There's a key chain that I carry in my purse for all my key tags from the various shops that I visit. It seems for a while there, that every store had a value card, and eventually I had so many that they needed to be moved off the ring with the actual keys and onto a ring all of their own. So I moved them.
The key chain is has a leather strap that holds a 3 dimensional, bronze-ish letter "J" with Mickey Mouse standing by it's side. To some, it may be just another novelty picked last minute off the register racks at Disney World. But for me, it marked the beginning. Hand picked, just for me, by a nine year old boy while on a trip with his Dad to Disney.
On Monday, that nine year old turned 20.
We joke about the key chain now, first that I would not remember what he bought me, and second that I still have it. Over the years even I can not believe that it has not been lost or broken, yet there it resides at the bottom of my purse. This life I have now is so far from where it was then. I picked flowers from the garden this week. The hydrangeas almost never bloomed although they had been established for years. Two years ago we moved them and Tony, the yard Nazi that he is, watered them religiously. Now they produce flowers the size of dish plates in pink, purple, blue, and white.
This past weekend we finished replacing the patio out back. Tony dug it all up and relayed some of the stones. A few days later, I laid a few more. A week later, he laid out some more while I was at work and I picked up the extra slate that we needed on my way home. He filled the seams, three day later Youngest and I filled some more and when he got home from work he touched it up and finished it off.
In the end we have a beautiful new patio, completed together, but separately, which is sometimes the way we work best. It took me a long time to figure that out. That we can work on something together but not side by side.
On Tuesday we celebrated our 3rd year of marriage together, but not side by side. Which, in it's own way was good, as we both needed to be exactly where we were. He needed to be focused on his extended family and I took the boys to the local pond for one last day of swimming and then for dinner at our favorite ice cream shop. After all, the last day of summer vacation is as good a reason as any for ice cream for dinner.
On Wednesday Oldest started his last year of middle school. Youngest started seventh grade, the midpoint of his schooling years and as we all know too well, the down hill roll is faster than the climb. We had to stop at a friend's house on the way home from the pond Tuesday night. They were playing basketball with her son, also fast becoming a young man, and I wondered how it all happened. How Bonus Brother turned 20. How Oldest's voice had already changed. How Youngest had come into his own fiercely independent person, able to self advocate for his education and all of life's injustice. The summer, although no shorter than any other has been full, but yet there were so many could haves left undone and I wondered "Had I done enough?", "Had I been present enough?", "Will they have any memories?" Or will they just remember it as nothing special? Sure they have had opportunities and experiences that many kids dream of, but had they had enough of me? Had I been the Mom they needed? Would they ever look back and say that was the best thing? Would they remember the big things, or the tiny things that I would deem insignificant? Looking back I don't miss any stage of their growing up. Sixteen months apart, each stage was fast, intense, difficult, and loving. Most days I had no idea how I'd make it through, and in hindsight there is no apparent marker of when each phase ended and the next one started. But I can tell you that those days are over and now we're on to new and more challenging stuff, plagued with newness, difficulty, and love.
And hopefully memories.
Because if I have learned nothing else from my Mickey key chain, it's that our time with them is finite. Soon enough they will go on and make their own moments, memories, and mistakes. My hope is that one day they can recall the moments when I was the mom that they needed, and through those memories slow down time just for a bit, so I can relive it all again.
Exactly as it all happened.
Because as fast as it's going, I wouldn't change a thing.
Showing posts with label oldest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oldest. Show all posts
Saturday, August 30, 2014
End Of Summer....
Quick Reference:
end of summer,
growing up,
oldest,
Youngest
Sunday, July 20, 2014
Plastic In The Dirt...
"You can paint that house a rainbow of colors,
Rip out the floorboards, replace the shutters,
But that's my plastic in the dirt..."
~ John Mayer (1983)
~~~~~~
Windows were replaced. Walls were painted. Carpeting went in. Slowly it started to feel like home. We didn't have much, having lost or sold off everything in the divorce, but I had what mattered, my sons. I spent my days ripping out and relaying insulation, cutting holes in walls, and rerunning electrical wires and outlets. Each time I found a little memento of the family that lived here before. Company photos, newspaper clippings, the stamps that are the background of this blog... all found in nooks and crannies of our home.
The yard was no exception. Bob, the man who owned the house before me, who had been raised here by his grandmother, was FAMOUS for burying things in the yard. We have found everything from asphalt, brick, flagstone, shovels, coins, oil cans, old bottles, glass, tonka trucks, rocket igniters, and weird pieces of plastic. Having removed hundreds of random pieces or rock and metal during the front yard renovation, Tony is NOT a fan of Bob's methods. I am more used to it, figuring it to be just a fact of life. He had after all, lived here off and on for over 40 years.
Yesterday while I was at work, Tony started ripping up the flagstone patio that we have at the base of the back stairs. The goal is to even it out, level the stone, and make it a bit wider than it is now. Not a huge thing, just VERY labor intensive and hard on the back. When I got home, he had it all ripped up and had dug down about 6 inches to start leveling it off. Once I got home and revved myself up with some Advil, I went out to help him start dry laying the pieces. As we went along, we pulled the medium sized rocks from the dirt before dry laying the stone so that they would be less wobbly while it was still a work in progress.
And so we went along. Removing rocks, laying flagstone, pick up a rock, move the flagstone, pick up the ...wait...that's not a rock...
...it's a plastic turtle. Encased in dirt, missing a googly eye, it was Oldest's turtle toy from when he was maybe 5. It was HIS plastic in the dirt.
And with that, a new chapter of our home's history was unearthed.
Quick Reference:
oldest,
Why can't I just have a normal home improvement project
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