Mom is Just a Nickname

<btw, this is a real post, not part of the story.    >

Thirteen years ago today, I became a mom.

This phrase keeps running through my mind.  Like a broken record, it keeps replaying, reminding me of just how long it’s been since my first-born made her appearance into the world.

At church yesterday, I listened to some folks describe their parents, their families of origin, and I wondered how my children would describe me when they were all grown up and I was a mere memory in their life.  Would my first-born daughter always feel that I preferred her brothers, because she felt that they got more time and attention from me?  Would she feel that I was aloof with her, simply because I never know what to say to her?  Would she know that I love her?

But as I sit here with that sentence running through my head, “Thirteen years ago today, I became a mom,” I know that she is the reason I am a mom.  When I found out that I was pregnant, I became a mom.  I became anxious to do everything right for her.  And as my belly grew the slightest bit round, I was so eager to show it off.  I loved being pregnant, I loved the fact I was going to be a mom, I loved the fact I was going to have a baby.  As my belly grew big and heavy with her, I happily (and somewhat painfully) waddled about, ready to meet the tiny creature that kept poking me in the ribs.

And on the day she was born, when the pictures show that she was red and wrinkled and I looked exhausted, all I remember thinking is that she was the most beautiful thing ever and how amazing it was that she’d come from inside me.

Thirteen years on, I still think she’s most amazingly beautiful.  I think she’s incredibly intelligent and talented, that she has a smart mouth (I wonder where she got that from?) and that she’s got wonderful things ahead of her.  And I still marvel that once upon a time, she was a tiny creature inside my belly, shoving her toes into my ribs.  She’s nearly as tall as I am now, and her feet are bigger than mine.

Thirteen years ago, I became a mother.

Jillian was jealous of the attention he was getting.

The cake masterpiece was made by Toph: chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, as requested by the Birthday Boy.

He loved hearing us sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to him, and he blew his candles out with enthusiasm. I’m, honestly, just glad he didn’t spit on the cake. He had been practicing how he would blow out candles earlier in the day and there was some spit involved. *shudder*

MMM….that was a yummy cake!

Happy Birthday, X!

It’s hard to believe that four years ago, I looked like this. [it's a terrible picture of me, but at 37 weeks pregnant, I think I had a a good reason for looking grumpy!] More importantly, four years ago, once he’d made his arrival in the world, X looked like this.

He didn’t make the stunningly quick arrival that his siblings made. He took his time moving from the womb to the world. He has always moved on his own schedule that way. He doesn’t seem to care so much what time schedule the rest of us have to keep, he will do things when he is ready. From weaning to potty training to getting dressed each morning, he can’t be hurried, bribed or cajoled. When he’s ready, he does it.

From that description, he sounds like a stubborn old man, but this kid is a little ball of energy! He bounces off of walls! Literally! When he meets new people, he’s very quiet at first. Before he talks a whole lot, he’ll show off his ‘moves’, which are crazy break-dance-like movements. Once the new person has watched him properly and commented on his prowess, then he’ll start talking to them.

He balances his tremendous energy and ponderous readiness to cooperate with a sensitivity that can’t help but touch my heart. He is often the first person to notice I need comfort, the first to offer one of his little friends something to cheer them up and the first to want to give hugs and kisses. He can be very sweet.

Four years old. Two years older than his older brother will ever be. Five years younger than his older sister. He has made his place in our family and our hearts. He is our not-so-little-anymore X-man. He has blue eyes, just like his brother and daddy. He is creative, quick to learn, overflowing with curiosity and energy, and altogether a balm for this mother’s wounded heart.

Some days he drives me crazy. Usually I watch him in amazement and gratitude for the gift that he is.

There are so many foods out there that are delicious and fantastic and waiting to be eaten! L is one of those letters that holds a couple of our family’s favorites. Funnily enough, they are ‘Toph Specialties”–he’s the one that cooks them, almost always, in our house!

Lasagna. Ah, the memories associated with Lasagna. It was the first meal Toph ever cooked for me. Ok, the first meal either of us ever cooked for the other, even!

Toph and I met on the internet, originally. Six months or so after we started talking regularly, we decided we wanted to meet up in real life (irl). So, the weekend after his birthday, he drove from Northwestern Ohio to the Eastern panhandle of West Virginia to see me. He’d made this lasagna at home, frozen it and then hauled it across Ohio, Pennsylvania, some of Maryland and a tiny bit of West Virginia to get it to me. He drove after working eight hours…it was close to an eight hour drive. I still cannot believe he did that. I worried about him the entire way.

Anyhow, the lasagna took forever to cook in the little oven in my dorm’s lounge/kitchenette. Other residents kept coming in to sniff at it, to ooh and aah over the homecooked smell. I think we even shared some of it with a friend or two. Who ever said that the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach should have reversed it! I thought it was incredibly sweet of Toph to make that lasagna for me. I’m sure the fact that he went to all that trouble to feed me helped convince me that it was true love.

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My parents actually introduced the next one to us. I guess it came out of a garlic lover’s cookbook and was originally made with shrimp. They altered it to go with chicken since we don’t eat seafood. They also used white wine to make it. Toph uses Triple Sec (a citrus liquor) when he makes it. It’s melt in your mouth, sweet and savory with a tang of lemon. One friend described it as ‘Sex on a Plate’ because she liked it so much! We generally just call it Lemon Garlic Chicken, though. After all, it’s one of J’s favorite meals! It’s perfect served with pasta, salad and some garlic bread.

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So, no recipes today either, for a very specific reason. I was reading more about copyrights and I don’t want to infinge on the copyrights of the authors of any more recipes. I haven’t decided yet if I will remove the recipes I already have up, but I’m leaning towards it. I’m not averse to sharing recipes, but I don’t want to post them on here.

It makes me sad because I’ve been enjoying sharing favorite recipes with this alphabet game. Now you just get my memories!