love so deep, so powerful, so unconditional.

Not for moms.  We know the power of that love from the moment our children are born, and in many cases from the moment we know we are carrying our child.

The priest spoke then about how at the very core of this love is letting go.  From the moment we become parents we are faced with having to let go.  Day by day, little by little, as they grow into independent, capable adults.  If you are a parent, regardless of whether you're religious, spiritual or neither of these, you can probably agree with this.  The letting go is the hardest, most painful part of love.  But it's also the most important.

I can apply this to more than just my kids.  Maybe you can, too.  Letting go, in many forms is painful.  But when done with love, it's the greatest gift of all.  But I digress...

Later, we all had brunch together.  Four of the seniors each gave a short speech on why their moms mean so much to them.  It was very touching.  There were hundreds of boys in attendance with their moms.  And each one, from the seniors down to the youngest freshmen were polite, kind, and gracious.  I am so very glad that I am able to provide this education for my son.  More than just academics, he's part of a brotherhood that leads by example, with respect.  I am so proud of the young man he is, the considerate, intelligent, respectful man he is becoming right before my eyes.

On another note, I met with my second son, Jack's, teachers on Friday.  They told me how incredible my son is with an autistic boy in his classroom.  On more than one occasion, Jack has picked up his tray at lunch to go sit with this boy when he was alone at a table.  He offers a kind word and help with school work.  With no prompting, Jack has become this boy's unspoken protector.  I am so very proud.  

My daughter is learning to read.  Everywhere we go, she calls out to me, "mama, what does (insert letters here) spell?"  She's beginning to recognize simple words, and is both surprised and proud when she recognizes a word ("Hey, that spells STOP!").  I am so proud.

I write this with all three of my kids tucked into their respective beds.  And I feel truly blessed.  Blessed to have them all home, safe and sound.  Blessed to have three kids whom I truly like as people.  Each so different, all so incredible.

**sigh**

Being Mom: What a Difference A Day Makes

Last night: Raced home, changed clothes, worked out, raced home, cooked dinner, set table, broke up two fights between my sons, did two loads of laundry, raced to store with oldest son to pick up his new glasses, raced home, watched American Idol sans commercials and in fast forward (thanks to DVR), gave Ella a bath, did the dishes, had an argument with Jack (my middle child) that escalated until we were both in tears, tucked in the oldest and youngest, went to talk to Jack only to find him sound asleep, crawled into his bed, hugged him tight and woke him up to tell him how much I love him. Finally went to sleep.

Tonight: My kids are with their dad and I wish I would have slowed down. I wish I would have closed my mouth and opened my arms. I wish I would have remembered that the laundry and the dishes would still be there tomorrow. I wish I would have enjoyed bath time, read a little slower, cuddled a little longer.

Some parenting days are more stressful than others. Sometimes I say "no" when I should have said "yes," and sometimes I say "yes" when I should have said "no." Sometimes I screw up, and make mistakes and wish for a "do-over." But, always, always, I love my kids. And I hope they know that.