Be Present

I only have a couple more weeks of maternity leave left. The thought makes me sick to my stomach. All my life I have never figured out how to live in the present. It's always been anxiety about the future.

But now, more than ever, I so desperately want to breathe in the deep scent of my present. I want these last few weeks, where my only job is to love Jace, I want them to count.

I don't want to care if he pukes on me. Or if he poops 2 seconds after I just changed his diaper. I don't want to get irritated when he wakes up after a half hour nap. Or be annoyed that I haven't had time to shower all day.

I want him to have my full, undivided, full of love and lacking in incovenience, attention. He deserves all that I've got for the next couple weeks.

I want to breathe in and take note of the way he smells after a bath, so that that smell is permanently imbedded into the core of my being.  I want to hang out by his crib and watch him carry on a conversation with his owl friend. I want to sing to him at the top of my lungs while he watches me in awe, and coos back, my biggest fan. I want to sway his arms back and forth while singing 'the wipers on the bus go swish swish swish', because it makes him laugh 8 out of 10 times. I want to rock him in his chair til he falls asleep, even if it takes a couple hours. I want to smile until my cheeks hurt, because he likes to smile back. I want to dance with him with no other care in the world besides feeling his head resting on my chest.

My little 2 month old buddy is growing up way too fast. And before I have the pressures of life waiting for me to slide my time card through, I want this more than anything.

To taste it.

To savor it.

'Tis so sweet.

Turn of Events

While the rest of Washington has been trapped at home due to Snowmaggedon, I have been held hostage due to a nasty sore throat and a fever that got up to 104. There has been no sledding, snowman building, or anything fun for me. Just. pain.

I'm a baby when I'm sick. I want to watch movies whenever I want. Sleep whenever I want. Have my mom cook me whatever I want. Take a hot shower for however long I want.

However, there has been an interesting turn of events. Jace. He is in fierce competition with me in terms of wanting whatever HE wants. He doesn't seem to care that I need a nap. Or I haven't eaten in almost 24 hours. Or that I desperately need a long, hot shower. Or that I'm just a couple degrees away from death. Or that his nonstop screaming for no apparent reason isn't helping the throbbing pulse in my brain. And of course last week he took naps like it was his job, but this week naps are so last week.

Jace. Ol' buddy ol' pal. I'm glad you're cute. Or else I would've put you in the garage this week.

Remember my sacrifices when someday, your wife wants to put me in a nursing home.

Thanks.

The Boy Who Stole My Scissors

Dan was the first friend I made in high school. I came from a Catholic school so when I got to high school, everyone was already established in their own little groups and I wasn't sure that I fit in anywhere. But Dan didn't care about social groups, he weaved his way through any group, and he was accepted everywhere, and he accepted everyone.

Dan and I had health class together. And in his not subtle way he came over to me during a first day of class project and stole my scissors right out of my hands, and took them back to his desk. Of course, this forced me to have to get up and go get them back, which allowed him to start conversation. Smart one, that guy ;) From then on we were buddies. 

We soon went from school friends, to outside of school friends since most of our mutual friends were dating. We then became best friends. He was my very best bud. We hung out a lot, talked on the phone a lot, talked about music, and life, and religion and politics. He made me think a lot. He challenged me. A lot. And boy did we laugh. A LOT.  I knew he had feelings for me, but like a perfect gentleman, he never pushed it. He waited until I figured out on my own that I had the same feelings.

I was about to be a Junior in high school when Dan became the first guy I ever called my "boyfriend". We started dating on August 12th, so every month, on the 12th I got a present at school. Whether it be flowers, or jewelery or writing me poems to honor our 1 month anniversary, our 2 month anniversary, etc. :)

One week I was out sick and he brought by my homework. But he also brought me a sick goodie-bag. It contained girly magazines, chick flicks, a hat to keep me warm, chocolate, and other fun stuff to get me through that nasty flu.

Right before Christmas, we were at the mall and I had no idea he was mentally taking note of everything I liked. When it came time to open my gifts, I thought maybe he would have bought me one of those gifts. But no. Not Dan. He bought me ALL of those gifts. The sweater, the boots, the coat, the skirt, the shirt, and then some of his own picks.

On Easter I told him my family always did Easter egg hunts when we were little, but we never did Easter baskets. So that Easter, Dan made me my very first Easter basket. Complete with the fake grass, peeps, a bunny stuffed animal and lots of chocolate eggs.

At tolo, when we went to Blu Water Bistro for dinner, all the girls were freezing and he politely asked the waitress if they had a space heater to keep us warm:)

One weekend, he and some other guys went to the gorge for a concert, so they all missed school that Friday. He had flowers delivered to me at school because he knew we'd be apart for the weekend.

I remember how much he loved his mom. I remember she would call him and at the end of the conversation he would say 'you.' I finally asked him why he said 'you' and would hang up. He said that she said 'Who do you love?' and his response was 'you.' Or she would say "Who loves you?' and he would say 'you.' I remember thinking it was the sweetest, cutest thing in the world. And so did he.

These are just a few of the many memories Dan left me with.

We ended up going our separate ways as most high school relationships do.

A while back Dan had commented on a post of mine telling me I had always been an amazing writer and that he found my blog through googling my name. He left his email address saying he'd love to catch up.

I never emailed him. I don't know why. Life was pretty crazy around that time ( I had just found out I was pregnant) and I just never got around to writing him, nor knew what to say. I wish I could have told him about my life. How I did end up graduating from UW. How I finally got to experience Europe. About the wonderful man that I ended up marrying. The beautiful baby I had. How my family had doubled in size since he knew us all. And how my faith in God was finally real. It would have been nice to have gone on with life knowing that he was doing well and letting him know I was well. I think he would have been genuinely happy for me. I regret that it didn't happen that way. I really do.

Little did I know, the next time I would see Dan would be January 14th, 2012, laying in  his casket.

It was so wonderful hearing the stories from people at his funeral, it sounds like he was doing really well, and he was that same guy that I knew back in high school. The one who cared about everyone else more than himself. Full of passion and wit and generosity and kindness.

He left a big mark on my life and as proven at his funeral, many other lives as well. I am so sad that his life was cut way too short. But I will always remember him with that smile on his face, my first day of high school.

The boy who stole my scissors.