Thank You

Been going through some personal stuff lately. Mostly, I've been unsatisfied with the state of my life as far as my physical and emotional health. I've been lazy about fixing either and have relied on a few friends to help me through this time. I owe a big thank you to everyone that has listened to me crab about not being in shape and encouraged me to find a way to make it happen, and a bigger thank you to those who have patiently listened to the boring monologues about my life without slapping me silly. Sometimes it's the forest for the trees, right?

I am happy to say that my new workout routine has me feeling more fit, energized, and confident. Bring on the sunshine and lets get out and play!

The spiritual/emotional issues at hand will take some fine tuning, and I feel ready for the challenge. We are all a work in progress and work is the operative word most of the time. It is both scary and exciting to move out of a particular comfort zone and change behaviors that have become all too familiar. Two fabulous friends have told me that "you can't change the way other people are, you can only change yourself" (paraphrased) and it's taken me almost 35 years to really understand that. This month brings another year to my life; I pray it is one that shows some much needed growth in the areas of love, grace, and respect-for myself, and those that I hope to remain close to for life. You, my friends and family, are precious beyond words. Without you, there would be no Chelsea Dawn, so thank you a hundred times over for your faithful presence and gentle guidance in my life.

Lucas Reilly

Lucas is walking! He's been hovering in the almost walking zone for a few weeks, but really started to walk for locomotion, not just practice, about 5 days ago. This means that my prediction that he'd be walking at 10 months was true. (Yeah for Mom!) He's now eleven months and has started to pick up the pace a bit already. He does his best barefoot of course, his little toes gripping the floor as he moves along, but even in his new sporty Vans he's getting around. He protested their existence at first, but he's already learned that once mom has her mind made up there is little use in complaining.

It's a big thing this walking business. I'm loving it, he's loving it and David is running for cover when he needs too. We've taught David to "go high" when he wants some space from the ever attentive and affectionate Baby Monster. So David keeps company with his dinosaurs and new V-tech computer that Bart gave him in the window seat quite often. It's better than hitting Lucas or knocking him over or hearing them whine at each other. The window seat is David's place, so when Lucas gets to visit, he is just ecstatic.

Speaking of ecstasy, Lucas has three things he is in love with right now. The broom, the swiffer mop, and the dishwasher. I had to put the broom in another closet because he was licking it way too much for my comfort. Ever since he could crawl he has loved the broom. He did and does chase me around when I sweep trying to catch it or disrupt the pile of dirt it creates. I used to play defense with my leg to keep him at bay; now I'm just fast. The swiffer mop is lighter and cleaner (as I remove the disposable dust thing) and it's a close second to the broom. If the pantry door opens he is there rooting around for it. He wields it like a knight's lance or javelin depending on his mood. Now that he can stand, he yells with utter delight, handle in hand, one foot off the floor, ready for action. Then there is the dishwasher. Ohhhh the delight of the dishwasher. At first, it was the soap dispenser...Hey this opens and closes. Then came the bottom rack...Hey, I can move this in and out and pull things out of here. Then the ultimate discovery: If no one is looking, I can spread eagle face down on the door and lick that cool, cool plastic. Ohhh, it's just heavenly.

He's still in the mouth-as-primary-sensory-unit stage, so it's only natural that the dishwasher door, broom and swiffer should be licked. What else is it there for? When removed from these beloved items he protests like you've just chastised him for some wrongdoing. It cracks me up, these utilitarian love affairs. I can only hope that his infatuation will stick around through his teenage years, when he can put them to use as intended, and wonder what will come next.

four years in the making

The boy turns four on Wednesday. Four years in the making and he's turning out better than I could have imagined. Sometimes it seems like I remember every second of the last four years and others, well, find me projecting a year ahead, to kindergarten, and the incredible loss I will feel. He'll stop being my superkid sidekick and start moving in the world as his own independent person. It's a belly-tumbling feeling I have about this. I grow nervous for him, his safety, and his tender heart while being acutely aware that he must learn to fly on his own.

We take small steps already. Lately, when David goes to gym class, I wait a few minutes, then take the baby and go get coffee. I've been leaving more often, knowing that it's me that needs to get comfortable with this separation. Last week, he got scared and cried at the make-believe bear that jumped out from behind the mats. I found this out afterward from the teacher that shelters him in her own sweet way. I felt guilty that I wasn't there to calm his beating heart and grateful that someone else could. I know that there will be more heartstopping moments in his life that are bigger and more significant than make-believe bears. I'll count myself fortunate to hear of them via a second-hand account, and I know that some will go unmentioned, un-named.

It's a daunting thought, this nagging question: have I done enough to prepare him for the world outside my reach? Have I done enough? At night I pray with him. I thank God for the gift of him, for his tender heart, for his kind spirit, his strong mind and body. I pray these things out loud so David knows that this is how I see him and what I hope for his future. I love him for his sensitivity and still, I try to shore it up, to encourage toughness as a virtue. I so don't want him to be the one that gets picked on. It's a fine line to walk as a parent...when to push, when to hold, when to let him find his own way.

I held him this morning on the sofa. As we talked about the coming year, I could already feel the creeping pangs of loss for his little boy smile; a smile that remains innocent of the cruelty and emotional perils that childhood can bring. Already, I grieve his eminent understanding that the world is not always good and kind. He's my son, my lovely and adored son and he begins to move beyond me. Four years old. Four years of teaching and learning and growing and loving for both of us. They are not wanton or lean years. They have been full and well lived, and I will tuck their sweet memory inside my heart as gentle reminders for all the changes that will surely come.

Heebie-Jeebies

Well, it seems that spring may finally be here. We hit 45-48 degrees today depending on where you were and boy did it feel good. I counted several people breaking out their capri's and flip-flops even...a little early perhaps, but up here, we take what we can get. The sun felt great and the people I came across seemed happier than normal.

After spending the morning with the family, I headed out for an afternoon off from my domestic diva life. Those of you who know me well, know that I have a particular loathing for public restrooms.-any toilet that is not my own really. When I was a kid you I could pretty reliably tell you where the bathroom was in any restaurant, grocery store or mall. Even if I hadn't been there, I had this uncanny knack at sussing them out. I remember once eating out with my family and someone asked where the bathroom was. My aunt Ro said "Ask Chelsea, she always knows where they are." I was five.

I still keep track of them in my head, but more to avoid them than anything else. Today at the grocery store, I had to pee. I tried to rationalize that I could wait, but I knew it was inevitable. Why didn't I go at the cafe? I mentally kicked myself and headed down the dim hallway goosebumps and all. There was paper on the floor when I walked in-never a good sign. I could see that the first stall-my usual pick- had tp all over the floor so I reluctantly moved past and found the last stall open. This one had tp on the floor too, but at least not where I had to stand. Now, when I go in a stall, I try to touch as little as possible. This door was out to get me. The first lock was broken and the second lock was one that you had to pick up and slide over to secure it. (sigh) Finally sealed in my metal cubicle I got down to business. I NEVER sit...EVER, EVER, EVER....I have mastered the art of "The Hover" and it works for me. Don't even bother me with seat covers-that is just more stuff to touch, and line up, and why would I take the time? Ick. Ick. Ick. Anyway, I'm doing my thing and I realize that there is this smell permeating the air...not a bodily function smell (thankfully) but a sickly sweet, minty gum smell...like they thought if they pumped Doublemint gum scent into the bathroom it would cover-up all the other problems? Oh my. Okay, Done. Let's go. I never touch the flusher. Feet only. If it's a push-button thing; I walk away. I just can't bring myself to do it. You can imagine what it looks like to take my kids in-mostly it involves them looking like they are in a hold-up-I make them keep their hands in the air the whole time; but that's another blog entirely.

I still had a good day, and great time off, even with the latrine ordeal. And I learned something along the way: I'll never use that one again. Ever.