School has begun, for most of us. Should we all take one deep collaborative breath and say PHEWWW?
Actually, I still have Tuck-Tuck home with me until Tuesday, when he starts kindergarten. It’s hard to believe that after ten years as a stay-at-home mom I’ll no longer have a little companion at home, but I’m not afraid to tell you that I’m ready. Yes, I feel guilty that I’m ready, and yes, I’ll miss his smiling face as he follows me around the house asking heavenly questions, but I’m ready, so ready, to take everything I’ve worked so hard on these past few years and turn it into something lucrative, without interruption. Somebody hold me down, or better yet, shoot me out of a cannon to give me that jump start, because it’s all in place: the children’s books, the Aspen’s Local Color interviews (which I’m so pumped about I can hardly breathe), the family travel writing and the memoir. All I need to do is launch it.
I do love my little weeds, who become easier and more fun with every passing moment. Tucker asks such mature questions and is blossoming into quite the charismatic, beautiful little boy, but he’s still my baby, especially when he wakes up in the morning and comes into my office with remnants of babyhood still clinging to his sweet cheeks. He crawls into my lap in his favorite rocket ship pajamas, which are rapidly shrinking on his big-boy frame, and I smother him in kisses. He may be growing, but he’s still little and highly sensitive to his surroundings, and if anybody says something that upsets or confuses him, his dreamy round owl eyes stare off into space and fill with tears as he tries to process it all. That’s when I start backpedaling, fast, and bring all my creative endeavors to a halt to focus on what’s most important to me, and what spurs all this creativity in the first place: my boys.
Thumper, who got a buzz cut from his father the day before school, is now almost as tall as my petite sister Michele, standing at a proud 5-foot-1, and he’s a strapping young lad. “Brevitt, I never knew you had such a beautiful head,” I say as his thick locks float to the floor. “And look at those eyes!” “Yeah, girlie eyes,” he says shyly, as I stare at his long curly eyelashes that shoot to the moon and the little dimple on his cheek. Breathtaking, truly breathtaking.
“Thumper, pinkie swear you’ll always stay close to me and never shut me out,” I say as we sing along to the edited version of Eminem in the car. He now sits up front next to me with Muki on his lap. He smiles and nods at me, just like his father, and assures me I have nothing to worry about, because he loves me, a lot, and will always stay close. We pinkie swear on it, when nobody’s looking.
And then there’s our little Axel baby, who said to me the other day, “Mommy, I’ve been waiting all these years to turn eight so I could join all the teams, and next thing I know, I forgot to tell you to sign me up for football.” So I ran down to beg the head coach to sign up my Axel, secretly wondering why I was begging for football for my precious son. But when Axel scampered off the field in his little sandpiper way with the most beautiful smile on his face because he got to hit and be hit, I once again saw what it’s all about… kind of.
I’m off this weekend to disconnect and go camping, but I wanted to ramble a little to let you know I haven’t been entirely swept away. I’m still here, still wanting to share my stories with you, and thankful for your support of my passion for writing. It really helps me forge ahead with everything else.
Love ya, see ya… mean it!
