Day of Rest

There is no mistaking this is my son.

For two weekends in a row, we have stayed home and done nothing.  And it is glorious.  These three-day weekends are really nice, especially when I have a sick baby.  We can stay home and just snuggle all day if we need to (i.e. today).

I find that these quiet days pass all too quickly and when it is late and I am alone with my thoughts at night, I wonder if I have truly used my time wisely.  As I was getting ready to blog the mundaneness of my life, I logged into the computer and went to my homepage... this blog.  One of the songs playing in my playlist is the 18th Variation on a Theme of Paganini.

Immediately, I remembered my mother.  If my mother's life was a soundtrack, this would be her theme song.  She loved this music and played it often.  It was played at her funeral by two of my siblings.  Memories flashed in my mind of playing Scrabble at Barnes and Noble on our days off, Mom jumping on the bed at a hotel in Salt Lake City with my sister, Lisa, watching old Remington Steele re-runs with my mother, and having her cry at the end of Indiana Jones and Last Crusade (why?  No one really knows.  It touched her, though).

Then I realized that my time is spent with my son.  My floors may not be mopped as often as they should and occasionally things expire in the fridge.  But my memories of my mother made me realize that when it is all said and done, I want my son to have these kind of memories about his mom.

That's all we have of each other, in the end.

Snorting Coke. Well, Diet Coke anyway.

Today was a very tough day.  Either Mister A. is teething, has painful thrush, or something else.  He has vomited his formula and cried on and off most of the day.

But it has been a very rewarding day.  It is true that those whom we serve are the ones we love the most.  And I do love my boy.

On another note, we went to Chiles today for dinner with Uncle Chris.  The caption of this picture is:  I tried to snort Coke, but the ice cubes got stuck up my nose.

Thanks for the laugh, Uncle Chris.

Why is it so hard to remember?

Why is it so hard to remember what it takes to have joy in your life?  Tonight I was able to play with my son for a very long time, take a nice loooooong nap with him, and have more fun.  The things that bring him joy should bring all of him joy.  He giggled at the following:

• Hi, Buddy!  (said over and over to him)
• Gerber Ham covered in peaches (Ewwwwww....)
• Waking up and grabbing my nose that resulted in Mom saying "beep, beep!"
• Banging the rattle on the high chair
• Watching Sheriden (my cello student) play her cello
• Having the peaches dribble down his chin

I think as adults we take things too seriously.  While there are parts of life that should be taken seriously, the majority of the self-imposed drama in our lives are - in the end- vastly unimportant.  I have overheard a group of women talk about how they didn't receive bread from their neighbor for Christmas and were offended.   People at work are full of unimportant name calling and finger pointing.  

I have the opportunity to come home and see the pure, raw simple joy of life wrapped in a little bundle I call Aiden.  Then I think about all the things I have stressed about all day that are very, very mundane. 

 

I'm a wreck...I mean, I was in a wreck...

Yes.  I was in a wreck.

First you must have the whole story.  It is 7am.  It is snowing and raining and cold.  I have Aiden with me today because he is going to be my work buddy for the day.  I stressed all the way to work with the weather being bad.  Buckled up.  Took it slow.  Signaled.

I get ready to turn into the parking lot at work and BAM!  Someone wasn't watching and backed out of his driveway right into my beautiful SUV.  Luckily, he wasn't hurt, I wasn't hurt, Aiden wasn't hurt - in fact he stayed asleep.  And the guy was really nice.  Called twice during the day to make sure Aiden and I are okay.

My poor poor car.

Why I love my boy

I love my son.  I love him more than I ever thought I could love another human being... more than anything in the world.  I spend every waking moment that I can with him - that I am not at work.  I spend every waking moment thinking about him, but still, is it enough?  In reading old Ensign magazine articles, I ran across a really great quote by Neil Maxwell:

"Parenting is not an exact science.  If it were, children would be perfect.  Our Heavenly Father knows each child and every parent.  Each family was preformed in the time before time.  We knew one another and formed bonds before this earth life.  The Lord knows you and your children more completely than you could hope to know yourself.  Each family is perfect for each person contained therein.  

As a parent you will, at times, fail.  It is inevitable and there is nothing to be done about it.  The Lord will help you on your journey to raising those children in the ways of the Lord's gospel.  When you try, you succeed.  If you fall, you must try again and again, but your attempts are not in vain.  The Lord knows you and your struggles.  Trust in the Lord with all your heart.  The eternities depend upon it."

I caved with the "crying it out" and found that I really love him waking in the night and giving me big slobbery kisses (while I am still sleeping).  I love that he likes to rub my face in the mornings.  I love hearing the squeals when he wakes up.  He is my boy.  He is my life.  I love him.  I love him so much!

So, then, why do I love my boy.  Here are just a few...

1. He is a happy baby

2. He has the best laugh

3. He is excited to see me - no makeup, un-showered and post gym... or when I am dolled up and look fabulous.

4. He likes to watch the pretty girls on my workout DVD.  Typical man

5.  He whacks his legs HARD when he is excited.  

6.  He shows his love of baby food by spitting it.  

7. He snuggles.

8.  He forgives me for letting him cry too long.

9. He goes to strangers

10. He is perfect.  Perfect for me.