Coming In Last, Feeling Like First

Max: Mom, did you see that I came in last in everything. But you know? That's OK.

This weekend, I got a lesson in courage from my 10-year-old. Each year his school has a track meet and all kids are encouraged to participate. Max was never interested—until this year.

As we talked more, Max went on to tell me that he realizes he’s not that great at sports. “I’m good at other things but I do want to try the track meet just to see what it’s like.” I love that Max realizes that he has many other talents. I also love that he’s branching out.

So on Saturday afternoon, Max gathered with his fellow 4th graders at McGuiness Field and the events began. He lined up each time, smiled and gave me a thumbs-up and took off. At the end of whatever event—when he came in last— he waved at me in the bleachers and always had a grin. As I smiled and waved back, tears stung my eyes more than once. I wanted him to experience success and win just one of the competitions. But why? He was having a ball, regardless of where he placed.

As I thought more, I realized that Max was experiencing success. He was trying something new, putting himself out there, maybe even knowing down deep that he may not win, but doing it anyway. I don’t know many adults who feel completely comfortable putting themselves out there but for Max, that’s what it was all about.

The last event was the softball throw and Max was up last. He threw the ball and his friends ran to him, lifting him up and cheering. Did he throw the farthest? No, but those sweet boys knew Max did something that afternoon that was new to him and they were proud of their friend. More tears from me. Then we piled in the car and sharing custard at fries at Freddy’s with his friends.

As we talked at bedtime, I told him how proud I was of him and that he taught me a big lesson. “Oh Mom, I wasn’t the best but it was my first time. I can try again next year. You never know, I may just get better.

I think he's already the best.

Politics, Popularity and Kid Rock

Max: I think Mitt Romney made a bad choice on his campaign song.
Me: (Stunned that he's discussing Mitt Romney and apparently knows his campaign song) OK, well, what is it?
Max: It's by Kid Rock. Really? Kid Rock? Who picks Kid Rock?
Me: Apparently Mitt Romney.
Max: Someone should tell him Kid Rock is just not popular.

I guess Max is paying attention to the world of politics. And it sounds like he knows more than I do. This isn't the first political conversation we've shared. I got an earful about Obama (Max thinks he is to blame for just about all that's wrong right now, which means he's been talking to his grandmother). He's quizzed me about who I think should be our president and he definitely thinks "a girl will be president someday." Love that!

I'm not sure I remember knowing much about politics when I was his age. But I also didn't have access to the overload of media that Max and other kids have today. Heck, we only had three TV stations. (Max can't imagine how I survived.)  I pay attention to what he's watching, searching and Googling but I also know Max is curious and truly interested in history  and current events. So if he'd rather watch The Today Show instead of Sponge Bob, I'm fine with that. But I'm also certain to talk to him to make sure he understands and that what he sees or reads may not always be true. 

As the presidential campaign continues you may get more insight from my 10-year-old political analyst. In the meantime, you might rethink that Kid Rock CD in your car. 

With A Little Help From My Friends...

"Mom, don't be sad that you can't run. It's OK to take a break sometimes."

This weekend, I did something I haven't done since I became a runner: I was a spectator. Thanks to the stress fracture in my fourth metatarsal and the lovely Frankenshoe, I've got at least 10 days (but who's counting) until I can even think about running.

The past few weeks without running has made me realize a few things. One, I've been pushing myself too much, not listening to my body and not running my own race. No matter how I felt or what hurt, I ran. I wasn't letting myself recover after long runs and I didn't take time off after my fall marathon. So basically, I have myself to thank for this. Lesson learned.

I prepared myself to cheer on my friends at the Rock & Roll Half in Dallas and I let myself feel sad & disappointed. But I quickly let let it go. Wallowing in self-pity would do no good and it's not my style. I had a cow bell to ring, a sign to hold and encouragement to give--to my running buddies and complete strangers.

While I stood in various points along the 13.1 mile route, I scanned the crowd for faces of my friends and found myself watching those I didn't know. I wondered about their running story: Was it their first half? Their 20th? Was the smile on their face real or were they struggling? Why did they become a runner? Are they doing something they never thought they'd do?

Even though I had no other choice, I was exactly where I needed to be on Sunday...cheering, encouraging, offering hugs & "you can do it" because that's what my friends needed. And it's what I needed too. While I was there to encourage them, they ultimately encouraged me. I experienced the sport I love from a new vantage point and it reminded me why I run.

Around mile 9, I stood holding my sign as a woman ran past & pointed at my boot. "Next race, you'll be back stronger than before."

Yes I will.

(About the photo above: This was the sign we held. It elicited tons of laughs. Mark and I decided if there was a contest for best sign a the Rock & Roll Half, we would have won.)

Booking It

"Mom, I just love books. Books can take you places, give you adventures, make you feel happy, sad, scared and excited. I just feel so good when I have a book."

Books and reading were a part of Max's life long before he was born. Gifts of books were bestowed upon him when he was still in my belly. When I found myself on bedrest, I embarked on the Harry Potter series and often read aloud; thinking baby Max might enjoy hearing about wizards and such.

Max’s very first very present after he was born was a copy of Where the Wild Things Are. A more appropriate gift couldn't be found. During Max's 5 weeks in the NICU, his Dad and I read The Cat in the Hat, Goodnight Moon, The Very Hungry Caterpillar and other childhood favorites just so he could hear our voices.

I've always been a reader and nothing made me happier at age 10 than a Judy Blume book and an afternoon to myself. I have vivid memories of Saturday trips to Southern Oaks Library with my Mom. I'd grab a few books and race to the carpeted castle in the children's section where I would climb to the top and lose myself in whatever book I'd found on the shelf. Trips to the bookstore were always a treat and to this day I know that even when money was tight, Mom rarely said no to a book.

Max loves going to the library and exploring bookstores and like my mother, I rarely say no to a book. I joke that Max has his own library in his room with shelves overflowing and stacks of books on his bed. We go through his books often and donate those he's ready to pass along to his school library. And on occasion, we deliver a stack or two to his pediatrician.

It would be naïve of me to think that all kids are as fortunate as Max. There are too many children in our state and country who don’t get the opportunity to have books at their fingertips, enjoy weekly bookstore visits or even trips to the library.

Reach Out and Read Oklahoma is doing its part to change this. A national program started locally by my college friend and Delta Gamma sorority sister Dr. Marny Dunlap, Reach Out and Read strives to deliver specialized early literacy counseling and support. This is achieved by the access pediatric primary care providers have to children while they are in their critical years of cognitive and language development – 6 months through 5 years old.

Three program components include:

At each well-child visit from 6 months through 5 years, children receive a new, developmentally and culturally appropriate children's book from medical providers. By the time they begin school, children acquire a home
library of at least 10 beautiful children's books.

In the examination room, physicians and nurse practitioners offer tips and age-appropriate advice about the importance of reading with their young children, including materials to take home.

Volunteers read stories and look at books with children in clinic waiting rooms, thereby modeling for the parents reading aloud techniques.

There are 37 Reach Out and Read clinic locations throughout Oklahoma and over 17,00 children participate each year. Thanks to this program over 25,138 books are distributed annually--creating readers and lovers of books from an early age. If you’d like to learn more about Reach Out and Read Oklahoma or maybe even volunteer, visit www.reachoutandreadok.org.

And to quote Jacqueline Kennedy:

"There are many little ways to enlarge a child’s world. Loving books is the best of all”

I couldn’t agree more.

Checking My Work

Max: Mom, I've noticed something. You haven't posted on Musings by Max in awhile.
Me: Are you checking up on me?
Max: No. Well, kind of. I just like to see what you write.
Me: I am behind. I have lots of ideas in my head and I need to make the time to write.
Max: Well, it is called Musings by Max. Maybe I should just take over.

Ouch. I was definitely called on the carpet by the kid. I do have blog ideas that are great and funny and insightful but I haven't made the time to write them. I have the time, I just need to make the time. Two very different things.

Since I left my full-time, 8-5 job (or 8-8 or 7-9, depending on the day) seven months ago, you'd think I would have all time time in the world to do those things I said I would: cleaning out every cabinet, learn Italian, write more, keep the house clean, take a photography class, organize closets, paint the bedroom and the list goes on. But alas, not so much. What have I done? Treasured seeing Max's smiling face as he runs to the car after school each day, enjoyed yogurt dates to talk about what we both did during the day, cooked more, listened more, become a better yogi, appreciated more, prayed more, walks with the crazy puppy, developed new friendships and learned to love quiet. Much better than cleaning cabinets, if I do say so myself.

But I do love writing and blogging and goodness knows Max gives me plenty of topics to cover. So for this, I will make time. And maybe I will make time for the occasionally cleaning of a closet. Or drawer. But if I fall off the blogging wagon again, know this blog's namesake will gladly take over.

A Letter to My 4th Grader

Max: Mom, I am in 4th grade. I am so proud!


Dear Max,

As you embark on 4th grade, which I honestly can’t believe, (weren’t you just 2 yesterday?) I want to pass on a little advice. At 9, my advice is most likely still welcome but there will come a day when you will be 100% certain you know more than me. But for now, you still think I’m fairly smart, so here goes:

Be kind – To your friends, to your teacher, to strangers and especially to those who can be unkind. They need it the most.

Be persistent – Things can be tough sometimes. Learning something new, developing a new skill—it's often frustrating. Don’t let it get the best of you. Try, then try more. Don’t give up.

Be true – Be true to yourself and who you are. Just because someone else loves something doesn’t mean you have to. Love what you love.

Be content – It’s easy to look at what others have and wish for their life or what they have. Be grateful for what you have because it is exactly what you need.

Be strong – Sometimes going along with the crowd is the easy thing to do but stand strong to the things you know are right.

Be courageous – New things can be a little scary but persevering and trying something new can open the doors to things you never imagined.

Be proud – Of who you are, what you have accomplished, of where you’re going.

Be yourself - You are the only—and best—you in the world. Don’t change for anyone.

An amazing year is ahead of you, sweet boy. As a matter of fact, an amazing life is ahead of you. I am so proud of you and am lucky to be your mom.

I love you,
Mom

Lovey Dovey

“Mom, I feel like I am growing up but is it OK if I always have my lovey?”

Lovey. Issy. Blankey. Pompy. Chicken. These are actual names used by kids I know (or adults) for their soft, cuddly blanket.

I started thinking about the love of blankets the other day when a friend of mine texted me. Her daughter, now 7, found the soft, silky Little Giraffe-brand blanket I bought her when she was born. She asked where it came from. My friend explained it was a gift and her daughter replied, “I love blankey and it will be with me forever.”

I wasn’t a blanket kid. I had my thumb—it was always with me and I couldn’t lose it. But it did cost my parents thousands in orthodontist bills. Sorry, Mom. But I have a blanket kid— a lovey kid to be exact. Max has had his lovey since birth and still has it. You can see what is left of it in the picture above. He rubbed it to go to sleep, scared me by laying with it over his face while he slept, and took long sniffs of it and got the same drunk look on his face every time.

Lovey soothed boo-boos, nightmares, shots and was there after 3 surgeries. It was also introduced to every new stuffed animal that came into the house. “Knuffle Bunny, meet Lovey,” I once heard him say. When he was younger it went everywhere, even to preschool for naptime. Now, it remains in his bed to snuggle with when he sleeps. It doesn’t go to sleepovers or Scout camp but it did just leave for a week in Ohio. But I was told not to tell. Whoops.

“What would people say, Mom, if they knew a 9 year old was still carrying a lovey?” he asked.

“Don’t you think some of your friends have stuffed animals or blankets? Why don’t you ask B?” (“B” is a new friend who is starting 4th grade with Max. And a girl. She’s awesome, according to Max. And me.)

“Mom, she is a girl and girls are supposed to love soft cuddly things. Duh.”

Well, allrighty then.

So I explained that if lovey makes him happy, soothes him or helps him fall asleep then that is just fine. It is his business. No one has to know. (Well, except for the 22 of you who follow my blog. Pinky swear you won’t tell, K?)

“OK, Mom that sounds good and it can just be my secret, because it does make me feel good. And I think it always will,” he said. “Even when I am a grown up."

Leaping #2: Don’t Hate

Since my decision to leave my full time job, I have been overwhelmed with supportive and wonderful comments, calls and emails telling me to enjoy my “leap of faith,” to embrace my time with Max and my favorite—“defy gravity.” (Thank you, Robbin Davis).

Then, there are the haters.

“Why would you leave a good job?” (There are lots of good jobs)

“Are you sure you thought this through?” (No, I didn’t at all, thanks for calling that to my attention)

“I figured you would quit sooner or later.” (Most people do quit a job—or 10—in their lifetime)

“What will you do?” (Whatever the hell I want, thanks)

(Note—and all of the above comments have had “the tone”—you know exactly the tone to which I am referring .)

I have decided that people often say something snippy or hateful because they really don’t know what to say. And most likely because they could never imagine making the same choice. It’s fine if people don’t agree with my decision because the decision is mine and I don’t require permission.

I’ve loved working and have had an amazing career. Every job I’ve had has taught me so many things about myself—strengths, weaknesses, what I love and what I won’t put up with. When I became a mom, I did experience the occasional bout of mommy guilt but it usually went away as fast as it came. But with time and age comes perspective and my perspective has changed. I want off the wheel. I want balance and flexibility. I want to stay in my yoga pants all day if I choose. I want to be where I am needed the most.

So to those who don’t seem to understand my decision, I say this: someday you may have a child or husband, an aging parent, a sick in-law, a health problem or all of the above—on top of a demanding job. I can almost guarantee you will feel conflicted about how to fit it all in. Let's just hope those around you say something nice or don't say anything at all.

Leaping

"Sometimes your only form of transportation is a leap of faith”

I saw this quote several weeks ago and it has been stuck in my head ever since. I’ve never been great at leaping—let alone jumping or even baby stepping. I’m not much of a risk taker.

But I’ve learned that it is OK to step outside my comfort zone because sometimes, that is where you find all the fun. And I am doing my best to impart this to Max. As a mom, one of the many things I want to do is to help Max learn to take chances, to learn to fail, to put himself out there, to experience disappointment—all in the name of learning who he is.

At 42 I am still learning who I am and lately, my gut has told me that it is time to put my big girl pants on and take a leap. A leap into the unknown and without a huge safety net.

So today, after an amazing 20-year career in marketing and communications--full of countless experiences I wouldn’t trade for the world—I leapt. Into what? I am not really sure. I have a few ideas but for now, I am just going spread my wings and fly.

I can’t wait to see where my leap takes me.

New Shoes

Last night in yoga class my instructor encouraged us to approach our practice like we were wearing a new pair of shoes.

Huh? I love shoes but what do they have to do with yoga?

"New shoes are rarely comfortable the first time you wear them," she explained. “It takes wearing them over & over before they feel just right.” She suggested using this approach on our mat—doing something a little uncomfortable: a new pose, stretch or something completely different than what we usually do.

I took her advice. I did something different in crane pose, jumped back to downward-facing dog instead of stepping back; I worked on my gaze in airplane and jumped higher and stronger in dancing monkey. None of this felt comfortable in the slightest when I was doing it, but once I had time to reflect on what I accomplished, it was empowering.

Why is this so relevant to me? Because I am the queen of finding what's comfortable & sticking with it. There are countless times I wore the same old shoes. I knew how they fit and what to expect so why should I put on a different pair? I am certain there are things I’ve missed because I didn't try the new shoes.

As class ended, our instructor praised us for practicing with our new shoes. Her challenge as we were leaving? To wear those same new shoes in our life off our mat.

Sounds like the perfect idea. What girl doesn't like a new pair of shoes?

Remembering Bo

Bo joined our family 11 years ago as an eight- week-old puppy. Sophie, our female Lab was two the time and certainly needed a friend, I decided. Bo was wild, had great puppy breath and loved to bark at Sophie and the cats (who were old and cranky and frequently swatted him). Sophie quickly let Bo know who was boss and all was well in our house. They were the best of friends.

Over the years Bo had countless visits to the Braum’s drive thru for ice cream, swims at various lakes, walks through the neighborhood, naps in the sunshine and many other experiences that prove it is great to be an animal at my house. When Max came along, Bo was the first to give him a big sloppy kiss (which my grandmother assured me would immediately make Max sick—it didn’t).

Bo’s escapades of raiding the pantry are known far and wide and I still don’t know if it was Bo or Ben the Cat who could open the door but my money was on Bo. He could eat a box of Krispy Kreme donuts in less than 30 seconds. Bo loved shoes and caused me great stress when he decided to chew up a pair I borrowed from my friend Heidi. I cried to the shoe repairman and he made them look like new. And who could forget the bouncy ball incident. A 25-cent ball from a vending machine cost me $1300 in vet bills. But Bo was worth every penny.

Before Thanksgiving I noticed Bo wasn’t himself. I knew he was sick but I didn’t want to hear it. I just kept thinking he would get better. When I finally had the courage to take him in he was diagnosed with kidney failure. I knew it would eventually take his life but I hoped for later rather than sooner. IV fluids and a special diet helped him bounce back until just after Christmas. On New Year’s Eve when he stopped eating, I knew he was telling me that it was time. Sunday afternoon, I put him on the bed with me and we took a nap. He put his head on my pillow and I rubbed his stomach and told him what a bright light he had been in our life. That night at bedtime, I found Sophie on his bed with him (see photo above). She was saying goodbye. Monday morning before he went to the vet, I sat next to his bed and stroked his head. I put his leash on him and he made one last visit to his favorite tree…he was struggling to get there and it broke my heart.

So on a blue blanket in waiting room one at Nichols Hills Vet Clinic, I held Bo as he quietly went to sleep. In a crazy way, I had a sense of peace that everything was OK because the words of my wise 8 year old rang in my head: “We have had a good life with Bo and now he’s going to be with God, Mom and Dog Heaven is amazing. I bet he can eat all the Krispy Kreme’s he wants!”

Eat up, sweet Bo.

What Makes A Family

Max: For Thanksgiving, I want all the people I love to be here. You know, me, you, Dad, Gran and Mark. That's my family.

I've learned a lot about family lately. In particular, I've learned families can look lots of different ways and often it's a common bond that ties you with others that truly makes a family.

Today, the family that Max spoke of spent the day eating, talking, laughing and being thankful. Our common bond? Our love for Max and our love & respect for one another.

Divorce is never easy, even when it is amicable. It hurts, it can make you feel like a failure, it's scary. You worry about how it will affect your child, what people will say and you wonder if you have it in you to start over.

Since our divorce, Max's dad and I have kept our focus on Max--just like we did when we were married. We made sure he understood that our adult problems had nothing to do with him and that regardless of our marital status, he has mom & dad who love him and always put him first.

Holidays can often bring out the very worst in people, but not at our Thanksgiving. Today was about family and putting others first. As I looked around the table and saw the smile on Max's face, I thought about how happy he was to have the people he loves--his family-- together.

Will it be this way every year? That I can't answer but what I can say is that I am thankful for today.

Perfection & Politics

Max: I don't like all the voting commercials because they are mean. They all talk about how the other person did bad stuff and say don't vote for them. All the candidates do bad stuff, I bet.

Max—my sweet little old soul of a son— offers many wonderful observations on a regular basis but this one stopped me in my tracks. We were on our way home from Mass where we had just heard Father Rick talk about perfection. He explained that no one is perfect—we all make mistakes. Max and I smiled at each other on this one, because we both struggle with striving to be perfect. Father Rick also explained that those who choose to focus on the imperfections of others don’t ever come out on top.

The child to whom I have to repeat 14 times every morning to get dressed and brush his teeth truly does listen, maybe not to me but obviously to political commercials. Max took a wonderful message from Mass and related it to something that was on his mind. He’s 8 and is too young to vote but clearly isn’t too young to realize that pointing out what is wrong with others doesn't make you a winner.

I hope that never changes.

(Note: Max says wearing a mask based on a political figure does not imply endorsement for said political figure.)

My Inner Third Grader

It’s funny how something intended for elementary students can have just as much meaning to adults—and maybe even more.

At our recent school open house, Max’s teacher gave all parents an overview of what to expect in third grade—the types of things the class would accomplish, her goals for the year, expectations and more. One thing that jumped out at me was a list of character goals she will be working on with the students:

Persevere
Be Confident
Show Integrity
Be Kind
Forgive
Show Empathy
Be Honest
Be Patient

Max and I talked about these things and he told me the ones he felt like he needed to work on most (persevere, be confident, be patient). In turn, I shared with him the ones I needed to work on (forgive, be confident). Max said, “You’re an adult, Mom, and you know this stuff already.” True, but even adults forget and need to be reminded, I explained. I also told him that being an adult doesn’t always guarantee that you do everything right. Oh how I know that.

I typed the list and put it on our refrigerator for both of us to see. As we’re beginning the routine of a new school year, complete with homework and projects and lots of new challenges, we’ve referred to the list a few times—especially when Max gets frustrated that homework comes before Legos, Wii or the computer. And especially when he needs that extra push to do something that doesn’t come easy.

And for me, I looked right at the list when the dog—for the 10th time—broke into the pantry and ate 10 packages of pretzels (patience) and when a family member did something that really hurt me (forgive) and realized that even as an adult, you can learn a lot from third grade.

To Save or Not to Save

Lately I have been in a cleaning/organizing mood. This hits me every so often and I actually enjoy it. It makes me feel in control (which I love) and less scattered.

With my recent organizational frenzy, I have discovered 5-6, OK maybe 7 plastic tubs with collections of papers, artwork, scribbles, handprints “What we did today” sheets from preschool, kindergarten work, second grade work, letters and much more. I have one child. Seriously….when did I become a pack rat?

Actually, I am just sentimental. Max’s first time to scribble with a marker? I must save it! A Thanksgiving placemat with his handprint from preschool? I’ve got it. His first construction paper valentine? It’s in there. And the cute drawing above? I will show it to him the first time he says he hates me.

Before long, 7 plastic tubs will be 10, then 12 and then an entire room of plastic boxes and papers. YIKES! So how do I decide what to save? My friend Stacy, mother of two, says she saves 20 – 30 things from each year—the things that are most meaningful or special. Another friend puts her children’s artwork on the walls of her garage. An article I read suggested taking photographs of pieces of artwork or items that might be too hard to save…like the cow head Max wore in a second grade play. But to me, the photos create yet another issue that falls in line with the guilt I have over the unfinished scrapbooks stacked in a closet. Rome wasn’t built in a day, my mother says, so organizing scrapbooks will have to wait.

Anyway, I watch some of the organize your home shows on TLC & HGTV and can completely get behind the mini-therapy sessions that occur with conversations like “It isn’t the things that matter, it is the memories” and “You don’t need paper (or trophies or doll collections or moose heads) to remember what a person meant to you.” I will need to remind myself of that as I sort through my boxes, a task I find a bit overwhelming.

My goal is to work on the boxes a little each week and finish before the end of September. Or October. Or maybe, I will just hold on to it all a little while longer. Isn't that what under the bed boxes are for?

(One more thing... I am now blogging for www.405moms.com, a site for Oklahoma City moms with lots of great resources, ideas, blogs and more. If you're a mom, or even if you're not, stop by and check it out.)

"You Know, Mom, Independence Means Freedom"

Max: Happy July 4th, Mom.

Me: Happy July 4th to you too, baby.

Max: So what are we going to do today?

Me: Well, I hope it the sun comes out so we can go to the pool. We could also go to our neighborhood parade.

Max: Would we have to change out of our pajamas? (My thoughts exactly. He is so my child.)

Me: Yes, I think we would. But the parade is fun.

Max: Do we always go?

Me: Yes, I can show you pictures of every year.

So I go to the computer and pull up 2002, where this sweet little photo was taken.

We scroll through photos and he reminds me of how young I was in 2002 (Gee, thanks Max) and asks why he was sleeping at the parade (because that is what babies do) and then remarks that he was also really young in 2002 because he didn't even have hair yet.

Then I asked him what he thought 4th of July means. "It means independence, Mom. You know, like freedom. And we can thank God and the soldiers for that."

Couldn't have said it better myself. Happy 4th, friends!

Father's Day: Pancakes, Golf and Learning to Cook

This picture was taken on Father's Day 2002. Max was 4 months old and with him is his Grandpa Doug.

Doug came into my life when I was 14. I was a typical teenager and all I really cared about was talking on the phone. And boys. And I was probably a little obnoxious. Doug was dating my mom and she really liked him. Eventually, they decided to get married. I wanted my mom to be happy and he made her happy so I was as supportive as a 14 year old could be. The night they got married Doug told me something I'll never forget: "I love your mother and I love you. I realize you have a father and I will not try to take his place. I will be your friend, earn your respect and support you in any way I can."

Over the years, Doug did everything from help me buy my first car to teach me to drive a stick shift. He taught me to play golf and how to play Keno in Vegas. He made the best pancakes, didn't yell when I brought home another stray animal and he helped load and unload the truck when I went to college. He applauded my achievements, worried I would never learn to cook and came to the rescue when a high school friend drove his car through a large plate glass window at our house. He saw me graduate from college, start my first job, inspected every car/apartment/condo and was there the night Max was born. But most of all, he kept his promise of supporting me. He absolutely earned my respect. And he loved me like his own.

Doug got sick in November 2002 and was given 6 months to live. I was crushed that Max would never know him. During that time, even when I wasn't sure he could hear me, I told him all the things he had done to impact my life. I promised I would make sure Max knew all about him and he would certainly know where his first fishing pole and golf clubs came from.

Today, I visited Doug at the cemetery. I visit often but always go on Father's Day. I took along someone special today, who occasionally says or does something that reminds me of Doug and makes me laugh out loud.

I miss Doug every day and often find myself thinking of things I would tell him if he were here, like the fact that I did learn to cook but I still stink at golf. If you're a step-dad or if you become one someday, never underestimate the impact you have.

Happy Father's Day, Doug!

Holding On & Letting Go

I'm willing to admit that I don't have much patience and what patience I do have has developed since I became a mother. And on occasion, I can be a little dramatic. Or a lot, depending on the day.

While Max has inherited many of my good qualities, he has also inherited my lack of patience and flair for drama.

We've had lots of discussions about using patience, especially as I am working with Max on riding his bike. I've made a deal with Max and yes, bribery may be involved: He needs to learn to ride his bike before he starts 3rd grade.

Max: But I might fall and hurt myself and bleed.

Me: You will fall, Max but you'll get right back up. I fell off my bike lots of times and we didn't even wear helmets.

Max: But this is so HARD and I just want to learn RIGHT NOW and have it be easy.

Me: Remember how we talked about that sometimes the best things aren't the ones that come easy? When you have to work at something you are more appreciative of what it takes to get there.

Max: Well, I am still scared of falling and I think I will just call my bike the vehicle of death! (See what I mean about the drama?)

As we rode around the driveway (slowly) and practiced starting and stopping, I remembered my yellow bike with the plastic basket covered in flowers and the day the training wheels came off. I was scared. And yes I fell. Lots. I told Max this story and while I'm not sure I convinced him that he really shouldn't be scared, I saw a glimmer of a smile each time he went a little further without me holding on.

Max: Promise you won't let go Mom. Not ever.

Mom: I won't let go yet, but soon you won't need me to hold on.

Funny how growing up and riding a bike have so many similarities.

The Perfect Mother's Day

Max: On Mother's Day, you don't have to do anything. Not even any hard stuff. Just what you want to do

Me: That's a great idea. What do you think I would like to do?

Max: You would first go on a run and then go to Starbucks. Then you would eat that omelette thing you like at Jimmy's Egg. I think after that you would go to the mall. You would try on lots of clothes at J Crew and you could take your time because when I am with you I tell you that I am bored. I would even give you $5 to buy that necklace you like. After that you would eat Mexican food because you really like it. I think that's it.

Me: Max, that sounds like a perfect day. How do you know all the things I like to do?

Max: I just do. I know you, Mom.

How lucky am I? Not because he wants me to have the perfect day but because I am Max's mom. No trip to J Crew could match laying in bed watching a video with my sweet boy, which is what we're doing right now. The mall can wait.

To my precious Mom, who taught me what being a mother is all about, I love you! And to all my mom friends who inspire and encourage me every day...Happy Mother's Day!

Advice for the 2nd Grade Substitute

Max: What does regret mean?

Me: It means that you're sorry you did something. (My curiousity is peaked at this point)

Max: Well, there is something I should tell you. My whole class had to write a letter to our substitute from Monday. Apparently, we talked a lot. And we didn't really listen to her. Though, I don't think it was me.

Me: Max, you talk when you don't have a substitute so I have no doubt you did your share.

Max: OK, I did.

Me: So what did your letter say?

Max: That I was sorry for all that stuff that I did. But you know what else I said in my letter?

Me: What else did you say? (Again, curiousity peaked)

Max: I told the sub the things she did wrong while she was in our class. If we had to talk about what we did wrong, she needed to know what she did too. And I told her. Like how she did the spelling words completely wrong. And other stuff.

Me: I'm not sure what to say about that, Max.

Max: Oh well, she just needed to know for the next time she substitutes.

Me: I bet she's very appreciative of your advice.

Max: Yeah, she probably is. I like to be helpful.