Today my oldest child, D, turns 7 years old.
I have written before about how much I love him; about how much I have learned from him; about my challenges watching him grow up. He is my pride and joy. I simply adore that boy.
Not to say that raising him is all fun. He and I butt heads almost daily. We are very much alike: stubborn, willful and independent. Sometimes we'll be getting into an issue (eating his vegetables, getting up in the morning for school) and I'll think, "Aha! Karma!" for I'm sure my parents had similar issues with me as a child.
He is still a mama's boy, despite my fears earlier in the year. Just the other day he told me I was his "forever girl". He doesn't like me to put on lipgloss, telling me that I look beautiful already. And he loves his snuggles, hugs and kisses, especially at bedtime. When J is out of town on business, D begs every night to sleep with me.
I know it won't always be like this, and that sooner or later (hopefully later) he'll pull away. But until that day comes, I will cherish every hug and kiss.
Seven years ago, my life changed---for the better. I had no idea how big a hole was in my life until my sweet son came and filled it.
April 12, 2011
April 5, 2011
Dashed Dreams
As a baseball fan, I'd always dreamed that if I had a boy, he would play ball. I had visions of being a Little League mom. I imagined a minivan full of baseball gear. I even entertained, once or twice, the fantasy of my son being a professional baseball player.
As it turns out, my son, D, is not a baseball player. He hated playing T-ball last year (and really, who can blame him? He was 5 years old and bored to tears standing in the outfield or sitting on the bench). He never took to soccer. He did seem to enjoy basketball somewhat, which he played this past winter, but didn't LOVE it. He just isn't into sports. He does like to run, and I will encourage that. Who knows, maybe as he gets older he will be on the track or cross-country team.
What he DOES love to do is read, build things, do science experiments, watch TV, and play Wii. A far cry from the sports-loving baseball fanatic boy of my dreams. We get to read together, go to plays, and play games.
I had always imagined that, if I had a girl, she would spend her days playing house, dressing up in tutus, and excelling at ballet. I pictured a closet full of pink dresses. I envisioned watching all of the Disney Princess movies again and again.
In reality, my daughter, A, never plays house. She plays with her kitchen set, and I hear her pretending to talk to her friends from school, but it's not as elaborate a make-believe scene as playing house. She does not like wearing dresses, and needs to be bribed to wear one. She is in ballet and tap, but her balance and coordination keep her from being the graceful ballerina I had pictured (trust me, I'm ok with that. The fact that she is in dance class to begin with satisfies all of my expectations). And watching ANY movie is futile; she prefers shorter TV shows.
When I got married 10 years ago, I imagined growing old with my husband, J. I assumed that we would have a healthy life together, that if God-forbid we should experience any health crisis it wouldn't be until we were well into old-age.
Instead, I have a husband with Young-Onset Parkinson's Disease. He was diagnosed about 5-6 years ago, when he was in his early 30's. Having YOPD in the family wasn't even on our radar of things to worry about when we got married.
You get what you get, and you don't get upset. Right?
The thing is, I have learned to roll with the punches. Some of my expectations were silly (not all boys love sports; not all girls love dresses) and some were appropriate (who expects their young spouse to get diagnosed with a degenerative neurological disorder that typically afflicts people in their 70s?). Regardless, even though I have had my share of heartache during the past 5 years (a daughter with a million medical issues and developmental delays, a husband with YOPD) I am happy with the family I have. I love my husband, son and daughter more than anything in the world. They are who they are.....and they are not the people I had long ago dreamed about.
They are better.
As it turns out, my son, D, is not a baseball player. He hated playing T-ball last year (and really, who can blame him? He was 5 years old and bored to tears standing in the outfield or sitting on the bench). He never took to soccer. He did seem to enjoy basketball somewhat, which he played this past winter, but didn't LOVE it. He just isn't into sports. He does like to run, and I will encourage that. Who knows, maybe as he gets older he will be on the track or cross-country team.
What he DOES love to do is read, build things, do science experiments, watch TV, and play Wii. A far cry from the sports-loving baseball fanatic boy of my dreams. We get to read together, go to plays, and play games.
I had always imagined that, if I had a girl, she would spend her days playing house, dressing up in tutus, and excelling at ballet. I pictured a closet full of pink dresses. I envisioned watching all of the Disney Princess movies again and again.
In reality, my daughter, A, never plays house. She plays with her kitchen set, and I hear her pretending to talk to her friends from school, but it's not as elaborate a make-believe scene as playing house. She does not like wearing dresses, and needs to be bribed to wear one. She is in ballet and tap, but her balance and coordination keep her from being the graceful ballerina I had pictured (trust me, I'm ok with that. The fact that she is in dance class to begin with satisfies all of my expectations). And watching ANY movie is futile; she prefers shorter TV shows.
When I got married 10 years ago, I imagined growing old with my husband, J. I assumed that we would have a healthy life together, that if God-forbid we should experience any health crisis it wouldn't be until we were well into old-age.
Instead, I have a husband with Young-Onset Parkinson's Disease. He was diagnosed about 5-6 years ago, when he was in his early 30's. Having YOPD in the family wasn't even on our radar of things to worry about when we got married.
You get what you get, and you don't get upset. Right?
The thing is, I have learned to roll with the punches. Some of my expectations were silly (not all boys love sports; not all girls love dresses) and some were appropriate (who expects their young spouse to get diagnosed with a degenerative neurological disorder that typically afflicts people in their 70s?). Regardless, even though I have had my share of heartache during the past 5 years (a daughter with a million medical issues and developmental delays, a husband with YOPD) I am happy with the family I have. I love my husband, son and daughter more than anything in the world. They are who they are.....and they are not the people I had long ago dreamed about.
They are better.
April 2, 2011
Inspiration
I had the most inspiring day today. I was inspired by both by my own children and by a slew of amateur athletes.
This morning my kids participated in the Junior Carlsbad Race. If you are a long-time reader of my blog, you might remember that my children did this race last year. I had signed them up when my daughter, A, had only been walking for 6 weeks (she didn't walk until age 3 1/2); by the time race day came, she had only been walking for about 10 weeks total! She did the 50-yard toddler trot, making me so proud. My son, D, who was then 5 years old, did the 1/2 mile run.
Today, a year later, their distances increased. D moved up to the 1 mile run, and A did the 1/4 mile. D's group was first. I stood with A on the sidelines (my husband, J, ran with D; or, should I say, ran behind him!) When I saw D streak past me to the finish line I was shocked---he was doing about a 10 minute mile (in comparison, his slow mother does over an 11 minute mile!). The look of sheer determination and concentration on his face was priceless; he saw the finish line ahead of him and he was sprinting to the finish. I couldn't have been more proud. Tears of joy may have been shed. D is not a sports kid (we have tried soccer, t-ball and basketball) but he does love to run. He must take after his mama!
Soon after, it was A's group's time. Again, I stood on the sidelines, with D this time, and watched all the four year-olds run by. I knew that A would be the last kid; she still doesn't know how to run. Sure enough, behind all the other kids, I saw A & J ambling along. She made it the whole 1/4 mile without help, and was proud to receive her medal, just as her big brother did.
Besides being wowed by my own children, I was inspired by all the other kids! I heard there were 3000 kids there total (from age 12 down to babies doing the diaper dash). The sight of all these kids running made me so happy. I hope that most of them continue to run into adulthood.
After the race, I separated from the family (we had taken both cars). They went home, and I went to cheer on a friend at the California Ironman 70.3. This half Ironman consisted of a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run. My friend, T, is the one who got me into triathon in the first place (I had always been just a runner until last summer) and I really wanted to support him. I also hoped to see some other people I have gotten to know on dailymile and twitter, but unfortunately I never saw them. Luckily, though, I saw T twice. It was great to be there to cheer him on.
Seeing all the other competitors was incredible too. Everyone, to a man (and woman!) was giving their all, digging deep and pushing through the pain. I was situated by about 100 yards from the finish line, which also served as the turn-around point for the double-looped half-marathon. So some people that I saw had to turn around and do the course again, and others were nearing the end of the last part of their run and were almost done. Some people were smiling, some people looked miserable, but they ALL looked proud. I felt extremely motivated just watching.
Best of all, I saw several challenged athletes competing. I saw a few people with prosthetic legs running. The announcer said that one woman, who was running by with one real leg and one prosthetic leg, had gotten her leg blown off by stepping on a landmine in Iraq. One man that stood out to me had no arms; one arm was missing from the shoulder, and the other arm was missing from the elbow. I was wondering how he swam and biked! But he did it...and not just a little swim or bike ride, but as part of a grueling 70.3 miles. I was deeply touched, and realized that if these athletes, who had overcome challenges such as missing a limb or limbs, could do a half Ironman, then I myself could do anything I really put my mind to and trained for.
All in all, it was a very motivating day for me. Tomorrow, when I am running my scheduled 8 miles and start to feel tired, I will think of these everyday athletes: the children in the kids race, the challenged athletes, and the thousands of men and women who trained all year for this event, and I will push through my own pain and fears.
This morning my kids participated in the Junior Carlsbad Race. If you are a long-time reader of my blog, you might remember that my children did this race last year. I had signed them up when my daughter, A, had only been walking for 6 weeks (she didn't walk until age 3 1/2); by the time race day came, she had only been walking for about 10 weeks total! She did the 50-yard toddler trot, making me so proud. My son, D, who was then 5 years old, did the 1/2 mile run.
Today, a year later, their distances increased. D moved up to the 1 mile run, and A did the 1/4 mile. D's group was first. I stood with A on the sidelines (my husband, J, ran with D; or, should I say, ran behind him!) When I saw D streak past me to the finish line I was shocked---he was doing about a 10 minute mile (in comparison, his slow mother does over an 11 minute mile!). The look of sheer determination and concentration on his face was priceless; he saw the finish line ahead of him and he was sprinting to the finish. I couldn't have been more proud. Tears of joy may have been shed. D is not a sports kid (we have tried soccer, t-ball and basketball) but he does love to run. He must take after his mama!
Soon after, it was A's group's time. Again, I stood on the sidelines, with D this time, and watched all the four year-olds run by. I knew that A would be the last kid; she still doesn't know how to run. Sure enough, behind all the other kids, I saw A & J ambling along. She made it the whole 1/4 mile without help, and was proud to receive her medal, just as her big brother did.
Besides being wowed by my own children, I was inspired by all the other kids! I heard there were 3000 kids there total (from age 12 down to babies doing the diaper dash). The sight of all these kids running made me so happy. I hope that most of them continue to run into adulthood.
After the race, I separated from the family (we had taken both cars). They went home, and I went to cheer on a friend at the California Ironman 70.3. This half Ironman consisted of a 1.2 mile swim, a 56 mile bike ride, and a 13.1 mile run. My friend, T, is the one who got me into triathon in the first place (I had always been just a runner until last summer) and I really wanted to support him. I also hoped to see some other people I have gotten to know on dailymile and twitter, but unfortunately I never saw them. Luckily, though, I saw T twice. It was great to be there to cheer him on.
Seeing all the other competitors was incredible too. Everyone, to a man (and woman!) was giving their all, digging deep and pushing through the pain. I was situated by about 100 yards from the finish line, which also served as the turn-around point for the double-looped half-marathon. So some people that I saw had to turn around and do the course again, and others were nearing the end of the last part of their run and were almost done. Some people were smiling, some people looked miserable, but they ALL looked proud. I felt extremely motivated just watching.
Best of all, I saw several challenged athletes competing. I saw a few people with prosthetic legs running. The announcer said that one woman, who was running by with one real leg and one prosthetic leg, had gotten her leg blown off by stepping on a landmine in Iraq. One man that stood out to me had no arms; one arm was missing from the shoulder, and the other arm was missing from the elbow. I was wondering how he swam and biked! But he did it...and not just a little swim or bike ride, but as part of a grueling 70.3 miles. I was deeply touched, and realized that if these athletes, who had overcome challenges such as missing a limb or limbs, could do a half Ironman, then I myself could do anything I really put my mind to and trained for.
All in all, it was a very motivating day for me. Tomorrow, when I am running my scheduled 8 miles and start to feel tired, I will think of these everyday athletes: the children in the kids race, the challenged athletes, and the thousands of men and women who trained all year for this event, and I will push through my own pain and fears.
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