Is the grass really greener?

Of all the things I don't understand in this world, I am most perplexed by the "grass is greener" syndrome. Ok, men...but that's another story. Why do we always want what we can't have? Case in point; all the women I know who had boys wanted the opposite and vise versa. Except Miss Becca, who desperately wanted a girl so therefore assumed she'd have a boy. She had girl, which naturally I had wanted. My little Amelia.

Yesterday Becca wrote about how, despite original desires, we end up with just what we need. As usual, she's right. While she rolls on tights and plays with pigtails I throw on jeans and go. While her daughter pushes dolly around the house in the stroller, my son tries to dismantle the lamp. Oh, and the living room. For he is a fire ball of energy, constantly on the move. Rough and tumble, that one. Turns the whole world into his personal jungle gym, and every moment brings the opportunity to explore a new adventure.

If I weren't so exhausted trying to be a single working mom, the same could be said of me. In fact, my boy reminds me so much of myself it's uncanny. He looks like me; same hair, same smile. Same wicked little grin and matching dimples. But that's only the beginning. He's strong yet gentle. Pure and simple. Forever forgiving. The worlds best snuggler. Happy, hyper and wholesome. He is his Mama's boy.

Funny thing, I always pictured myself with a boy. And single. Probably more a self fulfilled prophecy than something deeply insightful. Even funnier; I always wanted a girl because I thought she'd be so sweet. Now I can't imagine a kid sweeter than Hayden, who grabs both my cheeks to get my attention before planting a big smack right on my lips. "MMM-bah! Hayden kisses melt my heart.

So, for now I'll leave the dresses, bows and pinkness to Rebecca. She's good with those things. As for me? I'm gonna slip on an old pair of jeans and go.

So what do you do when it's easy?

I always thought the third time was a charm. Whether or not it's foolish to believe in that type of thing, I got over it. On to guy four; here's to making it to my list of Mr seriouses'. Unless the first one doesn't count. Which I can come up with several very good reasons as to why he shouldn't, such as I was under age and he was a child molester. But hey, on a positive note, that would mean this is my third and it could be a charm and I can go on writing this without the subtle cynic that sometimes sits on my shoulder. Except that we're still so new, I'd hate to jinx us. No pressure.

It's just that, we've been hanging out for a bit now. If I was forced to sum it up in three words, I'd say fun, mellow, and steady. A far cry from Mr Psycho, Mr Selfish, and Mr sainara. I keep waiting for that feeling; you know the one you tell to shut up because staying along for the ride seems easier than trusting your instincts which scream "Run! Fast and far and into the opposite direction!" I'd recognize that. I'd know how to handle that.

But this. This is all new for me. I have spent the last year or so getting friendly with myself and I actually enjoy being alone. I don't need some new guy to step up to the plate. But it's nice that he does. I'm pretty sure I can handle it. So I'll accept this change as good and relax into the easiness. He doesn't seem to be going anywhere.

Oh Lord give me strength to see through the Erythrom...

Oh my, my. Pink eye. I try consistantly to see the world through rose colored glasses, but this is ridiculous! Three days I've spent trying not to smile in fear of looking stoned. It's distracting. I have faith it'll clear up so I can go back to making money. Who knew the ole job would kick you out for oddly colored eyeballs...?
As for faith, I've been thinking about mine lately. I'm a christian. At least a mediocre one. Still learning, and always growing...but I believe. In something. In God, I think? In the ten commandments, for sure. In the Golden Rule. I want to believe in heaven and hell. It's depressing not too. What happens to us when we die, if all that is untrue?
My friends are a religious variety pack. I have a Luke-warm humanist, pun intended. A couple of Wicans. A karma-nite. I even work with a Muslim. Sorting out my beliefs among so many can be a bit daunting. I guess ignorance is bliss. Little beknowest to you, I consider myself a fairly intelligent person. Im not Einstein or anything, but Im no average joe. I am a bright candle on this earth shaped cake, and this little light of mine...I'm gonna let it shine. So I'll make it my personal mission to become more wordly about religion. So, if anyone has a little knowledge that could come in handy, please feel free to share.

One Little Thing...

My favorite peice of jewelry is one I haven't yet been given. It represents so much more than a promise; it symbolizes a man whose genuinely good heart wins me over by loving me unconditionally, caring for my son as his own, being forever respectful to other people, never lifting so much as his voice ...let alone a fist, and always being able to inspire laughter deep in my soul. I would cherish his ring, his love, and his heart.

Fear Less

This evening, I wept as I read the following words which, for almost a year have been stashed away in a folder of old feelings. I came upon them by mere happenstance, and am shocked to discover how overwhelming they still are, after nearly a year of lying low.

Lonely doesn't begin to cover it
I'm scared. Of lots of things really; the dark when I'm walking alone through it, failing at something new, anything to do with change, losing things I care about, not being in control of my life. Right now, all those things are happening to me at once. Tomorrow, I have to carry my baby into a sterile room, empty of everything including love, lay him on the table, and leave without him. I don't think I can, but I have to. I know that lonlely doesn't begin to cover the emptiness that will take his place. I miss him already! I never want him be so far away that he cant' see me whenever he wants to, so far that I can't hear him laugh or cry. So far that I can't touch him at all. I never want a tear to fall from his beautiful eyes that I can't kiss away. But I know that, as scared as I might be, I have to believe...to have faith...everything will be okay. Everything is happening now for a reason. I trust in that. And I trust that, when my baby needs me more than he ever has, and I can't be there with him...God will be. When I should be able to hold his little hand and kiss his little lips and rub his little nose against mine, God will reach down from heaven and give him an even more special touch. God is gonna wrap his mighty hand around Haydens tiny heart and let the doctors here heal it. And that means everything. In the end, isn't that worth facing fear?

April 25th of last year, my whole world lay in the crummy hand of cards I was hours away from laying on the table. Seems like yesterday, and yet...when I brought my little miracle in for his one year photos and upon removal of his shirt the photographer asked if he'd had some operation...it took me a moment to remember.

Of course, yes. He has. I have by no means forgotten. But Haydens dimples, his devilish laughter, and his double chin no longer remind me of how small and frail he once was. If anything, he seems more than ever bound and determined to prove that nothing can stop him.
Hell, these days I'd settle for slowing him down. I guess that's expecting a lot from a kid who wanted to wrestle two days after open heart surgery. Some things never change.

Still, with time, most things do. These days, I worry over bumped heads and temper tantrums instead of weight gain and test results. Maybe on the rare occassion that he sleeps too long my brain assumes the worst, but I no longer fear daily that my baby might not get the chance to grow up. Nothing like an early near death experience to mellow out the high strung.

I listed a handful of fears in the beginning of last years blog that barely tipped the iceberg of the ones hidden in my heart. Yet even that number seems small considering I can't even begin to count the number of "fear not's" written in the bible. Which leads me to the belief that God wishes us to be unafraid. To claim myself fearless would be nothing less than a lie, but I try harder each day to fear less.