« August 2009 | Main | October 2009 »
In other news we were contacted by a representative of cookware.com and asked if we would like to review one of their kitchen gadgets. The girl wants to make waffles. Lots and lots of waffles. So we picked this Waffle Maker. I'm interested in trying to make some gluten-free waffles in it. They always used to dry out in our old waffle iron...so I'm hoping for better results with this one. We'll let you know how it goes. :)
My parents had me young and they always said that they grew up with me as much as I grew up with them. I've always kind of worn that as a badge of pride...like we are all part of the process of figuring out this life together. I always appreciated that my parents never pretended to be experts and that they were very honest about the fact that parenthood is lifetime of trial and error. Being the oldest of 4, relentless firstborn, and longtime caretaker of children, I wasn't worried in the least about being a mother. I remember being neurotic about being pregnant with the boy, but not at all about raising him. I guess I just thought I had all the tools I needed, because I can't remember having one conscious prenatal thought that involved worrying about him after he arrived. Well...then he DID arrive. He burst forth in to this world wailing. It's all a blur, but sometimes I think he wailed for the entire first 2 years of his life. I know he wailed each and every time he was in his carseat. I know he wailed each time I left him with anyone else. I know a village of people walked him, and soothed him, and tried all kinds of things to let him know that he was loved and cared for. And it was good. For years. Then we were 5? And it was time for more growth. I know a village weathered many shouted words and stomped feet and slammed doors. I know a family loved him and nurtured him and gave him the space to push and pull and feel his boundaries and still let him know that he was loved when the tears had dried and the breath had calmed. And it was good. Now we have entered the age of more independence. There are more comings and goings. More forays into the world without me, without the family, without the village...but something occurred to me the other day. He is more comfortable in his own skin than he has ever been. For all of the resisting of the world he has done throughout his lifetime, 12 seems to suit him just fine. On our way to school the other day he reached over and put his hand in mine. I smiled and casually looked down at it and felt a bit shocked that I didn't really recognize it. I really had to study it to find the parts of it that I knew. Where were the hands of my little boy? It left me feeling unsettled until I realized that even though his hand looked so different, it felt the same in my hand as it always had. His hand in mine feels like tenderness and warmth, reconciliation and comfort...a gift to this sometimes crusty mama from her sometimes crusty son. An understanding that we are growing up together. We don't always get it right, but when it comes down to it the love is always there. I know there are plenty of things to be scared of for our children out in the world, and lord know I can get caught up in those thoughts...but right now? Right now I am choosing to exhale a little bit and enjoy that this period of growth seems to be full of stories and smiles and laughter. And it is so. so. good.
