Remember To...

It's 10am on Memorial Day, and our house is quiet. Russ has gone to the townhouse to take care of a few last minute things before the closing this week, the dogs are passed out on the floor downstairs, and Evan is passed out on the floor in his room still sleeping soundly from whenever it was he slithered out of his bed in the first place. Mornings like this, I relish. I got up at 7am, made some coffee, let the dogs out, and read an entire book. The sun is out, the weather is perfect, and we have a whole day off of work to savor each minute. Days like this are precious and few, and make it hard to remember what it was like when almost every day was like this.

Our neighbors next door have 3 kids, all wonderful, well-adjusted kids that you enjoy talking to, that you think "wow, I hope my kids turn out to be so nice" each time you interact with them. The two girls are 14 and 15, the boy is 10, and all of them actually seek out playtime with Evan. Evan thrills each time they appear outside, asking repeatedly if he can play with them. I am trying to teach him that he has to wait for an invitation, that he can't always play with the big kids, but each time, they show him incredible kindness by asking if they can play with him. My heart swells each time this happens, leaping at the overwhelming look of joy on his face as the big kids come into the yard. Sometimes they ask if he can come over, and they help him up onto their giant hammock, or kick around a soccer ball in a half-hearted attempt to teach him the game. He is overjoyed and ecstatic each second he is with them.

The first time they invited him over, we had only been in the new house for one day. They invited him over to join in their kickball game. Evan was on cloud nine. He ran in circles, fell to the ground, jumped, cheered, and did everything the wrong way, and still they laughed and clapped and helped him. But when it was time for them to eat dinner, he didn't understand, didn't want to accept that the fun had to end. We tried to explain that these kids would always be next door, that they were our neighbors, that they would play with him again, yet his heart was shattered into a million pieces. He cried, he sobbed, he screamed. I had to explain to the young boy next door that this would happen a few times until Evan learned that they would be back and to just say that they would see him later. It took a few times, but now Evan gives a nonchalant little wave, says, "Bye guys. I gotta go inside now!" when they have to leave, just like all the other kids do. It kills me, it's so cute.

I've watched Evan's social skills grow by leaps and bounds over the last few weeks, and it makes me proud. I can always tell the kids who stay home with their moms (like Evan), versus the kids who go to daycare by how they interact with kids their own age. Evan really doesn't want to interact with kids his own age. He REALLY wants to play with the big kids. At the park, he chooses to play with the 5 year old little girl versus the two or three toddler boys that are available to play with. He LOVES her, wants nothing to do with the toddlers who don't throw to him, chase him, teach him the ways of the world. Should I be worried? I'm not. He reminds me of me- I always liked hanging out with the bigger kids, talking with the adults at holiday gatherings, admired my teachers and the professionals who seemed to have that key to the locked world. I hope it helps him to seek, to search, to learn, and to embrace all the challenges that are to come in his lifetime.

As I type this, he is still sleeping, and my mind wanders to the wondering of how empty life was before him. What did I do with my spare time? How did I take advantage of quiet moments like this? The answer is that I never knew how precious these moments were, so I'm sure I never did anything meaningful or reveled in the moment of peace like I do now. But I would rather have a lifetime of Naughty Steps, temper tantrums, spilled water bowls, and largely scrawled alphabet letters on freshly painted walls than to ever go back to the Life Before. Before Evan, life didn't sparkle as much as it does now. Life was not as beautiful or meaningful or as simple. Yes, simple.

Before Evan, life was about work, money, debt, relationships, hunger, weight, etc. Stupid issues bringing empty complications to life in general. Yes, those issues still exist, but now, if you gave me the choice between losing 30 lbs and being able to stay home with my son, I'd stay home. If the choice were between getting a million dollars or staying home with my son, I'd stay home. I'm not kidding. The choice, the meaning of everything I do now, is simple. It's Evan. These minutes that tick by so quickly are ones we never get back. I think of all the minutes my parents missed, my dad missed especially, in my own life, and wonder if they ever wish they could get them back. There are days where I spend too much time on the computer, that at the end of the day, I regret it. I didn't need to be working just then. I could have been coloring or playing tag, or just snuggling. I'm lucky that we get a lot more time doing that sort of thing because I am home during the day, but I work from home as well, so at times, I feel guilty for working when he's right there and I'm missing him.

Soon there will be far too many quiet moments again- Evan will start school eventually, and I will become less and less a part of his day, though I will still be important. I want to be the kind of mom mine never was, which is something we all strive to be I'm sure, but at the same time, I know I will make mistakes that, someday, he will say to either me or himself, "Mom, if you had only done it differently." I don't care. All I know is that something that I will do differently than my own mother is that I will shower my child with love and affection to the point he may think I am overbearing. I will take the definition of overbearing any day. It is far less hurtful than the lack of interest my own mother has in mine and my brother's life. But that's for another post. My point is, my life used to be full of quiet, non-eventful, non-meaningful moments that parallel this morning- I got up, I read, I did what I wanted. But now, I know that any moment, Evan will awaken and the day will become a whole new adventure, a new learning experience that I will get to share with him.

So now, I hear Evan stirring, and I am excited that he is finally awake. In a second, he'll pitter patter down the hall, a smile on his face in his Batman pajamas, and I'll ask him if he's had a good sleep. Our day will begin. I've had my "me" time, and now it is time for him. I hope that each one of you enjoys this day, takes time to breathe and enjoy whatever it is that is important in your life. This life is so fleeting, that days off with the ones we love, no matter what the occasion, are worth their weight in happiness.

Happy Memorial Day! I wish you all a day of happiness and love.