The Third Child

Our third [and final] child turned four on September 9th. I think he had a nice day and felt celebrated, but I felt badly because his birthdays are so different than his two older brothers were at the same ages.

With the first two boys we had parties with friends, games, decorations, treats, pinatas, crafts and adult beverages. We planned and prepared weeks in advance, allowing each boy to select a theme or a special party location. At the ages of three and four, the two older boys had preschool friends and had been to age appropriate places, like Build-A-Bear Workshop.

In most ways, Toddler Child is much more exposed than the first two boys were. Oldest Boy and Middle Boy were not allowed to watch shows like SpongeBob SquarePants or Rugrats. My friend T was visiting one time [he doesn't have children] and even he commented on the garish and off colors of animated shows for kids.

Oldest Boy [11] and Middle Boy [10] eventually watched SpongeBob SquarePants [thankfully, Rugrats is off the air.], but it wasn't until they were seven or eight. We're stricter than most parents we know when it comes to movies and media that we allow our kids to view or play. Childhood is fleeting. There's time. I'm not worried about them missing anything. 

Oldest Boy and Middle Boy are beginning to enjoy shows that many of our friends allowed their kids to watch at a much younger age. The problem? Toddler Child sees some of these movies and is now one of THOSE children that I used to shake my head in judgment and say, "WHAT are they thinking letting their child watch THAT?"  

I called Chris one day in a huff because Middle Boy came home from kindergarten asking me if he could watch Mr. & Mrs. Smith like one of his classmates. Uh, no.

NOTE:  Brad Pitt didn't stand a chance when he agreed to do that movie. Angelina Jolie was in her prime and looked stunning. I might have considered leaving Chris to go adopt babies all over the world with her too. Poor Jen. I can't believe she didn't see that one coming.

Sadly, as exposed as Toddler Child is to certain media, slang, and social ideas [via listening to his brothers], he's not exposed to many social experiences outside of our home. We don't have him in preschool, by choice, so he and I spend a lot of time together. He's not quite the parasitic head he once was. [Read here.] But we remain very attached to one another.

For his birthday I planned for the two of us to spend a few hours at a dinosaur museum near our home while Chris was at work and the older boys were at school. Toddler Child was happy with the idea. I felt guilty because I wasn't throwing a little party, but in reality, he doesn't know what he's missing. A day out with me when we don't have to hit Costco sounded great to him.

I called Supermodel and asked if Supermodel Jr. could go with us. Supermodel Jr. was available. She's the youngest of six children so she's more exposed than her older siblings were at her age also. She carried a purse, wore sunglasses and applied her lipstick with more skill than I currently do. Toddler Child was very interested in her. I was very impressed by her.

[Click all photos to enlarge.]

She had Toddler Child hold her purse while she colored. He looked a little uncomfortable, but politely obliged.

 

After the museum, we had lunch, visited a children's farm then stopped at the bakery on the way home to get Toddler Child's cake. I watched those two little kids interact, observed their differences and similarities, and was pleased to see how kind and polite they were to one another. It was a fun and memorable day for all three of us.

Even though it wasn't a party with lots of kids and a pinata, I like to think our third child felt celebrated, and I know that he will always appreciate the gift of enjoying your own company.
 

 

I Blinked

As quickly as it began, summer break is ending. Oldest Boy and Middle Boy return to school next week. The school they attend resumes classes after Labor Day so we enjoy a summer break like the kind I had when I was a kid. Three full months. I love having the boys home and will join Toddler Child next week as he mopes around the house muttering, "I miss the big boys."

Our summer is ending with an assortment of tales to tell, but I've not had the time to chronicle everything publicly. 

Shortly after giving birth to Oldest Boy, I asked Chris if he got any good pictures or video. He said, "I decided I wanted to experience the birth of our child, not worry about documenting it." There's balance in that philosophy. We have photos and journals that I'm thankful we have, but many, many years from now will any person really care?

Abbreviated Tales

Death:  The boys were prepared for Mamaw's death. They were even prepared for the death of Susan Nelson, the wife of blogger, Fat Cyclist [Elden]. But they weren't prepared for the death of their beloved kindergarten teacher who passed unexpectedly due to a pulmonary embolism. She was only 48. These three deaths all occurred in August. We parented through the death of a woman who had battled breast cancer for several years and left behind her husband and four children. We parented through the death of an older person, blessed with a full and long life. And we're still discussing the death of a teacher who appeared healthy one day and the next, was gone. Rough.

It's Not Funny Anymore:  I had another incident with the car. I dropped off Oldest Boy at his teacher's house for an ice-cream social. As I backed out of the driveway [too fast], I hit the front of her husband's parked car. No one was hurt. When I called Chris to tell him what had happened, his normally calm and understanding tone was replaced with irritation as he said, "Are you effing kidding me?" 

NOTE:  My parents are refusing to take any calls from me if they see I'm calling from my cell phone. [I only use my cell phone in the car. For the record, I was NOT on my phone when I backed into the parked car.]

Birthdays:  Middle Boy turned ten on August 30th and Toddler Child will turn four next week. Middle Boy thinks it's cool to be in the double-digits, and Toddler Child says he wants to be two, not four. I told him I wish time worked that way sometimes too.

 

Hummingbird:  We had a hummingbird in the garage. It flew around and rested on different brake cables of the bikes hanging from our garage ceiling. I won't make this tale longer than it needs to be. We were excited at the time. You would have thought we had a bald eagle nesting on our trash can. I have too many pictures of a hummingbird sitting on my bike's brake cable.

 

History:  We can't rewrite it. Isn't that both a tragic and a glorious thing? For now, this tale will remain very abbreviated.

Goodbye Summer:  I can't believe it's over! I say this at the end of every school year, holiday, vacation, etc. And I know I'll say it again. I'm trying to enjoy the last few days before school starts by ignoring the toys that are left around the house, delaying wiping fingerprints where there typically are none, and avoiding yelling up the stairs, "Take it down a notch, boys!" when I hear them roughhousing.

Today I took my camera upstairs instead of requesting the boys downshift their play.

 

 

I miss the big boys already.

Unforgettable

Mary Jane Hautem, my grandmother, passed away on August 20, 2009, at approximately 2:00 p.m.  She would have been 92 on August 28th.

I was able to visit Mamaw in early July when we were in Arizona at my parents' house.  I saw her twice and knew when I said good-bye to her on the last visit, I'd never see her again, even though I promised a return trip to Arizona, without kids, for only her in August or September.  After our annual family trips to Arizona each summer, which are typically busy and hectic caring for kids and spending not-enough-time with family and friends, I have returned a couple of times a year solo so I could share time with Mamaw minus any other obligations or distractions.

Mamaw's physical and cognitive deterioration were evident in July compared to when I saw her in September 2008 and January 2009.  I started to write about the time we spent with her in July when I returned to Utah, but never posted.  Here's a portion:

Chrisand I took the boys to visit her one day.  She was sitting at the kitchen table when we arrived.  Her back was towards us and when I walked around to look at her face, her eyes were closed.  She had a slight smile on her face.  I woke her and said, It's me again. Chrisy. I brought Chris-Boy and the boys with me. I looked in her eyes, begging her to know me. She smiled, but I could tell she was confused and didn't recognize me. She was in a different place in her mind, and I wasn't part of her experience.  But her departure was brief.

After a few moments she spoke slowly, still smiling and said, "Well sure it's you, Chrisy. And look at these boys. Let's go back to my house." [She meant her room.]

We walked her to her room in the Group Home. Oldest Boy played his saxophone for her, Middle Boy played his guitar, and Toddler Child writhed around on the floor, growling and whining that he wanted to go home. Chris and I tried to talk with Mamaw, but she can't hear well. A true conversation was difficult, but we still managed to connect with her. I know that she enjoyed watching the boys, even writhing, growling, rude Toddler Child. I think she could have watched them for hours. She stared shamelessly at each child, cocking her head, taking in every detail. At one point she said, "I just love watching their expressions. Don't you, Chrisy?"

After our visit I asked Oldest Boy if it made him sad to see the effects of age on Mamaw. He said, No, not really. I liked it that she was so cheerful. That made me happy.

A little over four weeks ago, Mamaw was found on the floor in her room by one of the Group Home caregivers. She had fallen, broken her femur and suffered a brain bleed. After consulting with doctors at the hospital, and being informed that she would not survive surgeries to repair either injury, Dad and his brother made the difficult decision to move Mamaw to a hospice facility. The length of her stay at hospice was longer than anyone expected. It was an unfortunate and difficult process; the dying. News of her death came as a relief.

Mamaw was a kindred spirit to me. With no disrespect intended to the important and devoted people in my life, I've never felt more loved by anyone than by Mamaw. She loved me, accepted me, forgave me, was honest with me, trusted me, apologized to me, and understood me. I began missing and grieving her some time ago, and I'll miss her thirty years from now.

There was a time when Mamaw and Papaw lived in Tucson, Arizona, and Chris and I lived in Phoenix. Chris and I spent many weekends in Tucson with them before we had kids. We even took a week-long trip to Cabo San Lucas, Mexico, when Mamaw and Papaw were 80. We enjoyed spending time together and were compatible travel mates.

[Note: Papaw died in June 2007.]

 

I have vivid memories of swimming with Mamaw in her backyard pool while a portable cassette player played Natalie Cole's Unforgettable: With Love. We called it our "synchronized swimming" as we side-stroked, back-stroked, and gracefully moved through the water to the music. Mamaw sang. Papaw sat in the shade and tapped his foot as he lifeguarded. He didn't like Mamaw swimming alone.

I know the lyrics to "Unforgettable" were referring to a romantic relationship, but I believe Mamaw sang them to me when we swam, and I can honestly sing them to her.

Unforgettable, that's what you are
Unforgettable though near or far
Like a song of love that clings to me
How the thought of you does things to me
Never before has someone been more

Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
That's why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too

Unforgettable in every way
And forever more, that's how you'll stay
That's why, darling, its incredible
That someone so unforgettable
Thinks that I am unforgettable too

-Irving Gordon

A few memories of Mamaw, including the last time I saw her. [The last 50 seconds or so of the video.]

Mamaw - Unforgettable from Chris Ross on Vimeo.