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Valentine’s Day breakthrough

Things I want to remember, and perhaps Mythankfulboy will want to someday know, about this week:

Planning: We more-or-less planned his 14th birthday party, which is coming up soon. He wants to do fondue, either Minute To Win It challenges or Who’s Line Is It Anyway party games, and a sleepover with his closest 8-10 friends. And parents are invited for everything but the sleepover. I love this kid.

Trouble: B’s middle school vice principal called to tell me B’s iPod had been confiscated for the day because he had it out in the hallway. B had already told me the story and that I would be getting a call, so I was, I guess, easygoing about the whole thing. I thanked him for letting me know. The man was practically apologetic.

Outing: We spent a day out, having lunch, buying mascara (for me), buying shoes (for him, which he can’t have until his birthday), eating Mexican restaurant white cheese dip, going to Gamestop for a new set of gaming headphones (paid for by him, for him), finishing at Target where he went in alone to buy Valentines for me and for his dad. I got the following texts that I didn’t hear over the car radio, so he was on his own (capitalization and punctuation all his):

I CAN’T FIND THE CARD AISLE

WHAT THE BAAAAALLS

found them! on to the candy…

would you want anything other than Russell stover?

my way to checkout

Gratitude: When we got home I went into the bathroom, and then came the inevitable, “Mom?”   I thought, “Of course, as soon as I go to the bathroom” and sighed in my head before I said, “Yes?” He was now standing outside the door, and he said, “Thanks for taking me out and spending the day with me.” Oh. Well, his timing wasn’t great, but what a sweet thing. I called, “Thanks for spending it with me. I had a great time.” He said, “Me too” and walked away. Then the dog started whining outside the door.

Breakthrough: B spent Friday night and Saturday morning at his dad’s (and going to dodgeball). When he got home he was a little frustrated with his dad because he had asked if they could go get me something for V-day and he either forgot or decided against it. I, of course, said no biggie. Then his dad’s wife texted B to tell him she hadn’t forgotten, and asking if she could come pick him up sometime that afternoon to go get me something. B read the text and turned to me in frustration that his dad hadn’t remembered. I didn’t say anything, but looked intently at him with a very slight smile.   We looked at each other a moment, after which he said, “It’s really nice of S, though.” He asked if it was okay with me and I said of course. A few hours later we left to have our day, so it didn’t happen, but when he was signing the card he got for his dad, I said “You know, you –“ at which point he interrupted me and said, “I know, I should write it to Dad and S.” And he did. Just like that.

Prayer:  I am thankful, thankful, thankful for the sweetness of this Valentine week in which fondue and vice principals intermingled, the words “balls” and “Russell Stover” happened in the same text series, and B held love for me and appreciation for his step-mother simultaneously in his heart.   Amen

 
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Posted by on February 14, 2016 in Uncategorized

 

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A stone from my collection

It’s our late evening, which more or less takes us from the car to the bedtime routine.  Mythankfulboy hates having a secret about something that is making him feel guilty, so, before we got things rolling he cornered me and said, “Remember that math test I felt pretty good about?”  “Yeah….”, I respond, slowly.  “Well, I didn’t do so well.”  “How well is ‘not so well’?” I asked.  “A 67”.  “Oh. How did everyone else do?”  His rate of speech picked up considerably. “Most of the class failed it – (list of friend and acquaintance names) all got scores in the 50’s, and (name of kid who consistently does well) got a 7 out of 42. He cried.”  “And what did your teacher say about it?”  “She didn’t say anything.  She just gave them back.”  “So”, I began, “You know what this means, right?”  “Yeah. All my math homework and studying with you.”  “Yep. For the rest of the year” I commanded.  “Okay”, he said, with a hint of what may have been relief.

That off his chest, he happily skipped off to grab a snack and get his stuff together for his baseball team pictures and first game, tomorrow.  We’re supposed to have thunderstorms. Maybe they’ll be wrong, but he’s excited either way.  I alternated filling out the picture order form and throwing the ball for the dog who has been neglected all day while B got creative for his grandmother’s birthday card.  Those tasks done, the normal routine kicked in, down to the chalice lighting and thankfulness ritual.

Tonight, I read chalice lighting #469, The Spirit of Wisdom from Wisdom of Solomon 7

I am mortal, like everyone else, a descendant of the first formed child of earth, and in the womb of a mother was I moulded into flesh within a period of ten months.

When I was born I began to breathe the common air, and fell upon the kindred earth.  My first sound was a cry, as is true of all.

I was nursed with care in swaddling cloths; no king has had a different beginning of existence.

There is for all one entrance and one way out.  Therefore I prayed, and the spirit of wisdom came to me.

I closed the gray hymnal quietly and looked up at B.  He said, “I like the part about all of us being from one place.”   I nodded, “And I like the part about all starting out the same way, all needing the same basic, simple, things.  Food, warmth, love.”  He nodded.  We were quiet a moment, then he broke the silence saying, “I’m thankful for Peepeye (his pet name for my mother) turning 77.”  I said, “I’m thankful that you took the time tonight to do more than just sign her card.  It will make her so happy, and it made me proud.”  B included in his Peepeye’s card a pretty turquoise stone, and wrote, “For your birthday, I’m sending you a stone from my collection so you can think about me like I think about you all the time.”  This is the first time he’s really made this kind of an effort for someone’s birthday.  It was, and it seems to this biased momma that he is, so very dear.

 
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Posted by on April 9, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Wearing pants

Mythankful boy has turned 13.  One indication was when he came sauntering through the house in sweat pants and no shirt.  I said, “Look at you!  You’re wearing pants without being told to!”, referring to his almost constant state of wearing only his boxer briefs around the house.  He replied, “Yeah, that was so not teen.”

And then he laughed.  Thank goodness.

With this development, his literal development into teenhood, I vacillate between excitement and lament, future planning and Memory Lane.  He asked on his birthday if, when people said, “It seems like just yesterday you were…” or “Where did the time go?”, it actually felt like that.  I had given him a collage of pictures from each year of his life, and we looked at it together as I told him to look at the 4-9 years and to notice how, although he got taller and began to thin out a bit, his face was largely unchanged, and then how, upon reaching 10, it began to change much more rapidly.  I suggested that adults tend to remember that long period as recent, at that, when change happens more quickly, it feels like time has sped up unnaturally.  He said, “I’m sorry”.  I asked, “For what?”  He said, “For growing up too fast.”   I assured him that I was, and the other people who said such things, were really just saying that they remember him across the years – that it’s a way of saying we have loved you in many forms, and still do.  He nodded.  I told him that I, personally, couldn’t wait to see what kind of teen he became (this was also written across the bottom of the collage).  He grinned slightly, but remained thoughtful.

Who would have thought that those loving comments would have made him feel like people were disappointed in his growth?  He’s a sensitive kid – the dedicated time we spend each night in our chalice lighting is so important for him to have an opportunity to bring up such things.  It’s also important towards keeping the beauty in the world front and center.  On his birthday, B was thankful for new underwear (even if he will be covering it up!), for a new BBCOR baseball bat, and for the party he hasn’t yet had.  I was thankful that wearing pants is apparently a teenage thang.

 
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Posted by on March 7, 2015 in Uncategorized

 

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Eleven

Today is mythankfulboy’s eleventh birthday.  He is very excited to be a year older, and is also excited because 11 is my favorite number (his is 37 – we’ll see how he feels about that one when he gets there!)  He had a great time with a friend go kart racing on Saturday as his party, had ice cream cake for breakfast on Sunday, and had more presents and leftover cake today.  A good birthday 3-day weekend.

When I asked for what he was thankful tonight at the chalice lighting, before I had the question fully formed he blurted out “People I trust”.  “That’s a good one”, I replied.  He said “You think so?”  “I do.”  I didn’t ask what that was about, although I think he was waiting for me to ask.  I thought he’d probably tell me on his own.  Since he didn’t, I’ll be giving him plenty of opportunities to talk about trust over the next few days, to prime the pump, so to speak.

I told him I was thankful for a clean house, even though ours really wasn’t.  He laughed, and said it was clean enough.  I’m glad he thinks so!   Of course, I am thankful for a thoughtful, kind, capable boy who is transitioning from being a child into this funny in-between pre-teen place.  He is a blessing, whether he’s my favorite number or not.

 
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Posted by on March 5, 2013 in Uncategorized

 

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