The Same and Brand New

I didn't take any pictures of our Thanksgiving dinner because I was happily and busily making it this year.  We spent the night with my parents and my sister's family laughing and enjoying the sound of children squealing in delight.  It was a marathon cooking adventure that brought out mostly winning recipes and one that flopped horribly like a big chubby man in a red suit diving off the bantalan.  The winners: Rosemary Citrus Roasted Turkey, sage and feta mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, Italian sausage and sourdough stuffing, pumpkin shortbread squares, cranberry orange relish, tequila sangria with fresh fruit and candied yams all from scratch.  Loser: butternut squash soup.  It was such a culinary mess that my dad actually said, "Don't ever make your pumpkin soup again for as long as you live, but everything else was delicious."  You can always count on my dad not to sugarcoat things.

Favorite quote of the evening:  

Me: Sommer, please change the channel.  That cartoon is inappropriate.

Sommer to Savannah:  Hey Nannah, wanna watch Food Network?

Favorite dish of the evening: My first ever shortbread squares.  Mmmm...

Favorite comment of the evening: I love you mom.  You're my hero.  (Hope)

Favorite memory of the evening: Sitting around the Scrabble table drinking sangria and knowing beyond a doubt how blessed I am to have such a wonderful family. 

We had just enough to supply a perfect breakfast the next day, then it was off to work, home and Christmas tree ornament hunting.  The girls and I decided on some sparkly red apples, crystal green grapes and shimmering plum pomegranates.  Decorating the tree is a big deal in our home.  There's the village, the Nativity, the stockings to hang, the garlands to string and the tree to decorate.  There's a routine we all depend on like having to add something new to the village and making sure no one mistakes the shepherd boy for a wise man, but this year was markedly different in a couple of significant ways.  Tonton wasn't here with us and we all felt his absence despite anyone mentioning it. The music didn't seem to make us giggle as much or sing as loudly and each of us kind of took turns sitting down for a bit looking disoriented.  "What's wrong Peyton?"  "Uh, I don't know.  I just wanna watch."  We hung up one less stocking on the wall.  We'll send one less letter to Santa.  Sigh...

It was also new and promising.  Hope and Peyton arranged the Christmas village all by themselves and it looked awesome.  It actually looked like a completely different village, which reminds me of the proverb about entering the same village from a different bridge.  It's all about perspective, I suppose.  I am happy to relinquish my village architect duties to our beautiful girls.  Ahhh...and so we're ready.  Christmas is on it's way.  Amidst the frenzy of mad dashes to on island and online stores for just the right gift, I sit calmed and comforted, content in knowing that all I need is never more than an arm's length away.  We'll spend some of it in the snow and some of it in the sand.  Every year will be the same and brand new, familiar and transformed,  just like each of us!

He will not depart from it

Let's talk about indicators.  The number one indicator of student academic success is teacher quality.  It isn't teacher credential, but how well a teacher can demonstrate that they genuinely care about individual student growth and how well they can deliver content so that it is comprehensible. 

The greatest factor in a child's overall success is not socio-economic status. It's not immigration status or ethnicity; it isn't even the level of a parent's education.  It's the degree of high expectation demonstrated by parents and the involvement, no engagement in that child's day to day life.  It's the old self fulfilling prophecy, and it's right on.
So what? Well, it's a big so what.  It's so big that I have to remind myself of it every time I start to feel like second guessing myself as a parent.  Now that my son is on life's training wheels, I can sit back (hindsight is 20/20 right?) and think about all the times I felt like my "I love you no matter what" talks were bouncing off the ceiling and getting absorbed into the atmosphere.  The surprising thing is, he'd heard every word I said and no matter what he did to refute it, my love sank in.  Thank God!  No really, thank God He taught us to Train up a child in the way that he should go and when he is old he will not depart from it (Proverbs 22:6).   It was my secret mantra through all the nights I prayed that I wouldn't get an emergency medical call or worry that Tony was going to get hurt emotionally, physically, whatever. They were only two and half years, but they were the scariest two and a half years of my life.  Wayne helped both Tony and I through it.  He saved us from one another more times than I care to admit.  And now, our son is on almost on his own.  Wow, and I have so many nights of thinking where I could have done better, but still.

You see, Tony's been my bud since he was born.  He was momma's boy, always at my side, always yanking on my shirt.  He was like that until he hit the great adolescent trauma stage, or as I like to think of it, the dain bramage years.  All my training as a teacher, counselor and everything I knew as a parent was suddenly questioned. That was the exact time that I needed to hold on to promises.  He will not depart from it...

 There's more to write, but my heart won't let me share it right now.  I will share this beautiful dialogue that happened on a sunny day in the water with Peyton a few months ago.

Peyton: Mommy, Tony's becoming much more responsible nowadays.

Me: He is!  And, he'll get even better you just wait and see.  You're going to love him even more.

Peyton: Yeah, he's really nice to us, and when he babysits us, he doesn't let us stay up past bedtime or anything.  He even plays with us.

Me: When he gets a little older he'll be ten times better, I promise. And, he'll be your big brother hero.

Peyton: He already is my hero.

I love you son.  When you were born it changed my entire life.  Your presence made me want to be a better person and gave me so much purpose.  I know you thanked me for being there for you, but I want to thank you for being here too.  Happy birthday, son.  Remember, no matter what you do or where you go, I'll always have your back.  ~mom

Proms and Moms

This mothering business is not for the faint of heart.  Yet, all I ever wanted to be was a mommy.  When it finally sank in that I was pregnant with my son some 18 years ago I was honestly filled with awe and terror. Raising a good man is such a feat Lord, do you really trust me?  I must say, my son was so easy to raise, he was my best bud all through his childhood and up until the time of pre-teen angst all the way through the psychosocial stages of identity vs. role confusion; a period I affectionately refer to as the dain bramage years.  Learning how to parent a teenager as intelligent and strong willed as Tony has both affirmed my parenting skills and given me some hard, ugly feedback that I've had to absorb along with tears, dismay and celebration.  I've learned a few things about teenagers. 

Lesson #1: Be firm and stand your ground no matter how agonizing it is and what your child calls you in the process.  I've realized that when I've been the toughest but fairest my son has actually recognized it.  He may not have appreciated the consequences handed down, but he's always acknowledge that they were made in his best interest.  Lesson #2: Never ever, ever, ever give up and always tell your child you love them.  I am proud to say that do this all the time, sometimes through gritted teeth, "I love you and I know you don't believe that right now, but I will never stop loving you even when I don't particularly want to be around you because my hands are inextricably drawn to your neck."  Lesson #3: Even the most articulate and intelligent children need guidance.  Just because children can rationalize and defend doesn't mean they understand or particularly believe what they're saying.  Knowledge is power; wisdom is knowing how to apply it.  It's like wielding a high powered machine gun.  You can study the parts and know how to dismantle it and put it back together.  You can even know the history of machine guns, but if you just pick it up and start shooting you'd probably wind up killing yourself or someone else.  I stink at analogies, I know, but you get the picture.  Lesson  #4: Children appreciate it when you listen to them.  Every parental decision is less of a struggle when you communicate and really take the time to understand.  Lesson #5: Dain Bramage is not forever.  Parenting is no joke, but I hold on to the promise my more experienced friends have made, that at the end of all this, if you'll just support and believe, a wonderful young adult is waiting.  Wayne and I are at the tail end of Tony's teenage years now.  What a roller coaster ride it has been, but what joy to watch a boy become a man.  I am a mother on her toes, so excited to watch as he takes off to find his bliss.  He walked out the door tonight to go to Senior Prom.  He didn't forget to tell me he loves me.
  He has no idea how much I love him back.

16 Candles

"My son!" What simple, beautiful words!
"My boy!" What a wonderful phrase!
We're counting the months till you come to us-
The months, and the weeks, and the days.
"The new little stranger," some babes are called,
But that's not what you're going to be;
With double my virtues and half of my faults, You can't be a stranger to me!

I was barely a woman when I brought my son into this world. I fell in love with my little boy before I ever laid eyes on him, and when he finally arrived I felt I had come full circle. TonTon was born on August 19, 1992 at 12:11 pm, with the heart monitor attached to me firmly in his tiny grip. He had somehow grabbed a hold of it on his way from the doctor's hands into my arms. He's always been the first of my kids to sense what was on my heart. I guess even at birth he was trying to show me that. 16 years ago I was preparing to raise a boy, worrying about his first tooth, his first baby steps. In two years I will have to let him go, just a little bit at a time. How the years have passed. The excerpt above is by Captain Cyril Morton Throne, a poem I put in his baby book while I waited for his birth.

Happy 16th birthday son. I am so blessed by you and so proud of the young man you've become.


I love you mi'ijo,

Mommy