My 3 year old sat on Santa's lap and Santa asked him what he wanted for Christmas. He replied, "A candy cane." That was it. Nice and simple. I joked to the mom standing next to me, "I guess it will be an easy Christmas for me this year!"
I think back on that day with a tinge of melancholy, for I know that it will someday be lost in a whirlwind of memories and cute stories. I think on it with melancholy, for the innocence that allows him to wish for a candy cane for Christmas will also be gone someday and it tears me to pieces to think of it.
In the three short years since becoming a parent, I am amazed at the transformation in me. The little things that used to bug me are somehow smoothed over, the silly grudges I harbored have been released, the selfish nature that I laid claim to has been purged, all for the love of this child of mine. I don't allege to have become perfect by any means, but suddenly life has a bigger purpose than just my whims and indulgences. My life is this child. I rejoice to see him happy, I sympathize when he is sad, and I hurt to see him in pain.
Right now his world is so easy. His parents love him, he has a few friends that he likes to play with, and he gets a lollipop when he poops in the potty. Throw in a little 'Candy Land' and a trip to the playground and life is good...very good. He thinks everyone likes him, we're all laughing with him, and the hardest thing to deal with is having to turn the T.V. off after just one show.
But as the rest of us know, everyone doesn't always like us, they're not always laughing with us, and there are a lot harder things in life to deal with than a T.V. restriction. I feel almost physically sick to think of the day that will inevitably come when he is rejected by a friend. When he is excluded from the group. When he is the object of laughter. When his heart is broken. When life seems to be closing in on him. My precious son....
Life isn't fair, life isn't easy. I'm pained to know that he will have to learn these lessons. I want for him to know sunny skies and shining waters, not stormclouds and droughts. This sweet smile of his will fade and the sparkle in his eyes will dim. The only thing I can do is teach him that it doesn't have to be a permanent thing.
I want for him to keep the innocence of childhood in his heart forever. I want him to see beauty in a smooth rock on the sidewalk. I want him to know a true friendship. I want him to appreciate the simple things life has to offer. I want him to know that this life isn't the end.
I want him to get his candy cane.
December 20, 2006
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children. Show all posts
Friday, August 14, 2009
4:00 a.m.
One of the fun things about having kids is never knowing if you'll get a full night's sleep or not. Kind of like some sort of cruel lottery - 'Ooooo - maybe tonight's the night!'
Last night was not one of those nights. Around 4 a.m., I had just put the baby back to bed after feeding him, when I heard cries from the older one coming from the next room. Since I was already up, I went over to see what was going on. We're at Grandma and Grandpa's for Thanksgiving, so I guessed that he had probably woken up and forgotten where he was. So I go in and he's sitting up in his bed, crying his eyes out. I sat down next to him, rubbed his back, and asked him what was wrong. He just kept crying, so I pulled him close to me for a hug, and that's when I felt the wet pants. Yup - he had peed in his bed. He's pretty new at the potty training thing, but up to this point, he hadn't wet the bed. But he was crying the most heartbreaking cry and he was wet and the bed was wet, so I stripped his pants and got him some new underwear, and then stripped the bed and was ready to tuck him back in, when I realized his pj top was also wet. So the poor kid already has no pants, and I'm taking his shirt also. I told him to hang on a moment while I got him a new shirt. I went back into my room, and when I came back, he was curled up on the floor shivering, and still sniffing a bit. I picked him up, put on his warm shirt and gave him a big hug before tucking him back into bed.
I went back into my room, where my husband had woken up, so I briefly told him what had happened. Then I laid there, trying to get back to sleep, but all I could think about was my poor little boy, sitting in his own pee, so sad and helpless to do anything about it, and I thought, "This is the time when I love being a mother." Strange, but true. It's not that I enjoy waking up in the middle of the night to change a boy and a bed, but it's the fact that I can take care of my son, who at that moment needs me desperately. My child, who is utterly helpless, laying in his own filth and misery, and I can make all that go away. This child is just pitiful -- and yet my heart swells with love to see him and want to help him.
And then my thoughts started to wander again, and a view of God cleared in my mind. How much more so are we pitiful little children, mired in our own filth and sin, wallowing in our helplessness and stench, unable to do anything about it, when He walks in, and is stirred with compassion and love for us. He lifts us out of it all, cleans us off, and gathers us in His embrace. I know my son was grateful for my help; I saw the look on his face as he snuggled into a dry bed once again. Where's my look of gratitude for my Father? Or am I so calloused to His mercy on my pitiful estate that I shrug it off, or worse, consider it unworthy of my thanks?
Just my thoughts in the night.....
November 23, 2006
Last night was not one of those nights. Around 4 a.m., I had just put the baby back to bed after feeding him, when I heard cries from the older one coming from the next room. Since I was already up, I went over to see what was going on. We're at Grandma and Grandpa's for Thanksgiving, so I guessed that he had probably woken up and forgotten where he was. So I go in and he's sitting up in his bed, crying his eyes out. I sat down next to him, rubbed his back, and asked him what was wrong. He just kept crying, so I pulled him close to me for a hug, and that's when I felt the wet pants. Yup - he had peed in his bed. He's pretty new at the potty training thing, but up to this point, he hadn't wet the bed. But he was crying the most heartbreaking cry and he was wet and the bed was wet, so I stripped his pants and got him some new underwear, and then stripped the bed and was ready to tuck him back in, when I realized his pj top was also wet. So the poor kid already has no pants, and I'm taking his shirt also. I told him to hang on a moment while I got him a new shirt. I went back into my room, and when I came back, he was curled up on the floor shivering, and still sniffing a bit. I picked him up, put on his warm shirt and gave him a big hug before tucking him back into bed.
I went back into my room, where my husband had woken up, so I briefly told him what had happened. Then I laid there, trying to get back to sleep, but all I could think about was my poor little boy, sitting in his own pee, so sad and helpless to do anything about it, and I thought, "This is the time when I love being a mother." Strange, but true. It's not that I enjoy waking up in the middle of the night to change a boy and a bed, but it's the fact that I can take care of my son, who at that moment needs me desperately. My child, who is utterly helpless, laying in his own filth and misery, and I can make all that go away. This child is just pitiful -- and yet my heart swells with love to see him and want to help him.
And then my thoughts started to wander again, and a view of God cleared in my mind. How much more so are we pitiful little children, mired in our own filth and sin, wallowing in our helplessness and stench, unable to do anything about it, when He walks in, and is stirred with compassion and love for us. He lifts us out of it all, cleans us off, and gathers us in His embrace. I know my son was grateful for my help; I saw the look on his face as he snuggled into a dry bed once again. Where's my look of gratitude for my Father? Or am I so calloused to His mercy on my pitiful estate that I shrug it off, or worse, consider it unworthy of my thanks?
Just my thoughts in the night.....
November 23, 2006
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