Maxwell

Last night after he’d gone to his bed, I heard Max sobbing into his pillow.  I raced up to see what was wrong.  “Buddy…what is it?”  I asked.  He replied, “I just feel like time is going so fast!”

I laid down in bed with him, stroking his hair.  “Time is going so fast, I feel like I’m gonna wake up tomorrow and it’ll be Seth’s graduation!” he choked out.  Aw, buddy!  I feel you.  He’s such a sensitive little fella.  We lay in his bed, whispering (me) and loudly lamenting (him) about the passage of time.  After 10 minutes, we finally got to the core of it: “I can’t believe I’m going to be in second grade!  It feels like with each new grade and year that passes, I’m losing my childhood!”  Ah.  This sparked a good conversation about living our best each day, no matter what.  Doing fun and interesting things and always learning something new; committing things to memory so we can continue to enjoy them in the future.  It’s always amazing to have these discussions with him because he just gets it, even though he is still so young.  Such an old little soul.  I know how hard it can be, because he’s basically me…just in boy form.  I told him about 2nd grade being my favorite year in elementary school; about how that was the year I became a writer and learned to sing and spelled almost every word right but learned about making mistakes.  I try my hardest to talk him through these emotional growing pains, just as I patiently rub his feet and legs in the middle of the night to alleviate his physical growing pains, sleepy though I may be, because I remember how much it hurts.  I hope I helped to ease some of his anxieties.  I think it worked because he fell asleep shortly thereafter.

Oliver

Ollie has been changing so much lately.  Not as much as we’d thought, as many things that had calmed down were due to his protracted illness and not a developmental shift, after all.  Joke’s on us!  But he is still growing up in ways I never thought would come.  He recognizes after he has an inappropriate action or outburst what he’s responsible for (fairly quickly, too) and apologizes of his own volition.  I’m pretty sure there are 30-somethings who still can’t do that!  He stays near us when we ask him to instead of running off.  He’s picked up a sense of caution, which has decelerated my gray-hair growth significantly.  He will soon start pre-K at Maxwell’s school, which he also still calls “Max’s School”.  It will be hard to say goodbye to the preschool that has literally taught him how to exist in a group. 

Speaking of preschool…today, when I picked Ollie up from school, I saw that he was wearing this:

and enjoyed the story of its origins as told by his teacher: “I was making the nametags for each of the kids, and drawing a little picture of something they wanted on it.  Lots of robots and butterflies and simple things.  Then I got to Ollie and he said, ‘A Goat!’  I wondered if I’d be able to draw a goat, but picked up the gray marker to at least give it a shot until he interrupted with, ‘NO! A pink goat.’”

Have I mentioned how much I love this child?  I mean, a pink goat?  Where does he come up with this stuff?!?

Seth

My baby.  Sigh.  He’s been…interesting lately.  His temper has reached an all-time high, while his general nature remains sunny and fun.  People never believe us about the temper thing, until they see it explode (from nowhere, really) and witness his head spin 360 degrees while his mouth emits the hellcat scream.  Wowza.

But let’s focus on what we enjoy of him lately.  He is speaking in sentences, even if I’m the only one who really understands most of what he says (well, me and the Baby Whisperer, Ollie.)  Tonight we went out for dinner (see: first paragraph referencing a crazy day, and contrary to my norm I’m not being hyperbolic.)  Let’s just say it was a place where we could eat pancakes and bacon. FOR DINNER.  That’s magic, right there.  We were waiting for our order and Seth saw someone else with theirs.  “I WAN DA BAKEH!” he exclaims.  I’ll translate: “I want that bacon!”  We assured him his was on the way.  He ate it first, like any respectable member of this family would. Also amusing: he tries to tell knock-knock jokes.  It usually goes like this: (Seth) “Na-Na!” (Me) “Who’s there?” (Seth) belfjshwlfugjsklajdufgh! (Me) “belfjshwlfugjsklajdufgh who?”  (Seth) *grinning and laughter*

Well, folks…that’s all I’ve got for tonight.  But tomorrow (Friday) morning, our very own Crazy Aunt Linda will be on-air in WI extolling her love for Adam Lambert!  Listen to her here at 9:00 AM if you want to enjoy her hilariousness:

http://player.cumulusstreaming.com/SLPLayer.aspx?WZOK-FM

Coming Soon…tales from the MN State Fair 1993!  With audio!  Tales of our new school year!  More movies!  Less whining!

You won’t believe this, but it’s me (well, you) writing…but now I’m 33.  Wow, how is that even possible?  As I sit writing this, I’m listening to you sing on a cassette tape, a recording format which has become pretty much obsolete by now.  But we don’t need to go into all of that, because I might cause a tear in the time/space continuum.

Never mind that I’m writing this letter on a blog, which doesn’t exist in 1996.  At least you sort of know what that new-fangled internet is.

There are so many things I want you to know.  That life is good.  That right at this very moment, at 19, you are living a life that you will look back on with such tenderness that you will sometimes ache to go back, for just 5 ordinary minutes. That the people you love now will be the people you love still at 33.  And that when you consider leaving Hamline in a few months (and you will) for other shores, don’t go.  Stay.  You’ll never be sorry you did.

Oh, and by the way…you’re not fat.  You’re not ugly.  You are beautiful and loveable and worthy of all good things.  I know you won’t believe me, though.

Don’t work so hard to be perfect.  In fact, work harder to be more imperfect.  When you look back on these days later, you won’t remember much about the papers you had to write for your education classes (which are, P.S., almost a complete waste of time.  But you will need that certification to teach, so don’t quit.)  What you WILL remember is the late nights spent in practice rooms, singing or otherwise showing your heart to those who will become lifelong friends.

At 33 you are married, with three children.  I’m sure that you can’t really believe that, because you think at this point that you’ll be unmarried with 20 cats and a studio apartment and stacks of English papers to grade.  Your life goes differently, but I don’t want to tell you any more specifics because, unlike a sci-fi romantic comedy I’ve just watched in 2010, I don’t like the idea of you knowing all that will happen before it does.  You have people to love and places to go without my guidance.  It’s all part of getting here, to who I am now.  And where I am is an excellent place to be.

You will never regret a single night spent singing Simon & Garfunkel or ABBA songs in your dorm room.  Don’t miss out on the chance to go against character and take that spontaneous trip to Chicago sophomore year, because important things will happen there.  Revel in a certain autumnal nighttime walk you’ll take next year; you’ll recall the smell and feel and magic of it all every fall that follows.  Tell people you love them when you know that you do, the minute you know that you do.  And then repeat it often, even if it embarrasses you or them.

You could maybe refrain from your junior-year hickey acquisition binge, though.  Yikes.

You’ve already learned by now the tough lesson that life is uncertain.  It will continue to be so.  All you can do is love often, and well, because I promise you won’t be sorry that you did, not ever.  Besides, it will give me lots to write about in my memoir when I start it next month.

Above all, keep singing.  Sing all the time…when you walk between classes, as you take a shower, in the dilapidated practice rooms whether alone or in good company.  Forget the impracticality of so many music classes and rehearsal hours when you’re supposed to be an English Ed. major…the singing is what’s keeping you sane.  You’ll need to know its powers later on, whenever you need to be healed or grounded or to feel truly alive.

So, in conclusion…be beautiful.  Be confident.  Be loving, and be loved.  Be bold.  Be crazy.  Be who you really are, to the fullest.  Be not afraid.

Life is magical.