You're a Teenager Now

Nearly four and a half years have passed since I last posted within this blog.  Do we call these things blogs anymore? Or is that old school, now?

You're fourteen and a half now and taller than me and you weigh about 115 pounds. And you currently have the flu.  I sat at my desk today and somehow stumbled upon old photos, a towering, uneven pile of paperwork that needs to be filed and this old blog.

A lot has changed in four and a half years - so much that it's overwhelming to think about, let alone write down. Somehow writing it all down seems necessary.

In January 2016 your grandmother died by suicide. I'm still not quite sure how we got through that year.

In January 2017 I had neck surgery to fuse discs c5 and c6.  This would prove to alleviate symptoms immediately but the "domino effect" of degenerative disc disease has shown itself to be a great physical challenge.

In March of 2017 your daddy was diagnosed with a malignant process; Marginal Nodal Zone Lymphoma - a rare type of Non-Hodgkins cancer.  I'm not quite sure, once again, how we made it through this year, either.  I remember in the summer of 2017, when he was particularly sick, you came into the bedroom and with tears in your eyes said, "I'm gonna lose my daddy when I'm 12 years old." I could barely speak.

In February, on the 12th, of 2018 your daddy died.  You were 12 years old. We were driving the truck to the hospital in Chapel Hill listening to the CD "The Little Soul and the Sun." When the phone rang I knew who it was and what they were going to say. I pulled over and stopped the truck and we sat there for a minute trying to absorb what we had been told. You said, "Mom, what's going to happen to us?" I said, "We are going to be okay, buddy."  And we are.

I'm so sorry that your daddy got sick and died. I'm sorry if I wasn't there for you like I should have been, or like you needed me to. It was complicated - me grieving and at the same time trying to comfort you and all at once trying to do normal things like cook, and pay bills and split and stack wood and keep us warm. I'm certain I didn't do well in a lot of areas that entire year. This is something you'll understand more as you get older and take on more responsibilities. I don't expect you to understand right now.

2018 was rough. This was a year of reaching for the supposed balance of a new normal.  We did some fun things: We went to Pigeon Forge, Tennessee with Rusty and Becky for a long weekend. You went to New Jersey for the first time to visit with Papa Lou, Mimi Carol and Aunt Elise. You went to Carowinds with Diezel and Mia.  You spent time with Henry and his family.  In between all of that we tried to catch up with home school and keep up with the house and the property and the wood stove. We had a lot of support from the community and from friends and family.

Then, all of the sudden, it was 2019 and the wood stove was leaking and I was feeling overwhelmed and wanted to sell the house.  There were so many things that needed to be fixed and I wasn't able to work because of my neck. I had some decisions to make.

In March I made some decisions that I didn't really think would affect us like they did.  The rest of that year was a whirlwind, too.  But in really good ways.  It's January 15, 2020 and we live in Albemarle now - you're in eighth grade and you're getting really good grades and doing well adjusting to public school; making friends, learning different things, and you have a consistent schedule.

...to be continued....

You Need to Know

It is September 30, 2015 and you're ten years and ninety-nine days old.



I'm frequently overwhelmed when I think of who you are and the characteristics; thoughtful, empathetic, stubborn (it's a good thing, mostly), social, able-to-stand-up-for-yourself-in-a-single-bound, and fiercely independent yet still needing your mom and dad.

The day will come when you think you don't need us.

The day will come when you will not want to crawl in bed between us.

The night will come when you will blow right through your curfew.

The morning will come when you leave, the screen door slamming, and you'll be on your way to work or school or on a trip to the lake with your friends. I can hear it now, "Bye, mom and dad!" and then the crunch of the wheels on gravel and the shifting from first to second, and then third before the drone of the engine edges away.

Today you'll give me resistance when I announce that it's time for us to work on fractions. You'll voice displeasure at having to read the 10 pages in the social studies chapter. You'll more than likely procrastinate with the language arts assignment as well.

Your clothes seldom make their way into the clothes hamper without my squawking. Martha often prompts me with her squeaking to remind you that she needs water, food, hay, and yes - the cage needs to be cleaned out AGAIN. Always!

When I went into your room and saw that you had written on the wall "God's Not Dead" I knew, at that precise moment, that instilling faith in your heart would be one of my gifts of legacy to you.

At McDonald's the other day, because every once in a while it's okay to eat there (?!), you made my heart nearly triple in size when you said, matter-of-factly, "Mom, I think it's time for me to stop getting Happy meals." When I asked why you answered, "Because I get the toy and I never play with it."

You get it. You're getting it. You won't always get it when I think you should, but you'll get it. Whatever IT happens to be.

Then, you capsized me when you saw a little boy and his grandmother going out the door. You looked at the toy in your hand and looked at me. Then you said, "I should give this to him." I said, "Go! It's not too late."

The grandma beamed and said, "He didn't get a toy this time, thank you, young man!" And you smiled. And I beamed with enough light to circumvent the sun AND the moon for an entire rotation.

You get it.You're getting it.

And on the way home from our outing you wanted to listen to The Little Soul and the Sun so we did.

Another thing I love is your sense of rhythm and love of all kinds of music. To hear you "scratch" like a DJ is pretty darn cool. Such a hipster. And you don't even know it.

The concept and inner workings of a radio station is still somewhat unknown to you. Oh, sure, you know that some radio stations play different kinds of music - but what is not clear is that we can't beckon a song to come on as we wish. In the warp-speed of technology it seems foreign that we cannot just push a button and dial up our song. Not unless we pay a monthly subscription, that is. Oh, wait, our car is too old for that.

As it turns out, one of your favorite songs right now is "Day One" by Matthew West. I love the look of surprise and thanks on your face when it does come on the radio when we happen to be in the car. Sweet.

Nine Years Old

Dear Eddie, you turned nine years old last month and my, oh my, how you have grown. Your best friend of three and a half-years is still your Guinea Pig, Martha. You have gone through phases of Transformers, Robots, Remote-controlled cars, riding dirtbikes, four-wheelers, bicycles, climbing trees, building forts, playing "Ninja" and Bay-Blade and Legos and on and on. Now your favorite thing is Roblox, and watching Minecraft videos. You like to stay up late and sleep in. You don't like any kind of clothing with pockets. And you forgive easily, but hardly every forget anything except for chores and schoolwork.

Martha Squeaks - AKA: Wheat-ta

WE LOVE YOU!

Eight Years Old

Where to Start? An update

Dear Eddie,

Today you are 7 years, six months, and 14 days old. Such a bright young man you are becoming, the highlight of every single day.

I've not had much time to update this blog but I want you to know that I'm watching you right now. You're outside, in daddy's old pick up truck - a gray 1982 GMC one-ton crew-cab dually - and you're in the driver's seat, and Martha, your guinea pig is with you.

You have so much fun anywhere you go - you make up your own games, you sing, and play using your brilliant imagination.

I love you so much.

Love,

your Mommy

I love your personality!

Kindergarten, and more...

So last year (2010-2011 school year) Eddie started Kindergarten as a five-year-old and although we really liked his teachers, we felt like, after several weeks of school, things just weren't right.  Something wasn't right.  I can't tell you specifically which incident weighed more heavily than another, but overall, my boy was not happy.  Not that children have to be "happy" all the time, but he was miserable.  Crying before he even got on the bus, crying when he got off the bus, seemingly "in trouble" at school because he talked to his classmates, fidgeted in line, at his desk, and while at lunch, too.

Sounds like a five-year-old to me.

So, after a snap decision many in-depth discussions about the pros and cons of Kindergarten we decided to pull Eddie out of school and let him stay home one more year to "just be a little boy."  Although the State of North Carolina law says that a young male does not have to attend school until the age of 7, you would have thought that we were breaking the law the way some people reacted.  My loving family supported our decision, although (we won't name names) there were still some that had reservation in their voices when they said, "Oh, you're keeping him home this year?".....

While friends and neighbors minded their own business and understood our motives gave us "those looks" and  said things like, "aren't your concerned that he won't be able to socialize," and "what if he's the oldest one in his class?" we shrugged them off as well-intentioners and followed our hearts for our child.

I am so glad we did.

This last August, (2011-2012 school year) when Eddie started Kindergarten (again) he was with his same teacher, Mrs. J and while the first few days were an adjustment, after a couple weeks into the school year, he started coming home saying things like, "Mommy, we learned about "W" today," and, "Daddy, what does "B-U-S spell?" telling us that he was ready to start learning.

Now he's asking me to read multiple books to him every night, attempting to recognize words, read along, point to the words as I read, and I am just ecstatic!  He comes home from school and as he exits the bus, he is smiling.  This is such a change from just a year ago.  He is really maturing and having that last year at home to "just be" really enabled him to be more secure I believe.

Equally charming as it is annoying, he now hones in on every single piece of scrap paper, junk mail, sticky note and sometimes, bills *gasp* to write on and ask about spelling.  He writes his name on everything!!  He talks of learning how to recognize and write numbers (make an "S", don't be late, go back up and close the gate - this makes an 8 - so cute!) as he does this little "sing-song" rhyme that helps him to memorize letters and numbers.

Yeah, he is well-socialized, he's older than most of the kids in his class and he's doing great.  We'll try to keep from him the fact that he'll be able to write his own absence excuse notes the majority of his Senior year of high school.  I'm pretty sure he'll be ok with being the first one to drive in his Sophomore year.

I think it's important that while some parents use school as a daycare, for the rest of us to realize that we only get one chance to rear our children.  One chance to let them "be a kid" and only one chance at not making mistakes that will affect them negatively for life.  Not that we should or shouldn't do things for fear of being summoned to the Jerry Spring or Oprah Show (not to be compared, but just as examples) but we should listen to our hearts when something "isn't right" and explore, for the child's sake, what the options are.

So, that's it.  No pictures, just a happy mom on her soap box.  Feel free to borrow it anytime you like.

Amen.

Dear Eddie

Dear Eddie,

You are five years, 9 months, and 6 days old.  Don't ask me to count the hours, minutes and seconds just because I just got an "A" on my math final, I can't do it.  Well, that's not true, I can; but I don't want to.

I'd rather tell you that you are a very special young child and that I love you so much I can scarcely breathe sometimes.  Right now you are interested in all things "Daddy".  Tools, motorcycles, four-wheelers, and basically anything with a motor.  You know the difference between a flat-head and Phillips screwdriver and also know the "lefty-loosey, righty-tighty" trick, too.

You don't drink soda.  You would eat candy for breakfast if we'd let you and while you love the outdoors, and riding your bike, you also love to watch movies.  You're getting past the point of wanting Mommy to read books to you, which I miss terribly, but I also understand that you're spreading your wings a bit and exploring different things.  Anytime you want me to read you a book, I will, okay?  Even when you're 'too old' for it.

Sometimes it probably seems as if your father and I are hard on you - expecting you to behave and be respectful as you learn to navigate this sometimes rocky path of life - but we love you more than anything and want only to teach you everything we can so that you can make the best choices possible as you get older.

Every once in a while we get reminded that you're only five.  So if we seem impatient or in a hurry, please know that you are the best thing in our world.  We love you.

Love, forever and ever,

Mommy