Charlie and I are driving along the freeway, running a morning errand. Suddenly, he spots something on the side of the road.
Charlie: "Mom, yook!"
Me: "What is it?"
"Oooh! It's yions! Yions! Yions!"
My heart falls into my stomach for brief moment. I turn my head to see what he sees. Relieved, I turn my attention back to the road.
"Those are cows, Charlie."
"Oh, yeah. Cows. Dose are cows!"
Brett and I celebrated our ten-year wedding anniversary last week. After finding an ancient but still perfectly usable gift card while cleaning out the cabinets above the fridge, we dropped the boys off at Aunt Nini's house and headed to a snazzy restaurant in Salt Lake City. We had a great waiter, great food, and tasty Boat Drinks (what we call any fruity drink that reminds us of our Jamaican honeymoon). During dinner, I asked Brett what were some of his favorite moments, looking back on these ten years. He thought a moment or two, and then tears welled behind his glasses.
"Seeing Jacky for the first time."
My tears followed. "Yeah, that was a good one," I said.
That moment came to us six years ago. Now our Jacky is six years old.
Jack, Daddy and I have been parents for six years now. Six. But we haven't been your average, ordinary parents. Because we've been the parents of you. And that has made us into something special. Extraordinary.
The three of us, we've been through a lot:
in naps with the babe, as we'd read you should do). And trying to figure out
cloth diapering, too. (Look at that huge diaper on your teeny baby body!) Sorry about that. We're old hat at it now.
Through toddlerhood. And the advent of your fascination with all things dress up...
... and through a monumental advent. A brother.
And finally, through your past year. Your kindergarten year. Which was...
wild
whimsical
a little warped
Through. Through six years of our lives, with you. Sometimes I wish I'd had you earlier. At 30, at 28, at 26. I wish we hadn't waited so long. Because then I could spend more of my life with you. But that wish-come-true runs the risk of our story changing. And I love our story. The story of me and you. The story of our little family of four.
Through our lives, with you. I like that.
On to year seven.
Me: (Gasp.) "Who did this, Charlie?"
Charlie: "Um. Ummmm, I dunno."
"Noooo... Who did this?"
"Um, I draw. I draw, um... Uh, I draw ... a airpane. It pretty!"
"Yes, it's beautiful. But where do we draw?"
"On da walls."
"Noooo..."
"Oh! On da paper."
"Thank you. That's better."
(History repeating itself, brother to brother. See here.)
Jack focuses on finishing his dinner while I begin clearing the table of dishes and spills. Suddenly, he sneezes seven times in a row.
Me: "Geez. If you were one of the seven dwarfs, you'd be Sneezy."
Jack: "If you were one of the seven dwarfs, you'd be Cleany or Washy."
Awhile back, a friend of mine wrote down her email address for me on this funny little monkey sticky note.
After seeing the note on the kitchen table, Jack called for paper,
crayons, and scissors. I obliged.
He created his own funny little monkey.
And then began creating an entire jungle.
He drew lions and tigers and bears. (I know. Oh my.)
And elephants and dolphins and bats.
And giraffes and red-faced blue-horned flower-toed, um, creatures.
And ... um. Okay. I don't know what this is.
But, you know. WOW. Instantly, simply inspired. From a funny little monkey sticky note.
The lesson; there's something to inspire you. Right now. Right in front of your face. Right now. Look around.
A pricey rack? Perhaps, for a yard sale. But the absolute shock of finding a rack like this one at a yard sale (when I had just been pricing perkies like these last week) fogged up my bargaining skills. The seller did throw in a free wall clock and a videotape of Dead Poet's Society. Sweet!
I'm starting a new "thrifted!" category with this post. Not sure if anyone will want to follow along; it's not like another person can hit a thrift store or a yard sale and find exactly what I find. But it just might show the weird, wacky, and sometimes wonderful surprises that come with thrifting. Like when you get a free copy of an inspiring teacher movie today that you watch with your husband tonight, and it's perfect because he recently left a 20-year-old career to become a teacher. And you both cry at the end.
Or like when you write an entire book about thrifting and sewing and sewing and thrifting, and you aren't sure how it's going to work out, and sometimes you feel silly about the whole thing, like you shouldn't be doing it because, you know, what do you know about it, anyway? And then a special something that marries your passions for both thrifting and sewing meets you at a yard sale. Like a sign. Kinda weird and wacky and wonderful. And perky too.
So, welcome to the "thrifted!" category at the WildCards. Not much else to say except the obvious. Carpe diem.
As I make lunch, Jack builds spaceships with Legos at the kitchen table.
Jack: "Mom, is this real?"
Me: "What, what you're building?"
"No, this. Like, us."
"Like... like us living here on earth?"
"Yeah."
"Wow. Good question."
"Is it real?"
"Well, some people would say it's real, and other people would say it isn't real. I guess I think if you believe it's real, then it's real. Do you believe it's real?"
"Yes. I believe it's real."
"Me too."
"Yeah. me too."
"Good question."
