Blaspheme, right? It’s true. Part of being a parent means that I have to do the hard work such as disciplining my child when he misbehaves or chooses to mess around in class as opposed to choosing to learn and distract those around him. This makes my job as a parent difficult and unenjoyable.

Lately, AJ has been testing his independence and his boundaries at school. This week he forgot something necessary at school and, as such, he ended up going to bed early and his dog was not allowed to sleep in his bedroom. In this house, one thing is always true: Wherever my child goes, so goes his dog. There has never been a more loyal dog than that dachshund to her boy.

What I knew was that the separation of the two was going to hurt one person: me. Why is this? Because AJ was going to go to sleep and I was going to be left with the whiny, leaky eyed dog that would look at the gaited stairs and turn eyes on me that were alternately hateful, pitiful and pleading. This is exactly what happened. She would go to the gate at the stairs and stand there for 10 minutes at a time while looking up at the darkened stairs and waiting for him to come down to get her. When it didn’t happen, she would come to me, grunt sadly and run back to the stairs. Her message was clearly “Please let me be with him.”

I had to say no. Over 100 times in the 4 hours I was awake after he went to bed did I say no. Eventually, she wore herself out and curled up on my legs. When I finally went to bed she calmly waited at the gate for me to allow her up. When I didn’t, she whined at me and watched me climb the stairs. I glanced at her sadly and went to bed.

Two hours later, I awoke and, eyes half closed, headed for the bathroom door. I happened to look down the stairs and she sat there, quietly and patiently, waiting for her boy.

In the morning, I cannot imagine what their reunion was like, but my son has been on his best behavior ever since and she has not left his side. He also has not forgotten a single bit of work since. Sometimes, a reminder of the people we let down by our failures can be the most honest motivator in our lives.

And sometimes people aren’t actually people but the vision of a dog that loves you more than anything standing alone in the dark waiting for you to come for her…

I spent some time this evening reflecting and pushing myself out of my comfort zone and letting myself talk to others and be myself again and what I realized is that my struggle is not singular. If I’m having a bad weekend, someone else reading this is struggling as well. I want you to know that even if your heart is breaking, your body is aching, your mind feels lost and you feel fragile…you are not alone and someone cares deeply for you. The things that happen are hard and heart-breaking and stunning, but they are not the end for you.

Continue to grow and love and move forward. I’m going to try to do the same along with you.

It ignored me and did what phones do. Glad to see someone around here has a work ethic, because this week I want to crawl in bed with a hot man and a bowl of soup and watch The Golden Girls while I lament about how our bodies break down and it’s not fair that mucus comes out of so many orifices of the body at a rate that is unequal to the rate of liquid I’m putting into my body.

I picked up the phone and saw that it was mom, which was good because I’ve been wanting my mommy for days. I answered and was immediately accosted with the accusation that my son was NOT responding to text messages.

Let this sink in for a minute.

My 9-year old…is not responding…to his grandmother’s text messages.

Now I get to explain why this is a huge deal.

AJ has a cell phone. He’s had one for almost 2 years of a 2 year deal. He does extra chores, beyond his regular ones, to help pay for the $10 his contract costs us every month. He takes his phone with him to his friend’s house and it has come in very handy. His phone has music on it and games and it keeps him from getting too bored.

Recently, Leon and I had made the decision to allow him to have text messaging. He is only allowed to text me and Leon and those who are in his address book. Those people include family and close family friends. He may only text them with their permission and ours. This is a strict rule. He is learning sentence structure and proper communication skills as well as spelling and it seems to be helping.

When I told my mother that AJ was getting unlimited text messaging (to avoid any potential charges and because we have it on a family plan), she groaned. My mother has held out on text messaging for years. In fact, when anyone would mention text messaging, she would groan, glare at us and say “Well, don’t you dare text me. That costs money!”

My mother is not an old woman. She is not yet 50. However, she is incredibly frugal and does not buy anything that is not on sale. She gets angry about how Abercrombie has their name on all of their shirts and that my sister and I do not necessarily share her ideas on thriftiness. She has held out on the peer pressure for text messaging from friends and other family members for ages. My sister and I have begged her to get text messaging for years.

Nope. It wasn’t happening.

3 weeks ago, I mentioned that AJ was getting unlimited messaging and that he would be sending her messages.

Say what you want about the woman, but she’s a devoted NeeNee.

She called last night TICKED that she’s been text messaging AJ like crazy and he won’t text her back.

Love. It’s a funny thing.

Livvy was born three weeks before my junior prom. As such, my mother didn’t have time to go dress hunting with me or even see me before my junior prom. Thankfully, my aunt stepped in and green eyes and I had a fine night. I think. I don’t remember much of it because there was so much emotional turmoil around that time, both with his absence and Livvy’s health.

Livvy eventually came home and green eyes eventually drifted away and a new normal came to me. It wasn’t without much resistence on my part, however. I lost 30 pounds simply because I wasn’t interested in eating. I was depressed and had lost interested in most everything and everyone around me. I was starting to finally feel like myself when I developed what felt like the worst cold ever. My nose started dripping like a faucet and I’d rubbed the thing raw. My best friend, at the time, was a boy we later determined was related to me somehow. He and I went to Wal-mart, where I worked (I have SO many stories about that place) and saw the new guy stocking the shelves. A cute new guy. One I’d only seen in passing while we were zoning the area at night. I’d been lucky enough to help him a couple of times.

I’d never been a forward kind of girl. I’m shy, especially where my looks are concerned and even with the weight loss, I was sure he wasn’t interested in me. Nevertheless, I went up to him with my dripping, peeling nose and started talking to him. He talked back and seemed amused by what I was saying. Eventually we made a date. One date turned into several and we dated on and off, though mainly on, throughout my senior year of high school. He was a few years older than I was and was very different from the guys I went to school with. He introduced me to “No diggity” (which is still one of my favorite songs) and was probably one of, if not THE nicest person I’ve ever dated. He also took me to Olive Garden for the first time in my 17 years.

I don’t know anyone that didn’t like Aaron. He made friends with all of my friends and the people at work adored him. The girls at work really adored him. He kept his eyes on me. I felt adored. His sister and brother felt like my family. I thought a lot of them and still do. I have no idea what my senior year would have been like if his kind spirit hadn’t been a part of my life. My family was dealing with a lot of issues, not just a new baby. He was there for me and I will always appreciate that about him.

He was also my prom date that year. Strangely enough, I remember most everything about that night. I remember sitting in the chair at my salon and watching my stylist place mini-flowers in my hair and wondering if they looked Asian enough. Would Aaron like them? Was it too much? Were my bangs too high? The answer to the bang question was YES, THEY WERE TOO HIGH.

I remember the moment he saw me and the smile he gave me. I remember that his hands are really strong and when he held mine to walk me into the convention center that I couldn’t stop smiling. We sat with our friends and there was much dancing and laughing. When prom was over, we went to a friend’s house and, in my typical party animal fashion, I promptly fell asleep on the couch.

I’m a winner.

Three weeks later, I broke up with him for a guy who truly believed that there is a dark side and he was a jedi knight. I still have a lot of guilt about this and I’m so, so sorry, Aaron. It was among the most stupid decisions I’ve ever made. I’m a firm believe that things turn out the way they should, though, and I’m really glad that we are still friends. You were the best prom date ever.

Perverts. I’m not telling you about that. It was a special moment and you can go make your own.

The brown-eyed girl smiled and took his hand. From the other room, she heard his friend yell, “Did you kiss her yet? Have you asked her out? Is it official? C’mon man, I don’t have all night. Just do it!” She laughed and blushed, as did he.

Days turned to weeks and over the winter holiday they spent much time together. They had the same group of friends, so they were able to spend time apart without it overwhelming them or feeling threatened, as so many do at that age. However, they found it hard to find time alone and decided to get creative.

Just outside of town was a farm area that sat atop a hill and next to a wooded area. The snow was crisp and she would slowly pull her crimson colored car to the edge of the woods. He would sit on the hood of her car and she would lean against him as he held her. They would make up stories of wolves and ax-men and all of the things that might be in the woods. Really, it was an excuse to look at the stars and the trees and the beautiful, snow covered hilly area. Never in her life had the brown-eyed girl been happier.

However, all good things must come to an end. At the end of the holiday vacation, Green eyes called her. It was clear from the tone of his voice that he’d been crying. He told her that his father had been relocated and that they were moving in less than a month.

She was crushed. She was losing him just as she’d found him. She was also losing her best friend.

Their parents were very supportive; Perhaps moreso than they should be have been in a situation with teenagers so young. You don’t need to know the details, but they tried to make it work. They tried desperately, but with over 600 miles separating them, and before free nights and weekends, it was not possible to maintain the relationship. Reluctantly, the brown-eyed girl said good-bye.

Both moved on and found happiness elsewhere, but years later, with the accessibility of the internet, found one another again. The brown-eyed girl was newly married and the green-eyed boy was, again, miles and miles away. They agreed to keep in touch.

And they do.

Some connections remain, regardless of time and circumstance.

He was into alternative music and she loved mainstream pop. He embraced the baggy clothes style of the mid-90s and she was a prep through and through. He was quiet and sweet-natured and she was outgoing and acerbic, though, later, she would realize that her true self was also quiet, as well. What they had in common, however, was their ability to just be together and enjoy the company of each other.

The girl liked the boy, but because he was friends with the boy she’d dated, she didn’t allow herself to feel everything she wanted to feel for him. One night, they drove around their small town and stopped by a store. There were beaded bracelets that came with the comment that if you made a wish on them and placed them around your wrist, when they fell off, your wish would come true. The boy, with a sparkle in his eye, suggested that the girl get the one in green. It matched his eyes exactly.

She shyly bought the bracelet and made a wish. Not for him, but that she would feel loved. There were many days in that time that she didn’t. She placed it around her wrist and waited. It was October.

A month came and went and the two remained friends. She showed him the places that she liked to go when she needed quiet and they did the things teenagers do. They went out and explored private property that had warnings like “If we catch you, we will shoot first and ask questions later.” They weren’t the smartest teenagers in the world. They explored places like cornfields and lay on their backs looking at the stars. He gave her piggyback rides through the rows and she laughed like a child.

One day, the two were at a school assembly and were, of course, sitting together as they always did. They were the best of friends and their other friends had noticed that they had become consumed by one another. In the middle of the assembly, she felt a tug on her wrist. The green bracelet fell off her wrist and she looked up into his bright green eyes. He smiled his easygoing grin and removed his hand from her wrist. “Now,” he said, “whatever you wished can come true.”

She blushed, because she was the shy sort at that time, and looked away. She may have mumbled something like, “We’ll see” and left it at that. He asked her to come over later that night and she replied that she would after her homework. When she got to his house, he was going down the hill on his makeshift snowboard with one of his friends. The powdery snow coated everything, like a wintery fairyland.

As she watched them go down the hill, she began to grow cold and couldn’t prevent her teeth from chattering. He walked up to her and softly moved the hair from her face and put his arms around her to pull her close. This wasn’t something new to her. He often held her close, as friends do. Something felt different about this time. He put his head into the small of her neck and told her that after the last run they would go inside and talk.

However, as anyone who has tried to snowboard realizes, the inexperienced often fall and he tumbled hard. As the wind was knocked out of him, she was already sliding down the slippery hill towards him, as was his friend. When she got to him, he laughed. She took his hand, helped him up and they went inside.

I remember the terror I felt the first time I realized that he no longer had the baby scent.

And then the first time he smelled. I mean really smelled. As in “go take a shower you smell.”

And the first time he actually met my mouth instead of my chin or my nose when he gave me a kiss.

And all the small things that I find myself now terrified of losing: his hand when he crosses the street, the goodnight kisses, when he falls asleep in our bed–his little hand searching for my shoulder and the sweet smiles in his sleep when I say his name and tell him I love him, the first time he’s embarrassed when I tell him I love him in front of his friends, or the first time he doesn’t rush to greet me when he comes home from school.

Every stage of his life has been my favorite. He’s my favorite. He’s always been my favorite. No one makes me laugh as hard as him. He has my sense of humor. Of course I’m going to think he’s hilarious. He’s thoughtful and serious and sensitive and laughs at fart jokes because they are hysterical. They are. I don’t care what you think. THEY ARE HYSTERICAL. Prudes.

I don’t know how to let him go. But I will because I love him with quiet desperation and care. And the day will come when he has to let me go, too. Loving someone means that you will eventually feel the loss that comes with letting go. And I’m scared to death.

When AJ had his Kentucky incident, I didn’t think. I smacked Leon to get his attention and then I ran. I haven’t ran in years, but I ran to him. I couldn’t help him or make him better, but he needed me and I needed to be with him.

When the people we love are in trouble, we react quickly and emotionally.

Recently, I was watching footage of the Dallas motorcade with JFK and Jackie and I reacted to it rather strongly. Warning: Graphic language coming.

I’ve probably watched the grainy footage from Dallas 100 times in my 30 years. I’ve noticed many things about it and have looked at it from various mental angles. However, this particular time, when I watched it, what kept coming back to me was that Jackie reacted quickly and instinctively to keep Jack safe. I have no idea what the state of their marriage was. By all accounts, it was not the most functional, but whose is? However, she recovers from shock quickly and scrambles to the back of a moving car to grab pieces of his brain matter and then pulls him down to keep him safe.

Brain matter isn’t like a finger or a toe. You can’t sew it back on. Once Jack was hit and it was exposed, it was gone. He was gone.

When the people we love are in trouble, we react quickly and emotionally.

It wasn’t rational to scramble across a moving vehicle when bullets were flying around her, but love motivates people to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. It gives us strength to do things that we don’t know we can.

I’m in awe of its power. Always and completely.

Yes, they do.

Scrapping with one another, baring those little fangs, biting ankles and pushing their fat little bodies against one another for “prime couch real estate.”

But when the sun goes down, and the house goes quiet and the boy child goes to sleep and the man drifts off…it’s just them and mommy and reruns on tv…they let down their hair.

Tear down the wall. Break that sucker down. I attribute it all to the magic blanket. That and they secretly adore each other, but don’t let them hear it. They will immediately start chewing each others ears and hiding toys.

Little stinkers

I’d asked A.J. to make Leon a card, when he woke up this morning, so Leon would have something handmade from him. Dads get the short end of the stick as moms get the teachers to help kids make handmade items. Needless to say, A.J. forgot. So, I reminded him again, Sunday afternoon, and he came up with something very creative. In fact, I’ve never seen anything quite like this.

It’s a white sheet of paper with grey crayon that says: Happy Fathers Day Dad. Hope you like your Fathers Day Present. Here you go. Stapled to it was a bag of loose change (quarters, nickels, dimes, pennies and possibly buttons) that he’d been saving to take to the arcade.

What was Leon’s reaction? Well, you can see for yourself.

Happy Father's Day, Leon!

At whatever time of day I would have to get ready to go, I would lug out my Plano box and choose the daily colors. If I didn’t have to go out, I would sit in front of the tv with a mirror and play dress up with my girlie-metics. AJ loved to watch me put on my face and would often sit behind me and view me in my mirror.

He would come up behind me, hug me with his chubby little arms and grin at me in the mirror and tell me I was “bootiful.” One day, however, he was looking at me with a particularly tender smile and he said, “Aw, mama, we’re friends.” From that day on, when I did my makeup, he would come behind me, hug me, look at us in the mirror and say “we’re friends.”

As he’s grown, there are times he continues to reaffirm not only his love for me as a mother, but his genuine feeling that I listen to him and take care of him as a friend. This does not mean that I am not in charge or that I’m a permissive parent. I’m an authoritative parent with equal parts strict and loving. What I hear from him, however, is that my boundaries provide security and love and that my being his parent doesn’t effect how he feels about our friendship. This flies in the face of all of those parents that feel like they have to be permissive for their children to love them more.

Yes, AJ. We’re friends. I hope you will remember that when you become a teenager and hate me for all the times I reinforce your security and safety. I hope you remember it when I keep you away from the people I know aren’t good for you. I hope you remember it when you want to go on trips that lack structure and put holes in your body and dye your hair (hey, feel free if you want to pay for it). When you are an adult, freedom is yours and I’ll still be your mom and, yes, AJ, we’ll still be friends. Hopefully.

April 18, 2009
I want to heartily thank the person who decided to flush the toilet/start the dishwasher/start the wash machine while I was in the shower this morning. At that point I was still so asleep that I was cleansing myself with one eye closed and was in the middle of a deep condition for my back length hair, which takes approximately the same amount of time it would take me to read Moby Dick and slay the beast myself. I would like to take this sidebar to remind you that Karma is a fierce mistress and I will be courting her with a passion until she shows you the error of your transgressions.

April 20, 2009
The other day I was driving to school and I saw a really large African American man who looked completely “ghetto.” He had on his head-kerchief, his football jersey and walked with a swagger that would scare an U.S. Ranger. I drove up behind him and noticed something hanging from him hand. I looked off to his side and saw the smallest wiener dog I’ve ever seen in my life. As I drove in front of him, I watched him in my rearview mirror. He was cooing at that little dog like it was the most important thing in his life and dragging it along behind him while the poor thing tried to pee. Ah, love.