Identity

I have been going to a Sunday School class at church this Summer that I have really enjoyed. I am usually downstairs in the preschool wing teaching 2-3 year-olds to sing "Jesus Loves Me." I love that too, but sometimes it is nice to sit in an adult class.

This past Sunday we talked about identity and transitions. Most humans do not embrace change well. I would be first on that list. We wrap our identities up in different things. One example he gave was the woman who has a husband with an important career who works long hours and kids who go off to college and is left with an empty nest. Who is she then? Where is she left? I immediately felt defensive. Well, huh, I am super proud of my husband. I have supported him every step of the way. I am his number one fan. I honestly think he is the bees knees.

I am super proud of my boys. Listening to my 12 year old play Ode to Joy on the piano is almost more than this Mother's heart can take. Watching the way Will treats people and respects others makes me so proud. Seeing my 9 year old have intensity and faith beyond his years is amazing to me. Ryan would step in front of a moving train for his brother. No questions asked.  They are both smarter than either one of their parents and seem to have gotten the best traits and qualities of all their family members. Grandparents included.

When I was about 8 years old I remember wanting to be a ballerina. I took dance for many, many years with my best friend, Missy. Neither one of us had a lick of coordination when it came to dance, but good gracious, we had a blast.  In high school I shadowed a female attorney on Career Day because I wanted to go to Law School and be a lawyer. I still think that would have been a good move for me but by 1998, I just wanted to graduate with a college degree. The thought of more school and more paper-writing was atrocious to  me. In the mean time, I also remember wanting to join Greenpeace and save the whales. Wanting to go into journalism and be the next Anna Wintour or Jane Pauley. Wanting to get a Ph.D in Southern Literature from Vanderbilt. Wanting to go to Ole Miss and get a Masters in Southern Culture. (Because there is always such a high demand for experts in Southern Studies.)  In the end, after I met my future husband, all I wanted to do was be a Mother.

For better or for worse, I promise I won't lay on my deathbed and wish I had done anything else. My life could end tomorrow. I have already seen too many friends my age diagnosed with cancer. I promise I won't think: "man, I really shouldn't of wasted my life raising two boys to be men." "I really should not have loved them so much." All that time driving people to baseball, soccer, school, and church activities. All those wasted mornings packing lunches, walking my dogs and folding laundry. All the hours spent at school, in my kitchen making cookies, prayers prayed, friends counseled. All the bike rides after dinner. All the days spent at the pool.   No, I'm good.  So, yeah, at 39, staring 40 in the face, I'm good with my identity. Thanks anyway, though.

Its May Again. Cue the Emotions.

3 1/2 more days of school left this year. This year will be a big transition for our family as Will goes to middle school and the boys will no longer be in the same school together.
I need to recap the past week. It may take me all summer to recover.

This past Friday our school had the 5th grade promotion ceremony. This is a beautiful, well-done ceremony where each student is recognized. They sing songs, have a slide-show and give awards. We have six 5th grade classes and each teacher chooses one student to receive the outstanding student award given based on exemplary  character, achievement, personality, etc.  Well, this being my first 5th grade promotion ceremony to attend, I did not know this award existed.  Will Dawson won the award for his class. I was a mess. I am not surprised Will won the award, but I am so proud his teacher recognized him.  I told him I would be equally as proud of him if he never won a single award, but I am so happy his wonderful teacher saw the light in him that I have always seen. He is an amazing kid and he makes me proud every day, award or not.


Ryan just ended a tough baseball season. He played up in a select division this year for the first time. He was on a new team and they had a hard time hanging with some of the other more-seasoned teams. Little league baseball is a tough scene for me. They are 8 and 9 year old little boys expected to play a very mature, impossibly hard game. Some of these kids will play up to 50 games over a couple months time. Parents on the road traveling every weekend. Thankfully, our team did not have that kind of schedule but we played teams that did. I loved watching the games and supporting these boys who honestly game 110% every time they were on the field. The sad truth is that in our area of town only the very best will succeed and end up playing on a school team. These boys will have personal trainers and private lessons year-round. It is hard for me to accept that truth. Ryan can be very intense and competitive, but he is only 9. Who can decide what they want to devote their life to when they are 9?  We take it one season at a time.

Ryan is still my love. He still can't pass me without touching me or hugging me. He wrote me a Mother's Day piece in class and on "What is one of your favorite things about your mom?" he wrote: "when she laughs."  And that, my friends, made my whole life.

10 Things I Know for Sure:

1. Jesus Christ is My Lord and Savior. Without Him, I would be lost and empty.

2. God put me on Earth to be a Mother to the two most amazing boys in the world. I wake up every morning knowing that is my purpose.

3. Nothing taste better on a cold Fall morning that a cup of hot pumpkin spice coffee. Watching the sun rise while drinking this cup of hot coffee is truly magical.

4. Perspective is very important. Keeping life in perspective is a minute by minute exercise. Also known as "The Big Picture." Most things in daily life do not matter in The Big Picture.

5. The Lord forgives. Forgiving yourself is harder.

6. Being kind matters. Being kind to animals matter. Being kind to those who don't look or act like you matters. Just be nice. Just be kind.

7. What sports team your kid plays on doesn't matter. It just doesn't. I promise.

8. Eating healthy food matters. I promise you will feel better.

9. The cream always rises to the top. Always. It might take a while, but it rises.

10. When I get to Heaven I am going to run until I find my Grandmama. And I can't wait.

Don't stare in the mirror on cold January mornings

Looking in the mirror this morning I see the deep creases in my forehead from years of scrunching up my forehead wondering about people. It's the exact same expression Ryan wore on his face for the first 2 years of his life. Unsure about people. Not willing to give them the benefit of the doubt and a smile. The older he gets the more I see myself in him. Hoping its the good, but knowing it's probably the crazy too.

I also see the additional 10 (15 if we are honest) pounds that I am currently waging war on this year. It is not nearly as easy to lose now as it was when I was 21 and could run a few extra miles. It is beyond frustrating. Weight is not something I ever, ever thought I would have to worry about, but this is 38 and 2 babies.

I look at my hands and can't believe how bad they look. Scars from eczema and repeat cooking burns have left them looking like my grandmamas. I will decide this is not entirely a bad thing.

I see the beginning of tiny creases around my eyes. I try to ignore these for now. I have long taken pride that I inherited the good skin that can only come from good genes. Skin you can not purchase. No expensive skin products can replace good genes. My Nana's porcelain skin at 81 is beautiful. So, for now, I will not worry about the eye creases.

I do not look in the mirror and see my Mother. I keep wondering when she will stare back at me, but for now I do not see her. And, that's fine.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and the little voice in the back of my head starts asking questions. "What are you doing?" "What have you done?" "Are you sure you are doing enough?" Annoying questions like that make me doubt myself. I try to ignore that little voice most of the time.

20 Years

Last Saturday night I went to my 20 year high school reunion. 1993 doesn't seem that long ago, but I guess it was.

I think we all felt like it was a little strange that it has been 20 years. I mean, we talked about things that happened in high school like they happened last week.  Since we now have Facebook, we know where everyone lives, what they do, and what their kids dressed up like for Halloween. So, not a lot of time was spent on the "what are you doing now?" conversation.
I graduated with about 300 people, but maybe 100 came to the reunion. I wish more people had attended, but was so glad to see the ones that did come.

Hendersonville was a great place to grow up. It is a beautiful suburb of Nashville that is set on a lake. We had fantastic public schools and we were all expected to graduate, go to college, and do something with our lives. In the summers we hung out on the lake or at the various swim and tennis clubs. Hendersonville felt like a small town in that you could cruise around on a Friday night and always see someone you knew, but we had Nashville at our fingertips as well. I guess a lot of towns were like this, but Hendersonville was ours.

The people I grew up with are amazing, hilarious, smart, beautiful people.  We grew up together, made mistakes together, celebrated each other, and took care of each other. Hendersonville still feels like home. Seeing those people felt like coming home.

I love my college friends. I really do. But there is nothing like the people who have known you since you were in the 2nd grade.

I really wish that I could see these people more than a few hours every 10 years. It is simply not enough to have any kind of quality conversation. It was so nice to be transported back to my high school self for a moment in time.  I am going to have to try to figure out a way to plan a 25 year reunion. I love my 38 year old mom self. I have a blast with my boys and I would not trade these days for anything, but 16 year old Ginger was a fun girl too.

The Summer of Betsy

Summer of 2013 will be remembered as the summer our family welcomed a new member into our house and it has been a big kick in the pants. Miss Betsy is 110% full of herself.

She is a soft-coated Wheaten terrier. We got her when she was 8 weeks, just a mere baby. She is now almost 13 weeks old. She looks like a real live teddy bear. I must admit, she is much cuter than I had imagined. Probably the cutest puppy I have ever seen. She is incredibly soft and cuddly, but will turn her head and chomp down on your hand before you know what's happening.

She will happily go to the bathroom outside in the yard WHERE SHE IS SUPPOSED TO GO, then will come in and go in the corner of the dining room.

She loves the boys with such a passion. She actually vibrates when she is in the room with them. She thinks they are her "puppy brothers" and want to constantly play and wrestle with them. They love it too until she clamps down on their ankle. This is a huge difference from Greta who was extremely protective of the boys and considered herself their other mother.

I know she has the potential to be an amazing, smart dog. I know she will get there. But, for now she is a 12 week old puppy who wakes up barking at 2 am because she needs to go to the bathroom and wants to snuggle in bed with her mommy (not sleep alone in a crate.) And how can I say no to this face ?

Nine More Mays

Every May in our town the local high schools have yard signs made for all the graduating Seniors with their names to place in their front yard.  As we drive through our neighborhood the boys love to read all the names. "Brentwood High School Senior 2013 Hayden," Peter, Ashley, Sarah, and so on.

I started thinking that in 9 more Mays I might have one of those yard signs with Will's name on it. That sounds like a long time to you, but to me it sounds like tomorrow.

My first born. My angel baby. Have I said all the right things? Am I teaching him the right things?

Am I too hard on him? Not hard enough? What will his memories of home be? How will he remember me as a Mother? A crazy person? What stories will he tell on me?

It's easy to get caught up in the minutia of everyday. Eat breakfast, get in the car, go to school, come home, go to baseball, eat dinner, take a bath, go to bed. Repeat.

I continue to be amazed by my oldest child. He is smarter than me and has been since the day he was born. Our brains do not work in the same way, but I admire him just like I do his father. I look forward to watching how he will grow and what he will accomplish over the next 9 years.

I know at some point his heart will be broken and he will want to lose faith in this world. It happens to all of us. He will realize that people will let you down.  I know I can't be there to pick up the pieces and make it all better. But, I hope the seed of faith is already planted and he will understand that we can overcome. We can do anything through our Christ who give us strength.

So, as I try to teach the daily "grand scheme of life" lessons: treat others as you want to be treated, pick up after yourself, say "yes ma'am," don't eat Sonic hot dogs at 8:30 at night; I remember the same lessons my parents tried to teach me. At the time they probably didn't think they were sticking, but they did. Oh, they did. I just never dreamed I would have 2 amazing boys to teach the same lessons to one day. God exceeds all my dreams and expectations. He is good all the time.