All Saints 2007

My kid goes to Catholic school. Every year his school forgoes the annual Halloween party in favor of a celebration of All Saints Day. So this year, there was no rushing around to find the perfect Halloween costume for school. No worries about elaborate multi-piece outfits or how to explain (again) that carrying guns, swords, or other assorted weapons, does not sit well with his father and me. I didn’t have to stay up late worrying about how to turn a pair of fleece pajamas into the ideal dinosaur or where I was going to find the pattern for a cowboy’s vest. There wasn’t a thought given to which shoes would look OK with that Indian get-up.

Nope.


My challenge this year was how to turn my son into the world’s smallest Franciscan monk.

The choice to portray St. Francis was long thought out. He began by wanting to be St. Michael (his middle name), but balked at the idea of dressing as an archangel. St. George seemed to be a great option (“He slays dragons!!”), but not so much after we nixed the carrying of a dragon-slaying sword. He settled on St. Francis because, “He loved the animals.”

He doesn’t have me fooled. Being St. Francis means that he gets to choose his very favorite stuffed animal to take with him to Mass tomorrow as part of his costume. Which begs the question…

Did St. Francis love the dinosaurs too?

Ahhhh.

Finally some validation for us non-anxious, not perfect, not even half interested in making it appear as though we’re perfect, tired, overworked, I can run a household with one hand tied behind my back because I balance a career and a family...moms.

I read these pieces today and thought...YES! What’s wrong with a little independent play? What’s wrong with being honest with my kid and telling him that I have dinner to prepare, a meeting to get to, or laundry overflowing every hamper in the house, and that while all that is happening the last thing I want to do right now is pretend to be interested in toys? I’d rather my kids develop imaginative play on their own, to develop relationships with one another, and to explore the outdoors. Make the occasional mess, get filthy, get scrapes, and keep innocent secrets from us. I’m not interested in being my kids’ shadow just so that others perceive me to be the involved and caring parent that I know I am anyway. My kids aren’t interested in video games. My kids would rather go outside and play in the dirt (more often than not without me!) than do anything in the world. My kids ride bikes and scooters and take walks and haul crap around in the wagon until we drag them kicking and screaming inside for baths.

My kids also know that weekends are sacred family time, that family dinner time (especially on Sundays) is the norm - not a special occasion, and that they are loved. They also respect that their father and I have responsibilities outside of our home that occasionally take priority over our immediate involvement in their play schemes, and that when we do get down on the floor to tickle, play, build, read, and imagine with them...our hearts are really in it.

I decided against cooking dinner tonight. That’s how it started. I had to go pick up something for a student at a place right next to a restaurant that we like, so I decided to order carry-out.

E-mail was down at work today, and I had emailed D earlier this morning to see if my plan was OK with him, and he hadn’t responded...or I hadn’t gotten anything because email was down.

My cell phone has been dead for over a week.

So I wanted to check with D and make sure he didn’t have other ideas for dinner. But...no email, no cell phone. What’s a girl to do?!

Riiiiiight. I looked for a pay phone. Um...has anyone else noticed the alarming lack of pay phones around these days? (Oh, yeah, that’s because everyone has cell phones. Did I mention mine has been dead for over a week?) The gods of telecommunication must’ve been looking out for me, because I located a pay phone.

Then I got incensed over the fact that it cost FIFTY FREAKING CENTS to make a local call.

Then I got more incensed over the fact that the pay phone didn’t even work, and probably hasn’t worked in a very long time, because seriously - who uses pay phones?

Then I was just mad at myself for not charging my own phone, and mad that I got mad about such stupid little things.

I went to the mall, underwent some retail therapy, came back to the restaurant and picked up our carryout, got the kids, and came home.

And plugged in my cell phone.

Not really.

Six.

My boy. You turned six today! With joyful anticipation and exuberance you came into our room so early this morning and asked in a hushed whisper if, since it was your birthday, it was OK to come in and snuggle. I know that you just wanted to move the day along to that moment when you could tear into your birthday presents, but I wanted to have a few quiet moments to remember that day six years ago when you came to be a part of our family.

You don’t like hearing about the details of the day. You grow embarrassed as I blink back tears and swallow hard as I remember the moments of your birth-day. I suppose you won’t ever understand, until that day when you welcome your own first child, just how mysterious and hopeful and magical and frightening and overwhelming that moment is. And that’s OK. For your mama, it’s OK to go to a quiet place of remembering each year on this day. I remember how drastically different life became after your birth and how, although it is painfully cliche to say, I would never again be the same.

Perhaps this birthday is for me the most difficult yet. This year has brought so many changes to our lives and we’re still very much in the swirls of adjustment and upheaval. This year I’ve had to give a little more of you away, and I’ve realized that as you grow, I will be sharing you. I will be sharing you with your teachers and your friends. I realize how desperately I want for you to be happy more than anything else in the world. I also realize that a mama will always wish to be the everything for her child, but as you spend more time away from me and from our family and home each day, you will need to have others along the way.

It’s as it should be, I suppose. I want you to learn and grow and figure out just where it is you fit. I pray each day that you will be gently guided to good people and spirits around you and that your life may be shaped by them. I hope that you can be a good example for others.

Six years ago this night we welcomed a wide-eyed little bundle into the world. You made us change and grow in ways we could not have begun to imagine prior to your arrival, and each year brings more growth and change and wonder. You amaze us every day, and as we continue to grow together, I’ll continue to need your patience (and I promise to continue trying to be patient with you). I will watch as you spread your wings a little more each day (but I will secretly wish in some small part of me that I could hold onto you and keep you as my own forever).

Thanks for making me a mom. Happy birthday.