Just when I thought Maddie was getting all grown up and leaving her baby talk behind, she handed me a little gift… instead of saying “not very much” she says “not quite a bit”. Like when I asked if she wanted to go to the babysitter’s today, she turned up her little nose and said “not quite a bit.”
I’m off work today ’cause Marcel’s in the hospital with hernia surgery and because I had to transport him back and forth, and someone has to stay with Maddie, it seemed easier to take a couple of days off than make arrangements for someone else to do all those things.
Maddie and I have had a delightful day so far. We started out cuddling on the couch while she gave me a running commentary of all of her favourite TV shows. It was nice to know what she was talking about this time – she frequently gives me commentaries when I get home from work but because I’m never home with her, I have NO CLUE what she’s talking about. A typical commentary might sound like “you know that guy who had a hat on and he said ‘put your hands up in the air?’ and then he climbed over the fence? you know that guy?” And I either pretend I DO know that guy to simplify the conversation, or I admit that I don’t and she tries, in even more detail, to get me to “remember”.
After the TV shows, we made peanut butter cookies. Now here’s a STUPIDLY simple peanut butter cookie recipe for all you Mom’s out there who have kids who dig peanut butter (it’s Maddie’s favourite food). Here it is… don’t blink ’cause you might miss it…
1 cup peanut butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
That’s it! Ya just mix it up, roll the balls, and do the fancy criss-cross thing with a fork (like everyone knows you HAVE to have on peanut butter cookies) and then you bake them for 10 minutes. For all you lazy cooks, believe me, you can’t get much more simple than that! They look just like ordinary peanut butter cookies. They taste like them too, but have a slightly different texture and are a little sweeter. Maddie and I have enjoyed quite a fewof them by now! (Apparently it’s called “I can’t believe it’s a cookie”)
Maddie’s cookies were rather worm-like. She called them “peanut butter carrots”. The perfectionist in me was tempted to reshape them the “proper” way, but than the laid-back mom in me said “don’t be silly!” The heat of the oven distorted them into peanut butter blobs, but she was quite fond of them none-the-less.
And then one day
“yub-yub” or “pla-ba” becomes “peanut butter”
“PT” becomes “TV”
“spa-ba-dee-dee” becomes “Sponge Bob Square Pants” (yeah, I know, go figure!)
“Ju-ju” becomes “Julie”
“kee-kee-kie” becomes “Lizzy McQuire” (she’s got older sisters!)
And somewhere along the line you realize your three year old is growing up. You expect it, even welcome it, with the first two. But with the third and last, for some reason, you just want to hang onto it a little longer.
But then today when she heard the radio announcer say “House of Commons” she said “House of GUM? How could anybody do THAT?” So all is not lost 🙂
I’ve been thinking lately about the things in life that shape us – those events along the journey that mold us into what we become.
In the span of the last 2 weeks, I’ve visited several blogs that have sent me back in my memory to significant “life-shaping” moments. First it was a blog of someone who’d lost a parent in the last 2 years. I could relate to that one – I lost my Dad less than 2 years ago. Then it was a blog of someone whose friend was dealing with her husband’s suicide attempt. I could relate to that one too. Nearly 10 years ago, when I was pregnant with our first child, Marcel went through a really rough time and thought I’d be better off without him. Thankfully he survived the attempt. And then, within the last week, I visited the heart-wrenching blog of someone who’d lost a baby. Once again – I could relate. My son Matthew was born dead a few years ago. I haven’t found a blog of someone who’s been raped, but if I did, I could relate there too.
Sometimes, it feels like I’ve been given more than my fair share of pain. But, haven’t we all? There are so many kinds of pain…in my family alone we’ve had to deal with infertility, loneliness, depression, cancer, death, failed adoption, mental handicap, unemployment, divorce, near bankruptcy…and the list could go on and on. There is pain everywhere and everyone gets a piece of it. Yours might not be the obvious kind – linked to a significant event or cause – but it’s pain nonetheless.
Despite all of these things that have happened to me, I don’t think I would change my life if I had the option. Yes, these events have been devastating and painful, but they all contribute to who I am. They’re like the deep black strokes on a painting. The picture wouldn’t be complete without them. I am who I am because I’ve lived through pain. The people who’ve come and gone in my life – even my son who never breathed – have changed me and molded me. I wouldn’t want it otherwise.
I had a meeting with Steve Bell yesterday (a local singer-songwriter). He’s going to work with us on some projects, and suggested we use his song “Deep Calls to Deep” for an audio-visual presentation we’re creating. The name of the song has been in my head since then. Deep Calls to Deep. I think the deepness in my pain calls to the deepness in yours, and that’s what builds friendships and community and trust. I think without the pain, our relationships wouldn’t be the rich tapestries they are.
Another Steve Bell song helped me get through the stillbirth of my son. It’s called Faith’s Song and it’s about his sister losing a baby. It gave me comfort to hear the story of someone else who’d lived through my pain. It felt like a lifeline reaching out to me in the storm.
That’s what we have to do with our pain – use it to build hope. That’s how we redeem those gut-wrenching, agonizing moments. Turn them into something meaningful, not only for us, but for those we touch along the way.
Shared pain lifts us up and gets us through the darkness.
We were curled up in bed together last night, and after I’d already read 2 books to her, she wanted more. “No,” I said, “it’s time to go to sleep.” She looked earnestly at her bare wrist and said “Mom, on my watch it says it’s time to read a book!”