This morning I dropped my baby off at the front door of his school per his request for the first day of his 4th grade career. How can this possibly be when his father and I were just standing in the discharge room of the hospital with our newborn, trying to figure out the rocket scientist designed car seat we forgot to assemble just yesterday?
Earlier in the week a friend of mine posted on her Facebook page that she corrects her children when they correctly pronounce blueberries instead of bluebabbies, and all those other sweet little nuggets of "baby English" every parent adores. Packed away in my attic are baby books and calendars I spent countless hours detailing every time Carl sneezed, drooled, rolled over or breathed; where are those now? That post from my friend reminded me of Carl saying lasterday instead of yesterday and when he used to call Halloween, Forever Halloween, and how I actually threatened to kill Trey if he even thought about correcting him. Those sweet, precious words. Lasterday and Forever Halloween were my trinkets of pure joy, sprinkled with that dear sweet melody that makes your heart swell; something that can only come from the sound of your child's voice.
Weren't there others? What was that darling phrase Carl used to say when he held my face in his yummy little hands, while looking at me with those chocolate brown eyes; a mirror of my own. How could I have forgotten when at that moment I was positive that treasure was imprinted on my heart and stored in my mind forever? And here I sit in a panic trying to recall what he wore that first day of Kindergarten and in what drawer I've filed his picture along with countless others I promised myself to place in a photo album. Did I remember to pack away that outfit along with those embarrassing baby pictures to pull out during the first time Carl brings home a "girl friend"? You know, the pictures only a parents can appreciate those cherished memories associated with the one at 2 years old in just a diaper, cowboy hat and boots holding a sticky Popsicle? Please Lord tell me I'll uncover them again one day.
I didn't sleep much last night; instead spending my time in the doorway of Carl's room watching him in a peaceful slumber with his long tan limbs reaching the end of his bed. Clutched to his side was Teddy his faithful bear and on the floor beside him was the shirt and shorts he set aside for today, his first day of 4th Grade. And as I leaned against the door glancing at the pictures, school projects, graded papers and sport trophy's that line the walls catching moonbeams peering in from the curtains I hear myself saying, "Slow down Father Time, stop running in these hallways. Let me keep my baby like this just a moment more".
1st day of 4th Grade
2 Years Old
Just this past Saturday I had a rare treat of going home and spending the night with my parents without the kids and my husband. It's so easy to forget how much you really don't speak to one another when the whole family is visiting with kids running around, bedtimes to prepare for and just the normal interruptions that come along with accommodating several people and their schedules. Although I really enjoyed driving around my hometown and taking advantage of some alone time with my parents, I must admit it takes me about a week to get over those visits. I am neurotic by nature; I mean super-de-duper over the top analyze every single little thing bananas, and this process begins the second I step into the driver's seat for the 2 hour drive back to my home. My radio volume barely rises above level 2 and I will spend that entire time driving along a dark HWY 87 thinking of all that was said, and not. All that's left unsaid should truly be my motto because I feel that is pretty much an overview of how I view my life.
I have the most amazing parents in the world but maybe it is all those glances/inquiries/suggestions/hints of disappointment/concern/discussions (lecture) and constant "you should consider's" that put me over the edge. Out of all the wonderful things I have accomplished and seen in my life I am still plagued by the What If's, the Un's and Should Have's. Whoever said "everything happens for a reason" is a jackass and I for one am sick to death of hearing that quote as an answer to any episode in your life that you just can't get your mind around. Whether or not it is true, I don't want to hear anyone say that unless you know the darn "reason" and will share that with me, because I will stay up for the rest of the night and the next night and the next trying to figure out just what that reason is. My mother simply saying "Maybe you should have waited a year before starting college; do you think that things would have ....." catapults me into Analyze My Life world, where I have a nice little comfy spot just waiting for me. Don't they know by now you can't plant a little seed of doubt about my life decisions and then just walk away! Seriously people have mercy!
All those things left unsaid to people in my life, plans unfinished, amazing places unseen, words unheard. If only I had stayed in one town, taken another route, asked a different question, given another answer. All the things I should have tried, people I should have been kinder too, places I should have stayed away from. How different would my life be now? Better? Worse? The same but with different looking characters? I envy those that just take life as it comes without question or doubt. Me, I'll just sit and think about that for a very long while.
My mother has been slowly going through her attic and the closets of my old room so usually each time I see her she has another box of my mementos for me; basically this breaks down to a box filled with every scrap of my life pre 1992. From these goodies I would consider myself a dedicated packrat / borderline hoarder of the past. Most things are the typical movie ticket stubs, newspaper articles, Candy-Gram notes, game tickets, programs, matchbooks, every card I have ever received and restaurant menus with some painful old love notes (cringe) thrown in. It brings back fond times while I pour over all the little ditties I painstakingly packed away so in the future I would remember every sublime moment in my life. Sadly my memory isn't what it once was and this is not the case, but are you really supposed to cherish that menu from Annabelle's 20 years later? Well, maybe that one.
I admit that showing Annie my old Homecoming ribbons brings a smile to my face but it quickly turns upside down when I get to the pictures. When did I get so old and wasn't I turning 18 just the other day? Mixed in the muck of my teen years is a framed photograph of me taken in my high school breezeway; probably given to an old boyfriend I undoubtedly pestered to death until he dumped me along with a box of my crazy tokens of love on my front stoop. Though I can't blame the poor fella I wish he would have just thrown that picture away because it is haunting me and keeping me up at night. There she sits on my dresser giving me the evil eye with a pestering what in the hell happened and those pants don't look like the size 6 I saw you in last. Topping off the dreaded back in the day picture Carl comments how pretty I looked with Annie chiming in with a you sure don't look like that now. Seriously ... the girl must not want to be fed anymore.
It's not that I really expect to be the same size as I was when I was 18 because I don't, but jeez how did I get to be so lazy? L-A-Z-Y. I went from playing tennis for hours, swimming, running, band and drill team practice in the freaking heat to getting up off a couch to fill my red plastic cup with Natural Light from someone's keg and basically nothing else. That was the beginning of the end. I should have hitchhiked across the country like I planned right after high school. Now I am a pile of slouchy, squishy, eating off the kid's plates, caffeine addicted, potty mouth, nose wrinkling, granny panties, whiny, blob-meister, can I please just get a pill for that ... mess with a capital M. Damn that picture! That girl is sitting her skinny self on my shoulder badgering me every time I sit on the couch to watch old episodes of Grey's Anatomy again instead of riding my bike to the beach. Good God she drives me nuts, no wonder the poor guy dropped her like a hot potato! I want all the rewards and results of just good ol basic hardwork and exercise without actually having to lift a finger or leg or squat or sweat. You know?
This latest neurotic installment stems from visits with old friends that I have not seen in a long time; as in since my glory days. Who doesn't want to look their best which is code for looking exactly the freaking same as you did a decade ago. I know I do. But for the life of me all the energy I put into complaining about my current status not one ounce do I save to walk my sloth self down the stairs and onto the treadmill that lives barely 30 feet away. Isn't that horrible? My house is than 1 mile to the beach but rather than slip on the tennies for a quick stroll, I browse the web for a pill I could buy that miraculously zaps the fat off your ass and hopefully won't kill you in the process. What good is it to have a great bum if its face down in your coffin? Thinking of all the money I have spent on workout videos makes me hungry for a HoHo and what good are they anyway unless Julian Michaels is going to jump out of the screen and pull me off that chair. Lazy Mazy .. that's who I am. Honestly if I thought drinking a gallon of honey infused with cayenne pepper or whatever it is Beyonce drinks, would make every man look at Trey and think how in the hell did he score her? and every woman green with envy I would drink it. Every. Single. Day.
In a month I'm going to Hot-Lanta to visit another blast from the past pal and besides typing my post, I have spent the day looking on the Internet for ways to lose a couple million pounds in 80 days. There was an interesting video I tried to watch also but really couldn't hear anything over the crunch of my chips. Looks like I'll be wearing black. Lots and lots of black. And Spanx.
1st day of 4th Grade
2 Years Old
