Damn You, Father Time

Turning 5 is a much bigger deal than I thought.

It's April again. This is the one month of the year that never fails to remind me of the passage of time in my life. My first-born son was born in the month of April, as was my third-born son. My father passed away in the month of April. Tax returns are due. Every year, without fail, April brings milestones, laughter, celebration, recollection and tears. Thankfully, the joys of the month far outweigh the lows. I'm even more thankful that my middle son's birthday is in July.

It is 2011, which means this April has marked the 9th birthday for my eldest, and the 5th birthday for my youngest. Each year, my mental preparation for their birthdays starts in March and by early April I'm knee deep in birthday-related errands. This year was no different. I sent the party invitations out. I ordered the balloons. I wrapped the gifts. I power-cleaned the house for the parties. I really thought I was ready for the whirlwind of activity. As it turns out, however, I wasn't prepared for the surprisingly emotional significance that this April has brought.

When all of my boys were ages 4 and under, I still thought of them as "little". Physically small in stature, with various reserves of baby pudge in at least one or two places...notably the most targeted spots on their body for thousands of kisses from me. As "little" kids, they were still refreshingly innocent, exploring their world and making discoveries to their pure delight. They loved being on me, or near me. They welcomed me to be a part of everything they were doing...playing, eating, exploring, sleeping...everything. Every object and experience was new and magical; it was pure joy to witness and share it all with them.

I have, in my mind, considered the "5th Birthday" as a turning point for my boys. They went from being "little" to "not little anymore". Being 5 means starting kindergarten. It means taking the training wheels off the bike. It means we've been to the zoo dozens of times by now, and they know all the animals. It means they like to do most things by themselves. It means they just aren't "little" anymore. They are on their way toward "growing up". They know there's a big world out there and they can't wait to experience the liberties afforded to "grown ups". They have no desire to remain "little" and I am a lot less needed by them.

Reflecting on the past birthdays of my first two boys, I now realize that I was afforded at least one fall-back "little" kid to get me through their milestone, aka "turning point", 5th birthdays. It was truly a blessing to my psyche which, I'm discovering, is more fragile than I would have ever thought. When my oldest turned 5, I had two other sons, ages 3 1/2 and 1...still blessedly "little" and still packing a lot of baby pudge. Turns out that was a great distraction to the fact that my first-born was growing up. When my second son turned 5, my youngest was only 2 1/2...that left me a good couple of years to enjoy his "littleness" while his big brothers continued growing up. Alas, this year my baby turned 5. In an instant, I suddenly had no more fall-back options. I'm left with the realization of the hard fact that all of my boys are growing up. My nest is no longer lined in baby pudge to comfort me as I watch them do it. There's nobody left to welcome me to be a part of every thing they are doing. I'm feeling a lot less needed and, after nine years of being elbows deep in raising my "little" boys, it's a strange feeling and one I wasn't prepared for.

This April has thrown me for an emotional loop. I baked the cakes, lit the candles, laughed, hugged and kissed my boys...all with a sincere "Happy Birthday!" to the two of them this month. In private, in reflection, I feel like I'm grieving a loss, of sorts. I'm not handling my new reality very well. I have been harshly slapped in the face by Father Time and, try as I might to prevent him from doing it, he has closed a chapter on my life that I can never get back. I am left only with the memories, photos and videos to try and recapture the sensations I experienced with my "little" boys...the smells, the sounds, the touches. But I don't want another baby to fill the void. I just want my "little" boys back for a day or two. To squeeze, to smell...to see the world through their eyes again. I can't have that...so, I will mourn my loss for a bit. I know that this, too, shall pass. In time, it won't sting to see their baby pictures and be reminded that those days are gone. In time, I will look back at this entry and wonder what the big deal was. Time, though, will be my double-edged sword for a bit. Time will heal my hurting heart and I will no longer yearn for my "little" boys to come back to me. But, time will also bring me closer to the end of my next chapter as a mom. If the next 9 years of motherhood go by as quickly as the first 9 have, that means my oldest will be leaving my home. I can't even imagine what that will be like.

My boys are growing up; I'm not naive enough to think it's gonna be all hugs and kisses in the process. I am emotionally preparing myself for all of it. I acknowledge that Father Time will continue turning the pages, against my will. So, I will be writing this next chapter in motherhood with a new perspective. I will experience my growing boys with heightened senses...every conversation we have, every touch we share, every smile they bless me with...I'm going to hold onto it. I am going to etch it in my memory and, at the end of the day, relive the moments as much as I can. And I will remind myself to enjoy it and to experience it for all it is. For, one day, too soon, this chapter will close. And I'd like to say, with a smile on my face, that I was prepared for it.

Thrifty Makes a Comeback

I realized a couple of weeks ago that I rarely use coupons anymore. I used to be so good about clipping coupons and methodically filing them away in my plastic coupon binder. I even had a membership to The Grocery Game, and prided myself on saving a minimum of 40% per trip to the grocery store. Alas, I honestly can't remember the last time I applied scissors to a coupon insert in the Sunday paper.

Well, I have a renewed sense of determination to stretch my husband's well-earned dollars as far as I can. I clipped some coupons today and even located my old "coupon organizer" from the cupboard. I must say, I'm feeling rather proud of myself. I'm saving money AND getting organized! As I was clearing out the old coupons I had so casually abandoned, I noticed the expiration dates: March and April of 2006. 2006! How can it possibly be four YEARS since I last clipped a coupon? What on earth happened in my life, so abruptly, that it has taken me FOUR YEARS to get back on that bandwagon? Hang on...it's coming to me...Adam. Adam happened. He was born in April of 2006 and instantly became my legitimate excuse for not saving money, nor for staying organized. Now he's old enough to wield his own pair of blunt-tip scissors and can help me start clipping...I sure hope he's better at "saving" than I am.

I ♥ Memories of Dad

Isn't the mind an amazing thing? The capabilities are boggling. Keep this memory...delete that one...ignore the other one for a bit until a better time. Oh, sure, the whole computation, innovation and survival stuff is cool, too. But I think, more than anything, the capacity for storing and sifting through memories is our mind's best feature.

I miss my dad. I'm positive there will never be a time when I don't miss him. It never fails to happen as I recall so many fond memories. Even not-so-fond memories crop up every once in a while...and I STILL miss him. I like that.

Baby Diet

I've been blessed with most of my dad's genes*. He had the best metabolism...he could eat anything he wanted and stayed thin as a rail. Blessedly, he passed that same "stay skinny" gene along to me. It was a curse when I was young. Imagine every time you tried on pants, they slid (yep, slid) to your ankles because you had no waist or butt to hold them up...and, back in the 70's, belts weren't cute on girls**. I had to buy boy's jeans because they actually came with waist sizes and were designed to fit my boyish figure. They also came in lengths that were long enough for my legs because, I failed to mention earlier, I also inherited my dad's "abnormally long legs" gene, too. Imagine being the tallest kid in the class, towering over the boys and wondering if I'd soon surpass the teacher...but, I digress and that's a topic for another post***.

The curse of being super skinny turned to an advantage when I hit college. Holy crow, could I pack down the beers, the pizza and the ramen noodles****. I never had to worry about my waistline because I had the "stay skinny" gene on my side. It even carried me through my 20's and right on into my first pregnancy. The only way you could tell I was pregnant was if I stood sideways...I carried all the weight out front*****...never around my waist. That's where it all ended. Not only did I give birth to my first son, it seems I also birthed that glorious "stay skinny" gene out of my body as well. I didn't know it at the time but, looking back, I'm pretty sure that's what happened.

I was able to burn off the pregnancy pounds pretty quickly...sleep deprivation, nursing and not having time to throw anything other than a Wheat Thin in my mouth during mealtimes had an amazing effect on my body. When Ben was only 6 months old, I found out I was pregnant with Colin (we'll save the "nursing is a natural contraceptive" debate for another post as well). So, when I started forcing myself to eat more than just a few Wheat Thins for the sake of the baby and suddenly started gaining weight, it all made sense. Colin was born and I had a toddler to boot. For years (and I mean years!) I spent my days running...running...running after my boys. And, I managed to keep everyone, including myself, well fed. The laundry and house cleaning suffered but that's, yet again, a topic for another post.

Then came Adam and the cycle continued, as did my delusions about my super metabolism, for a couple of years. The delusions abruptly halted about two years ago. I realized I wasn't naturally fitting into my size 4 jeans anymore...I had to spend some time on the eliptical and couldn't eat as many desserts as I'd like. I thought maybe it was just a phase and I'd get through it and back into my size 4's in no time. Well, it's been a long time since my size 4's and now I'm not sure what's going on with my size 6's.

Examining the past eight years, I've concluded that I was engaged in a Baby Diet. Having a baby meant I was guaranteed a few years of non-stop activity and could keep my weight in check. I, falsely, assumed it was my super metabolism keeping me well-proportioned. I now know it was the repetitive Baby Diet (did I mention I had three boys in the span of four years?). It's been four years since having a newborn and 2 years since having a toddler...when I do the math, that just about equates to my not-so-roomy size 6's. Either I get back on the Baby Diet or get back on the eliptical...and the treadmill...and the pilates mat. We took measures****** a couple years ago to rule out option number one, so I guess I'm stuck with exercising. Perhaps, if I run fast enough on the treadmill, I might just be able to catch that "stay skinny" gene I expelled all those years ago, and I can gulp it back down with a brownie and a glass of milk?

* except for the abnormally long arms and the flat chest, both of which looked great on him but not so great on a girl.

** I'm pretty sure I have pictures to prove this. Nor were belts effective on girls because I'm pretty sure they were located somewhere just below your chest which didn't do much for holding up pants.

*** based on my previous entry about ADHD, said post will likely never happen.

**** that's all I could afford to eat after spending all my money on beverages.

***** that's not entirely true. I also carried a couple pounds in my ankles - guess Dad didn't pass along a "super skinny ankles during pregnancy" gene.

****** now, that might be a fun post for the future!

Focus Pills

It's been nearly a year since my last blog entry. That's because I tried to solve world hunger, and it just took a little longer than I anticipated*.

My beautiful, loving, tender seven-year-old son has, among many other traits & talents, ADHD. Right before school began last year, we decided to give ADHD meds a try. We call them "Focus Pills" and, yes, they absolutely help him focus on the task at hand - his academic progress last year is a testament to the effects Ritalin can have on a child's achievement.

We knew from the time he was 2 years old that something was "up" with his brain**...and had an inkling that it might be ADHD by the time he was 4. We started having him assessed when he was 3; three or four in-depth assessments later, the therapies began at age 5***. The ADHD diagnosis came just before he turned 6 and Focus Pills started right before the school year began. My own self analysis started shortly thereafter.

There's some pretty strong theories that ADHD can be hereditary and I, for one, subscribe to the theory. Why? Because I, for one, now see my beautiful son's ADHD traits in myself. And that is why I am at peace with the fact that it's been nearly a year since my last blog entry. I'm not sure I can even tell you what's kept me so busy over the last year that would explain my absence...but, hereditary odds are pretty high, it was nothing (yet everything) all at the same time. I think I need to see a doctor about some Focus Pills for myself - the trick will be making the appointment before I get side-tracked by the million-and-one other things going on around me on my way to the phone.

* I think I just got side-tracked too many times.
** Licking the refrigerator and walking on his toes all the time was a big clue.
*** BIG fan of therapy, btw!

I Just Can't Seem to Finish A...

sentence. project. chore. thought. beer. hobby. task. Any of these words, tacked on to the title of my post, complete a sentence which accurately reflects a bit about me.

Ask my husband. He'll point you right to our Home Office and you'll immediately understand. As I sit here and look around this little room, I can identify seven distinct attempts I've made at something and then ultimately left hanging. I see scrap-booking stuff (haven't touched it in at least 2 years). Jewelry-making supplies (haven't had time in the last 2 months to do any designing). The "To Be Shredded" pile of papers sitting next to the shredder (no excuse...just don't want to do it). Clothes bin full of boys' winter clothes that need to be returned to the basement until next winter. Filing (oh. my. word.). Bills (oh crud! I should probably not leave those hanging). Interior design ideas to be filed for future reference and future expendable income.

What's my deal? I could so easily blame it on having kids. Something like "I never have time now that I'm a mom". But, honestly, I think it's more innate than that. I guess I'll have to do some more analyzing when I get the time...but I need to finish the laundry first.

Social Networking Whobie Whatie

"To tweet, or not to tweet"...that is the question. Or...is the question really "To blog, or not to blog"? Or, perhaps, "To Facebook, or not to Facebook"? I'm not even gonna pose the one about MySpace...the answer to that is most definitely "Not in my lifetime."

I've officially dabbled in all of the above - minus the MySpace. And, I have to say...huh. It's kinda weird when you think about it. Posting your thoughts, your actions, your life for people to see. But, for me, it's incredibly cathartic, and I'm fairly normal so it's not like I'll be posting anything intriguing. Since I'm not inclined to share my innermost secrets (do I have any??) via the webisphere, I think I'll keep mingling in the various networking tools to see if I find my little niche...or, until I get bored, I suppose. "When in Rome..." as they say.