Me debo ir o quedarme?

85 Weeks

It takes years of preparation, careful planning, and intense collaboration to pull off a theatrical event. Hundreds of souls arrange to share a single, unique moment in time. I consider it an honor to be any part of it. I treasure every role--it's kind of an enormous, religious thing. And yet a few degrees of the body temperature of a 1-year old can ripple through it all...

What's that saying? The one about God enjoying himself at our expense? "If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans." Nice. Thanks All Mighty evil vice principal of John Hughes Junior High.

So I didn't make it to the city to see my play. The one that I was so very excited about I thought about the state of my fingernails for the first time in years. (Writing scripts is currently in such direct clash with my working mom lifestyle, I now have reverse 'actor's nightmare' dreams. I sit in the audience and watch the lobotomized and pantsless attempt to perform my play as their mothers yell at them from seats behind me. At least I'm hiding in the dark as I squirm.) I was counting the days to be a part of this event, truly, and, duh, capital-m-Mommy, it never occurred to me that Ren might need a little extra something from me regardless of my itinerary. That morning, when I realized I couldn't participate, I thought my heart would be crushed by making that call. Stay or go? Stay. Always stay. I was disappointed, but then I realized my fortune. My schedule had been cleared to go to the City and participate in my second favorite thing. Instead, I got to do my first. I watched him dream; saw a little smile.

"Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."

Parental Pacifier

84 Weeks

"Mommyairdon."

"What Bug?"

"Mommyairdooooon."

"Mommy what?"

"Mommy AIRdoooooooooonnnn!!"

"My hair?"

"Yeah."

"Down?"

"Yeah."

The day after Mother's Day Greg was traveling and our sitter came over so I could go to work. I didn't want to leave and took my time. Late and running out the door, I leaned over Ren to nuzzle him with a kiss. He laid back on the floor and told me I was pretty. Then he told me I was a lady and I had a nose. Then he told me I had hair and I was wearing a blue bracelet. I ran upstairs, dug up a second blue bracelet, handed it to him, and said if he missed me he could look at the bracelet to remember his mommy loved him. He seemed to like the idea.

I spent most of that Monday staring at a plastic bracelet wondering if I shouldn't ever cut my hair.

TBD

83 Weeks

Ren eagerly enjoys pretending even though many of the things he pretends to do he’s got no reference. For a long time he was excited about the “K - kite” flashcard because we’d act like we were flying it. He had no idea what an actual kite did. He just laughed at the blowing sound we made whenever it came up. At this point, most things in his life are enjoyed because of his parent's facial expressions whenever they appear.

We plan to send Ren to a Montessori preschool program starting this summer and we took him to the classroom for a visit. He was curious, a little quiet, but settled right in, and never looked back as the teacher showed him games from little furniture in his size. 

Growing up, both Greg and I were good students. I graduated from high school with honors, Greg was salutatorian. We were also good kids, but when it comes to learning, Greg and I process differently. Greg sees a headline, he reads the article, researches online, buys the book, memorizes the bibliography, finds the experts, reads more articles, buys more books, finds more articles. Me? I listen to Greg. Maybe I see a thing myself. Then I’ll read a thing, and maybe do that with a few other things. If it’s a project I’ll jump right in. Sometimes the pond has iced over and I suffer a few bruises. Greg will do a lot of thinking before he starts a project. Sometimes the pond dries up while he does that. Hopefully, Ren has inherited equal amounts of our styles or even better, the ability to pull from them at will. It will be fun to watch Ren play school when he knows what it is. Right now he told us it's a place for “little tables,” probably because his parents tear up whenever the tables are mentioned.