On Last Firsts & Believing in Santa

December 1st has arrived. Our last, first of the year. I'm sitting at my desk in relative quite admiring the dappled sun filter through my curtains, the click-tick song of my son's typing on the computer next to me reminds me that he is growing up. It's his first school report he's actually doing (mostly) by himself. I'm guiding him, but he's got the task of putting it all together. It's going very slow as he's easily distracted, but for the moment he's on task and I'm enjoying watching him. The way his hair is sticking out every which way, his knee bouncing up and down, I imagine is what is helping keep him in his seat, and the soft way he whispers the words as he types reminds me of years gone by, of nap times hidden under covers, and stories told by flashlight.Most of the time we don't know when our last 'firsts' occur, or when the last of our 'lasts' happen, so when we do it's important to be cognizant of them. To take notice and appreciate these mundane simple times that will all too quickly be relegated to memory.I'm trying really hard to be cognizant.For instance, I think this may be Micheal's last Christmas where he believes in Santa. He questioned me earlier about Santa, saying that in his class some kids didn't believe. I knew this conversation was coming, at nine years old, I knew there were few Christmases-if any, left where he blindly believed. He didn't come outright and ask me weather or not Santa was real, so I didn't volunteer any information; I only asked if he believed.He said he did. I'm not sure if he was humoring me, or perhaps afraid, not quite ready for the truth,not quite ready for the magic to end.I know I'm not ready for it to be over for him just yet, so I told him Santa was real for him, as long as he believed. In my response, I know a hint of the truth can be gleamed and he's a smart boy. When the time finally comes for me to "come clean" on Santa, I'll be honest. I'll tell him that Santa lives in all of us, that each Christmas people who loved him, not just his Mommy and Daddy purchased gifts for him, and gave them to him in Santa's name because that's what Christmas is about. To share love and to give from your heart.  I want the excitement for the magic of Christmas to remain, for the spirit of love and giving to fill his heart and not disappointment in learning the truth about St. Nick. I may go a bit overboard in the magic department this Christmas, my baby boy is nine years old and I suspect these memories will remain with him well into adult hood. If I have one Christmas wish (aside from having my husband home) it's for him to be able to look back at his childhood Christmases and remember them as being magical times filled with wonder and joy.  If this is to be his last one where the magic was real, then you better believe it will be. No matter how many times I've got to wiggle my nose, or wave my proverbial magic wand, it will be!Abracadabra-bibity-bobity-boo! Bring on the magic!Happy December!xo,nicōleEdit:It happened. He asked. The very next year. Another milestone in our children's lives. Not my favorite, but I manged to turn it into a positive. You can read that post here: Telling Kids the Truth about Santa Save

A Mother's Day Sentiment

Happy Mother's Day to my Mom, my own personal angel.I totally lucked out when God gave me to you. Thank you for teaching me to love unconditionally, to be loved, and to love who I am. Thank you for teaching me about perseverance and how to dust oneself off when life knocks you down. Thank you for teaching me about joy in the simple things...Like fresh picked strawberries, or swimming out to the deep end, even if you're scared, because the water is cooler there, and there's nothing like floating on your back in the middle of the ocean.Happy Mother's Day to my Grammie, who listened to me tell stories where Princesses rode giant panthers through dense forests,  and for helping me spy a leprechaun when out for a walk. Thank you for always having an ear, or a story to tell of her own.Thank you both for teaching me to always find time to dance - to throw up my arms and spin and it's OK if you've got two left feet, there's Grace in that.

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I'm Raising Men. Not boys.

I'm raising men. Not boys.They'll respect themselves and the people around them. Want to save or fix something, possibly the world. They'll learn this from trying to crazy glue my favorite antique something or other that got smashed when a football went rogue.They'll know how to apologize. They will look you in the eye.Hold a door for a lady even though she's perfectly capable of doing so herself. They'll stand when that same lady gets up from a table because they will be gentlemen and chivalry shouldn't be an archaic thing we only read about in novels. They'll believe in a higher power and know they are small in the grand scheme, but understand even the smallest of things are possible of great change, they need only look at a pearl to understand this.They will be true to who they are down to the very last snip, or snail, and puppy dog's tail.They will be kind. They will have a generous spirit.They will be strong. They will cry. They will have a moral code that will guide them when their path seems unclear.They will love passionately and unwavering because that is how their father and I love them.They will be fearless when they need to be and understand that fearlessness and bravery are not the same thing.This will allow them to chase their dreams to the ends of the earth. They will know failure and they will learn from it. Success will be something earned and appreciated.They will work smart and play hard. They're proclivity for mischief will continue to drive me crazy, and one day make some lucky woman loose her heart to them.They will guard this heart more than their own.Because they will be men of honor and love and all things pure and true and good.    Save

I remember...

This Friday my eldest son Michael was off of school, on days he's off, I normally let my youngest who goes to preschool half of the day stay out as well. However, I don't really get any time alone with Mike anymore so I thought it would be fun to have some "Mommy & Me" time. Mothering boys is a challenge, but it's also wonderful, especially when you embrace every fun thing about their little boyish ways. We only had three hours but I was determined to pack every second with fun.We went bowling and played in the arcade, for the first hour and a half. I then planned on taking him for some frozen yogurt (his favorite)  so that he could use a coupon he received for getting good grades, unfortunately everything in Miami seems to open pretty late in the day and the yogurt place was closed. We ended up browsing for books at Barnes and Noble, where I snapped this photo. As he walked down the street with me he wasn't even that disappointed the yogurt place was closed. He grabbed my hand and said, "it's okay Mom, I'm having fun."I thought my heart would burst, right there on Sunset Avenue.Love & Mothering,nicōle

Two Little Boys

All this weekend I was trying (and failing) to write. It seemed any time I tried to sit down and write I was interrupted by a "Mom", or some other equivalent.

Exasperated, on Sunday I began to update my Facebook status with some version of a "rant", instead I got rhyme-y. I thought I'd share because it's sooo silly and dorky.

Two little boys.The faces of angels.So sweet to look upon.So handsome to be hold.Lips curled up in a grin, no hint of the mischievous, which lies within.At times their mother is beside herself, slapping her head.Feeling very much like, Old Mother Hubbard, I should put them up for auction, she's thought on occasion,but instead says, "I'll put you to bed!"But then puppy dog eyes will look up in supplication, "Mom, we're sorry." They say and all is forgotten.

love & motherhood,

photo: taken at Alice C. Wainright Park, Miami -with a Nikon D3100 using a  lens. It was edited on a Mac using PhotoEffects Studio Pro

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I'm Going To Miss This

Motherhood is fleeting in a way. Our pregnancies, in retrospect-fly by, as do those early newborn you don't know if it's day or night, or if you're coming or going phase. Then things start to settle down and in the blink of an eye the first year has past and you marvel at how much your baby has grown and perhaps you think to yourself, I can't believe I'm doing this, I am a MOM. Somewhere between their first piece of birthday cake and the sticky mess that ensues you may even access in the back of your mind how much you've grown this first year and how the love for your little one has grown exponentially and far faster or greater than you ever thought possible.Yes. Motherhood is fleeting. Before we know our little babies are toddlers who staunchly say to you, "I do it. I DO IT!" When-in a rush to get out the door for some appointment you are inevitably late to you try to dress them, or put their tiny shoes on their little feet. But, the look of determination and independence on their precious face causes you to pause. To take a deep breath and sit and watch and count your blessings that you get to bear witness to and be apart of this very mundane, yet so very important part of your child's development.When, after what seems like an eternity by that ever ticking hand on your watch the shoes are on and your ready to go out the door you can't help but smile and be proud at their major accomplishment a mirror no doubt of your child's face.Before you know it, it's the first day of school and you're putting on your brave face while you can't believe how amazing your child is doing. You wait and watch them, and when you think they're not going to look for you-for one final good-bye before their new adventure begins you see it and smile. Yes. Motherhood is fleeting, and while I'm reminded of Shakespeare's As You Like It, suddenly while I write this; I can't help but smile at my boys- who at this very moment have dumped their toys (they should be cleaning up) and are hiding under the baskets pretending to be superheros in disguise. It's no Norman Rockwell scene, but what about motherhood, childhood, or life in general for that matter really is? Motherhood is messy. It's exhausting and magical, frightening and empowering, it can make you feel completely alone and like you belong to a special sisterhood-in short-motherhood is hard work. It is with-out-a-doubt the most important thing I will ever do. Somedays I want to pull my hair out, then others I wipe tears from my eyes when I'm struck by how blessed I truly am.Earlier today I had just such a moment, when my little Evan awoke up from his nap-his eyes still half closed, blanket and his kitty cat in tow; a,"I'm still tired, and why are you not still laying next to me?" whine escaping from his lips.  I scooped him up into my arms where he fell right back to sleep. He's not done that for some time and I couldn't help but recall all those precious moments when he was brand new. When I sat and held him while he slept, then I thought of Michael and how much he's grown in six years and how I'm looking forward to, albeit with a slight trepidation (How I wish they could stay little just a while longer!) for all the firsts and everything else that life has in store for us. I couldn't help but think how much I'm going to miss these days when my boys still come to be for cuddles and to kiss bruised knees.Once we become mothers we are mothers for the rest of our lives, but  it's not fair that our time with our little ones passes so quickly.  I plan on being even more mindful of how short childhood really is, and take the time to basque in the little things that when it's all said and done  my children will remember and I will look back upon fondly. I will not think about the late appointments, or how-for instance it's taken me just two hours to write this post, because in those two hours I've stopped to roast marshmallows over our stove for an impromptu treat, I've blown raspberries at a toy cannon, and did forward rolls on our living room floor. Two hours filled with laughter, and tickles of silly faces and big round eyes full of wonderment. It was two hours well spent and although motherhood is fleeting, I intend to soak up every last second!xo,Save

Christmas Haze

I don't want the Christmas haze to fade. I want the scattered toys to remain where they lay, to be picked up and played with at any given moment. For the magic that is Christmas to linger with us...The twinkle lights, merry carols, and anxious countdown of my children all lead up to my favorite part of the whole day. When on this early morning while snow gently fell I received the best gift a mom could get I got to see the joy and amazed expressions as they unwrapped their gifts.Unfortunately the Christmas haze has to fade. We've got so much to do before our move to Miami and six-teen days to do it. I've got so much I want to write and say before 2010 is behind us, but for now, I'll leave you with a photo from this Christmas and a little haiku.

Christmas haze please staySurprised face you can't mistakeMagical Christmas!

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