by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . July 22, 2010 . 10:38PM
Growing up in the mid-80′s, the slip-n-slide was the hot new thing. It really wasn’t much of anything, to be quite honest. It was a small piece of plastic that you put in between your sprinklers. You would run, slide about 4 feet and roll off into the grass while accruing scrapes, cuts, grass burn and the silliest faces and giggles you’d ever seen from your friends. Then you’d jump up and do it again because it. was. awesome.
I wanted one of those little yellow pieces of plastic more than anything.
Luckily, I lived just down the road from my cousins and their parents were much crazier than mine. Or, it’s quite possible they knew that the secret to peace of mind over that particular summer lay in an enlarged water bill and a little piece of yellow plastic. Either way, my cousins got the slip-n-slide and I got to walk the quarter of a mile to their place every day to bust my butt on the plastic and the hard dirt underneath.
Run Run Run Run Sliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide YES I’M FLYING NO NO NO I’m rollling! OUCH!
And back in line I’d go. And don’t think it was a short line. I wasn’t the only kid who knew about my cousin’s slip-n-slide. We lived in the country and the neighbor kids heard. So did their parents, and their parents weren’t going to pony up for a slip-n-slide or a water bill either. We’d dutifully get in line about ten kids back until we bled enough that it just stung too much to go again that day.
Nowadays, oh how old I feel saying nowadays, nowadays, the slip-n-slide has become so fancy! You can slide into a pool! The piece of plastic is HUGE and there are safeguards for those wimpy kids who care about bleeding. On the 4th of July, I found out exactly how intricate the whole slip-n-slide industry had become.
In Nashville on the 4th, our downtown area is amazing. Truly an amazing sight to behold is the area by the river that just lights up with booths of any kind of food you’d like, booths where you can buy the coolest hats on earth and a whole street dedicated to the littlest cowboys and cowgirls in the city.
As jets flew over the city celebrating our Independence, we walked around with bottled water and looked to see what was happening in our fair land. My little sister marveled at the cute boys. My mom wanted to go see what was going on down by the river. And me? I kept getting pulled towards these huge inflatable bouncy things, as all moms do.
After getting a stamp on his hand that made all the rides FREE, AJ was off. One of the first few rides to catch his eye was a large slip-n-slide. When I say slip-n-slide, I don’t mean one close to the ground. This inflatable wonder was about 4 feet off the ground and looked like a long island. Kids would run and jump UP onto it where sprinklers would shoot down onto them for about 20 feet. The line was short, but the joy was long.
I stood by the end and watched as child after child, including my own, jumped onto it and laughed themselves silly. It’s not been a great summer by any standards, but I couldn’t stop laughing along with them. The thing about joy is that it is utterly contagious. Some would jump up there, realize “OH NO THERE 
IS WATER UP HERE” and try to get down until mom or dad would take their hand and then lead them through the slide. After which, they would cry to go back on. There was a devilish little thing, who couldn’t have been more than three, who would go through the whole thing, slam his body down to the concrete after he got done, like the hulk, and give devil hands. I’m not kidding. Just like the orange ones to the right. He was totally “rock and roll” about the slide. And AJ? AJ would run, jump, slide, fall on his bottom, laugh and do it over and over again. He probably did it 30 times. I laughed just as hard as he did every time.
Yes, children are amazing and sometimes the smallest things in life are a recipe for joy. Just add water.
by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 30, 2010 . 7:51PM
During the summer months, there are some days where I have so few clients that AJ doesn’t have to attend his summer program and he is allowed to come hang out with me at the office. My friend Meggan is doing her practicum with us and he thinks Meggan hung the moon. He hangs out with Meggan or plays his Nintendo DS and I see clients while he avoids going to the summer program he claims is boring him and rotting his brains out. Hardly. The summer program does cool things like going to Jump Zone and swimming and playing games. But AJ is a momma’s boy and that little guy would rather be in close proximity to me than most anything in the whole world. When asked what he’d liked to do for vacation if he had one week, with the thought of Disney World being an option and anything else in the whole United States being the other option, he replied “Go to NeeNee’s because we PARTY.” He has no idea what he’s passing up and we love family time.
I’m veering off topic by a lot. I’m just going to say that my son is not worldly in the slightest and move on.
We were in the car on the way to my office when AJ asks, out of nowhere as per the norm, “Why do we celebrate 4th of July?” I’m not good with history, but I did my very best to explain our declaration of independence from England and why we chose to do so. He took this to mean that “we’re at war with England!” I explained that this was a long time ago and we are fine with England now. In fact, we’re pretty good friends. We like them. We do tea without tossing it over boats.
No. This is unacceptable. They were bad. They must pay. Grudges must be held.
I could feel the stewing going on in the back seat…and I chose to ignore it.
Until trivia night last night. There was a question regarding the back of the new quarters and the design on the back of one of them. The question had nothing to do with England, nor did it have to do with 4th of July or our war with England. But AJ chose to answer the question as “Florida. Because it has a direct line from England.”
I may not be strong in history. He’s not strong in geography. We’re both strong in grudge holding, but I think he’s got me beat. He mutters “England” in the same voice I utter “Derek Jeter.”
That’s my kid.
England, you better watch your back.
by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . June 11, 2010 . 7:21PM
From the time he was born, I have never taken my son for granted. His specialness was not lost on me when I looked into those royal blue eyes that would eventually turn a chestnut brown. He could make the people around him perform like circus animals. The night he was born I lay awake watching him sleep and then, when the nurses took him to the nursery so I could rest, I cried for hours because I feared what the world would throw at this child and how he would respond. What would he face? How would I keep him safe? How would others treat him and how could I protect him?
AJ and I have a special bond. Even at 9, he longs to spend time with me every day. I’ve been sick recently and can’t go up and down the steps. He’s been sleeping in my bed to make sure I don’t need anything in the middle of the night. As I read my book, due to my insomnia, I notice that he will roll towards me and reach his little hand out so he can hold my hand while he sleeps. When he wakes up and notices that I’m there, he smiles a sleepy smile and says in a surprised voice, “I love you, Mama” and rolls back into that deep eyed slumber that involves him giggling in his sleep and talking to whatever person is entertaining him in dream world.
Dominick Calhoun
Because my mama bear instinct for this little one is so strong, it gives me an ache I can’t describe when I read about mothers that don’t have that instinct or that can’t follow through in protecting their children. Recently, my friend Natalie wrote about
Dominick Calhoun and his tragic death after being beaten to death over the course of a weekend in April. Dominick was beaten and tortured for days for wetting his pants by his mother’s boyfriend, Brandon Hayes. His mother had left the house during the beatings and did
nothing. Natalie has the ability to feel some compassion for the mother and I love her for the amazing amount of love she has in her heart. I’m of the opposite side of this response in that a mother had an entire weekend to save her child and she did nothing. Regardless of fear, at some point, instinct to save your child has to take over, doesn’t it?
Dominick’s family, minus his mother, are working hard to enact Dominick’s Law which would increase the penalties for child abusers. The family has a facebook page that addresses the process of passing the bill and what the bill entails.
So, now we mourn the passing of Dominick and, as a mother, I fear more for my child. The idea that someone I could trust could hurt my child sends fear through me. The one thing I know is that I will die before I knowingly let it happen. Tonight, when he stretches out his hand, I’ll hold it just a little bit tighter.
by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . May 8, 2010 . 5:58PM
As most mothers will tell you, the homemade gifts are the most amazing, loving, generous and heart-breaking we will ever receive from anyone, ever. Most of us would not trade these colored, glued masterpieces for the most expensive piece of jewelry you could offer us. Children, as they get older, begin to provide information as to their true feelings about their mothers. I am lucky enough to have a child who shares my inability to wait when sharing gifts. Yesterday, I received a book that he’d made at school. Completely bound and made with love by my 9-year old, AJ.
Some of the comments were just heart-breaking and beautiful…and some caused me to raise my eyebrow. All spelling errors are AJ’s.
From page 3… (my commentary is in parentheses)
Just right (????)
Important (awww)
Legendry (mmmhmmm)
Lovable (my little sweet one)
Inaccessible (what? Does he mean in a “can’t touch this” kind of way?)
Awesome (truly)
Neat (well, we know he doesn’t mean in the vs. messy category)
From page 7….
His favorite time with Mommy
My favorite time with mom is sleeping with my mom because we get to spend time with each other. We get to do it Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. It’s nice to sleep with my mom. (Ok, I swear I’m weaning him off of this. He’s just having trouble adjusting to recent events. I can only imagine what the teacher thought when she saw this paragraph. I literally put my face in my palms when I read it.)
From page 10….
A list of Mommy’s best attributes:
1. Nice
2. Kind
3. Generous
4. Smart
5. Loves me
6. Listens
7. common (WHAT? OH NO HE DIDN’T. COMMON? WHERE DID THAT EVEN COME FROM?)
8. Accuracy
9. Gives advice
10. Comferting
From page 14: If I had a millione dollars I would buy her a golden car. (Exactly what I’d want if he had a million dollars).
Page 19: (Perhaps the one I’m most proud of) When I’m a parent, I will read like my mom.
But the bottom line is that Mother’s Day is about how we feel about each other. AJ says:
My mom is nice.
She does homework.
She likes me.
She looks like me.
She sounds like me.
She smells like perfume.
She always loves me.
My mom is kind.
That’s my boy.
Happy Mother’s Day, y’all.
by Jillian @ http://blueshelled.com . April 10, 2010 . 1:28PM
99% of the time I am certain that I do not want more children. I do not have the patience and my career is at a point where it doesn’t feel like a feasible option. And then, something like this happens.
Yesterday, my son spilled an entire 10 oz glass of Mountain dew on my end table. The end table was full of stuff, including my usb modem. It made everything sticky and ruined a highly valued pair of noise-cancelling headphones that they no longer make. To say I was upset and disappointed was an understatement.
What made the situation worse was that AJ tried to clean it up without telling me and also without the understanding that Mt. Dew makes everything sticky and nasty. When cleaning it up, you must wipe everything down with a damp cloth in order to avoid what I term “Sticky, nasty mess.” He did not do this, so when I went to pick up the remote control, my hand was covered in nasty slime.
I got angry, told him to get the baby wipes (of which I still keep in this house even though my kid is 9) and wiped everything down. The headphones were not salvageable. Once the end table was clean, I found a cheapie pair of headphones, sighed at not being able to have nice things, and promptly forgot the incident.
When I woke up this morning, I found this note and these pink flowers. And my heart melted.
If you can’t read it, it says:
Dear Mom,
Please take this as a present.
Love,
AJ
I Know you love these flowers on a video game and I’m sorry I messed up your head phones. I’m really sorry so take it. Please. I love you so much.”
He’s right. I do love pink flowers on a video game we play. The kid is a charmer. And so thoughtful and sweet. He is going to make some woman very, very happy.
Another baby? Maybe not out of the question after all. If I had a guarantee that every child I had would be just like this one, I’d have a million.
Home
Growing up in the mid-80′s, the slip-n-slide was the hot new thing. It really wasn’t much of anything, to be quite honest. It was a small piece of plastic that you put in between your sprinklers. You would run, slide about 4 feet and roll off into the grass while accruing scrapes, cuts, grass burn and the silliest faces and giggles you’d ever seen from your friends. Then you’d jump up and do it again because it. was. awesome. 
IS WATER UP HERE” and try to get down until mom or dad would take their hand and then lead them through the slide. After which, they would cry to go back on. There was a devilish little thing, who couldn’t have been more than three, who would go through the whole thing, slam his body down to the concrete after he got done, like the hulk, and give devil hands. I’m not kidding. Just like the orange ones to the right. He was totally “rock and roll” about the slide. And AJ? AJ would run, jump, slide, fall on his bottom, laugh and do it over and over again. He probably did it 30 times. I laughed just as hard as he did every time.
Life is like a game. We all have challenges, thoughts, opinions and beliefs. Often, it feels like something out there, life, karma, catty people, or blue shells (for the Kart lovers), seeks to bring us down. Luckily, we always get up. This is where I wear my heart on my sleeve and my foot in my mouth.
