A Tough Goodbye

Last week, we lost some family to the west coast.  They packed up a UHaul full of the things we had known in their home for decades, and scattered a few things in new directions.   They cleaned out the wooden-planked bedrooms.  They painted the white picket fence.  They passed the windowboxes onto a new family, and began a journey to make another house become home for themselves.

Here, we waited for their moving truck to swing through packed with cats and loving faces on the way to the final destination.  We hoped for everything to be shiny for them, but our hearts filled a bit with sadness at losing our own closeness.

We wonder what their days will bring so far from everything they have known.  New horizons, new coffee shops, new neighbors, new schools.  Visits from relatives who are now the ones just a drive away.

Sometimes we need a fresh start to begin anew.

We facetimed the west coast family this morning, and took a house tour to see the digs for ourselves.  After the iPad clicked away the scene, I choked up with so much emotion.

Now Lucy and I are baking an angel food cake to make the sadness feel a little less consuming.

For my Sweetheart

Dear Jim,

I love six years old.  This summer, you are the sweetest of boys.  When I jokingly say I am being the meanest mom, you're right there behind me saying, "No."  When I ask for five hugs a day (that's a minimum!), you oblige with a series of super-sweet squeezes.  You ask for me to lay beside you in your bottom bunk cave at night.  You still want to be my little boy.

What a smart boy you are, Jimmy.  You love to achieve goals.  This month, we have a calendar on the wall for each child to track reading, math, and piano practice.  Hardly a breakfast can go by without you running to finish your song to mark off the work.   Your sister and brother lag way behind.  I don't know if it is the skills themselves so much as the organization you love.   A check-list is a friend to you and me both.

More than your math or reading smarts, though, Jimmy, what I notice most about you is your sweet, sweet nature.  You are so kind to others.  You see Frankie fall, and you run to him with such a tender hug.  You meet a friend at swimming, and you offer to share your allowance to buy him an ice cream treat.  

You have such a big and open heart.  What a gift, Jim.  What a gift you are to others in your life.

I am lucky to be your mom.  On the days your wild energy seems enough to propel a train, I must remember to pray for that energy to one day move a mountain for good.  I don't doubt you will do it.  I hope first grade is as magical as you are.

With so much love...Your,

Mama

For My Special Girl

Dear Lucy,

A little picture of you smiling in a striped navy and white tshirt stares at me from next to the computer screen.   You are just you in that picture---not frilly, not fussy.  Your hair is pulled back in a pony tail.  Your eyes are shining.

I love the you, Lucy.  I never could have imagined up a daughter who, before talking, could befriend a gang of older kids alongside her in the gym daycare.   I never could have dreamed up one who would tell older boys, flat out, if they are going to swear, then she won't hang out with them.  I never could have imagined a daughter who would try so hard to do everything right, and yet be her own sweet, individual self. 

Second grade is so close you can touch it, Luce.  You have worn that new plaid jumper all around the block.  You labeled your own supplies, and I'm certain that within the week, you will have collected the phone numbers for kids to come on over.  You plan out your own way.  

Sometimes it seems like everything you touch---swimming, reading, soccer, gymnastics---is easy for you, Lucy.  But that's not really how it is.  You make things look easy because you aren't afraid of hard work.  You think of a piano song you want to learn, and you pound away at it again and again.  You pick out a book and decide you will read it through----on the first day you can actually read.

You are a whipper-snapper and a true gem, Lucy.  May the sidewalks ahead glitter with excitement.  

I love you!!!

Your, 

Mom

Dive In

Dear Tom,

My almost fourth grader.   You are not the greatest swimmer.

This week, you have been in the pool every day at swim school.  You've made your way up the swimming levels for about six years now.  Back in the day, thirty minute lessons felt like mother/son torture.   The attention span just couldn't hold out that long----from any angle.

But somehow, in this moment, thirty minutes blinks by so quickly.  You are asking me when it's your turn to jump in.  You are pulling on flippers, and propelling through the water with four different strokes.   

You are getting passed by the other kids...

And you still keep going.

My son, I don't tell you that swimming isn't natural to you because I want to hurt you.  I tell it to you for quite the opposite reason.   I am proud of you, Tom.  You don't complain.  I have seen you do activities you love, and I know swimming is a challenge that you don't relish.  But you get in the pool and you smile.  You haven't even mentioned that others around you are stronger swimmers.  You push forward, and after several laps, I see your breath is labored and your challenge is great.  

You keep going.

I admire this persistence of yours, Tom.  In life, none of us can be a natural at everything.  And yet still, we need a fundamental knowledge of so many skills as we go through our days.   This week in the pool, you are practicing one of those skills in addition to a more daily skill of just doing what has to get done in life---without complaint.

This fall, you and your Jim and Lu will start a new adventure together at Catholic school.  I know we've told you this a billion times, but we couldn't be happier at this chance for our family to find faith in the classroom.  Not every child has this opportunity.  We hope that your teachers will help you learn more about God and about your unique gifts.  We hope you will find your niche and continue to grow that great brain.

It can be so hard to start in a new place, Tom, but honestly, I'm not really worried about you.  You have a soft spot for helping others and following rules, and you are an amazing kid.  There are big things ahead for you.

I love you so much. 

Your, 

Mom