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Archive for the ‘Parenting’ Category

Day 108: My Golden State Warrior

In basketball, Children, Happiness, life, Mother, Parenting, Stories, Victory on March 17, 2014 at 4:14 pm
{photo via crystalgraphics.com}

{photo via crystalgraphics.com}

There was only a minute left on the clock, star player is down with an ankle injury, and my little e is sitting on the bench of his basketball playoff game. What unfolded next seemed like a scene from a disney channel movie. As I see the star player limp off the court, with a score of 22 to 22, I know it’s over. We’re down and now our main basket man is icing his ankle with almost no time left in the game, and just like that coach points to my e and the underdog jumps off the bench. It wasn’t until 40 seconds later that I realized fully what was happening–

Were under our net, we’ve got a weak dribbler and he’s passing my e the ball. My boy that has spent the entire game trying to block kids two feet taller and 30 pounds heavier. My e who hardly watches the ball because, what’s the point? The star player will never pass it to the hardly noticeable short kid in the corner, even though he’s shouting, “Im open.” My Golden State Warrior spent the entire basketball season begging a pass, and I spent every game warding off a sinking motherly heart.

BUT NOT TODAY. And that’s when I stood up. My boy had that ball and he was wide open for the perfect two-pointer, the two-pointer that could take his team to the championship game. It was the underdog and the net, and all he had to do was set it up just right, focus, and it was all his.

E’s not like the other boys who today, fueled with frustration, teared on the court. Balls slammed at refs fouls and travel calls–little e was just enjoying the game. Trying to soak in actually being on the court at all–having some play time.

And that’s why when he set up that shot, he was perfectly calm, a good shooter, finally given the chance. Looks , shoots, and swish, that ball went in without a touch of the rim. The stadium of hundreds stands up in cheers, I’m shaking and crying and screaming, “he did it!” Everyone turns to me to validate that, yes, my no-play-time son just made the perfect shot that put them up two points with 19 seconds left on the clock and their star player still icing his leg. Now they just have to keep them off, down the court, defense, 19-18 and then 5-4-3-2—-and 1. It’s done. Cheers, my boy carried across the court. hugs, you did it, MVP, more hugs.

Sometimes the most unlikely things happen, sometimes the short kid in the corner finally gets the ball. And sometimes, just sometimes, that kid takes his team to the championships.

a whit who’s going to be ridin’ on this victory for awhile. nothing but net.

Day 107: Malaysia Flight 370: Two Parents

In Children, Family, Father, Happiness, Kids, Love, Marriage, Mother, Parenting, Travel on March 16, 2014 at 3:15 am

Image

{photo via google search}

Amidst all the news reports surrounding the tragic mystery of Malaysia flight 370, there is one story I find to be most tragic. I guess it strikes a chord with me because it echoes one of my deepest fears–leaving my child to get on a plane and never seeing him again. When Muktesh Mukherjee and his wife Xiaomo Bai got on flight 370, they were intending to vacation and left their two young boys with their grandma. Now those two beautiful boys have to wonder if they will ever see their parents again. I cannot imagine what they must be feeling, I cannot imagine what Muktesh and his wife must have felt the moment they new something was ‘wrong.’

On my last vacation to the UK, I had a panic attack the entire trip (airplane ride and vacation). My partner thought I was legitimately insane for shaking violently when turbulence bounced us around on our way to Italy. But what was really happening, I was thinking of my beautiful little e, I was thinking how much he needs me, and I was praying nothing would happen to me because we need each other.

My heart aches tonight for those two little boys. My heart aches for those parents because I had a glimpse of what they must have felt–times a million. As we pray for their safe return to their little ones, let us all remember how lucky we are to have our love ones present with us in our lives. Sometimes we can forget how special they are when they’re right in front of us.

little e you played a great baseball game today and I love you for it.

to my other love, I love you to the moon around the stars and back again…

to my Ini, thank you for lying against my back while I sleep, you make the best fluffy cuddler…

love, love, love…

and to the Mukherjee family, you’re in our thoughts. I hope they soon find answers because two parents need their two boys.

a whit.

Day 71: I want to go back to Utah.

In Children, Family, God, Happiness, Humanity, Kids, life, Love, Mother, Parenting on September 20, 2012 at 6:45 am

That’s a phrase I never thought I’d hear myself say, but it’s true.

Oftentimes, when I tell people I lived in Utah for four years (a native Californian returned home) they tilt their head in disbelief. Then I go on to remind them (and myself) what a beautiful place Utah is. For me though, it holds so many precious memories, the biggest one being the fall–right around this very time of year. I was perusing some Utah friend’s blogs tonight, and I couldn’t help but notice all of the beautiful canyon shots, the vibrant leaves, and the visible wind gusts. This is exactly how I remember it that September 2005 when my precious boy was almost due.

I’ve spoken before about the wonderful feeling I get when Autumn arrives–it reminds me of the gift that is my little e and what a blessing God delivered to me almost seven years ago.

I can’t believe how fast the time passes, I can’t believe e is going to be seven in just a of couple days. He is my miracle, my entire life bundled up in one very witty, articulate little toe head. Today we were sitting outside Chipotle eating and he asked me, “what happens to those people that steal wishes out of fountains?” I didn’t know how to respond, so I just told him about plaza regulations and the money belonging to conglomerates that own the plaza facilities. He liked that answer. Then he responded with, “well, I did that once. I’m not going to do it again because that was someone’s wish, what if they needed it granted.” I love that he is so inquisitive and thoughtful. I’m so proud of him even when he cries for not wanting to do his spelling sentences or mad math minute.

This post was supposed to be about wanting to go back to Park City, my favorite winter space in the whole world (which I still long for), but it’s turned into something else I suppose. I wish I could go back, turn back time, live the past seven years over again, because he’s growing too fast.

I love you little e.

Three hugs. Three kisses. Happy birthday angel boy.

A whit-ing mom.

Day 58: thankful.

In Family, Friends, God, Happiness, Health, Humanity, Laughter, life, Love, Mother, Parenting, Thoughts on July 20, 2012 at 4:46 am

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the following:

patience. and

loving what you have/what you are given.

It’s so easy for me, or you, or anyone, really, to get caught up in wanting things beyond what one has or is given. I have, and sometimes I throw myself a pity party about it, but the reality is that there is always someone who has it worse or is embedded within circumstances that are less fixable.

One of my best friend’s husband is dying of cancer. He only has a year to live, at best.

I think about her situation quite often, and it makes everything in my life seem so manageable despite the hardship that I face within my own circumstances. I am thankful this week that I have those that I care about close to me and healthy. I am thankful that there was and will be the laughter of little kids in my house–I’ve been missing that.

I’m so thankful–for the little things.

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Day 55: A 6 year-old DIY in the making

In Blogging, DIY, Home Decor, Mother, Musings, Parenting, Women on July 15, 2012 at 7:15 am

I talked to little e today. He’s at his Dad’s house in LA because that’s where he spends his summers, mostly. He lives with me during the school year.

Anyway, my very adult ish 6 year-old inquires as to what I’ve “been up to lately.” His very first inquiry, “How did the move go mom? Do you have everything put together in the house?” More on that later. (I did have it all put together until I took it apart again. I’m currently sleeping on a mattress on the floor).

I replied that I’ve been very busy running (yes I’m still doing that despite all the DIY), reading, visiting with friends, and…painting the furniture.

His first response. “I can’t wait to come back! I can help you paint, like my bunk bed, let’s paint it green–that’s my new favorite color, but just the inside of it. I can do that top part mom and you do the bottom. OK?”

I somehow talked him into the idea of green sheets instead, which seem like a much better idea given his ever evolving favorite color preferences. I did tell him we’d decorate it together when he gets back. This is my ‘sort of,’ and I say that VERY loosely, inspiration. We’ll definitely ditch the ship theme.

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And…

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Daily Cupcake: Holstee May

In Happiness, Holstee Manifesto, life, Love, Men, Mother, Parenting, Romance, Women on May 14, 2012 at 6:12 am

LIFE IS ABOUT THE PEOPLE YOU MEET, AND THE THINGS YOU CREATE WITH THEM.

Today’s proclamation seems very fitting for the occasion, Mother’s Day.  The greatest thing we have the opportunity to create in this life is our children.  As I was reading this post…

Had to drop a quick line and wish everyone, including my Mom (Love you Mom), a happy Mother’s Day (Yes, its Eric again).

You’d think that this Mother’s Day would be the worst yet for Cindy but it hasn’t (and yes, I know I can’t speak for Cindy, but I am going to anyway).  Cindy and I were blessed to spend some special time with Atticus this evening.  These past few days have been very reminiscent of when Atticus was first diagnosed.  We were again told that Atticus was going to die-albeit this time around we have less time.  We again had to fight the emotions and fear that come with that news.  But like before, through all of the fear and sadness, we have been able to have some very special moments with Atticus that we will always remember.  Tonight was one of those nights.

My dad and Cindy’s parents flew home this afternoon, and it was just Cindy, Atticus and I at the hospital.  Atti had been sleeping most of the day, but perked up from about 6:00 to 9:00.  He is such a trooper.  He knows that his body isn’t working right, and he is in pain.  But yet, he still finds a way to make us laugh and still melts our hearts by his sweet little sayings.  Nothing hugely notable happened, but tonight was one of those special moments as a family that we are now, post-diagnosis, acutely aware of.  Its something that I took completely for granted before.  I now recognize how special and amazing the gift of going through life with a family is.

The heart of our family is my wife.  She is a remarkable mother.  She is everything for Atticus and Isaac that I am not and can’t be.  I am amazed by her courage during these last five months.  I am amazed at the way she loves our sweet children.  And most of all, I am amazed by her devotion as a Mother.  Even on Mother’s Day she doesn’t get a “day off.”  She, like all mothers, is always on the clock.  Day or night, vacation or home, she is always “Mommy.”  She’s the first person the kids look to when they are hurt or in pain, or need comfort.  She is the first person they want to see when they get up, and the last they want to kiss at night.

I love you Cindy.  I can’t imagine life without you, and I love you more each day. Thank you for being such a great mother.

I thought about what it means to meet someone you truly love and what emerges when true love exists. It’s sheer beauty, having admiration for someone for the blessing they give your life. In the midst of that admiration, losing yourself, in complete humility.

That’s the type of husband, father I have always wanted.  Reading that just makes me realize how willing I am to wait, however long it takes, til’ I find him.  He’s out there, a guy like that is worth creating something with.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Day 45: Moms

In Happiness, Laughter, Mother, Parenting, Women on May 14, 2012 at 5:07 am

I am so grateful on this Mother’s Day.

I was thinking about all of my blessings today, especially those revolving around my little e, having him in my life, that’s the ultimate happiness for me.  I am reminded time and time again what a gift a mother’s love is–a gift God gave me almost seven years ago.

I wish I could remember every little thing e has said to me over those years, it’s terrible forgetting.  There are certain moments in motherhood that I wish I could freeze forever and replay them over and over in real time.  Like the other night when little e and I had a conversation about his future career moves,

“Mooom, I just don’t think I am going to make it very far in life.  I mean, I don’t even know what I am going to do for a job yet!  Mom these are the types of things you need to start thinking about at my age (he’s a ripe ol’ 6).”

I was laughing, there at the table, and I couldn’t make myself stop.  I thought, “this is it, this is the best thing in life–ever–hands down.”  I remember being pregnant with e and being so scared–terrified really.  I was thinking, this thing, it’s in my body, and it has to come out–there’s only one exit door too!  Man oh man.  Talk about being on edge for 9 months, well, actually 10 when you add it all up.  But I was different, I was REALLY on edge and quite possibly, if I hadn’t been so sick, might have signed up to delegate him my uterus’ permanent resident.  I had no idea, not a clue what was to come.  I was a really weird pregnant woman (most are in their own special way), and I wasn’t really into the whole ‘I’m going to be a mom’ thing.  I didn’t feel connected to the baby inside me, and I didn’t know how that connection would ever prove possible.  Until…

he was born.

In light speed things change, an instant really.  I’d say its a tacked on blessing…God goes, wham bam, these two are going to make the best team.

and we do.

It’s not always perfect, but it’s always beautiful.  It’s worth every tear, every tantrum, every kiss, every hug, every goodnight, every good morning, every blowout, every midnight bottle, every lost blankie, every embarrassing moment, every millionth question, every why, every how, every what is that, every I don’t want to take that medicine, every story read, every broken vase, every homemade card, every soccer practice, every bit of throw up, every ‘just one more’ and ‘please don’t go,’ every mom ‘I’m scared,’ every timeout, every ‘do I have to,’ every ‘Mom, I love you as much as…”

a thankful mom.

Being A Mom: Day 30

In God, Happiness, Humanity, life, Love, Mother, Parenting, Stories, Thoughts, wit, Women, Work on September 19, 2011 at 4:18 am

As I was walking through the bookstore the other day I saw this book and thought, “shit, there goes my idea.”  [Laughing] perhaps I can recover from this catastrophe somehow.  One can only hope.  Maybe if I add a spin on it and name the book, “How To Be Happy–While Living in a Port-O-Potty.” Of course, that would require me to go homeless, which is plausible I suppose.  In fact, as I was walking to class the other day I felt like I had somehow become the embodiment of Will Smith in film The Pursuit of Happiness.  I am being a little melodramatic.

Tonight it took me two minutes to answer the question , “black or pinto beans.”  I didn’t want to blabber pinto amidst tears, so I just stood there fighting them and then was finally able to speak, “black.”  I changed my mind two seconds later to pinto, instead.  Then, since I was ordering vegetarian, the guy said to me, “you know they have bacon!”  Like I’m some kind of vegetarian sinner, he cast his guilty eye, “yes, I know they are “roasted” in bacon, whatever, if I ever find an actual piece in there I will let you know.  Hasn’t happened yet.

I considered eating my burrito at Chipotle, but I eventually decided to take it home.  Then I sat at my table and stared at the beautiful flowers sent to me just yesterday.  About midway though I couldn’t take it any longer, so I just laid my head down and cried.  Little e wasn’t sent home on his flight today, and I miss him.  I’m exhausted, sad he won’t be to school tomorrow, and worried I won’t get to spend his birthday with him on Wednesday.  Ironically, I was able to read through my last posting,  which forced me to remember what it means to be a mother.  It means that sometimes we have to do hard things, sometimes we have to make sacrifices (and our children have to make sacrifices) in order to grow together. I think that’s what makes the best moms.  It’s not the ones who stay home with their kids (although some would argue this is), or those who know how to construct the perfect cupcake for their child’s birthday party, or even those who breastfeed for two years and let not an ounce of formula touch the lips of their infant.  It’s the mother who shows her child how much she loves him by bettering herself for him/her.  It’s the mother who while bettering herself shares that betterment with her child (a gift that will keep on giving for generations to come).  It’s the mother who always takes the time, no matter how busy life gets, to give her child what she can.  Sometimes, when life is busy, its the little thats given that means the most.

I am missing little e tonight, and I hope tomorrow brings resolve.  I hope he knows I wish I was spending time with him tonight, even though it may not be the most, it’s the most meaningful when we share it.

A whit-ing mom.

Photo taken by Angie Hill @ Google Images.

Day 25: The Case of the Missing Keys AND Pictures

In Blogging, Humanity, Mother, Musings, Parenting, Stories, Thoughts, Writing on January 19, 2011 at 11:05 pm

If at first you don’t succeed try, try again!

What happens when all our “trying” just amounts to mere frustration and anger.  Sometimes, in life, it feels as if the achievable is just out of reach.  The other night I was at a friend’s house and their 18 month-old very sneakily “hid” my keys in the sub woofer.  Fortunately, for her, the tiny opening in the side was just big enough for her little hand.  In fact, as we sat conversing my friend kept inquiring, “where are all her binkies going?”  She’d give her a binkie and then have to replace it five minutes later after searching the couch and surrounding area.  Little miss had her treasure trove nestled snuggly, aside my keys, where no one would ever suspect.

When I finally went to grab my items, and noticed they weren’t there, my friend ademently reinforced that the little one had placed them somewhere.  I thought, “no way,” it’s been so long since I’ve had a toddling thing that I thought it impossible.  Reflecting on the event it seems that we easily forget events in our lives, once they have passed, because we are consumed by a new set of experiences (i.e. my now learning to read kindergartener).

I’ll come to back to the conclusion of the aforementioned story (I know you’re dying to know how I got home).  But first, last night, as I prepared little e’s Top Dog of the Week Poster, I started thinking about all his baby pictures.  I knew them to be situated on my old laptop and just assumed it to be at my folks place in safe storage.  So, I’m visiting with my mom and mention it to her.  I use the term “white laptop.” She went and grabbed the “new white laptop” they have since purchased believing I’d find what I was looking for. Not so, “That’s the wrong laptop.  I mean the old one.”  And then it came like a ton of bricks,

“Dad took that one to the refurbish place months ago.”  Afterwhich, she turns and grabs some CD’s and begins lecturing me on the importance of backup elements.  I immediately began to cry, and I hurried to leave the house.  As I drove to my home, I thought about all the pictures of me pregnant, the ones of little e in the hospital after his birth, the entire first two years of his life.  Then I began to account for every picture that I had lost but so desperately wanted back.

I want the one with my tear stained face holding my little newborn just minutes after his arrival.

I want the one of my pink socks peeking from underneath the hospital sheets (I had specific socks hand-picked for my delivery).

I want the video of my ex filming the nurse midwife who delivered little e.

I want the picture of little e in his exersaucer, rosy, drooling, and teething.

I want the picture of little e in his little blue chair, and the one in his red highchair eating for the first time with his lefthand (I always knew he would be a lefty), the ones of our vacation in Greece, the pictures of little e and his Dad watching sports, e in his batman sneakers at 6 months, e and mommy lying on the bed together, napping.

I want them all back.  Now, all I have is the memories, those burned images, unretrievable.  I cry still thinking about it.

I returned home that night and immediately found my mother had already sent me a few pics (ones I had obviously sent her) to help ease the pain.  Mothers, what would we do without them.  However, among them did not exist the intimate ones I so long for.  The ones that were so terrible looking I hadn’t sent them to any family members.

I’ll return now to the story of the little sneak and the missing keys.  We tried, unsuccessfully sticking our hands in the tiny hole; however, to no avail.  Then someone got the idea to fish them out with a fork-like spatula.  I had my doubts, but it worked.  Exactly twenty minutes later all of the binkies, minus one, and my keys had been retrieved without any permanent damage to the speaker, fabulous! We had conquered the unachievable and there was happiness and laughter at the carelessness of the event.  When I started up my engine that night I sighed, “I can’t believe that just happened?” I know, though, four years ago, with a toddler in tow myself, I wouldn’t have been surprised in the least bit.  I’d forgotten.

And so my tears for the lost pictures were not for the objects themselves but rather the memories.  I recognize the nature of one’s recollection and I know someday I’ll wonder, what was e like at three months, or how did he act?  I know though that certain photos will missing.  This isn’t a matter of trying, they’re gone and no amount of achievement can fix this particular experience.  But–I can take that CD from my mom and try again, burn the pictures I have now, and keep them in a safe place.  That is achieveable.

And words, I’ve decided to write a paragraph for every picture I remember.  I’m hoping that will, at the very least, keep those images active in my mind.  I never want to forget my bald head, blue-eyed, little e.  His infancy.  Ever.

a missing whit.

A Mom’s Lesson: Day Twenty

In Friends, Happiness, Humanity, Love, Parenting on November 19, 2010 at 7:12 am

When it hurts to be a parent, that’s the worst.  I guess it’s one of those things you never really can prepare yourself for because it’s nothing you’d want to imagine happening to your child in an idealistic world.

Little e came home from school the other night adorned with an elbow bandage and a very lengthy story to tell.  Rather than summarize I’ll just do a narrative style besides I think it will capture the situation:

“mommy, why did the kids laugh at me when I tripped today?”

“Really, how did you trip?”

“Well this really really big nine year-old boy stuck his leg out in front of me, and then I fell really hard.  I looked around and everyone was laughing at me.”

(short intermission) attempting to decipher whether it was an intentional “trip” or a mere accident I deviate:

“Now how did the actual trip occur?  Was it on purpose?  Was it intentional?”

“Mommy, what does intentional mean?”

“Did he stick his leg out in front of you on purpose in order to make you trip?”

“Yes, yes, that’s what he did and everyone was laughing even my friends.”

The conversation actually continued our entire car ride home.  Five miles from our destination, after a long day at work, silent tears began to stream.  This is one of those moments where you realize the statement: “you’ll never truly know what it’s like to be a parent until you are one,” really solidifies itself.  Then I remembered being tripped myself as a child.  It hurt then but even more so this time (and to think I wasn’t even there).

I shielded my tears from little e, regaining composure, and just in time because he had another question for me…

“Mama, why are people mean?”

I’d much prefer the obligatory, “where do babies come from?” over this one.  I struggled, thinking how do you explain the cruelty of this world to a five year-old?  Why would I want to? Then the remembrance of another event, only a few weeks prior, surfaced, and my answer came:

Another incident had occurred where a child told e his clothes “sucked.”  Then the next day this same child indicated how much he loved e’s watch, and wished he could steal it from him.  e related both of these events to me.

“Mommy, I just don’t know how to handle a situation like this.  No on has ever told me things like that before.”

Returning a few hours later e exclaimed he really wanted to go get this little boy a watch just like his and that would diffuse the entire situation and make the little boy happy.  Easily done (since the watch was from a Taco Bell kids meal–don’t judge) we picked one up and e presented it to him the next day at school.

Through that situation, and now this tripping incident, little e is learning how to navigate his way through relationships.  He is learning empathy and kindness toward others, and for that I need not shed any tears whatsoever.

After some talking and answering of his question,

The conversation in the car ended with one final statement (from e of course), “Next time I will tell him that is not appropriate!”

I’d like to end this post with a little bit more information, which I think might help give meaning as to why I even wrote about all this in the first place.

I met with that little boy’s mom, the one e insisted on giving the watch to, and learned his Dad is dying of cancer.  So, I’ll end, “you just never know what may be the cause to a certain effect (good or bad).”  The effect may seem hurtful, but what’s causing it may be even worse.  I’m so proud of my little boy for having the intuition to know the right way to handle a tough situation.  Turns out he knew what was going on all along (I believe somehow) because yesterday he told me the little boy sings about his Daddy dying while they’re at recess.

So, if I could backtrack and answer little e’s question, concerning the world’s occasional cruelty, differently, then I’d say, “turns out you knew the answer all along e–to teach us to be kind, understanding, and to love others.”

Ms. whit.

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