To My Son on His First Day of School

To My Son...

Today is your very first day of kindergarten.  

Your backpack is zipped up.  Your lunch is packed.  Your water bottle is topped off.  

You are ready to go.

Every day for the last week, you have started your day by asking me "Mom, is today my first day of school?"  You eagerly sprinkled your 'Ready Confetti' from your teacher under your pillow last night to help you get a good night's rest. You've been jumping up and down every time someone so much as mentions the word "kindergarten" in your presence.

I suppose those things really just describe the "excited" part of being ready to go.

But I've also seen the "prepared" part of being ready to go in you, too.

You are a good problem solver.  You know how to zip and unzip your lunch box.  You are a good listener.  You love to learn new things.  You introduce yourself to new kids, and invite them to play.  You know exactly where your classroom, your locker, your desk are.  You can follow directions.  You can ask questions and ask for help when you need it.  You know how to stand up for yourself.  I've seen you grow and develop confidence in yourself and do all these things.  

I know you are ready, in every sense of the word.

So I guess the real question is: Am I ready?

Am I ready to put you on that bus?  Am I ready to admit that you really don't need me to help you eat lunch every day?  Am I ready to accept that you will make friends that I don't know and haven't met first?  Am I ready to admit that the sweet baby boy I held in my arms what seems like moments ago is ready to walk into his kindergarten classroom and wave good-bye?

Here's the funny thing about being a parent...the answers to those questions are irrelevant.

It doesn't really matter if I'm ready or not, because you are.  And you won't wait around for me to 'be ready' because that's not how it works, and that's not how it should work.  Honestly, I don't know that I'll ever truly be ready for any part of you growing up, whether it's your first day of kindergarten or your first day of college.

But that's OK.  

Because you are ready.  And I wouldn't want it any other way.  I am thankful that you are excited and confident and eager and ready.  It is a blessing to this Mom's heart.  

While I may not be nearly as ready as you are, I do know I am just as excited as you are about today.  So much lies ahead, and today simply marks the first step in an amazing journey for you.  You are going to experience so many "firsts" this year, and I can't wait to hear all about them from your thrilled little face while you jump up and down the entire time you're telling me about it.  There is so much for you to learn and do and see and experience.  Your whole world is going to open up to be so much bigger this year.  

As your world does grow by leaps and bounds when you walk in the doors of that school, my prayer for you is that you are YOU.  That you are 100% totally and completely YOU.  God has made you this kind, fun-loving, compassionate, goofy, smart boy, and He needs you to be YOU.  Your teacher and your classmates need you to be YOU.  The world needs you to be YOU. 

And do you know why?
  
Because you are a pretty incredible kid.  You are an incredible kid just by being YOU.  You have so much to offer this world, and in order to do that, you need to be YOU.

I hope you follow your heart and make choices based on what you know to be true and right and kind.  I hope you have lots of chances to speak what's on your mind, and share your thoughts in the way only you can.  I hope you find a peace and confidence to just be yourself and light up the room the way I've seen you do countless times.  I hope you trust yourself and believe in yourself and stay true to yourself.   

This will be true for your first day of kindergarten, your first day of high school, and your first day at your first job.  

I think that's what gets me about this day.  I'm going to blink and I'm going to be sharing these same words with you on your first day of high school, and over the phone with you on your first day at your first job.  Today is a reminder of just how fast it all goes and how precious these moments with you are.  Today is also a reminder of all the possibilities that life has to offer you.

So today, if you happen to see me cry or catch my breath as I wave good bye to you when the bus pulls away, please know they are tears of absolute joy and pride and excitement and gratitude on my part.  I am so very honored that I get to be your mom, and have a front row seat to watch you grow up.  I am thrilled to be on this journey with you.  

I hope you have a fantastic first day of kindergarten, and I absolutely can't wait to hear every single detail from you tonight at dinner.  

I love you to the moon and back!
Mom

Ready or not, You're a Good Mom.

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"Parent"dox: Gone, But Still Here

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #18:  Gone, But Still Here

Today was a special day for our family.

It was a day of love, celebration, sadness, joy, memories and togetherness, all rolled in to one.

The day began with mass.  From my 83-year-old grandpa to my 3-month-old niece, four generations of my family sat together and filled nearly three pews at his church.  After church, we all headed to Bob Evans for breakfast together.  After too many pancakes and way too much bacon, we then ventured to my aunt and uncle's pool to swim and spend the afternoon together, just as we do each year on this day.  The day wound to a close with a cookout, and of course, more eating.  Together.

From start to finish, it was a day of family.  It was a day of laughing and talking and joking and remembering.  It was a day of time spent together.  

It was a day for her.  Of her family being together, just as she would have wanted it.  

It has been a special day for our family each year for 18 years now.

You see, we lost my Grandma Helen 18 years ago this August. 

In some ways, it seems like it was just yesterday.  I still remember my mom walking into our kitchen in the early hours of the morning, after arriving home from the hospital, to tell me she was gone.  The way it felt when my breath caught in my chest and my stomach dropped when she told me somehow still seems fresh.  How can it possibly have been 18 years already?

In some ways, it seems like it's been a lifetime.  Our family has grown and grown and grown -- with marriages and births -- by leaps and bounds in that time.  It's hard for me to remember a time when my husband wasn't part of my life, but he didn't even enter the picture until after she had passed away.  He never actually got to meet her in person.  How can it possibly have been only 18 years ago?  

She may have left us 18 years ago, but she is still so very, very much with us.  

She is part of our family; then, now and forever.

She's here in the laughter, the smiles, the tears.

She's here in the quiet moments, in the loud chaos.

She's here in my sister's ability to clip and organize and find every coupon on the face of the earth.  

She's here every time anyone in our family eats at Rainbow Grill or drinks a Pepsi or eats Saltine crackers.  

She's here in the wedding band my grandpa still wears on his left hand to this day.

She's here in the way my aunts make holiday gatherings feel like celebrations and truly special days by gathering us all together.  

She's here in my ability to eat nothing but corn for dinner and be completely happy.

She's here in the way my mom goes to just about every craft show possible, and usually finds something cute for her grandkids every time she's there.

She's here in my three cousins who never met her in person, but know her and love her as Angel Grandma.  

She's here in the way my uncles will attend any sporting event of any member in our family to cheer them on, whether it's varsity basketball or 4-year-old soccer.

She's here in the way my cousins and I laugh and tease each other, often more like siblings than cousins.

She's here in the height (or lack of height...) of my own children.  

She's here in the way family is so important to all of us, and how we all support each other.

She may no longer walk this earth with us, but she is very much still with all of us -- day in, day out -- but especially so on this day.  I know it makes her heart happy as she watches her husband, her children, their spouses, her grandchildren and their spouses, and now her great-grandchildren, together.  I know she can't help but smile as she watches us all laughing, joking, playing, and just being a family together.  

That's exactly how she would have wanted us to celebrate.  Together.

She may be gone, but she is still here.  

Grandma Helen, thanks for all you taught all of us, and how you loved all of us.  You Are a Good Mom.  You are a Great Mom.  Then, now, forever, for always.  We love you and miss you!

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"Parent"dox: So Small, Yet So Big

Sunday Night "Parent"dox #11: So Small, Yet So Big

This was how I spent my Saturday night.  I don't mean to brag, but I guarantee it beats the pants off whatever anyone else in the entire universe was doing.  I'm just saying.

I was in the basement of sister and brother-in-law's house as they were finishing up a long day of moving.  I found myself a nice quiet piece of their sectional couch that was actually right side up, and snuggled with my sweet, sleeping two-week-old niece.  For about 2 hours.

I was most definitely in my happy place.

And while in my happy place, holding my sweet little niece, I looked down to notice she was wearing an outfit that used to belong to my daughter.  I was instantly transported three years back in time.  I remembered picking that outfit out and choosing it because it was cute, but not pink and not too girly.  I remembered the first place she wore it, which was to a retirement party for a few colleagues of mine.  I remembered how very tiny my daughter seemed when I put that outfit on her little two-week-old self.

That is when this "parent"doxical question crossed my mind:  How is it possible to love something so small with a love that is so astronomically big?

My life was completely and totally changed with the arrival of each of my children.  I discovered I had a capacity to love in a way I never knew I was capable of when I met each of them.  I experienced a love so deep, so rich, that even now I have trouble putting words to it.

These little tiny people -- each of them weighing no more than 7 pounds -- had captured my heart.  Forever.  

What continues to baffle my mind is how quickly and deeply I fell in love with these tiny little people who I knew so little about. This love was different than any other love I had experienced in my life.  I had no idea what talents they would have, what fears they would have, what hopes and dreams they would have, what struggles and difficulties they would have.  I had no idea if we would have anything in common.  I had no idea what their personalities would be, what their interests would be, what foods or books or colors or ice cream flavors would be their favorites.  They had no words to communicate any of this to me, and wouldn't for a very long time.  They couldn't hug me or kiss me.  They couldn't even look me in the eye, or smile at me to show me they were connecting with me in some way in those first few days.

I didn't know if they would ever love me in the way I loved them.  

But it didn't matter.  None of that mattered.

I knew everything I needed to about them.  They were mine.  Nothing else mattered.  I loved them totally and completely and unconditionally.  Instantly.

I knew I had experienced a love that went beyond anything else.  I knew I this was a love that was bigger than me.  I knew something in my heart grew and stretched and changed in those early days with both of my babies, and it hasn't been the same since.  It loves in a way I can't make sense of, in a way I can't put words to.  It is an unconditional, unchangeable, immeasurable kind of love.

Even when I was spit up on...and peed on...and pooped on...without so much as a smile from this little tiny person I was devoting myself to caring for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  Even when I hadn't slept or showered or eaten a warm meal.  I was in love.  I couldn't explain it then, and I can't explain it now.

The smallest people I have ever been blessed to know have blessed my life with the biggest love I could possibly imagine.  

When your heart is full beyond words.  When you experience love beyond words.  When you have a love bigger than words for such a tiny little miracle, You Are a Good Mom.

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