Dear Colten

You are sleeping right next to me right now and your calm and rhythmic breathing leaves me so sure of you. Sure of your safety and your comfort. You have always made me feel sure of you though. You have so much ability, even in your three short years of life. When you flipped, turned and kicked in my stomach, or when you held your head up right after you were born, or when you took your first steps, it was always as if you were saying, "Mommy, it's okay, I got this!" I feel just as sure that you are going to be just as able as a boy, and as a man.

I just read a wonderful list about words of advice for mothers of sons. It left me feeling so very blessed to be your mother. What a great and awesome responsibility and opportunity God has given me! I look forward to teaching you all that I know and learn with you about all those things that I don't know. I know that I won't always have an answer for all of your why's and why not's, I may not even be able to find the 'right' answer, but I promise that I will always try. One thing that I can do very well is Google.

Thank you for being such a bright a beautiful little boy. You have brought so much joy and contentment into my life.

I love you with every ounce of my being!

~Mommy

Don't Wait for Vacation to Enjoy Your Life!

I have been longing to find the time for a good blog update. I sat down yesterday and began a lighthearted post about Toys overtaking my house, which was true of yesterday. But then I decided to stop writing about it and do something about it. So, I spent the better part of the day organizing toys. Colten’s room is now housing about three-fourths of his toys, as opposed to pretty much all of his toys being located in his toy room, a.k.a. our dining room and therefore, all over the house.

I was spurred on by my recent vacation, which was a bit of an eye opener for me. I enjoyed myself so immensely, that I realized that I don’t have to wait until vacation to enjoy my life. It sounds so simple, but this was a true revelation to me. There was also this post on my friend’s Face Book Wall that spoke to me in the same fashion. It was something about a girl who redesigned her life. I don’t really remember what it said, but the message was that you hold the key to your own happiness, though it may take a little elbow work to make it happen.

I have let myself get so bogged down with things in my life that I was in shutdown mode. Which means that not only was I shutting out the things that stress me out, I was also shutting out the things that truly make me happy. I told myself that I didn’t have the time or the money to do the things I wanted, but now I’m realizing that the only thing really keeping me from what makes me happy is me. It’s funny that the New Year is usually reserved for self discovery like this, but I haven’t really even taken stock in that just yet. We got home from our vacation on New Year’s Eve and we have been so busy getting settled back in and unwinding from vacation that I haven’t properly celebrated or given thought to a new year. I bought myself a bottle of Martini and Rossi Asti (my favorite Champagne) with halfhearted thoughts about ringing in the New Year. But I was in bed by 9 and didn’t even try to make it to the countdown, and I never even popped the top on my bubbly.

One New Year’s tradition that I did invoke, however, was the day-long feat of making Black Eyed Peas and Collard Greens. I save this tradition for once a year because I think it is such a pain to make. To be more specific, the Black Eyed Peas are fairly easy, but the Collard Greens are a pain! I do love eating them though! And I just can’t imagine settling for the alternative version, coming from a can. Also, I know that it is imperative that Jeff get’s his New Year’s Black Eyed Peas. I found this out the hard way one over-celebrated New Year’s (i.e. I drank too much bubbly the night before.) I decided that Black Eyed Peas could wait for another year, leaving me the time and energy to recuperate from the night before. I was wrong. We had some disagreement about it, which ultimately led to Jeff finding him some Black Eyed Peas at all cost. Ok, I'm being a little over dramatic about it, but the message came across. So, now I make sure that we have Black Eyed Peas on New Year's Day.

I realize that I am leaving out all of the good details about our vacation. But the most inclussive one is that we had an excellent time! We took a trip to Connecticut, where Jeff is from. This was my first time to meet a lot of his family. I don’t even know where to begin in telling you about our trip. So, I am thinking that I will save it for another Blog. I’ll be sure to get around to it soon though…

I will leave you with an excerpt from yesterdays unfinished Blog, The Toys Have It…

**** My home is being taken over by toys! There are several reasons for this condition. One, I have a toddler, who not only has plenty of toys, but who also got a healthy appreciation of assets this Christmas. In other words, he got lots more toys! Second, my house isn't very big. I'd love to get a new one, with lots of luxurious storage, but I'm not sure that's in my cards any time soon. So, I guess that leads me to the last reason. The toys have been allowed to roam freely in my house, in no speakably organized fashion. So, today Jeff (I told him he would, but I'm quite sure he doesn't want to do it) and I are going to get some organization going. The real issue has really been that Colten's room is upstairs.****

*This is Colten's train set that he got for Christmas, set up in our living room...taking up the entire place as you can see.

My Little Pillow Defender

I would like to tell you a little story about what a precious little pumpkin I have. Right now, he is three years old (and some change) and I believe he’s at the cutest age yet. Every day he says something or does something that causes Jeff and me to look at each other in disbelief and then laugh our butts off. This morning was no exception. I got a call from Colten when I was already at work. I got up at the butt crack of dawn to go to a spinning class and had just settled into my desk. His response to my hello was, “We’re lazy bums, Mom.” Apparently he and his daddy were still in bed! Mind you, I had already been up for nearly three hours.

Granted, his daddy coached him on what to say, but it was still SO cute to hear coming from him. Then, the cutest thing was when he asked if I was jealous. I can’t express to you how adorable he sounded or how cute he was when he busted into giggles after I began laughing at how cute he was.

Jeff then went on to tell me that he and Colten had just woken up and had gotten into a pillow fight. After that, he started to gather up MY pillows to apparently add to his comfort in my absence. At this, Colten told him something to the effect of, “No, Daddy, don’t take Mommy’s pillows!” It doesn't seem like a big deal since I wasn't even there, but there is a clear reason why he found this act to be so offensive. Plainly put, it’s because Mommy finds it offensive:) You may not know this about me, but you have to understand that I am extremely particular about my pillows. My pillows are MY pillows. Apparently, Jeff can’t tell difference between all of the pillows on our bed (about 8 to 10) as to which ones are his and which ones are MINE. I know this by the fact that every time I come to bed after him, or any time he makes the bed, I have to fish my pillows out of his side. Sometimes, to the detriment of his sleep! This is a common occurrence for us…I snatch my pillow, he gets mad that I took his pillow, I get mad that he doesn’t already know that it was my pillow, and the cycle continues. It’s an idiosyncrasy of mine, I know. I guess it comes from growing up in a house with four kids. You have to learn to stake your claim and be willing to defend it!

So, all of this just illustrates the point that three year olds pick up on everything! Even when you think they aren’t paying attention, they are! At least in this case, it was a good thing. I have a little advocate. But it goes double to remind me that he’s listening and taking everything in, and I need to try more than ever to be a good role model to him, my little precious pumpkin!

Realizing on a Wednesday

Have you ever felt like everything happening in your life was being orchestrated just to reach you and make you see something that you had been missing? But I don’t think that actually covers it. Not just to “see” something, but to realize something you could never before grasp.

Anyone who is a parent would understand this kind of realization. The gravity of which, I couldn’t anticipate. Intellectually, I tried to imagine what it would be like to be a parent. I even summoned up my deepest feelings to imagine how I might feel about my child. But when I became a parent, I realized that I couldn’t have imagined the capacity of which I would love my son, or the responsibility that came along with it. Becoming a parent changed me so profoundly that it was as if someone had turned the lights on, when I hadn’t even realized that I had spent my entire life in the dark before that moment.

There are many levels of discovery and realization. Some can be monumental, like becoming a parent. Some can be more subtle, as if you suddenly realized that the jumbled mess of your life wasn't really a mess but a masterpiece, intricately intertwined in such a way that you couldn’t have gotten there by accident. This type of realization has also happened to me before.

Sometimes I can be very hard headed. Unless there are numbers and science and logic to back it up, I can be quite the cynic. Although, that is probably too harsh of a term for what I am, I would say that I am more so pragmatic. I guess that is why I became an engineer. But sometimes life unfolds in such a way that God’s purpose can’t be mistaken.

My mother and father have been married for 36 years now. The feat of which does not escape me. So, I grew up with the impression that I would never be divorced, and that those who did divorce either didn’t try or didn’t enter into the marriage with the gravity it required. Needless to say, I found myself in that very place. At the age of 25, I got a divorce. No matter the surrounding circumstances, it left me in a tailspin. I felt like I had let myself and everyone I knew down. I felt so alone and depressed. It was a very hard time for me.

I was living in South Florida at the time. I had lived away from home and away from my family for a number of years. However, the year prior to my divorce and the toughest stage of my life, my parents decided to also move to South Florida. This was not a casual decision for them. They, and pretty much all of the rest of my family, had lived in Dallas their entire lives. At the time, I couldn’t have anticipated how much I would be needing them. It was just nice to have them close. But then, my life got nearly too difficult to bear, and my parents were able to be there for me when I needed them most.

Once I got through that difficult time, I found that I was ready to move on. I was hesitant to go though, because I didn’t want to leave them behind when they had come all that way to be with me. Here is where God tied the bow for me and then hit me over the head so I could see His work. I hesitantly chose to move to Mobile. The same week that I told my parents this, my mother learned that they would be closing her office there in Florida. She had transferred there from Dallas and gotten a promotion by doing so, since that was a division that was only located in South Florida. So, guess where they chose to relocate her division when they closed that office? Back to Dallas, back home! As if that weren’t enough, the move date set by her work was the same week that I had already planned to move myself. And they paid to move her back as well.

Signed, sealed, and delivered.

All of this is to say, that I have had the experience of coming to important realizations in my life. Realizations that I couldn’t have otherwise imagined or that I would have otherwise stubbornly missed. So, the benefit of my experience has taught me to not let these things go by unnoticed, because sometimes there are greater meanings to the normal occasions in life.

Less than 5 minutes...

You know, there aren't many things not involving a microwave that can be done in less than 5 minutes. At the current rate I've been running I couldn't even run a half a mile in less than 5 minutes. I know I can't put my makeup on in the morning in less than 5 minutes...I know because I've tried. But this blog is (hopefully) written in less than 5 minutes. Or maybe I just wanted to see how many times I could type "less than 5 minutes" in less than five minutes:)

My friend Patrick started a blog (http://oamaam312.blogspot.com/), so I just had to post something too, in you guessed it...less than 5 minutes.

RE: Shanna

I am a writer. I am?

I suppose we all have the capacity to be a writer. Don’t we? After all, it’s not like singing, where I often have dreams of auditioning for American Idol and making it to Hollywood (!...?) to my shock, and then horror. That is because I am of the distinct impression that I’m not a very good singer. Even when I belt out Toni Braxton in my shower (you know, where the acoustics are the most flattering) and as much as I try and stretch my voice, my own vanity has to admit that it doesn’t sound fantastic. On a good note though (pun intended), I wouldn’t categorize my singing disability as tone-deafness. For instance, I have the capability to blend my voice very nicely with a chorus, or with the radio in my car. So, I do have that going for my singing aspirations. But my point is this. You can’t fake a good singing voice. That is, unless you are a commercially promoted, bubble gum pop tween with a team of synthesizers on hand to fake out your undiscerning audience.

Writing, however, is another story (there again with the puns.) Sure, there are those people who simply have a talent for writing. You have probably paid or thought about paying them at one point to produce a paper for you. But in my opinion, even the layman could slop something on a paper and eventually form a well written essay/story/book/blog given enough rounds of editing. Now, if grammar wasn’t a strong suit, I could see how this may be painstaking and time consuming, but still achievable for even the most helpless among us.

So, the real question is, where do you draw the line? When might you consider yourself a writer? Because I think I have established that we are all writers if we so choose to be one. Perhaps will and ability are intermingled here. In my case, I have always had a dread for writing, so I simply didn’t have the will. I had a problem with focusing my random thoughts into one congruent paper/story. Obviously, I still have that same problem. But somewhere along the way, I realized that I had the ability to rein myself in, and was actually able produce good writing. That, paired with my knack for grammar and love for words, translated into my writing for pleasure. I guess that leaves me now with the will and ability to write. So, I’ll bite the bullet...

I am a writer.

The Dunker

I made my way to the back of a long, gray metal tube and meekly settled into one of the back window seats. Although I was alongside eight of my peers, I felt completely alone. We sat perched about ten feet above a large, deep swimming pool by a system of cables and pulleys. All of this was designed to simulate a helicopter crash and would capsize upon entering the water.

The two-hour bus ride to the Marine Corps air station that morning would do nothing to calm my nerves. The fact that I was not in this alone was of no distraction to my fears. The truth was that I was terrified. I was on my way to a military aviation training evolution in which the main training aid was the 9D5, affectionately known as “The Dunker.” It was designed to train aviators for the worst, including how to fight the urge to panic.

Sitting in my seat awaiting my destiny, I thought back to an acronym mentioned in orientation. D.O.R. - which meant that we all had the option to Disenroll On Request, without reprimand. A big deal for the military setting I was in.

It played over in my head like a dream; I would get up and say that I was simply uncomfortable and be saved from this prospect that had brought me nightmares for months. Looking back, I try to remember if it was my will to succeed or fear that kept me from leaving my seat that day.

I tried to match the countdown in my head with that of the instructor's. However, it was unsuccessfully replaced with the rhythm of my heart pounding in my chest. The drop to the water was fast in contrast to the moments beforehand. However, the eight-second wait thereafter, in which we were to remain still and allow for all movement to subside, seemed like an utter eternity.

The chlorine from the water stung my nose at first and flooded me with self-doubt. The water, though inviting, sent a chill through my body. In that threshold of time my life stood in balance, without breath, without fear. I couldn't help but wonder, would a real helicopter crash go this way, this smoothly? Then I realized that it was the answer to that question that was the cause of my fear. Fear of this day, and of a job that would have me flying in potentially dangerous situations.

I unfastened my seatbelt and fought my way to the exit and freed myself of the mock helicopter. As I broke the surface of the water, elation filled me. I overcame.

I often draw strength from the lessons that I learned at The Dunker that day. I would probably describe what I learned there as the first life-lesson I faced as an adult. It's funny, because I even have a shirt to commemorate the experience. It reads, "Panic in a can" and "I will survive because of the 9D5."

I now know that self doubt and uncertainty are an all too prevalent part of life. But more importantly, I learned that it usually bridges the gap between where I am and where I want to be. So, I found strength in my weakness, and formed a roadmap of how I would overcome difficult situations in my life, one bridge at a time.