I Can't Resist It

Gavyn opened Aunt Heidi's gift that came in the mail while he was gone to Grandpa & Grandma's farm this weekend last night before we went to bed.

The instructions were, he could open it and then we MUST go to bed.  It was late.  When he opened it and found this, however, he pressed for more leeway with the bedtime mandate.

"Mommy, I can't resist it," he said with a syrupy little smile and pleading eyes.

Neither can I, my little man.  Neither can I.

Cy-Rish

Was so fun to go out with my hubby on St. Patrick's Day and be Cy-Rish!  Our beloved Cyclones had just knocked off the defending champions, UConn, in the NCAA tournament two nights before.  So what better way to celebrate the Day of the Leprechaun than to cheer on the Cyclones as they beat the Kentucky Wildcats.  Or that was the theory, anyway.  Whatever the case, I am always happy for an excuse to go on a date and be seen out and about with my husband.  He's my best friend.  One... two... three... say it with me now..... awwwwwww.

Saw a really cute shirt that said this:

Next year.

It Is True

My baby turned six years old this week.  Wrap your head around that one, will ya?

Dearest Gavyn,

You are...

The cheese to my macaroni.
The twinkle to my stars.
The belly to my laugh.
The spice to my life.
The goofy to my grin.
The squeeze to my hugs.
The beam to my moon.

May you never lose your creative, imaginative spirit.  To my self proclaimed "artist".  If indeed, you are going to be an artist when you grow up, I guess that means I'd better start teaching you the "art" of pinching pennies.  I love you with all my heart.

Love, MommE (the one you sometimes think is mean and doesn't love you anymore)

Perspective

I read this, something that hit pretty close to home for me, a couple of days ago on a woman who's fighting lung cancer's "Fight" Facebook page.  And because it gave me much needed and very timely perspective, I hope she doesn't mind me sharing this excerpt from what she wrote here:

"Funny – I have noticed in the last few months how many people are trying to stay young looking – trying to eliminate gray hair and wrinkles and look younger. I have aged from the chemotherapy and I am okay with that. I actually find myself HOPING for gray hair and wrinkles because it means I am growing older. Oh, how I want to grow old! I have to laugh at myself – but I think it shows how perspectives can change."

I have never in my life given aging much thought.  Until the last couple of years.  Maybe even more so just in the past year.  As the big 4-0 looms, I found I am not so unique after all.  Resistance and dread of aging has become an unexpected hurdle.  Something I felt didn't/wouldn't apply to me.  But when you look in the mirror and you see the laugh lines... and a few of the frown/worry ones, too...  and notice that your eyelids are starting to fold over just like your Grandma's used to... and notice the uneven skin pigmentation... when you come face to face with the reality that what is staring back from you in the mirror is not matching up with the age you feel on the inside, it is harder to grapple with then I realized it would be.  So thank you, Sharon, for some much needed perspective on a gloomy March day.  I needed that.  I want to grow old.  I want you to grow old.  Oh to master how to do it gracefully.

I Am Afraid

I am afraid I have not raised myself a farm boy.

Farmer, Farmer, What Do You See?

I see an eagle looking at me.

I see a Target dog looking at me.

I see a Target cat looking at me.

And I also have a strong suspicion maybe we shop at Target too much.  Is that even possible?

Sweet Nothings

Gavyn has a unique way of communicating his feelings.  This weekend he came to me with a present:

When I turned it over, this was my present:

That was him.  Mad at me.  Can't remember what I made him mad about.

Last night he gave me a love note:

"Mommy, you are mean.  Why are you..."  I'm pretty sure the last part is supposed to read, "...not nice."  Well, my little Gavie, tell me how you really feel.  As if your black cloud and frown didn't already tell me what I needed to know.  For the record, he was mad at me because I wouldn't let him dig out all the stuff he'd made in school that I'd just managed to clean up off my kitchen counter top into this pretty little turqouise box with a lid and pretty floral pattern.

Not quite the sweet nothings I normally like to get.  This is more my speed.

Roses are red.

Paint is blue.

Chocolate is sweet.

And Mom is too!