A Few Summer Notes

I don't have too many pictures from TX on this computer -
It was a good, but fast, summer, split into sections by trips to various places.

Jason and I went to the DC area with Mom and Dad so that Jason and Daddy could go to the US Open. Mom and I went to see Wicked at the Kennedy Center while they were at the tournament. During that trip, Luke stayed home with his aunts and uncle.

A few weeks after that, I went to NYC for a writing conference, where I got to see my Caracas teaching friends and also our friends Jill and Sascha.

Andy and me in Times Square:
I saw my first two Broadway shows - and I hope to see many more! I got to see Priscilla, Queen of the Desert and Book of Mormon. I loved them both, though here is what I told my mom about Book of Mormon: "It was wonderful. I hope you never see it." It was so fun, lighthearted, sweet, serious, touching, and over-the-top offensive, all at the same time.



The writing conference plum wore me out, though.

After I got back, we had just a few weeks before leaving again. We tried to cram in all we could! We never get to see as many people as we hope to, though.

Some highlights of the summer:

Luke learned to ride his bike (see previous post)
Luke learned to dive and flip off the diving board
We visited the planetarium in Dallas (Luke loved it!)
Luke read 100 books for the summer reading challenge
(I know I'm missing other stuff - Mom, remind me!)

We got to see cousins, friends, and family as much as possible - here are some of my favorite pictures (that I have access to on this computer!):

Dad and Luke watching Roy Rogers together

Luke and George swimming in the pool

Lots more great pictures from the summer - but maybe on a different memory card, which I will investigate at some point...probably next summer when I update the blog again. ;)

Watch Him Go

I wrote this story last week as a writing assignment at a writing institute I attended in New York. I felt lucky to have such a good story to tell.

“Just give him a little push and watch him go,” Jason instructed. I took hold of Luke’s bicycle seat, ran alongside him as he pedaled furiously, and watched, amazed, as my baby rode off down the street on his bicycle. My jaw dropped. My hands flew to my mouth, and I turned to look at my husband’s face. Tears glistened in his eyes, and I could see at once my own wistful happiness reflected on his face.

I turned back to Luke, who wobbled unsteadily for ten yards before gaining control and riding smoothly toward the cul-de-sac. You’ve heard the expression, “My life flashed before my eyes.” Personally, I have never had that experience and have always wondered if it really happens, or if people who say that are simply being dramatic. But as Luke’s bike helmet gleamed blue in the brightness of the late-afternoon Texas sun, scenes from his little life flashed before me.

I felt him in my arms, remembered trying to wake him from falling asleep while nursing. I saw him toddling home from an evening walk around the block with Jason, carrying the biggest rock he could find to present to me like a treasure. I saw his face change and mature as he blew out the candles on his birthday cakes – two, then three, four, five, and now, six. His face changed, but the light and joy in life has stayed true. He has grown so much, but he remains that precious baby I swaddled and rocked, and sang to sleep.

My eyes brimmed with tears as my heart swelled with joy and pride. Luke started to sail around the curve of the cul-de-sac to come toward us. The smile beaming from his face and the light in his eyes melted my heart.

“I’m so proud of you, my Lukie!” I squealed. Before he completed his curve, Jason began to shout, “Turn! Turn! Turn! Luke, turn wide, but turn hard!” The front wheel of his bike began to wobble, and the bike began to shudder. Worry flashed on his face to supplant the pride that lived there only seconds before. Suddenly, his bike tipped wildly to one side and he stumbled six steps before catching himself on the pavement. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my fists, listening for the all-too-familiar wail of pain.

Instead: “I’m fine, Mama. Daddy taught me how to fall.” I opened my eyes to see that face I love more than any other grinning up at me. I hugged his big little body tight to mine and squeezed.

“I’m proud of you, Luke. I can’t believe it! SO VERY PROUD!”

“Me too, Mama. I’m the proudest I’ve ever been in my LIFE!”

This has been a big year for Luke. He has grown so much, lost his first teeth, learned to write stories, gotten his first (and second) stitches. I am proud of him every day and know I am so fortunate he calls me “Mama.”

This latest achievement symbolizes, for me, something bigger than any of his others. The training wheels are off – he can go, almost, under his own steam. Sure, he needs a little push. He will wobble before he straightens out and settles into a smooth ride. There will be curves and bumps. Our job is to teach him how to fall, but more importantly, to get back up again. And, in the end, all we can really do is give him a little push and watch him go.