Long-term Commitment

I can remember being in high school and creating my “resume” for college. All it included was the clubs and teams I was part of, my limited work experience consisting of Old Navy, yet I still looked at it and thought, “this will show how dedicated I am to things I am involved in.”  Commitment can be a relative term or experience.  Today, especially in people my age, people change careers, move often, get divorced, remarried and divorced again, all before they’re middle-aged; so when I’ve been with the same person for almost thirteen years, married for six, and working at the same place for six years it's easy to start thinking, “wow I am one committed person.”  But then your parents, annoying as they can be, go and show you that you haven't even begun to commit yet.  And that is precisely what this past weekend showed me. 

Friday afternoon we hopped in the car and cruised down to Long Island, that is until we actually reached the Island- because then we creeped. Ever so slowly. We were headed to my mom’s retirement party.   Timing left us with a parking-lot wardrobe change but we still managed to clean up nicely.  

We made our way into a beautiful party, at a beautiful place, honoring a beautiful woman that gave 21 years of service to the same elementary school.  It was amazing to see so many people come together to show their appreciation, people who have long retired and those who have only just begun their own careers. There was laughter, a few tears, and a lot of dancing-especially from the under five crowd.

But 21 years, man.  Only sixteen years for me to go to beat that.  No big deal. 

As if a career with that type of longevity isn’t enough to aspire to, today my parents celebrate their 35th wedding anniversary.  Today, what with inflation and everything-especially when the odds are stacked against you with divorce rates that's like, forever. Their relationship has never been perfect and I’m sure there have been times when they didn't like each other very much, but it was always real.  That’s what love is.  And if nothing else it taught me that you don’t just walk away from something because it can get hard sometimes.  After this last year and a half that is a lesson that wasn’t lost on me when it came to my own marriage.

So, not that it’s a competition, and I’m not at all competitive (*cough*cough*) but if I were, I'd say that the bar is set pretty high.  Hopefully, this type of commitment runs in the blood and that it will come naturally to me.  More than likely though, it takes some hard work and a crap-ton of patience-applying to both the job and the husband, of course!

The Little Girl Who Outshines the Sun

Dear Kennedy,

You are four today.  FOUR! That just doesn’t seem possible.  How can it be that it was four years ago that Daddy’s world and mine became brighter and more colorful than we could ever have imagined possible?  But it’s true- you are four.  I know you can’t read this yet and maybe when you can you will roll your beautiful blue eyes at me for being so mushy and embarrassing you on the Internet. 

I hope every night when you lay your head on your pillow at night, after I’ve come in three or five times for you to tell me something or give you a drink or even so you can give me one last hug or kiss that you feel how loved you are; that daddy and I are doing a good job of letting you know how precious you are to us.

I hope when you look back at the pictures from your birthday party this past Saturday I pray you will be able to see how much everyone that knows you adores you.  When I watched your little face as everyone was singing to you, seeing you embarrassed for the first time, I could have melted into a puddle on the floor.  To see you running around and playing, laughing, and squealing with happiness is what fueled me through the weekend.

You are the reason Mommy can get out of bed sometimes.  Like on Sunday, Mother's Day, when I felt a sadness deep in my bones missing your baby brother, and thought about staying in bed all day, I herd you yell, “Hey Mama?”- you breathed life back into me; just like that.  Your voice speaks to my heart, telling it that it will all be ok, that I will make it through this day. We went to the cemetery to Jack’s special spot and I feel guilty for bringing you to a cemetery sometimes but even there you amaze me; the way you talk to Jack like he is sitting right beside you.  When you wrapped your skinny little arms around my neck and gave me the card with the picture you drew on the envelope and said, “it's me, you, Daddy, AND baby Jack,” for a moment it all felt complete.

I say a “moment”, and it breaks my heart because I don't ever want you to think you weren't enough.  Because the fact of the matter is, sweet girl, without you I never could have made it this last year and change.  You saved my life.

You are such a special child.  You are wise beyond your four years.  I am so lucky to be able to call myself your mama and, really, lucky doesn't even seem to describe it well enough.  Every day of these past four years has felt like a grand adventure with you and it makes me look forward to what every day will bring.  There is no other way to explain it expect to say that, to me, you outshine the sun.

You are my everything, baby girl.  Happy, happy birthday.

Love your guts,

Mommy