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The other day I was reading in Psalm 90. Verse 4 says, "For a thousand years in your sight are like a day that has just gone by, or like a watch in the night." I have been thinking about time for the past few weeks as I face saying good bye to my son and daughter-in-love soon...too soon. I guess I am at that reflective point in my life and it seems to me that I have always struggled in my concept of time. I would love to have God's perspective of time. He is not effected by it, nor a slave to it. It doesn't matter if it has been a thousand years or just a day or even a work shift. It's all the same to Him. I would love to be like that!
Time has always been a bit of a mystery to me. I could never quite get it together to be ready for the school bus...on time. I always seem to plan too many things to fit into the time I have available. I am always... out of time. When I was younger time seemed to pass very slowly. I never seemed to be quite old enough to do whatever it was I wanted to do. The nine months that I was pregnant ( 3 times!) seemed at least twice that long. I figured I was going to be carrying those basketballs in my belly forever. And yet when each son was born before his due date, I was always caught a bit off-guard and not quite ready.
I thought those baby days of diapers and toddlers would never, ever end...but they did. And now they are long gone. Zach is married, Ethan is out on his own, and Gabe is a high school senior this year. Russ and I are asking each other where the time has gone.
It started to really hit me when Zach left for college. All of a sudden it seemed that time had sped up. The clock was moving faster. The summer before he headed to Chicago for school I kept thinking, "Eighteen years just isn't long enough! I'm not done yet. Did we teach him everything he needs to know? God, can't you turn the clock back a bit and give me just a little more time with him? Please?" But my pleading was in vain. Time is ruthless. Moments once lived can never be reversed. Maybe I could keep him home with me a little longer but I couldn't stop the clock. Each day was a pearl sliding off the open end of a string. So precious, yet slipping through my fingers. I couldn't hold onto them.
Then it was Ethan's turn to go to college. Again, my heart pleaded with God, "Just a little more time...please? We're not ready for him to go too." But time kept it ruthless beat and marched right on.
Now I'm begging God again, "Please just a little more time? I wasn't ready for it to be time for them to go yet. Just one more year? Are you sure it's the right time? So soon...?" But yes, it's time. Not my time, but theirs. The sweet little house Zach and Steph bought just two doors down from us has a For Sale sign in the yard. They've only owned it two years. We have had such fun helping them fix it up and living so close, running back and forth with tools, food, plungers, and furniture. I'm sure the neighbors thought we were crazy at times. They have helped us just as much as we have helped them. It has been so fun to have family living near by. We haven't had that for a long time and it feels so good. So comforting. So like it should be. How will we live without them? I have loved having Steph not only in our family but living so close. I am very thankful I've had this time to get to know her and love her for myself not just because she is Zach's wife. And I'm not quite ready to give her up yet. Now it isn't Zach only that I will miss, and I will really miss him, but I will dearly miss Steph too.
Time...it seems to me is a formidable foe to every son of Adam and daughter of Eve. I look forward to that day when I will have God's perspective of time. Every time will be the right time, never late, never too early. I'm so thankful for the weeks we still have Zach and Steph with us and that Gabe has one more year. I'm enjoying my pearls before they slip off the string and become memories.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Boys and Their Toys
Recently Gabe and I found ourselves together with nothing else to do but have some fun. I knew he had been itching to see Toy Story 3 but just we couldn't seem to get him there. I wanted to see it too. We went...together. It was great fun. Gabe has the other Toy Story movies on video and had a Toy Story marathon in preparation for the new movie. They are definite favorites with him. He also dug out his Toy Story toys that he still has and lined them up on the floor with him for the marathon. Which brings me to the purpose of this blog, to talk about boys and toys.
I have some great memories of my boys and their toys. Zach didn't play with any one toy very long... until he discovered balls! As an infant he was easily bored with toys but as a toddler when he discovered balls he had a whole new world. He loved to throw them. They were such fun. We began a collection of different types of balls. Mostly nerf ones if we could...his aim was scary.
We had footballs, volley balls, basketballs, tennis balls, kickballs, baseballs, practice golf balls, whiffle balls. We had every ball we could think of. And that little guy could name them all. He had a blast just picking them up saying what they were and, of course, throwing them. I cooked many suppers catching balls with one hand and stirring something on the stove with the other. If I didn't catch the ball, it would end up in the pan with dinner. Eventullay, Zach added more toys to his list of favorites. He became obsessed with cars... race cars. He especially loved their wheels. I think it was because they were round, like most balls. He loved to line them up and then zoom them across the kitchen floor to see which was the fastest. He also became interested in tractors and after reading the book, Are You My Mother?, he wanted a "snortskie"(his word for bulldozer, read the book you'll understand). My parents got him one and he still has it. He loved playing with it in his sand box. Finally, he got old enough for Legos. He loved putting them together according to the directions and then taking them apart and building his own creations.
When Ethan came along he was very content to sit and play with toys on the floor. He loved to manipulate them and see what they could do. He also loved stuffed animals and became very good at imaginative play, giving them voices and personalities. His first favorite was a little koala bear that he named Moody. He could barely talk, but he named it and if you asked where Moody was, he would tell you "Moody thleepin'. " Later we got a Bugs Bunny for him and what a friend he was to Ethan. Poor Bugsy, as he became known, was very loved. I figured he was in danger of becoming "real." (Read The Velveteen Rabbit) Eventually, Ethan discovered toys with wheels. Only he loved trucks. Big trucks. That was all he asked for one year for Christmas. Of course, we got it for him and yes, he still has it. It was a Big Bruser truck, red, with lights and sounds when backing up and an engine that idled. He loved that truck and spent many hours lying on the floor playing with it.
Gabe's favorite toys were very different from Zach and Ethan's. Like Zach, he liked little cars and enjoyed lining them up and crashing tthem or sending them flying across the kitchen floor. And like Ethan, he had a couple of favorite stuffed animals. A little dalmation puppy he named Pongo was an especial favorite. He loved the One Hundred and One Dalmation movies. But when we went to Gettysburg on vacation when he was three years old, Gabe discovered Army Guys. Who would have thought that a little $3.oo bag of Conferate and Union plastic soldiers would be so much fun to the little guy? Those little soldiers were never out of his hands. They even went to church with him in his pockets. "Just a couple, please Mom?" As he grew his collection grew too. We had red firemen, green Vietnam soldiers, little tiny kahki World War II soldiers and even soldiers and Indians from the Alamo battle along with the Alamo itself. I would find them everywhere, even in my Christmas tree when I took it down after Christmas. He became very upset when he left them on the steps and the dog would chew their heads off. Gabe also became obsessed with Legos and still likes to buy them and put them together. But he leaves them together.
As I watched Toy Story 3, I was reminded of all my boys and how they struggled to set aside their favorite toys. We still have boxes of them in the basement and Gabe, even at almost sixteen still has many within reach in his room. In the movie, Andy doesn't pack up his stuff until his Mom absolutely insists that he must, verymcuh like my two older boys before they left for college. How I related to his Mom's flashbacks of him playing with his toys. In my mind I still see them having the time of their lives, making up scenarios and personalities and voices for their toys as they played. How empty and bare their rooms looked after they did pack and left for college, just like Andy's. In Andy I saw their struggle to leave their childhood behind. Packing those toys away was the end of that chapter and although they knew they were starting a new one, it wasn't easy. I loved it that Andy was able to find a little girl who loved her toys and played with them like he did. I saw the conflict he felt as he let go of even Woody, the one he was going to take to school with him. How hard it is for boys to grow up. Their toys are more than just objects to them, they are part of them, real, in fact. To say I shed a few tears is an understatement.
I think Gabe's perspective as we watched the movie and talked about it later is very insightful into the world of boys and their toys. During the scene in the movie where the toys are about to be incinerated, Gabe was appalled. He thought it was the end of the movie and he couldn't believe they were really going to end the movie with the toys being totally anihilated. His feelings for and connection to the toys was evident. "How could they do that?" he said. At first, I too thought this was the end, it really seemed like it, but I just couldn't imagine they would do that to little children. As we talked about it on the way to Five Guys for burgers and fries, Gabe wasn't totally happy with the way it ended. He would rather have had the toys boxed and put in the attic than to be given away to another child. Why? Because it meant that Andy would no longer have them around. How could he have let Woody go like that? Of course, we could see that Woody was the hardest for him to part with. Gabe also lamented the toys that weren't in this movie, they had already been given away. He could name them all. Do you still doubt the attachment of a boy to his toys?
`
I appreciate the perspective this movie gave me for the many boxes of old toys in my basement. Yes, they take up a lot of room but they also are a part of my boys and even if they never get played with again, each time one of my boys opens a box and pulls out a toy he will be a little boy again. Those toys hold memories of simpler times and happy, carefree days of imaginative play. Who knows when they will need just such a memory to help them through a difficult time? They will have some great stories to share with their own children someday.
I have some great memories of my boys and their toys. Zach didn't play with any one toy very long... until he discovered balls! As an infant he was easily bored with toys but as a toddler when he discovered balls he had a whole new world. He loved to throw them. They were such fun. We began a collection of different types of balls. Mostly nerf ones if we could...his aim was scary.
We had footballs, volley balls, basketballs, tennis balls, kickballs, baseballs, practice golf balls, whiffle balls. We had every ball we could think of. And that little guy could name them all. He had a blast just picking them up saying what they were and, of course, throwing them. I cooked many suppers catching balls with one hand and stirring something on the stove with the other. If I didn't catch the ball, it would end up in the pan with dinner. Eventullay, Zach added more toys to his list of favorites. He became obsessed with cars... race cars. He especially loved their wheels. I think it was because they were round, like most balls. He loved to line them up and then zoom them across the kitchen floor to see which was the fastest. He also became interested in tractors and after reading the book, Are You My Mother?, he wanted a "snortskie"(his word for bulldozer, read the book you'll understand). My parents got him one and he still has it. He loved playing with it in his sand box. Finally, he got old enough for Legos. He loved putting them together according to the directions and then taking them apart and building his own creations.
When Ethan came along he was very content to sit and play with toys on the floor. He loved to manipulate them and see what they could do. He also loved stuffed animals and became very good at imaginative play, giving them voices and personalities. His first favorite was a little koala bear that he named Moody. He could barely talk, but he named it and if you asked where Moody was, he would tell you "Moody thleepin'. " Later we got a Bugs Bunny for him and what a friend he was to Ethan. Poor Bugsy, as he became known, was very loved. I figured he was in danger of becoming "real." (Read The Velveteen Rabbit) Eventually, Ethan discovered toys with wheels. Only he loved trucks. Big trucks. That was all he asked for one year for Christmas. Of course, we got it for him and yes, he still has it. It was a Big Bruser truck, red, with lights and sounds when backing up and an engine that idled. He loved that truck and spent many hours lying on the floor playing with it.
Gabe's favorite toys were very different from Zach and Ethan's. Like Zach, he liked little cars and enjoyed lining them up and crashing tthem or sending them flying across the kitchen floor. And like Ethan, he had a couple of favorite stuffed animals. A little dalmation puppy he named Pongo was an especial favorite. He loved the One Hundred and One Dalmation movies. But when we went to Gettysburg on vacation when he was three years old, Gabe discovered Army Guys. Who would have thought that a little $3.oo bag of Conferate and Union plastic soldiers would be so much fun to the little guy? Those little soldiers were never out of his hands. They even went to church with him in his pockets. "Just a couple, please Mom?" As he grew his collection grew too. We had red firemen, green Vietnam soldiers, little tiny kahki World War II soldiers and even soldiers and Indians from the Alamo battle along with the Alamo itself. I would find them everywhere, even in my Christmas tree when I took it down after Christmas. He became very upset when he left them on the steps and the dog would chew their heads off. Gabe also became obsessed with Legos and still likes to buy them and put them together. But he leaves them together.
As I watched Toy Story 3, I was reminded of all my boys and how they struggled to set aside their favorite toys. We still have boxes of them in the basement and Gabe, even at almost sixteen still has many within reach in his room. In the movie, Andy doesn't pack up his stuff until his Mom absolutely insists that he must, verymcuh like my two older boys before they left for college. How I related to his Mom's flashbacks of him playing with his toys. In my mind I still see them having the time of their lives, making up scenarios and personalities and voices for their toys as they played. How empty and bare their rooms looked after they did pack and left for college, just like Andy's. In Andy I saw their struggle to leave their childhood behind. Packing those toys away was the end of that chapter and although they knew they were starting a new one, it wasn't easy. I loved it that Andy was able to find a little girl who loved her toys and played with them like he did. I saw the conflict he felt as he let go of even Woody, the one he was going to take to school with him. How hard it is for boys to grow up. Their toys are more than just objects to them, they are part of them, real, in fact. To say I shed a few tears is an understatement.
I think Gabe's perspective as we watched the movie and talked about it later is very insightful into the world of boys and their toys. During the scene in the movie where the toys are about to be incinerated, Gabe was appalled. He thought it was the end of the movie and he couldn't believe they were really going to end the movie with the toys being totally anihilated. His feelings for and connection to the toys was evident. "How could they do that?" he said. At first, I too thought this was the end, it really seemed like it, but I just couldn't imagine they would do that to little children. As we talked about it on the way to Five Guys for burgers and fries, Gabe wasn't totally happy with the way it ended. He would rather have had the toys boxed and put in the attic than to be given away to another child. Why? Because it meant that Andy would no longer have them around. How could he have let Woody go like that? Of course, we could see that Woody was the hardest for him to part with. Gabe also lamented the toys that weren't in this movie, they had already been given away. He could name them all. Do you still doubt the attachment of a boy to his toys?
`
I appreciate the perspective this movie gave me for the many boxes of old toys in my basement. Yes, they take up a lot of room but they also are a part of my boys and even if they never get played with again, each time one of my boys opens a box and pulls out a toy he will be a little boy again. Those toys hold memories of simpler times and happy, carefree days of imaginative play. Who knows when they will need just such a memory to help them through a difficult time? They will have some great stories to share with their own children someday.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
What's in a name?
I think I have the most wonderful and unique sons in the world. I'm sure that sounds typical of every Mom, but I do believe it. My boys are each so different from one another and each has a very special place in my heart. They each possess different strengths and weaknesses and yet when put together they make up the whole of Russ and I. I am privileged to be the Mom of such unique boys. It was having this very individuality in mind that made me so careful when selecting names for our boys.
When chosing names before our boys were born, my husband and I looked for names that were manly, names they could grow into, that sounded good and had special meanings. The meanings of their names were important because we wanted them to have something to live up to, something that would be unique, individual, to them. Our first son we named Zachary which means "remembered by God." His nickname, Zach, has a strong masculine sound and wears well on the man he now is. The meaning of his name is very special because, having experienced a miscarriage before him as well as difficulties carrying him, I felt God had remembered me in His grace and mercy and given us this special son. Zach's middle name is Taylor. We did not purposely name him after the president, we just liked the two names together. However, this president's nickname was "rough and ready" and that has been a perfect description of our Zach. He was always very rough and tumble, even reckless, and ready for any adventure that might come along.
Ethan's name means "strong and firm." If anything a man needs to be strong and firm in who he is and what he stands for. This was a very important quality that we wanted our son to have as he grew into a man. Ethan's name is also very masculine and he, too, wears it well. His very presence invokes a sense of safety. He is a person that can be depended on. While he has always gone by his middle name, Ethan's first name is Russell after his father and grandfather. He is proud to carry this family name and is the most like his father in looks and personality. Ethan has struggled a bit with being confident. I have prayed often that he would become what his name means and God is answering my prayer.
Gabe came along a bit behind his two brothers. While they are only 23 months apart, Gabe is five and a half years behind Ethan. Naming our children has been quite a process for us. We hadn't settled on Zach's name until I was in labor with him. Ethan's name came to us muchmore easily, but with Gabe's we went around and around. I liked Gabriel from the beginning, but Russ told me it sounded "like an angel"...duh...What's so bad about that? Gabriel means "man or hero of God." I could think of no better name. I felt his needed to be a very special name that would convey purpose to his life. I had had another miscarriage after Ethan and thought we must be done having children. This was reinforced in my mind by a failed attempt at adopting a baby girl. When we found I was pregnant at the age of 33, we were delighted and a bit worried. We had gotten used to having an easier life with the boys now fairly independent. Ethan was to start school about the same time this baby was due. I would be back to changing diapers again. This child needed a very special name and Gabriel it should be. It took Russ a while to come around but he did. Probably because he didn't like any of the other suggestions I had and honestly I didn't like his either. But one night before Gabe was born we discussed it before turning off the light. Russ said, "I think Gabriel is the right name for him." Happy sigh! Russ has called him "my hero" from the time he was a tiny tike and he is learning to live up to his name. My prayer for him has been that he would be God's man, willing to do whatever God asks of him and truly be a man, a hero, of God. We also gave him the male form of my name, Andrew, as his middle name since he would be our last child. Unfortunately, we didn't think about what his initials would be...GAS...on my! He has called us to account about those often, especially as he has become a teenager. (I am sorry about that, Gabe.) Gabe has a good manly sound though and I like it.
Each boy's name calls out his uniqueness and personality. I have my own private names for them too. Names they don't even know exist. Russ has always nicknamed them. His names for them have changed over the years as they have grown and shown new traits or characteristics. Zach was peanut, first, then he became the Duke. Later, he was Spike. Now he is Zach. Ethan was Ethan-Piker for quite a while and then Boomer. He has also or course, been Eth and E. Now he is Ethan. Gabe was Bubby for the longest time. Then somehow he became Geefy. Now we often call him Gage, or even Page. I am sure he will graduate to Gabe only status.
Here are the names I call my children in my heart. Zach has always been my Warrior-Knight. He has always loved causes and been very sensitive to injustice. He hates it and desires to make things right. He has always loved action, adventure, danger and excitement. When we would go to the rolling hills of western Pa to visit my parents, I would pack his and Ethan's army bags with fruit snacks and fill their canteens with water and send them off on expeditions to find toads or track rabbits. They would sometimes find blackberries to pick. They would swing on the rope swing my Dad had hung on a tree on the hill and even get stung by wasps. But to Zach it was all great fun and adventure. They loved to sit down and eat their fruit snacks. Water never tastes better than when a boy is drinking it from a canteen on an adventure.In the evenings it was competition to see who could collect the most fireflies. Later they graduated to camping trips with Dad and sleeping in tents. And then one weekend while visiting cousin Joel who lived in the middle of nowhere (to us city-dwellers) he and Joel dug themselves holes in the ground in the woods and slept outside in them one night. Zach thought it was the best time ever! Last summer Zach and a friend worked at an amusement park as Lifeguards and became the Ultimate Warriors. They lived in the ghetto section of the town in Ohio where the amusement park was and began an eating and work-out regimen followed by none other than the Roman warriors . They put in long days at the water park and ate like Spartans on the road rewarding themselves with one feast day a weekby eating takeout from Outback and watching movies. Now he has found his "Helena" and is going to battle at work everyday to provide for her and make her happy. I know he stills dreams of doing battle and great deeds. I believe he will one day do great deeds. There is no doubt in my mind that he could have been one of King David's mighty men of valor.
My name for Ethan comes from a story in a fairy tale book I had as a child. It was called the "Amiable Giant." It was about a giant who only wanted to make friends with the townspeople but was so big and so loud that he scared them all away. Finally, a little girl was brave enough to wrap a muffler around her ears and talk to him. He brought her the most beautiful giant pansies from his garden. Ethan wasn't loud just a bit big. He was born weighing close to a full pound and a half more than his peanut of a brother. But unlike his brother, he rarely cried and was full of smiles and giggles. Zach's favorite first words were "mine!" and "NO!" Ethan said "yes" and offered whatever was in his hands freely to whoever approached him. It seemed he was given to us to be my saving grace and make my life sweeter. Although the two boys were almost two years apart we were often asked if they were twins because Zach was small for his age and Ethan was quite tall. He was far from being chunky, but he was tall. We knew the day would come when he would pass his older brother up. Fortunately, he waited until Zach was in college and then blew right by him in height and weight. I love to go places with him, he is like a personal bodyguard. Nobody would would dare to bother me with such a strong, handsome son by my side. Recently, an older gentleman, who has known our boys since they were born, called him Goliath. While I agree with the size part of the name, Ethan's personality in no way reflects the God-defying enemy of the ancient Israelites. Ethan is a gentleman through and through. He hates to hurt people's feelings. He is a good listener and has heard more than he has ever wanted to from many female friends. He is kind, loves to laugh, and has a sharp, dry wit that catches many people by surprise. He is more apt to do battle with his wits and words than with his fists. He, too, hates injustice and is one to champion a good cause. As a business major, he desires to help people know how to manage their money wisely and help those with marketable skills find a way to earn their living. He is indeed a Gentle, Amiable Giant who, like the one in my story book, only desires to have friends and help others. He is usually the first, and only one, to offer to help me in the kitchen when I am cooking dinner and having his help makes the work fly along.
Last, but definitely not least, is Gabe, my very own Christopher Robin. Gabe has always had the looks of a Christopher Robin. With white-blond hair and huge blue eyes he looked like the little boy from A.A. Milne's books. As a small boy he didn't talk nearly as much as he made noises. He would sit at the kitchen table to keep me company while I worked, playing with his little cars and trucks and army men, making all the sounds that they would make if they were real. He would crash them together and zoom them around and his noises would match right along. When I would run the vacuum or the mixer he would hum the sound right along with the machine. At the same decible level, I might add. Gabe loved to be outside as much as possible, very much like Christopher Robin who "didn't care what the weather was as long as he was out in it." He didn't understand about frigid temperatures and I had trouble getting him to come in from playing in the snow. One time he acutally got the beginnings of frost nip on his little cheeks. That scared me a bit. But he was fine. He loved to sit with me when I gardened and had his own little spade to dig with. He would dig up worms and pill bugs and play with them. He always wanted to keep them as pets. Gabe was also very fond of his stuffed animals. He would play with them and talk to them for quite a long time before falling asleep at night. As he grew he began to go out and play street ball with the neighborhood kids, most of whom were bigger than he. He never let it hinder him and the kids would ring the bell to ask if the "little guy" could come out and play. He didn't like their bad language and when he had had enough he would come in. Gabe now towers over me but there is still a young boy quality about him. He still gives me hugs and puts an arm around me. Video games and sports have replaced the little cars, army men, bugs and stuffed animals, but he still loves Legos and Toy Story's Buzz Light is still a favorite character. There is a Christopher Robin spirit that is a part of who he is.
It is amazing how a name can invoke such emotions. When I say Zach, I picture the Warrior-Knight. Ethan is synonymous to the Gentle Giant. When I hear the name Gabe, I will always see Christopher Robin in my mind. In a very real sense the child does become the essence of the name. When I see other boys with the same names as my own, I find myself looking for something familiar, something recognizable, as if they will look like their name to me. I wonder... do other mothers do this too?
When chosing names before our boys were born, my husband and I looked for names that were manly, names they could grow into, that sounded good and had special meanings. The meanings of their names were important because we wanted them to have something to live up to, something that would be unique, individual, to them. Our first son we named Zachary which means "remembered by God." His nickname, Zach, has a strong masculine sound and wears well on the man he now is. The meaning of his name is very special because, having experienced a miscarriage before him as well as difficulties carrying him, I felt God had remembered me in His grace and mercy and given us this special son. Zach's middle name is Taylor. We did not purposely name him after the president, we just liked the two names together. However, this president's nickname was "rough and ready" and that has been a perfect description of our Zach. He was always very rough and tumble, even reckless, and ready for any adventure that might come along.
Ethan's name means "strong and firm." If anything a man needs to be strong and firm in who he is and what he stands for. This was a very important quality that we wanted our son to have as he grew into a man. Ethan's name is also very masculine and he, too, wears it well. His very presence invokes a sense of safety. He is a person that can be depended on. While he has always gone by his middle name, Ethan's first name is Russell after his father and grandfather. He is proud to carry this family name and is the most like his father in looks and personality. Ethan has struggled a bit with being confident. I have prayed often that he would become what his name means and God is answering my prayer.
Gabe came along a bit behind his two brothers. While they are only 23 months apart, Gabe is five and a half years behind Ethan. Naming our children has been quite a process for us. We hadn't settled on Zach's name until I was in labor with him. Ethan's name came to us muchmore easily, but with Gabe's we went around and around. I liked Gabriel from the beginning, but Russ told me it sounded "like an angel"...duh...What's so bad about that? Gabriel means "man or hero of God." I could think of no better name. I felt his needed to be a very special name that would convey purpose to his life. I had had another miscarriage after Ethan and thought we must be done having children. This was reinforced in my mind by a failed attempt at adopting a baby girl. When we found I was pregnant at the age of 33, we were delighted and a bit worried. We had gotten used to having an easier life with the boys now fairly independent. Ethan was to start school about the same time this baby was due. I would be back to changing diapers again. This child needed a very special name and Gabriel it should be. It took Russ a while to come around but he did. Probably because he didn't like any of the other suggestions I had and honestly I didn't like his either. But one night before Gabe was born we discussed it before turning off the light. Russ said, "I think Gabriel is the right name for him." Happy sigh! Russ has called him "my hero" from the time he was a tiny tike and he is learning to live up to his name. My prayer for him has been that he would be God's man, willing to do whatever God asks of him and truly be a man, a hero, of God. We also gave him the male form of my name, Andrew, as his middle name since he would be our last child. Unfortunately, we didn't think about what his initials would be...GAS...on my! He has called us to account about those often, especially as he has become a teenager. (I am sorry about that, Gabe.) Gabe has a good manly sound though and I like it.
Each boy's name calls out his uniqueness and personality. I have my own private names for them too. Names they don't even know exist. Russ has always nicknamed them. His names for them have changed over the years as they have grown and shown new traits or characteristics. Zach was peanut, first, then he became the Duke. Later, he was Spike. Now he is Zach. Ethan was Ethan-Piker for quite a while and then Boomer. He has also or course, been Eth and E. Now he is Ethan. Gabe was Bubby for the longest time. Then somehow he became Geefy. Now we often call him Gage, or even Page. I am sure he will graduate to Gabe only status.
Here are the names I call my children in my heart. Zach has always been my Warrior-Knight. He has always loved causes and been very sensitive to injustice. He hates it and desires to make things right. He has always loved action, adventure, danger and excitement. When we would go to the rolling hills of western Pa to visit my parents, I would pack his and Ethan's army bags with fruit snacks and fill their canteens with water and send them off on expeditions to find toads or track rabbits. They would sometimes find blackberries to pick. They would swing on the rope swing my Dad had hung on a tree on the hill and even get stung by wasps. But to Zach it was all great fun and adventure. They loved to sit down and eat their fruit snacks. Water never tastes better than when a boy is drinking it from a canteen on an adventure.In the evenings it was competition to see who could collect the most fireflies. Later they graduated to camping trips with Dad and sleeping in tents. And then one weekend while visiting cousin Joel who lived in the middle of nowhere (to us city-dwellers) he and Joel dug themselves holes in the ground in the woods and slept outside in them one night. Zach thought it was the best time ever! Last summer Zach and a friend worked at an amusement park as Lifeguards and became the Ultimate Warriors. They lived in the ghetto section of the town in Ohio where the amusement park was and began an eating and work-out regimen followed by none other than the Roman warriors . They put in long days at the water park and ate like Spartans on the road rewarding themselves with one feast day a weekby eating takeout from Outback and watching movies. Now he has found his "Helena" and is going to battle at work everyday to provide for her and make her happy. I know he stills dreams of doing battle and great deeds. I believe he will one day do great deeds. There is no doubt in my mind that he could have been one of King David's mighty men of valor.
My name for Ethan comes from a story in a fairy tale book I had as a child. It was called the "Amiable Giant." It was about a giant who only wanted to make friends with the townspeople but was so big and so loud that he scared them all away. Finally, a little girl was brave enough to wrap a muffler around her ears and talk to him. He brought her the most beautiful giant pansies from his garden. Ethan wasn't loud just a bit big. He was born weighing close to a full pound and a half more than his peanut of a brother. But unlike his brother, he rarely cried and was full of smiles and giggles. Zach's favorite first words were "mine!" and "NO!" Ethan said "yes" and offered whatever was in his hands freely to whoever approached him. It seemed he was given to us to be my saving grace and make my life sweeter. Although the two boys were almost two years apart we were often asked if they were twins because Zach was small for his age and Ethan was quite tall. He was far from being chunky, but he was tall. We knew the day would come when he would pass his older brother up. Fortunately, he waited until Zach was in college and then blew right by him in height and weight. I love to go places with him, he is like a personal bodyguard. Nobody would would dare to bother me with such a strong, handsome son by my side. Recently, an older gentleman, who has known our boys since they were born, called him Goliath. While I agree with the size part of the name, Ethan's personality in no way reflects the God-defying enemy of the ancient Israelites. Ethan is a gentleman through and through. He hates to hurt people's feelings. He is a good listener and has heard more than he has ever wanted to from many female friends. He is kind, loves to laugh, and has a sharp, dry wit that catches many people by surprise. He is more apt to do battle with his wits and words than with his fists. He, too, hates injustice and is one to champion a good cause. As a business major, he desires to help people know how to manage their money wisely and help those with marketable skills find a way to earn their living. He is indeed a Gentle, Amiable Giant who, like the one in my story book, only desires to have friends and help others. He is usually the first, and only one, to offer to help me in the kitchen when I am cooking dinner and having his help makes the work fly along.
Last, but definitely not least, is Gabe, my very own Christopher Robin. Gabe has always had the looks of a Christopher Robin. With white-blond hair and huge blue eyes he looked like the little boy from A.A. Milne's books. As a small boy he didn't talk nearly as much as he made noises. He would sit at the kitchen table to keep me company while I worked, playing with his little cars and trucks and army men, making all the sounds that they would make if they were real. He would crash them together and zoom them around and his noises would match right along. When I would run the vacuum or the mixer he would hum the sound right along with the machine. At the same decible level, I might add. Gabe loved to be outside as much as possible, very much like Christopher Robin who "didn't care what the weather was as long as he was out in it." He didn't understand about frigid temperatures and I had trouble getting him to come in from playing in the snow. One time he acutally got the beginnings of frost nip on his little cheeks. That scared me a bit. But he was fine. He loved to sit with me when I gardened and had his own little spade to dig with. He would dig up worms and pill bugs and play with them. He always wanted to keep them as pets. Gabe was also very fond of his stuffed animals. He would play with them and talk to them for quite a long time before falling asleep at night. As he grew he began to go out and play street ball with the neighborhood kids, most of whom were bigger than he. He never let it hinder him and the kids would ring the bell to ask if the "little guy" could come out and play. He didn't like their bad language and when he had had enough he would come in. Gabe now towers over me but there is still a young boy quality about him. He still gives me hugs and puts an arm around me. Video games and sports have replaced the little cars, army men, bugs and stuffed animals, but he still loves Legos and Toy Story's Buzz Light is still a favorite character. There is a Christopher Robin spirit that is a part of who he is.
It is amazing how a name can invoke such emotions. When I say Zach, I picture the Warrior-Knight. Ethan is synonymous to the Gentle Giant. When I hear the name Gabe, I will always see Christopher Robin in my mind. In a very real sense the child does become the essence of the name. When I see other boys with the same names as my own, I find myself looking for something familiar, something recognizable, as if they will look like their name to me. I wonder... do other mothers do this too?
Thursday, May 27, 2010
Memories bring clarity
My oldest son, Zach, is getting married this weekend. While trying to process this life change I have been having flashbacks to his growing up years. They are precious memories that I hope I will never forget. I guess that is one of the reasons I have this blog, so that if I ever get some horrible memory stealing disease many of my precious memories will still be retreivable.
I should have known Zach would marry young. First of all, his greatest fear when he was very young was not of being spanked, what was a bit of physical pain to him? No, far worse for Zach was to be...ALONE...this was a pain that could not be born. Sending him to his room was sure to bring on a fountain of tears. He would wail "banished" as he ran back the hall to his room. We lived in a very small apartment and his room was within earshot of all that was going on, and we never shut the door, so how dreadful could it really be? We could hear him crying and calling every 2 seconds, "Can I come out now? I'm done."In fact, as he grew older he learned to come up with problems that needed parental help to resolve as a means of getting out of his time-out. One day when he was about 5 he was in his room for a time out and I heard him calling and calling for me. I went upstairs to find out what was so urgent. It seems that he found an unpopped kernel of corn on the floor and for some reason only known to small boys had stuck it in his ear. Zach was in a panic because he couldn't get it out. Of course, neither could I. So...off to the walk-in clinic we went at 4:00 in the afternoon. They had to flush his ear 3 or 4 times and finally said they would try once more and if it didn't come out we would have to go to an ear, nose and throat speicalist. I prayed like crazy and they flushed. Wonderfully, there it was floating in the basin. On the way home I took him for supper at McDonald's, not as a reward but for an opportunity to have a talk. He never stuck anything in any body openings again, if you know what I mean.
My second clue that Zach would marry young came when he was 2 years old. At our church when children turned 2 they went from the nursery to Sunday School. After his first Sunday in Sunday School, we asked Zach what it was like. He informed us that there were girls in pretty dresses there. Interesting!
As Zach grew he had many friends that were girls. Most of them were blond and blue-eyed, another fore-telling. I have a sweet mental picture of him walking down the boardwalk at Ocean City with a childhod friend named Caitlyn with their arms around each other's waists. He also loved playing wiffle ball with another Caitlyn who lived next door. What fun times those were. As he grew older, he began to get shy about talking about girls and, I think wanted us believe he didn't notice them much. But he hated being teased about having a girlfirend or any such interest. Often it seemed that he might have a sparkle in his eye for a particular girl, but thankfully he was content to enjoy being with them in groups. My husband, Russ, had drilled it into his head that he should treat girls like his sisters, and so he did. This meant that sometimes he was brutally honest. My apologies to any girls whose feelings he might have hurt.
I think I really knew he would marry young when he began dating a young lady at the age of 18. She was his first love and he was truly heart borken when they broke up after more than a year together. He was not one to date around or just for fun and the fact that he dated her at all spoke volumes about the seriousness with which he approached the relationship. There were several interests after that but nothing really significant until Steph. When I first heard about Steph, I took notice and prayed. When he said he wanted to bring her home to meet us, I knew he was serious. I was careful to observe them together and I was struck with how comfortable they were together and how much they seemed to enjoy each other and make each other smile. These were very good signs. I prayed that they would be able to bring out the best in each other. I believe God has answered this prayer and I am looking forward to watching them become even better together!
I should have known Zach would marry young. First of all, his greatest fear when he was very young was not of being spanked, what was a bit of physical pain to him? No, far worse for Zach was to be...ALONE...this was a pain that could not be born. Sending him to his room was sure to bring on a fountain of tears. He would wail "banished" as he ran back the hall to his room. We lived in a very small apartment and his room was within earshot of all that was going on, and we never shut the door, so how dreadful could it really be? We could hear him crying and calling every 2 seconds, "Can I come out now? I'm done."In fact, as he grew older he learned to come up with problems that needed parental help to resolve as a means of getting out of his time-out. One day when he was about 5 he was in his room for a time out and I heard him calling and calling for me. I went upstairs to find out what was so urgent. It seems that he found an unpopped kernel of corn on the floor and for some reason only known to small boys had stuck it in his ear. Zach was in a panic because he couldn't get it out. Of course, neither could I. So...off to the walk-in clinic we went at 4:00 in the afternoon. They had to flush his ear 3 or 4 times and finally said they would try once more and if it didn't come out we would have to go to an ear, nose and throat speicalist. I prayed like crazy and they flushed. Wonderfully, there it was floating in the basin. On the way home I took him for supper at McDonald's, not as a reward but for an opportunity to have a talk. He never stuck anything in any body openings again, if you know what I mean.
My second clue that Zach would marry young came when he was 2 years old. At our church when children turned 2 they went from the nursery to Sunday School. After his first Sunday in Sunday School, we asked Zach what it was like. He informed us that there were girls in pretty dresses there. Interesting!
As Zach grew he had many friends that were girls. Most of them were blond and blue-eyed, another fore-telling. I have a sweet mental picture of him walking down the boardwalk at Ocean City with a childhod friend named Caitlyn with their arms around each other's waists. He also loved playing wiffle ball with another Caitlyn who lived next door. What fun times those were. As he grew older, he began to get shy about talking about girls and, I think wanted us believe he didn't notice them much. But he hated being teased about having a girlfirend or any such interest. Often it seemed that he might have a sparkle in his eye for a particular girl, but thankfully he was content to enjoy being with them in groups. My husband, Russ, had drilled it into his head that he should treat girls like his sisters, and so he did. This meant that sometimes he was brutally honest. My apologies to any girls whose feelings he might have hurt.
I think I really knew he would marry young when he began dating a young lady at the age of 18. She was his first love and he was truly heart borken when they broke up after more than a year together. He was not one to date around or just for fun and the fact that he dated her at all spoke volumes about the seriousness with which he approached the relationship. There were several interests after that but nothing really significant until Steph. When I first heard about Steph, I took notice and prayed. When he said he wanted to bring her home to meet us, I knew he was serious. I was careful to observe them together and I was struck with how comfortable they were together and how much they seemed to enjoy each other and make each other smile. These were very good signs. I prayed that they would be able to bring out the best in each other. I believe God has answered this prayer and I am looking forward to watching them become even better together!
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Ethan and Birthdays
I have always loved celebrating my children's birthdays. How fun to focus one child and let him be king for a day, to celebrate his life and all that he has already is and dream about what he is still to become.
Tomorrow my middle son turns 21. Birthdays have always been a big deal in our family. About 3 months before a birthday I would start pointing out how many months away it was. Then the last month I would start counting down the weeks and days. I wanted my boys to know how anticipated and loved they are. I have always loved planning their birthdays with them, talking about what they might like as gifts, what special meal they might like to have, what special dessert or where they might like to go. In our family we have designated certain birthdays as milestone birthdays to be celebrated in an extra special way. When our boys turned 10 this was a milestone. They were no longer "little" but now that they had hit double digits they would have more priveleges and of course, more responsibilities. We celebrated this with lunch out with just Mom, Dad and the birthday son. We went to the restaurant of their choice and they had Mom and Dad's undivided attention. It was always a fun time. Thirteen was another special birthday and the whole family celebrated by going out for dinner. We have also been privileged to have had grandparents join us for some special birthdays. Since we don't live near any family this has been very special for our boys. Because we have two boys with birthdays within 3 weeks of each other we would often do something special in-between the birthdays instead of having parties. We would go to Chucky Cheese or let each invite a friend and go bumper bowling with a stop at Friendly's for sundays on the way home. A favorite kind was vanilla ice cream with peanut butter topping and gummie bears. Yummy! One year after a particulary rowdy time of bowling and maybe too many gummie bears on the ice cream we listended to 4 little boys repeatedly say "Genuine Jockey" and then giggle like little girls all the way home.
Tomorrow Ethan will be 21, a man by society's standards, accountable for himself. He has had some fun birthdays in the past. He is excited about this birthday and so is coming home from college for the weekend to be celebrated by his family. I think Ethan is the one who most caught my passion for birthdays. We have had some memorable ones with him. He is the son I had to make a cake with purple icing for. He is the son we had a Bugs Bunny cake made for because he was absolutely inseparable from his Bugs Bunny stuffed animal (and because Mom was pregnant with son #3 and was too sick to make a cake for him.) Poor Bugsy was in danger of becoming "real" it had been so loved by him. His Gram had to sew Bugsy's head on several times. Bugsy went everywhere with us for years! Even on mission's trips. And Bugsy talked, of course, he had a certain Ethan quality to his voice which we thought was a bit mysterious.
I think the birthday Iwill always remember was the year Ethan turned 7. We had moved back to Binghamton the previous fall and this was his first birthday in this particular house. He was a mass of emotions and they were just tumbling around and falling out all over the place. He was excited. He was nervous. He was happy. He sad. On and on it went. I had made some beautiful cupcakes for him to share with his class at school. I don't remember what exactly I made for him for his birthday dinner but he had asked for an ice cream cake for dessert. As we were getting ready to sit down for dinner he was excitedly helping put the last few things on the table and dropped something on the floor. It spilled and he burst into tears. That crisis was cleaned up, tears were dried and feelings were soothed. We had a good dinner. Then came the cake!! How unfortunate that I didn't realise that I didn't have any candles until I went to look for them and couldn't find them. What kind of mother was I anyway? My ever resourceful husband decided we could stick matches in the ice cream cake instead of candles. We did. We lit them and they burst into flame. Before we could sing to him, Zach, the oldest yelled, "Quick, quick blow them out!" Ethan promptly blew them out. My exasperated husband said, "What just happened here?" Ethan burst into tears...again. Zach ever wanting to help, thought the ice cream cake was going to melt because the matches were burning quickly so he thought Ethan should blow them out right away. Poor Ethan! He just didn't know how to cope with it all. Tears were dried again, feelings were comforted and we tried one more time. We sang, he blew out the matches and dessert was served. Then came the real fun, presents. Ethan opened his birthday box and presents. What a clown he became. Always one to to love to laugh and make others laugh he delightedly opened presents, wore a gift bag on his head and had a ball opening his real tool box complete with a light-weight hammer, measuring tape, screwdrivers and various other manly necessities. We had no more tears just smiles and laughs. And it is all preserved in precious pictures. It was a birthday to remember.
Now here we are, 14 years later and our laughing boy has become a man. His dearly loved Bugs Bunny is carefully perserved in a tote with other childhood things. He still loves to laugh but his tears are not quite so near the surface and he has become poised and self-controlled. He is still my kitchen helper whenever he is home but he can do quite a lot more than just set the table and add the last minute touches. I am so proud of all that he has become and still dream of all that he will yet be. He is making his way in the world and walks a road of integrity. He is kind, compassionate, wise, and has an insatiable desire to learn. He works hard in school and is respected by his peers and teachers. He now visits his grandparents as it is hard for them to travel these days. He is strong, responsible and a good listener. He is now not just my son but also my friend. He is someone I enjoy spending time with.
Happy Birhtday, Ethan. I love you.
Tomorrow my middle son turns 21. Birthdays have always been a big deal in our family. About 3 months before a birthday I would start pointing out how many months away it was. Then the last month I would start counting down the weeks and days. I wanted my boys to know how anticipated and loved they are. I have always loved planning their birthdays with them, talking about what they might like as gifts, what special meal they might like to have, what special dessert or where they might like to go. In our family we have designated certain birthdays as milestone birthdays to be celebrated in an extra special way. When our boys turned 10 this was a milestone. They were no longer "little" but now that they had hit double digits they would have more priveleges and of course, more responsibilities. We celebrated this with lunch out with just Mom, Dad and the birthday son. We went to the restaurant of their choice and they had Mom and Dad's undivided attention. It was always a fun time. Thirteen was another special birthday and the whole family celebrated by going out for dinner. We have also been privileged to have had grandparents join us for some special birthdays. Since we don't live near any family this has been very special for our boys. Because we have two boys with birthdays within 3 weeks of each other we would often do something special in-between the birthdays instead of having parties. We would go to Chucky Cheese or let each invite a friend and go bumper bowling with a stop at Friendly's for sundays on the way home. A favorite kind was vanilla ice cream with peanut butter topping and gummie bears. Yummy! One year after a particulary rowdy time of bowling and maybe too many gummie bears on the ice cream we listended to 4 little boys repeatedly say "Genuine Jockey" and then giggle like little girls all the way home.
Tomorrow Ethan will be 21, a man by society's standards, accountable for himself. He has had some fun birthdays in the past. He is excited about this birthday and so is coming home from college for the weekend to be celebrated by his family. I think Ethan is the one who most caught my passion for birthdays. We have had some memorable ones with him. He is the son I had to make a cake with purple icing for. He is the son we had a Bugs Bunny cake made for because he was absolutely inseparable from his Bugs Bunny stuffed animal (and because Mom was pregnant with son #3 and was too sick to make a cake for him.) Poor Bugsy was in danger of becoming "real" it had been so loved by him. His Gram had to sew Bugsy's head on several times. Bugsy went everywhere with us for years! Even on mission's trips. And Bugsy talked, of course, he had a certain Ethan quality to his voice which we thought was a bit mysterious.
I think the birthday Iwill always remember was the year Ethan turned 7. We had moved back to Binghamton the previous fall and this was his first birthday in this particular house. He was a mass of emotions and they were just tumbling around and falling out all over the place. He was excited. He was nervous. He was happy. He sad. On and on it went. I had made some beautiful cupcakes for him to share with his class at school. I don't remember what exactly I made for him for his birthday dinner but he had asked for an ice cream cake for dessert. As we were getting ready to sit down for dinner he was excitedly helping put the last few things on the table and dropped something on the floor. It spilled and he burst into tears. That crisis was cleaned up, tears were dried and feelings were soothed. We had a good dinner. Then came the cake!! How unfortunate that I didn't realise that I didn't have any candles until I went to look for them and couldn't find them. What kind of mother was I anyway? My ever resourceful husband decided we could stick matches in the ice cream cake instead of candles. We did. We lit them and they burst into flame. Before we could sing to him, Zach, the oldest yelled, "Quick, quick blow them out!" Ethan promptly blew them out. My exasperated husband said, "What just happened here?" Ethan burst into tears...again. Zach ever wanting to help, thought the ice cream cake was going to melt because the matches were burning quickly so he thought Ethan should blow them out right away. Poor Ethan! He just didn't know how to cope with it all. Tears were dried again, feelings were comforted and we tried one more time. We sang, he blew out the matches and dessert was served. Then came the real fun, presents. Ethan opened his birthday box and presents. What a clown he became. Always one to to love to laugh and make others laugh he delightedly opened presents, wore a gift bag on his head and had a ball opening his real tool box complete with a light-weight hammer, measuring tape, screwdrivers and various other manly necessities. We had no more tears just smiles and laughs. And it is all preserved in precious pictures. It was a birthday to remember.
Now here we are, 14 years later and our laughing boy has become a man. His dearly loved Bugs Bunny is carefully perserved in a tote with other childhood things. He still loves to laugh but his tears are not quite so near the surface and he has become poised and self-controlled. He is still my kitchen helper whenever he is home but he can do quite a lot more than just set the table and add the last minute touches. I am so proud of all that he has become and still dream of all that he will yet be. He is making his way in the world and walks a road of integrity. He is kind, compassionate, wise, and has an insatiable desire to learn. He works hard in school and is respected by his peers and teachers. He now visits his grandparents as it is hard for them to travel these days. He is strong, responsible and a good listener. He is now not just my son but also my friend. He is someone I enjoy spending time with.
Happy Birhtday, Ethan. I love you.
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Boy Noise
I am the mother of 3 sons. They are all wonderful and unique and I am quite fond of each of them. This summer I realized that my oldest son was soon going to get engaged. He hadn't said anything about marriage, I just saw the signs, I guess. As I adjusted myself to the idea that I was no longer the most important woman in his life scenes from his childhood began to play through my mind. Boys really are wonderful beings and there is always some of the little boy in every man, you just have to know what you're looking for.
I think that after 22 years of living in an all male household, I can qualify as somewhat of an expert on boys. I also have been working the last 3 years in special classrooms made up almost entirely of boys. And this year, I began the year with 2 male co-workers. I was the only female. I also have 2 brothers and always got along better with guys when I was in highschool. Less drama, I thought then. I have since learned it is just a different kind of drama.
This blog will be a way for me to share and preserve some of the finer moments(and maybe not so fine) in the lives of the boys and men I know. They are all very dear to me. Here is my introduction to the world of mothering boys:
My oldest son decided to arrive in this world in a hurry. He came 3 weeks early with no advance warnings. Just whoosh! My water broke on the elevator as I was leaving Lamaze class.
Six hours later, there he was. He was beautiful and very sleepy, although he had this strange humming noise that he made. This noise continued the next day. When I asked about it, Iwas told that it was possibly from mucus still left in him and it caused him to hum when he breathed. It was nothing to worry about. I don't think it had anything to do with mucus at all. I think it was my introduction to the world of boy noise. After we got him home, he just hummed all the time.
He seemed to like it. It was his way of not letting us forget he was there. As if we could! When the humming stopped other noises followed. After his brothers came along, our house could literally be heard a block away. It was a regular cacaphony of sound. We had crying, screamng, laughing, car noises, robot noises, monster noises, gun shot noises, singing(especially in the shower) and of course, the funniest noises of all to boys-burps, farts and anything gross sounding. Add to that pounding feet as they ran up and down stairs all day, the beating of a soccer ball on the garage door and one dear young son practicing his piano. And I can't forget the eardrum shattering noise of their music when they became teenagers. It was enough to make a mother go deaf and yet, now I miss all that noise. Two sons are out of my home and only come to home to visit. I have one left and he isn't nearly as noisy at 15 as all 3 were when they were home. I love to listen to him though, his noise is the sound of life to me. I even love hearing his feet pound up and down the stairs in the morning as he frantically gets his stuff together so he can get to the bus stop on time. But that's another post for another day...
I think that after 22 years of living in an all male household, I can qualify as somewhat of an expert on boys. I also have been working the last 3 years in special classrooms made up almost entirely of boys. And this year, I began the year with 2 male co-workers. I was the only female. I also have 2 brothers and always got along better with guys when I was in highschool. Less drama, I thought then. I have since learned it is just a different kind of drama.
This blog will be a way for me to share and preserve some of the finer moments(and maybe not so fine) in the lives of the boys and men I know. They are all very dear to me. Here is my introduction to the world of mothering boys:
My oldest son decided to arrive in this world in a hurry. He came 3 weeks early with no advance warnings. Just whoosh! My water broke on the elevator as I was leaving Lamaze class.
Six hours later, there he was. He was beautiful and very sleepy, although he had this strange humming noise that he made. This noise continued the next day. When I asked about it, Iwas told that it was possibly from mucus still left in him and it caused him to hum when he breathed. It was nothing to worry about. I don't think it had anything to do with mucus at all. I think it was my introduction to the world of boy noise. After we got him home, he just hummed all the time.
He seemed to like it. It was his way of not letting us forget he was there. As if we could! When the humming stopped other noises followed. After his brothers came along, our house could literally be heard a block away. It was a regular cacaphony of sound. We had crying, screamng, laughing, car noises, robot noises, monster noises, gun shot noises, singing(especially in the shower) and of course, the funniest noises of all to boys-burps, farts and anything gross sounding. Add to that pounding feet as they ran up and down stairs all day, the beating of a soccer ball on the garage door and one dear young son practicing his piano. And I can't forget the eardrum shattering noise of their music when they became teenagers. It was enough to make a mother go deaf and yet, now I miss all that noise. Two sons are out of my home and only come to home to visit. I have one left and he isn't nearly as noisy at 15 as all 3 were when they were home. I love to listen to him though, his noise is the sound of life to me. I even love hearing his feet pound up and down the stairs in the morning as he frantically gets his stuff together so he can get to the bus stop on time. But that's another post for another day...
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