Something about a boy

I used to think if I ever had kids I'd have one, a blond-haired, blue-eyed girl. So sure was I of this that when my oldest was born and they handed him to me, my hands started to shake. What was I supposed to do with a boy? We had nothing in common! How would we ever connect?!

Fast forward 12 years: I now have two boys and every day is an adventure, from what they say (Mom, why do girls get mad when I ask how much they weigh?) to what they do (see video).



Gone are their toddler pot-bellies, the silky super-hero capes they used to wear 24/7, the Batman masks I duct-taped to their faces because they kept falling off. Gone, too, are the glow-in-the-dark sunglasses my oldest insisted on wearing to bed for six months, my youngest's inexplicable fear of balloons, not to mention his much-appreciated though short-lived fascination with vacuuming.

Today, they're only angelic when they're asleep, though they won't actually go to sleep until I kiss them good-night.

When they're awake they equally frustrate and test me, arguing with each other and pushing the envelope, not an ounce of angelic in sight. Even so, the older they get the more often I sneak into their rooms late at night to stare at their pinked up cheeks, wondering what else life has in store for them, if they'll be happy, and if they'll ever meet someone who loves them even half as much as I do.

Frame of mind is everything...

I love this print. Matter of fact, I wish I had a copy hanging in my office, that's how much it speaks to me.

From my standpoint, it looks like this guy's walking into a dense fog. That he can't see what's ahead, but he's moving forward anyhow. Of course, it also looks like he may have popped back some whiskey first, but I still admire him. Probably because, at this moment, it seems he's set his mind to a task and will not be swayed from it. I get the sense he'll be okay even if he falls, don't you? That if he does, he'll find the strength to heave himself back up on that wall and keep going.

I admire his frame of mind. Matter of fact, I've decided to adopt it myself. You see, for more than a month now my husband has been ill and we haven't been able to pin down why. I feel as though I've been going through each day like this guy in the print -- teetering to the left and then swaying to the right before struggling to find some kind of balance for my family. Today, though, I've decided I've had enough with all the doom and gloom. As my husband keeps telling me, I need to change my frame of mind and look at things differently.

By the way, when I asked what he saw when he looked at this print, he said: "Looks like a guy who got pulled over for drinking and now he's walking a sobriety test line, why?"

Not hard to tell who writes fiction in our family, huh?