Beginnings

My son has a girlfriend. They've been going out since June, the end of grade 6 - it's now December and I took him shopping last night so he could buy her a Christmas gift. He chose a beautiful necklace and earring set. He also picked out a card.

I've always tried to keep an open-communication kind of relationship with him and because of that I was able to ask a slightly sensitive question, but one I wanted an answer to: "Do you love her?" He replied, "Yes. She's beautiful and smart."

That got me thinking about first, young love and how simple it seems to fall in love when you are 12, 16 or 18 years old. I think back to my first loves and when I get over the shock that they happened more than 20 years ago, I feel sweetness and innocence, something one truly can't understand or appreciate the loveliness of until you are older.

I used to believe in soul mates, that there was only that one perfect-for-me person in the world and we would fall in love and be together forever. And he'd have green eyes just like mine. What I believe now is that there are meant-to-be people at certain points in your life and sometimes they do have green eyes and sometimes, now matter how painful it is, it turns out to be a different person than the one you just spent 6 months or a year with.

I know that at some point in the not too distant future either my son will break this girl's heart or she will break his and this is only the beginning for him, and I hope and wish that it won't happen, but it's a part of life. I also know that he will survive it to love again and again until one day he meets that one person he will want to spend the rest of his life with.

It's a magical thing when that happens. Oh, and as I predicted (ie., wished upon a zillion stars) years ago? My 7-years-and-running-made-for-me-love has green eyes.

Just like mine.

Tired-er Than I Thought

It's 9:00 p.m., all three children are asleep and while my body is exhausted my brain won't slow down. I am basically awake from 3:30 a.m. until I go to bed at night - this has been going on for the past few weeks, due to, you know, giving birth WITHOUT PAIN MEDICATION eight short weeks ago and newborn babies' eating habits.

The burst of energy, fueled by exhilaration, generated from giving birth lasted until last week. That energy enabled me to get up after breastfeeding during the night to fix the older two their breakfast, help them get ready for school and out the door in time for the bus, at which point it's time to nurse the baby again.

I'm now tired. Which means I'm slightly snappish and wishing for more sleep, more coffee and an iron will which would boot my soft ass downstairs to work out. Instead, I'm crying at the drop of a hat, generally preceeded by looking at my infant daughter and realizing just how quickly this time is passing and I can do nothing to slow it down, to keep her a baby forever; and when there are a few free minutes, I know I should be exercising, but the laundry is piling up, the house needs to be vacuumed, and if the damn dog doesn't stop that constant paw-licking-sound I'm going to seriously lose my fucking mind.

Protective Older Brother

After seeing the Gap Kids holiday commercial tonight, you know, the one with the gaggle of little girls doing a cheer in colorful sweaters, my 12-year-old son made the following comment:

"Those girls are WAY too young to be moving their hips like that."

I could not have said it better.