10 minutes for me

I've been up since 6 - which may not seem that early, but if you consider DayLight Savings Time, I've really been up since 5 a.m.. Again, this may not seem that early to some, but considering I get up at 5 a.m. every morning - which now is really 4 a.m. thanks again to DayLight Savings time - it makes for a tiring day. 6 a.m. is when my oldest son, Matthew, got up. He's always been an early riser and insists on letting me know that he is up, although he doesn't necessarily need me to get up with him. But, I do. I know that while he doesn't need me, he wakes me because he likes having company. His sister got up shortly after I did and soon they had convinced me that it was time to make "sticky buns" - a favorite of theirs. And so I did. The day continued on that way as I got Matthew to basketball practice, did the grocery shopping, made lunch, got the kids ready for a movie, ran errands, folded laundry, made dinner, wrote thank you notes, washed laundry, hung laundry, cut out boxtops for Barkstall, bathed kids, dried hair ... the list goes on - what I did all day long for everyone. At dinner, I was up twelve times gettting things for the family. And somewhere - perhaps during trip 7 or 8 to get milk and a second taco for Matthew - I realized that my life is not my own. Or rather - 23 hours and fifty minutes is not my own. Because today, I did take 10 minutes for me. To just sit. Sit on the floor and remember what life use to be like and perhaps what life will be like -- someday -- maybe tomorrow, maybe 18 years from tomorrow -- maybe never. I remember what it was like when there was less expected of me, less responsibilities, and less worries about meeting those expectations and living up to my responsibilities. About a time when I was taken care of, instead of being the care taker. I remember beautiful days - where I would just breathe. And while I may periodically lament my new found priorities and responsibilities, as I watched my 10 month old, Lucas, roll the ball on the floor - I realized that most days were still beautiful. That while I may no longer have the chance to freely breathe - my breath, my heart, my soul - were still alive and dreaming of so many tomorrows -- tomorrows that my children create. And thankfully, their tomorrows have less to do with lunches, and laundry, and writing thank you notes, and more to do with just sitting on the floor and just being ...

When you wish upon a star

I had a date tonight. Not your conventional date - but a date with my four year old - my Emme Bear. Her best friend, Lauren, has a birthday next week and in much anticipation for the party, Emme has asked since last week to go get Lauren a present. We had settled on going out Monday night for a present, but a bout with some unanticipated intestinal distress (for me!), I cancelled the trip to WalMart. Instead, we decided that waiting until Wednesday would be good - and maybe even then we could go to dinner - without the boys ... Emme's idea, of course. She even cleared it with her Dad, asking him if he could "handle the boys" while we went out. In my distressed state, I agreed to dinner and shopping. I figured Emme typically forgets - so this was probably something that she would let pass.

But she didn't. For a day and a half, all she could talk about was her night out. When we picked her up at daycare this afternoon, all the teachers know this was her special night out with Mom. But, because as a Mom you tend to worry about everything, I did worry that tonight was less about spending time with me and more about getting to do something that her brothers didn't get to do. My worries were calmed, however, when we got home and as I got dinner ready for the boys, Emme went upstairs to change. Using her own fashion sense, she came downstairs dressed like me. We left the house both wearing our scarves and with big attitudes. This was our night out.

And as we drove to dinner, we listened to my Favorites13 Mix CD. As she rocked out to Bon Jovi's (I'm such a child of the 80s!) "It's Okay to Be Broken", I asked her what she thought the song meant. At first, she didn't know. But, I kept prompting her until she finally decided that the song told her that it is okay to be who you are - even if you are different. That people can be sad, happy, or mad and it was all okay. I was proud of my Emme to understand that and to know that songs have a meaning beyond the words.

From that discussion, as we sat eating pizza and black bean burgers at Chili's, Emme starts talking about E.T. - an audio book she has been listening to that her friend Emma gave her. She decided that it would make a good movie and that when it came out maybe she and I could go see it together. Just us - without the boys. "You know - like friends go to movies." My heart danced. She saw me not only as her Mom but as her friend. (And, admittedly, my mind raced thinking that she might have the same insight as Steven Spielburg...). I told her that it already was a movie and Yiayia and Pappou owned it. But, that we would have to wait to see it because it might be hard for her to understand. And in the way Emme only could, she looks at me and says "oh, I didn't realize some of it would be in Spanish ..." The tears rolled down my face as I laughed. A good laugh. A much needed laugh. The kind of laugh you share with a good friend.

As we continued our evening looking through Toys R Us and then WalMart until we found the perfect gift ... the very last Jasmine Princess Barbie on the shelf ... Emme asked me if I remembered the Saturn star we had seen through Daddy's telescope. I said "yes." And she says, "well, I think that maybe that is where shooting stars come from" - I told "maybe, Em - could be". And she says, "well, if I ever saw one, I'd wish that my friends would stay close forever ... even past kindergarten"

And with that wish, I understood that whether you were four or four plus thirty-four, we all have the same wish. That as life changes, our friends would always stay close. And as I now sit in my Emme Bear's room listening to her breaths slow in pace as she falls into a deeper sleep, I realize that not every night will be like tonight - that someday my four year old will, at fourteen, probably hate me - but, I have 10 years for her to see a shooting star. And if she is lucky enough - the moment will be magical for her and her wish will transcend what we know about the reality of life changes and her friends will stay close.

I know at least one that will - even past kindergarten.

Plan Your Work ... Work Your Plan

I don't have many friends. I know a lot of people and I enjoy the company of many people, but there are few people whom I call true friends. But in college, I met three of my best friends. If you knew us individually, you could never imagine any of us being friends, let alone best friends, but sometimes it is the differences that we share that make the strongest of friendships. So - after twenty years, Julie, Kim and Azeen are three of the most beautiful women I know and who I have the privilege of calling best friends. I thought that was enough - and then my Emme was born. And I've spent the past four years wondering if she and I will ever become best friends? I worry about this because she seems so very different from me. She is my free spirit. She is my risk taker. She has her own courage and self-confidence. She is Emme. I am the planner. I am the list maker. I need order in my life while she thrives on the chaos that she creates. I knew Kim and I would be friends in college - after I met her dad. He left our dorm room saying "plan your work, work you plan". A year later, he wrote the same saying on the red paper which we had adorned our dorm room walls with ... which we later learned was a fire hazard and almost got us evicted. I loved that saying and I loved the fact that one of my roommates had a Dad who knew the importance of a plan. Of course, I thought Kim would be a planner, too.

But she wasn't ... at least, she seemingly wasn't a planner. She was a free spirit. She got me to do things I never thought I'd do. She had a lust for life that made you want to breathe it all in and enjoy the moment. She has experienced so much in her life - because I thought - she wasn't the planner, but would just take things as they came. Kim is now getting married in April. I receive her inviation the other day and was in awe of its simple elegance. In fact, I've been impressed with everythign she's done for her wedding. The details she has honed in on - the compassion she shared with me when I had to decline being a bridesmaid - everything seems so very well planned. It dawned on me then that Kim was ... is ... always has been a planner. She's planned her work and worked her plan ... she just didn't need a list or a set order of things. She had confidence in who she is to know she'd get done what needed to get done and along the way - she'd have fun and make a memory.

Yesterday, as we were leaving her preschool, my Emme announced she had a plan. A life plan. I was so shocked I stopped in my tracks as we walked to our van. "You, Emme Bear? Have a Plan?" "Yes, Mama ... a life plan". Hmmm ... interesting ... I"m not even sure I have a life plan - me the planner - without a life plan - and yet my free spirit, my creative energy has a plan. "So - what's your plan?" "Well, my plan is this ... I go to Kindergarten next year, then I'll do second grade, then high school. And when I'm 17 I'm going to buy some makeup. That's my plan". "Emme - that's a pretty good plan. You know when you're 16 you'll learn to drive". Emme looked at me after I said this as she was getting in the van. She didn't say a word. As I drove, I glanced in my rearview mirror as I often do - gazing at my kids. Emme sat pensive, looking out the window. As I often did, I tried to think about what might be going on in her head. I wondered what made her so pensive. We got home and Emme sat in her seat a bit longer. "Mama - I had to change my plan." "That's okay Em, you can change plans" - "Well, you see, now that I can drive, I think I'll need to buy myself a van with a big TV in it so that I can have somethign to do while I drive myself to WalMart to get makeup. So my plan changed a little.... "

At that moment, I realized that my Emme was not that different from me. I was always changing my plans - just a little - just enough - and more importantly, she was a lot like Kim. She has an amazing strength and beauty, like all my best friends, that make the differences we share the very things that make us who we are - as individuals and together. My Emme Bear, will plan her work, and work her plan ... and along the way, she'll make some memories .... and if I am lucky, I'll be a friend in many of them.