On Motherhood and all the love I never thought I could muster in my heart

My journey to motherhood wasn’t easy. I tried getting pregnant at age 35, after marrying at age 34. It wasn’t so much that I wanted to wait, but my then husband and I had agreed we would only try for a baby after (1) I was gainfully employed and (2), we had a place of our own.

It took us just under two years to get both done. Two miscarriages preceded my full pregnancy, so it was a roller coaster ride seeing it to fruition. When I finally made it past the first trimester, I did all I could to make sure this one made it through to delivery. I even refused an amniocentesis for fear that the pin prick puncture of the amniotic sac would lead to a miscarriage. And more importantly, we told our obstetrician even if we found out there was something wrong with our baby, we would still see it to full term.

Eighteen years ago today, I was induced to deliver and finally held my infant son in my arms after 15 minutes of active labor. After delivering a 9.5 lb., 21.5 inch baby, I became my obstetrician’s poster child for normal delivery. It wasn’t easy battling the gestational diabetes and all the other complications of a late pregnancy, but determination and prayers got me to the finish line with no issues.

The boy is now 18 years — a legal adult in some parts although New York pegs the age of majority as 21. He is a grown man now, almost a full head taller than me, with fingers longer by almost an inch when we hold our palms face to face.

He still calls out “I love you, Mum” from out of nowhere, and would sometimes knock at my door as I’m about to sleep and ask for a hug, bending down to rest his head on my chest. When I walk in the door at the end of the day, he calls out and asks if I need help, meeting me at the door of the stairs to carry my bags up the steps.

We’ve gotten into a somewhat funny dynamic of him calling me when he thinks I would be on the bus already, asking where I am at, and what time I will be home. I have kiddingly asked him if he’s my dad with the tone he takes..

There was one night I went out, and I found him dozing off in the living room when I came home at past 2am. I asked him why he didn’t go and sleep in his room, and he meekly said he was waiting for me.

While all is not perfect in our world— he is a teenager, after all — I’ve been lucky to have raised a caring and sensitive child who has respect for his elders. Sometimes I find him pushing the envelope, but when I push back, he knows better than to nudge again. More importantly, during those moments when he knows he was in the wrong or that he had offended me, he knows to say sorry and make things right.

Sometimes, I look at him when he’s deep into a game or as he strums his guitar, or as he eats the dinner I cooked with such gusto — and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride in seeing this human being in front of me. And the love I feel is just beyond words.

My world has always revolved around him — so much so that I chose to stay here in the US instead of going back home when my marriage fell apart. When we were finally uncoupled, the world I rebuilt had him at the center of it all. And he still is. It’s just that he is entering into a new phase of his life— stepping out into the real world and pursuing his dreams. And that impending departure has me reevaluating things and the way I see the future.

I’m trying not to hold on to him too tightly to pull him back— because I know I cannot do that. So as much as that is a day I fear, I know I love him enough to let him go and conquer the world on his own. And while I would give anything to be right there with him every step of the way, I know that the best I can really do is just be here, ready to help when he calls out for me.

I have always told him no matter what he chooses, I will find a way to get him there. And yes, even if that means he ventures farther out and further away from me, I will even hold his hand to show him the way.

One of the moms whose reflections on Mother’s Day today resonated with me reminded us that a mother’s love knows no end— and time and again I have known that to be true. It may be the toughest job in the world, and for all the heartaches and obstacles that came my way, I would do it all over again to have this light in my life. Without skipping a heartbeat, I would say yes to going through it all, all over again.

This Mother’s Day was his birthday. And like I tell him, his coming into my life was the best Mother’s Day gift — ever.

Motherhood

On Facebook, I wrote:

“Happy birthday to my one and only forever love, who came into my world 18 years ago. I am blessed every single day with your love and presence in my life. I am always here for you and will just be here ready to support you every step of the way. Know that mama loves you always— even when you talk to me like you’re my Dad, asking me what time I’m going to be home(!).

And don’t forget our acceptance speech when the time comes for you to go up that stage— a reminder that at age 17, I told you never to underestimate your abilities and say you will probably not do anything great enough. You have already surprised us at this young age, what more when you go out there to conquer the world. Happy birthday, Anak. Love you more… always.. in all ways.”

A love like no other

Everyone who knows me knows my world revolves around this little guy who has been the love of my life for the last 10 years. From the moment he came out into this world, my life was changed forever. Although I would discover later that it had changed even more than I had perceived, and it appears that his entry into my life had caused a drastic change in other parts of my world I didn’t even see, I would not trade his being a part of my life for anything else. No matter what challenges I have faced or am facing, knowing I have him in my life changes the face of the game.  I look at him and I know I’m in a good place.

I pride myself in teaching him to be outwardly affectionate and expressive of what he feels.  It’s not always easy and he is not the same way with everyone else, but that has given me precious rewards like a poster with scribblings of various declarations of love for his Mommy.
Love like no other

So forget that he missed out on a word or two — I get the point.  Unfortunately, my son didn’t inherit my penmanship but I’m not complaining.  And for my son to know my birth date and birth year shows my History professor-to-be has a knack for dates like I used to at his age.  (Dates and phone numbers were easy for me, just don’t make me do Math please.)
Love like no other

Naturally, the Dad was jealous as can be, but the boy told him there was only one poster board.  (We shall scramble for another.)

Love like no other

I like these little surprises he springs on me — for no reason at all, except that he thought of it one afternoon.  I wish I could frame the entire poster but it was half a sheet.  So I took snapshots instead and might frame one of these.  I have a knack for keeping his scribblings and projects — and even at just 10, he marvels at my memory box which contains a lock of his hair, his belly button stump, his first onesie, and all that stuff.   When I can, I incorporate his works into my art journal.

Precious words from the 10-year-old who lights up my world and warms my heart.  Forever, son. #motherhood #motherandson #dinnagon #angelogon #love #anak

A friend on Facebook commented the above was so eloquently said.  I couldn’t have phrased it better.  I am proud that my son’s heart has the eloquence to show what it feels — and I am heartened as that bodes well for him when he grows up.  That’s a precious gift that I hope I can continue to nurture.  One day, he will love others — and I want him to be able to express that love the same way he has expressed his love for his current “love of his life — his Mommy.”

Children come into our lives and we are never the same again.  After two miscarriages, I was almost ready to accept that I would not be given that precious gift until he came.  My pregnancy was very challenging with gestational diabetes and all, but when he came out into this world, I forgot about all those challenges and focused on this new life I gave birth to.

He is the reason I am still around, and hope to be around for years to come.  I look at him and I see that I have been blessed.  Forget about the heartaches and the disappointments — he makes it all worth it.  He alone makes the negative seem trivial compared to all the joy he exudes and the love he gives.  I reach out to touch him and I feel an overwhelming reassurance that everything will be okay.  I know his love is like no other.

 

Life Lessons

My little guyI took Monday morning off from work to join my 10-year-old in school because it was Student Organization elections.  He was running for Vice President which was one of the two positions alotted to fifth graders like him.  He had run for Secretary last year but had not made it past the class eliminations, and he took that loss with a grain of salt and said it was okay.

This year, he made it past the class eliminations and was one of 4 candidates (2 from each fifth grade class) vying for the position.  Of course, I was the proud mom.  I created flyers and posters which, unfortunately, we were not allowed to use.  (” Mrs. G, it’s not fair for us to allow your son to use professionally made posters — it puts the other kids to a disadvantage, ” I was told… no flyers either, because the other kids didn’t have any of them.)    The father was up in arms arguing that his son was ‘thinking out of the box’.  Me, I just stood back and enjoyed their enthusiasm for the school elections.  I’ve been through a couple of those in my day, and I was just the one pulling the outfit and the props together.  Father and son worked on the speech.

Election day was Monday, the 3rd.  Unfortunately for the Dad, he had to fly off to a conference in Vegas.  I hied down to the school, took my seat, whipped out my iPhone when his turn came and shot the video.  He was one of only 2 male candidates in a total slate of 16, looking dapper in his suit jacket.  I warned him not to flip his hair for the girls, something I was told elicits some giggles when he does.  (My son, the heart throb.)

When I came in, his buddies all waved at me and assured me they were voting for him.  Even the girls from the class.  Our biggest stumbling block is that one of the three girls he was competing against was one of the popular girls.  (Who, incidentally, was “his first” — girlfriend, that is — in kindergarten, until she smacked him in the face. LOL)  Well, popular girl won.

I got a call at the usual hour when he gets home, and my first mistake, I think, was that I asked, “Do I have a Vice President?”  Then silence.  And there was silence and sniffling for maybe the next 3 minutes.  I put on my mommy hat and went on to try and comfort my little guy.  I reminded him I had warned him about the possibility of losing, to which he always said he was finewith.  Disappointment can be such a heavy burden to bear, more so in a competitive exercise like an election.  Winning can be euphoric and intoxicating — I’ve been there.  But losing can cut through the heart, and I’ve been there, too.

I was at work, and he was home.  I didn’t know how to comfort this young heart as I heard it breaking.  He called again a few minutes later, and there was 5 minutes of silence — tears were flowing on the other end.  Nothing I said seemed to make a difference.  So I just let him cry.  It’s one of those moments when you wish you could whip out something from your magic hat and make everything alright.  I asked him if he wanted something special for dinner, but he just said he didn’t even have an appetite.  (Mom’s heart breaking again.)

I reminded him he had said he would be fine if he lost — but he told me between sobs that he thought there was a chance he would win, and he really thought he could.  In all honesty, I did, too.  But I’m the eternal optimist.  Hearing him crying on the other end of the line made me wonder, though, if I should have tempered my optimism with a little more caution against losing to help him deal with that possibility when it happened.

Sigh.

For all the tears shed, I am grateful for the lesson this whole exercise has taught him.  Sometimes we try to protect and shield our children from the evils and pains of the world — but there are lessons that they must learn on their own if they are to make it in the dog-eat-dog world out there.  Disappointment and loss are two things that are very hard to deal with even for us, grown ups.  Even in small doses, they can be tough on a 10-year-old’s heart.  But they must be dealt with, they must be experienced.  They have to be faced head on, because in life, there will be bigger disappointments and losses.

He’s okay now.  We even shot a video of him “serenading” me with Minnie Ripperton’s “Never Existed Before”.  He gamely sang falsetto (!) and danced as he performed knowing he was being filmed.  I was so surprised he knew most of the lyrics, but then, I shouldn’t be given I play that song over and over again as a pick-me-up song in the morning.

Another life lesson learned.  Taking off my mommy hat now to get to the city and go into my “other” job.

How you have grown

Blog graphicToday was the first day of school in New York City.  As always, we packed the school supplies, labeled and ready for turnover to his teacher.  In the morning, we went to the assembly yard and found his new class and lined up.  We waited.

In previous years, we would then trek to their classroom and deposit the additional supplies, listen to some welcome remarks from the teachers and then hurry back out and on with our day.  Today, the teacher did us a favor and told us it didn’t make sense for us to go up to the third floor just to deposit what the kids  could easily carry.  She then instructed the children to take the extra shopping bags of supplies from us and off they went.

My boy is now in Fifth grade.  Wow.

Of course, it’s not lost on me that he no longer wants to hold my hand nor kiss me or be kissed in plain view of his schoolmates.  This, even as he refused to let me go when I had him in line with his friends.  I guess there’s still that part of him which actually can’t let go of Mom.  Thankfully.

He called me (one in around 5 calls before I finally reunite with him at home) and calls me”His delight.”  Sometimes he’d say, “Mom, won’t you be a dear..” followed by some trivial request.  He knows how to butter me up even if he knows he really doesn’t need to. It’s just the way he is.

I’m having one of those “I wish you wouldn’t grow up so fast” evenings.  I’m really exhausted after a long day at work and I have forms to fill out for school.  Later.  Or tomorrow if I manage to haul myself off the bed early enough.  (Where there’s a will, there’s a way.)  Maybe it’s the glass of wine I had while having my spicy steak dinner.  Whatever it is, I wish he’d always stay a boy… alas, that’s yet another facet of life I have no control over.

I must give in and relent.  Go with the flow.

I was watching him watching something on his iPad earlier and I looked at him viewing it with rapt attention.  Until he noticed me looking.. he thought I had said something and he took off his earphones. Nothing, I said. I was just watching my little guy and saying out loud, “Oh, how you’ve grown.”

 

 

 

In the middle of…

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I have spent the better part of a half hour trying to fix these photos and I know when it’s time to give up.  More so after I had written a whole post which disappeared on me without saving on the same topic.  Let it be, I tell myself.

I created these pieces between the weekend and the past couple of nights — and although I haven’t gotten back to them to give them a more definite form, “beginning a piece” is a welcome development.  Beginning something means having something to finish.

The top most piece is a necklace which I will probably do lariat length — to be worn double looped around the neck. It’s simply a random rosary-style stringing of 8 types of blue beads from agate to dyed jade. I left it with around a third undone. So almost there.

The second is a design I am trying to follow from Bead Magazine and I’m just so thrilled to be able to finally use these serpentine beads I had bought a while back. I had around 3 strands because they were on sale, and although they’re not flashy nor colorful, I like the muted green and how earthy it feels when I look at them. Still in progress as I try to decide what I will put in the middle as a suitable focal.

The earrings above, believe it or not, came upon me half an hour before midnight — and no, I didn’t hesitate to go back to my work station and try to do what I thought up in my already sleepy head.  It’s an initial idea — not quite the finished product.  I have quite a few of these top-drilled faceted tear drop beads which I had purchased in the hopes of pulling them together into colorful dainty pieces.  These are the earth-tones.  I have a few pastel colored beads to play around with as well.

And I’ve been art journaling again. Or simply journaling, actually. Too many things to write about and I want to seriously catch up after slacking off the past couple of weeks. I really felt bad about not being able to touch my altered book that I had foregone my Friday Five the last week (or is two?) but it will be back tomorrow — promise.

Another weekend is here and school’s over. And after Monday, half the year is gone. Has it been that long since we greeted 2014?

I feel like I’ve been stuck — but time continues to fly. Next year, Angelo will be in Fifth grade.. can you believe that? Sometimes I watch him and look at him from afar and I actually say it out loud — please don’t grow up too fast.

Unfortunately, that is something we parents have no control over. My little guy is growing up so fast. I am grateful for that and also wistful at the thought that my baby is no longer the helpless little child he used to be.

Another weekend and he has been saying no to half the things we propose to make it an interesting weekend for all of us. He said no to the waterpark… which means no outlet for me. And I don’t really mind that. I am happy to see him developing his preferences. It shows that he has a mind of his own now.

I will hopefully be able to finish a necklace or two and photograph it for the shop. I am craving to photograph the pieces on a live model, but that’s a little tricky to negotiate. My necklace display stand is upstairs, or I can stick to a simpler studio set up just to show how it hangs. Maybe.

Sleep beckons. That’s it for me. Or else I might yet get another half-hour-before-midnight flash of inspiration and get creating. Happy (almost) Friday to all!
 

Morning walk to school

It’s one of those days when I have to bring Angelo to school, and it wasn’t a bad day for a walk despite the allergens that caught up with me just as I got on the bus. That 7 minute trek is always a refreshing way to start the day, whether it’s trudging through the snow, fighting off the wind and parrying the rain or just a regular walk like today.

Sometimes it makes me wax nostalgic as I recall how different he was in previous years. How he wouldn’t let go of my hand before and how he would rather just walk beside me now. Or how we used to stop periodically so he could get a kiss from me and how he now prefers to get his kiss from mom a few feet away (the farther the better) from the school’s front door.

Our talks have changed dramatically except that our conversations are still peppered with “I love you, Mama.” No matter that he no lingers turns around to give me one last look as he goes into the school, I continue to make sure he gets inside the building before I turn and walk away.

Time flies by so fast. I count the days and see him changing day to day. I’m glad that I’m able to savor every little bit of my little guy — from his funny wit to his never-ending demonstration of affection. We celebrated his 10th birthday last week with a simple cupcake party and I recall the other years we did it. The glow on his face afterwards on the way back home was so precious — he was smiling from ear-to-ear and he said “That was a good birthday, Mama.”

I look at him as he sleeps at night and I see that everything I have done in my life is worth it as I have been rewarded with his unconditional love and devotion. This Mother’s Day he gave me a handwritten card. Among other things, the most striking thing he wrote which I hold as forever precious is “Nothing will tear us apart.”

I feel so blessed. Why am I grumbling about what pain I feel or what burden I carry? At the end of the day, it’s his love that matters, and I know I have that.

Art Journal Every Day: My little guy turns 10

I’ve been struggling a little with getting on with the art journaling. It’s mostly been sitting on my bedside table untouched the last couple of days, so I had quite a bit to catch up on. The weekend somehow gave me the chance to do an entry and a half (the other one still in progress), and I’m happy to be art journaling again.

This page had a totally different background before I started working on it again. I wasn’t quite happy with a white page I had stamped on primarily because the pigment ink was “staining” the opposite page.  Gesso to the rescue!  I put on a thin layer to cover the previous watercolor/stamping, and although some of the blue on the right hand page seeped through, I think it covered it pretty well, allowing me to use ink spray to create a totally different background.  It was “muted” by the gesso and the direct application, but I like the effect after everything had dried.

It made the masking tape holding the page together more obvious — I needed to do some book first aid with the binding falling apart on me, but I think that added to the layout’s charm.

Art Journal Every Day: Celebrating my boy’s 10th birthday by doing a spread with his traced hand on one side and mine on the other. Still a work in progress. I haven’t been too good with the “every day” part of the project but trying to catch up.

With my little guy turning 10 last Thursday, I’ve had a very busy week.  Goodie bags had to be packed, the cupcakes bought, and then I hied down to school for a 20 minute appearance that saw him beaming.  As we walked home together, he proudly told me it was a good birthday.  That was precious..

His birthday will always be very special to me because it marked a very big change in my life.  While I wasn’t even aware until the last couple of months of how much more profound that change actually was, I cannot be more grateful for the blessing of having this little guy as my son.  He truly makes everything worth it.

I’ve tried to make it a habit to do outlines of his hand through the years just to show how he’s growing, and I journaled within the outline of his, and zentangled mine.  (Yes, all patterns were taken from official patterns for zentangling.)

I have only a few copic markers which I used to write the text around the actual journaling,    and while I was reluctant to “fill up” the page, it felt quite bare without the other text.  I wanted it to be busy and “full”…An entry all about my little boy who isn’t so little anymore. The palm of his hand is almost the same size as mine — but I like the feel of holding his tinier hand because it still makes me feel like the mom holding that hand in mine.

Time flies, indeed! I keep telling him I wish he wouldn’t grow up so fast. I feel like the passing of time will see him drift away as he grows up and joins the world out there. That is both frightful and terribly exciting for me as a mother.

He has been such a gift to me. Every day, I thank God and I pray He keep him safe.
Art Journal Every Day- in sequenceMeanwhile, here’s the half-done (not quite) page I’ll be working on next.  There was a three-inch gash tearing through the binding, so I thought I would remedy that by pasting these paper pieced doddled flowers I had inserted into the back of the book for use somewhere within the journal.  And here they are. More on this journal entry later.

Mother's Day layout

 

Parenting a 9-year-old in the age of “Falling Skies” and “Walking Dead”

I thought that would make for a catchy title — and a meaningful one at that since these are the two favorite shows of my little tyke.  Well, he’s not so little anymore.  I’m 5’2″ and the top of his head is as tall midway between my chin and my lower lip.  The pediatrician said he grew 3 inches from July of last year to this one.  I am counting summers now until I will end up looking up at him when I talk to him.  Before long, I’ll be the smaller member of the family.

School just started and the state test results have come out, and related to that, we got a note from the school office requesting he do two days of extended classes a week.  I didn’t see the letter until he was asleep — as I went through his notebooks and homework and planner to make sure he had done them all, and that he did them correctly.  Check.

I read the letter.  I read it again.

I was alarmed.  It wasn’t so much that he was being asked — his results surprised me more so since he got higher in Math than in English — but it was because I knew he would be disappointed.  I didn’t expect he would be so emotional about it, though, when I told him the next morning.  There were tears.  I felt the heaviness in his heart.  It was one of those moments when a parent wished he or she could be the one to suffer instead of the precious child.

I let out a deep sigh.  I tried my best to sound positive.  We walked to school with the same casual banter and laughter the three days before.  But as we entered school, I could see the heaviness in his heart.  I waited for the Vice-Principal and we discussed my concerns.  His grades were more than just good, but his test results took them by surprise.  He wasn’t one of those they expected to perform below par.  I told them that wasn’t what was bothering me.

My son was very disappointed and depressed.  He was sad.  I didn’t want him to be overcome by frustration.  He asked me, “Am I not smart, mommy?”

I told him it was precisely because he was smart and the results didn’t show that that is why the school is trying their best to figure out how to help him best.  It turns out that the extended day was mandated by the school board.  Although it was “optional” according to the letter I was given, the state was going to require it moving forward.  (Apparently, that memo hadn’t been sent out yet.)

How do you tell a 9-year-old boy that he’s doing more than just fine — that he was no less smarter than he was for being asked to do the extra hours — and that he could do better?  He told me he teared up in the boy’s room in the middle of the day.  He was tearful again when he called me when he got home.

My heart is breaking into pieces.

This evening we spoke again, and he put his arms around my neck in a tight hug.  Although that would normally comfort me, I sensed it comforted him more to hold on to me.  I told him it might not even last half the year.  They just need to assess where his needs are.

I tried my hardest to explain that the kids in extended day were not dumb — they simply needed a bit more help at times.

I could have said no and declined the offer.  But that would be the easy way out and might end up as a disservice to securing a good future for him.  This was one disappointment I knew I needed to let him face.  We always want to protect our children — that’s why we often end up spoiling them.  But he needs this if only to see how much better he can do — and that is something I need him to discover for himself.

It’s going to be a long weekend as I know he’ll be asking more questions.. seeking more reassurances.

I’m trying to convince myself he’ll be fine.  As a mother, worrying is second nature to me.  Another audible sigh.

There are obstacles that we need to hurdle and journeys we need to take to get to our destiny.  That’s a tad bit too profound to tell him right now.  But in 9-year-old speak, it can simply be said with an “I love you.”  It gets a bit complicated when the 9-year-old gets to ponder the implications of a zombie apocalypse or an alien invation. Somehow something as simple as extended days in school can be too emotional a hurdle for him to get over.  But that’s what moms and dads are for — we lift them up over the hurdle and get them running again.

That’s me doing a “Rick” or a “Professor” — leading the charge, inspiring the troops on.

The Last Blooms of Summer

Saturday evening and it’s minutes to midnight (again). I’m ready to head off to la-la land and I’m looking at a rather early start tomorrow. First day of Sunday school. So I guess sleeping in is not an option. Well, I can always take a nap in the afternoon. That’s tomorrow.

I took these pictures last week as an ode to the end of summer. It’s gotten chilly and I’m getting my fabric scarves washed and ready, and I have to start prepping the fall gear. Summer over? You bet it is.

The days are shorter… the mornings are nippy. And the trees are no longer as deep a green as they are in the thick of summer.

Last blooms of summer

The work calendar also tells me that the days are moving faster now, as if we had picked up the pace and started walking briskly to the end of another year. And the “ber” months are here. In the Philippines, Christmas begins when September comes.. we have one of the longest holiday seasons in the world. But that’s looking forward to what’s yet to come… my favorite time of the year: Christmas.

Last blooms of summer

I almost hate myself for having forgotten my Auntie Lydia’s birthday. My dear, dear Auntie Lydia who was like a second mother to me. She passed over 20 years ago, but she was such a part of my life that even after all these years, I miss her dearly.

And the end of August was also my older brother’s birthday. He who is the one I never knew but whose absence in my life creates a vacuum so big that I had to steer clear of writing about him this year. July and August have been very heavy remembering emotional losses. September, I hope, will bring a renewal of spirit and hope.

Last blooms of summer

I’m trying not to stress out about the fact that the boy is asking me what we have planned tomorrow. The truth is, I don’t really have a plan. It’s just him and me for the next couple of days, including the school opening for New York on Monday.

I thought I’d avoid the stress of knowing I had to rush to work after being late by taking the mornings off. This way I can rest between the walk to and from school before heading in the opposite direction to take the bus to Manhattan.

I can’t believe he’s now entering the fourth grade. =) Typing that made me smile. My boy is another year older, and when people ask me how old he is, I proudly say “9 going on 19.” I almost don’t want to see him grow up so fast, and yet I marvel at the person he’s become.

He’s worried he might be asked to recite the Apostle’s Creed tomorrow and I had to reassure him it was just an orientation. Every possibility I had offered him doesn’t sound appealing, it seems, more so because it would mean taking the bus, local or express. I even offered him a trip to the city after we fed his grandma and then we can take a peek into our favorite museum or just see what’s happening in Manhattan. He said no. We were in Bay Terrace earlier, a shopping complex almost like Greenhills in a smaller scale, and I offered to go back there, but he said no again.

I wouldn’t mind just walking to the corner and checking out the dollar store. I have chores to finish at home.

We’ll see how our Sunday shapes up — as we start getting ready to greet Autumn and say goodbye to summer.

Someone special’s Day today

I’m dead tired.  My legs are numb, my hands ache from scribbling and doing hand lettering for my one sentence journal.  I’ve been in bed since 10, but today is the day my little guy came into my life 9 years ago.  He’s exhausted and snoring already.

Happy birthday, Angelo… thanks for the sunshine, the love and the devotion.  My one beacon of hope that there is always hope, no matter what.. no matter how badly I fail or fall.