The Lost Boy

I had a conversation with Alex at bedtime tonight.

As we snuggled up on the couch, his head on my lap, curled up with his beloved "cuddle cuddle uppet", Alex looked up at me and said "Mama, I do never want to get big".

I asked him why and he said because if he gets big, I won't push him on the swings...and he won't be able to sit on my lap anymore.

As my heart wept just a little, I (tried to) assure him that he'd NEVER be too big for that.  No matter how big he gets, he'll ALWAYS be my little boy.

But the truth is, he IS going to get bigger.  He WILL (someday) be too big to (comfortably) sit on my lap.

And I, too, wish he never had to grow up.  I want him to forever be my baby.  I want him to always love snuggling with his "Mama".  I rather enjoy the magic my kisses bring.  I love having all the answers, a special touch and comforting hugs.  When he gets big, he'll be too cool, too smart, and too busy.

Peter Pan had something with his whole "Never Grow Up" mentality.  If only the Lost Boys were taking new members.

So I guess, instead, I will just have to soak up every minute I'm granted with my "little" boy.  I will learn to relish all the monumental milestones growing "BIG" brings, and do my best to push Alex on the swings as much as I can NOW.

Athazagoraphobia - The Fear of Forgetting

I take a lot of pictures. I've captured more than 18,000 images of my children and our lives in the last 12 months alone. (And those are just the ones I've KEPT after editing). In the "olden days" that would have been the equivalent of more than two rolls of 35mm film taken EVERY day. Can you imagine? My husband jokes that I could print all my pictures and put them together to make a flip book that would essentially play a video of our life as the pages were turned.

I realize that's a lot of pictures and many would say I have issues. Which I'm not arguing, but I take a LOT of pictures with good reasons.

1.) I enjoy the art of capturing life's precious moments. I often challenge myself to see things differently and take MANY pictures of the same thing in an effort to get one REALLY good one. Most of my photos are taken just to freeze that moment in time so I can remember it for years to come.

2.) I desperately strive to document each new milestone and the tiniest of quirks for each of my children through pictures (the way Alex squints his eyes when he's smiling REALLY big or the short lived comfort Nathaniel found in sniffing his blanket when he was tired or upset).

3.) Not only that but photos are an easier/less space consuming way to hold onto the little things I adore from their childhood like some of my favorite outfits, the toys they loved most or the adorable giraffe print swing they found comfort in.

Well apparently not everyone gets that about me. Twice in the last 24 hours I have been instructed to put my camera down and just live life. Just live life? I thought that's what I was doing. In fact I'm trying to soak it all in and hold onto it for dear life which is why I'm IN the midst of life 100%, flashing away. I had never thought about the fact that I might actually be missing something by trying so hard not to miss anything. That's seriously disturbing.

Truth be told, I have the world's worst memory and I'm afraid if I don't capture it on film, with time stamp technology/data to remind me of the particulars, that I'll forget the good stuff. That terrifies me. I don't want to forget a thing.

But as desperate as I am to create a scrapbook of my life through pictures, I think what I fear most of all is forgetting what I can't document in pictures or on DVD. The little details. The smell of my babies' skin. The softness of their hair. The way their tiny hands fit in mine, or how cute their toes wiggle when I tickle them. That's the stuff I'm seeing, soaking in, and cherishing out from behind the camera. At least I'm trying to.

I'm not sure if it's a good or bad thing that my kids will inevitably remember me as the woman behind the camera taking pictures of everything they ever did. But I do hope that they also remember that I put the camera down to snuggle them on the couch cushions on the floor, chase them into their bedrooms to hide from the monsters, and give them the world as often as possible.

Be afraid...be VERY afraid.

Fear (n.)

a distressing emotion aroused by impending danger,

evil, pain, etc., whether the threat is real or imagined; the feeling or condition of being afraid.

I live my life in fear. As a mother I'm not sure how NOT to, honestly. Of course I try not to let it reign over me or overshadow my entire life, but it's always there - gnawing at my temples and the back of my neck, trying to get to me.

I fear a lot of things. I fear for my children's physical and emotional safety and I fear that I'm inadvertently failing them miserably. I even fear that they'll grow up sooner rather than later, take wives and forget all about their dear old mother. Ha!

Fear is a funny creature. It lurks quietly in the shadows of your mind almost invisibly, yet has the overwhelming power to completely paralyze you if you turn your back for a second. And there's a very fine, almost nonexistent line between fear and worry. Worry, of course, the vicious vehicle through which fear is expressed and allowed to reign. And worry is an ugly beast all its own.

So this week's Thinkbox Thursday question was fitting for me, the Queen of Fear and Wizard(ess) of Worry.

What were you afraid of as a child? Why? Did this fear follow you into adulthood?

I was afraid of a lot of things as a child but my two biggest fears would unquestionably be fire and wolves (or more accurately just any mean dog). Odd mix, I realize.

The wolf thing was a repetetive bad dream I had as a little girl in which wolves were chasing me and threatening to get me. I believe this was precipitated by a combination of having been scratched by a dog when I was only 4 (requiring many many stitches) and having watched a traumatizing episode of Little House on the Prairie when I was little. As anyone will tell you I'm still not a fan of big dogs that jump up on you, nice or otherwise, and have been known to bristle while viewing the scary wolf scene in Beauty and the Beast. However, I have a pretty good sense these days that wolves will not "get me", as it were, if I step outside my door. And I am proud to say I have read many rather riveting versions of Peter and the Wolf to my three-year-old with nary a tear or hastened heart beat. Thank you very much.

Fire, on the other hand, is a little more serious a fear. When I was very little my mother would send me up to my bedroom everyday to take a nap. I vividly remember this (even though this was almost *gulp* 30 or so years ago). I would head upstairs and methodically start gathering all my worldly possessions - my tiny stuffed koala bear, my favorite footie pajamas and my Holly Hobbie blanket. Then I would position myself, with everything that meant the most to me, at the top of the stairs...and wait. Wait for what, one might ask? Why for the fire to start, of course. You know. The fire that would burn down my house while I was taking a nap. :) So, I would sit positioned at the top of the stairs (every day, for at least an hour or two!) staring at the fire alarm installed above the stairway and watch the red light beep - over, and over, and over again. There, I felt safe. Ready to run down to safety when the fire alarm went off.

I'm not sure if this coincided with fire safety lessons in school or if we had been practicing fire drills or running through Stop, Drop, and Roll demonstrations, but the thought of dying in a fire terrified me. Or worse yet, losing my most prized possessions to a fire. To this day that's one of my biggest fears. I'm not sure if it's because I lost my uncle to a fire even before I was lucky enough to know him. Or maybe it's the complete destruction and sheer devastation a fire can cause at will - single-handedly wiping out your home, your every possession, and sometimes even loved ones in a random act of nature you have little to no control over.

I'm not sure where it comes from but I know it terrifies me. If I could build my house out of the stuff they use to construct the black boxes on airplanes, I'd be the first in line at Home Depot to purchase it. The peace of mind that would buy would be priceless.