Ten years ago, I chose to take on the responsibility of a baby. I weighed my options, thought about the implications and ramifications, and decided to turn away from the future I had planned for myself. I chose a child and the life that came with him.
Earlier today, he chose me back.
I can't begin to describe the surge of emotions that flooded me when he turned to me in the middle of a store, wrapped his arms around me and said, I know you're not my biological mom, but from now on, for me, you are, okay? From now on, you are.
Tears. Laughter. Hugs. In that order. That's all I had for him there, but since then, I can't stop thinking about it. My son, the one who has never been given a choice, made one on his own without any pushing or prompting from anyone else. His first big-kid decision and he used it to choose me.
As parents, it's our job to make decisions for our children. We do it because we love them and we (hopefully) see a bigger picture and act out of love, concern, and wisdom. This is an unspoken contract established between parents and children that we all agree to in one way or another.
And I have made some huge decisions for Javi in the past years. I decided he'd be my son, that he'd have the Mountain Man as a father, and that he'd have a younger sibling (but only one). I decided that he would have no contact with his biological father. And recently I decided he'd have no contact with his biological mother.
Obviously, I don't think it was wrong to make firm, drastic decisions for my child (such as barring access to him by people who put him in psychological or physical danger) and I stand by every decision I've ever made for him. In fact, I wish I'd made those strong decisions earlier and more frequently in his life.
But not once have I consulted Javi on what he wants. I haven't allowed him to make big decisions for himself. Many times it hasn't been necessary. For instance, Javi called MM "daddy" way before our wedding in 2006 or MM's adoption of Javi in 2007. And the other times -- well, you can't ask a child to decide whether a person is a bad influence or dangerous presence. (Or, at least, I don't believe it would be fair to ask him to make that decision.)
But standing there today hearing him make and voice such a big decision? It opened my eyes and my heart. My baby boy hasn't just lived the past ten years; he's gained tremendous wisdom and experience from them. He's learned and processed and suffered consequences. He's made mistakes and accomplished goals. Right in front of my eyes, that baby is maturing into the man he'll soon be.
Today, I heard him, for the first time, choose me (us, this family that came about as a result of him). I know you're not my biological mom, but from now on, for me, you are, okay? From now on, you are. Ten years in the making, sweeter words were never spoken.
I know that our road will still be rocky and that the days will be long as we hurtle toward the teen years, but we're all here because we want to be. We have chosen each other, and that will get us through.
Showing posts with label javi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label javi. Show all posts
30.12.10
11.3.10
My little Adonis
I am of the opinion that my son is handsome. He has large, expressive chocolate brown eyes and long, gorgeous lashes. He is smart, funny, and thoughtful. When he laughs, his whole face beams and those eyes go soft. He'll hold his stomach and shake his head as the giggles pour forth.
But then he came home and there were stories of girls begging to hold his hand, of girls loudly professing their interest in him as a boyfriend, and of girls competing with each other for his attention. He told me with disbelief that one little girl asked all the girls in her dorm who liked him and every girl raised her hand. Every girl admitted that he, the boy who is all hard angles and flat planes, is the most handsome boy in third grade. Every girl, mama!
When I asked him why he thought the girls were so interested in him, he said, "'cause I've got this six pack and my arm muscles are the biggest." Seriously. That's what he told me. And as he noted each attribute, he showed it to me. My nine-year-old little boy who cuddles with me in the morning and is afraid of bugs and is trying so hard to hit the 80-pound mark so he can get out of his booster seat in the car. That kid is now dubbed "the girl expert" by his pack of wild third-grade friends.
The girl expert. Who was chased by three girls today when his grade went out to fly kites. Who tripped over his kite string and broke it because he hasn't yet learned how to act cool under the adoring gaze of the opposite sex. Who refused to give a little girl his phone number because he didn't know what they'd talk about on the phone.
My first born. My sweet, sensitive, and impulsive son ... is becoming a man. I joked tonight that I let him go away for two nights and puberty found him. Part of me knows I should be parent-ish about this, but a much larger part of me is just enjoying this awkward transitory phase of his life. He's like a newly born foal just realizing he has legs. I'm watching him stumble around and laugh at himself. He preens in the mirror, smoothing his hair and practicing his smile, and then laughs when I catch him doing it. One day, sooner than I'd like, he'll take himself -- and the world -- too seriously.
I'm letting myself enjoy his new-found confidence because, let's be honest, I've spent vast amounts of time worried about him. I worry that children will make fun of his facial ticks and that he'll give up on the struggle to control himself in class so as not to (again) be the "bad child" of his grade. I lose sleep imagining him on the receiving end of a bully's brutal aim because his brain is wired a bit differently than most and his parents "gave him away." Some days I don't know that he'll make it to adulthood without the scars and bitter disappointments that drove his biological parents down dark and dangerous paths.
And then there are the normal parenting worries: Will his peers accept him? Will he become a social rockstar or pariah? Will he be the teenager who looks forward to morning or the one who hopes to never wake up? When he's a grown up, will I have prepared him for the crushing pressures and realities of "real life"? I'm on my knees most nights praying that he'll learn to be humble and modest yet proud and determined. My mind plays a constant mantra: Let him always feel loved and wanted, by himself, by us, by the world. Every day. Every night.
I should be upset that a group of nine-year-old girls told him he's hot. I should worry that he's the focus of inappropriate attention at such a tender age. I should toss and turn over the possibility that he's rushing too fast into the murky world of girlfriends and sex and its consequences. But I'm not and I won't. Instead, I let him flex his muscles for me and giggled with him when he shrugged his shoulders and held up hands and said, "I guess I was just born this cute."
And, yes, he so totally was. For today, I'll bask in that.
But then he came home and there were stories of girls begging to hold his hand, of girls loudly professing their interest in him as a boyfriend, and of girls competing with each other for his attention. He told me with disbelief that one little girl asked all the girls in her dorm who liked him and every girl raised her hand. Every girl admitted that he, the boy who is all hard angles and flat planes, is the most handsome boy in third grade. Every girl, mama!
When I asked him why he thought the girls were so interested in him, he said, "'cause I've got this six pack and my arm muscles are the biggest." Seriously. That's what he told me. And as he noted each attribute, he showed it to me. My nine-year-old little boy who cuddles with me in the morning and is afraid of bugs and is trying so hard to hit the 80-pound mark so he can get out of his booster seat in the car. That kid is now dubbed "the girl expert" by his pack of wild third-grade friends.
The girl expert. Who was chased by three girls today when his grade went out to fly kites. Who tripped over his kite string and broke it because he hasn't yet learned how to act cool under the adoring gaze of the opposite sex. Who refused to give a little girl his phone number because he didn't know what they'd talk about on the phone.
My first born. My sweet, sensitive, and impulsive son ... is becoming a man. I joked tonight that I let him go away for two nights and puberty found him. Part of me knows I should be parent-ish about this, but a much larger part of me is just enjoying this awkward transitory phase of his life. He's like a newly born foal just realizing he has legs. I'm watching him stumble around and laugh at himself. He preens in the mirror, smoothing his hair and practicing his smile, and then laughs when I catch him doing it. One day, sooner than I'd like, he'll take himself -- and the world -- too seriously.
I'm letting myself enjoy his new-found confidence because, let's be honest, I've spent vast amounts of time worried about him. I worry that children will make fun of his facial ticks and that he'll give up on the struggle to control himself in class so as not to (again) be the "bad child" of his grade. I lose sleep imagining him on the receiving end of a bully's brutal aim because his brain is wired a bit differently than most and his parents "gave him away." Some days I don't know that he'll make it to adulthood without the scars and bitter disappointments that drove his biological parents down dark and dangerous paths.
And then there are the normal parenting worries: Will his peers accept him? Will he become a social rockstar or pariah? Will he be the teenager who looks forward to morning or the one who hopes to never wake up? When he's a grown up, will I have prepared him for the crushing pressures and realities of "real life"? I'm on my knees most nights praying that he'll learn to be humble and modest yet proud and determined. My mind plays a constant mantra: Let him always feel loved and wanted, by himself, by us, by the world. Every day. Every night.
I should be upset that a group of nine-year-old girls told him he's hot. I should worry that he's the focus of inappropriate attention at such a tender age. I should toss and turn over the possibility that he's rushing too fast into the murky world of girlfriends and sex and its consequences. But I'm not and I won't. Instead, I let him flex his muscles for me and giggled with him when he shrugged his shoulders and held up hands and said, "I guess I was just born this cute."
And, yes, he so totally was. For today, I'll bask in that.
25.2.10
Lessons
My bright and slightly obsessive son has been completely fascinated by Martin Luther King Jr's "I Have A Dream" speech since he heard it on a documentary we watched on MLK day. When he had the chance, he checked out a book entitled "Martin's Big Words" and read it over and over again.
Then he hit the jack pot. His class is learning about biographies and each student was tasked with a biography project to celebrate American history. He could've written a report, an essay, or a poem, or created a diorama. Can you guess which one he chose? Let's just say the kid can't pass up the opportunity to sit at the table and make crafts with me for hours on end. A diorama it was.
He quickly came up with his vision for the project: Children of different races standing together with Dr. King in the background. Then I broke out the supplies to help him make it a reality. Javi did the coloring and decision making; I did the cutting, gluing, and rearranging. As he colored a public city bus or created buildings for the cityscape and trees for the park, we talked about Dr. King's message and why this particular speech resonated with him so much and how it affected the world we live in.
But as educational as it was, the process was tedious, too. When your child lacks impulse control, gets frustrated easily, or loses track of what he's supposed to be doing, it can be difficult to move something from Point A all the way to Point B. I anticipated that when we started, so we sketched out a "vision board" that showed what he wanted the diorama to look like. That way, when he got lost in the details (like how his boy needed hair and a shirt and pants and shoes), he could orient himself and stay in control rather than try to slip me the lead and let me tell him what to do.
Of course, this project was completed on the back of tremendous amounts of positive coaching and encouragement. He'd doubt something or want to give up on some component, and I'd say to him, "If you want it to look that way, then let's make it look that way," or "This is your project, what do you think the boy should look like," and "Do you like that? Then that's the way it should be!" I think it helped him develop some confidence and take ownership of the project to know that I fully supported his decisions. (But boy was that hard!)
We've been working on this diorama for two weeks. When we put the finishing touches on it tonight (it's due Friday -- so we're a whole day early!), he was beyond thrilled with what he had created. "It looks like a miniature world in there," he said to anyone who walked past it. He kept fiddling with the boy and girl, worrying over the bus, trying to add detail to the trees. He's most definitely in love. And though he casually remarked that I did a great job on my project, after we sat down and talked about it, he realized this was his accomplishment.
And then he asked me to "interview" him about it, because he's proud and enthusiastic and wants to remember this project. But as soon as I turned the camera on, he got all weird and robotic and sweaty. We tried four takes and he finally made it through the fifth one. Through the video, I learned that my child's fascination with Dr. King has been replaced by an undying desire to make dioramas. Because that's what he's learned, you know.
And guess what he told me when I gave him his hugs and kisses before bed? "Tomorrow we can start on Paul Revere!"
Then he hit the jack pot. His class is learning about biographies and each student was tasked with a biography project to celebrate American history. He could've written a report, an essay, or a poem, or created a diorama. Can you guess which one he chose? Let's just say the kid can't pass up the opportunity to sit at the table and make crafts with me for hours on end. A diorama it was.
He quickly came up with his vision for the project: Children of different races standing together with Dr. King in the background. Then I broke out the supplies to help him make it a reality. Javi did the coloring and decision making; I did the cutting, gluing, and rearranging. As he colored a public city bus or created buildings for the cityscape and trees for the park, we talked about Dr. King's message and why this particular speech resonated with him so much and how it affected the world we live in.
But as educational as it was, the process was tedious, too. When your child lacks impulse control, gets frustrated easily, or loses track of what he's supposed to be doing, it can be difficult to move something from Point A all the way to Point B. I anticipated that when we started, so we sketched out a "vision board" that showed what he wanted the diorama to look like. That way, when he got lost in the details (like how his boy needed hair and a shirt and pants and shoes), he could orient himself and stay in control rather than try to slip me the lead and let me tell him what to do.
Of course, this project was completed on the back of tremendous amounts of positive coaching and encouragement. He'd doubt something or want to give up on some component, and I'd say to him, "If you want it to look that way, then let's make it look that way," or "This is your project, what do you think the boy should look like," and "Do you like that? Then that's the way it should be!" I think it helped him develop some confidence and take ownership of the project to know that I fully supported his decisions. (But boy was that hard!)
We've been working on this diorama for two weeks. When we put the finishing touches on it tonight (it's due Friday -- so we're a whole day early!), he was beyond thrilled with what he had created. "It looks like a miniature world in there," he said to anyone who walked past it. He kept fiddling with the boy and girl, worrying over the bus, trying to add detail to the trees. He's most definitely in love. And though he casually remarked that I did a great job on my project, after we sat down and talked about it, he realized this was his accomplishment.
And then he asked me to "interview" him about it, because he's proud and enthusiastic and wants to remember this project. But as soon as I turned the camera on, he got all weird and robotic and sweaty. We tried four takes and he finally made it through the fifth one. Through the video, I learned that my child's fascination with Dr. King has been replaced by an undying desire to make dioramas. Because that's what he's learned, you know.
And guess what he told me when I gave him his hugs and kisses before bed? "Tomorrow we can start on Paul Revere!"
21.1.09
Buttering me up
My son must want something. Tonight we were playing Wii Fit and he wanted to "help" me get the top score on Ski Jump.
So as I'm squatting down and moving my dot into the blue circle, he runs up behind me and says "I'll hold you up Mama!" (because obviously my balance is not what it should be). I almost fell straight over with laughter - he was so serious and his arms were stretched so far!
Then I was playing Tennis against Billy and Javi really wanted me to win. I volleyed a fast ball and Javi said "Oh, Mama. That was a fantastic hit!"
What a funny little kid!
So as I'm squatting down and moving my dot into the blue circle, he runs up behind me and says "I'll hold you up Mama!" (because obviously my balance is not what it should be). I almost fell straight over with laughter - he was so serious and his arms were stretched so far!
Then I was playing Tennis against Billy and Javi really wanted me to win. I volleyed a fast ball and Javi said "Oh, Mama. That was a fantastic hit!"
What a funny little kid!
13.10.08
Another Blast From The Past
Thinking about how Bella has grown in just the past 18 months, I realized that I haven't posted the photo Javi dug out of my memory box from his 2nd birthday party.
That was the party where I paid $50 for a tray of homemade tamales - which Terry Vought (the bio grandfather) loaded up in big paper bag before he left. The gift Terry brought Javi? A bag of oranges and pecans. UGH! A better memory from that party:
Can you tell who Bella really favors? Javi loved that Elmo balloon in the background. I think we kept it until Santa "stole" his room on Christmas Eve 2005. Also, notice the seat he's in ... it should look familiar considering we kept it and now Bella uses it!
That was the party where I paid $50 for a tray of homemade tamales - which Terry Vought (the bio grandfather) loaded up in big paper bag before he left. The gift Terry brought Javi? A bag of oranges and pecans. UGH! A better memory from that party:
Can you tell who Bella really favors? Javi loved that Elmo balloon in the background. I think we kept it until Santa "stole" his room on Christmas Eve 2005. Also, notice the seat he's in ... it should look familiar considering we kept it and now Bella uses it!
22.8.08
Open House
Last night was Open House at Javi's school. He was a little less than enthusiastic about it and had to be forced to go through the motions ... until he saw the big bouncy houses and slides in the back field. Then he wanted to rush through meeting his new teacher and getting his new uniform so he could play.
His teacher's name is Mrs. Munsell and we're happy he's in her room because she taught in the exceptional children classroom for several years. I'm hopefull that this will give her the experience and patience to handle Javi's hyperactivity and distractedness without making him feel badly about himself.
His teacher's name is Mrs. Munsell and we're happy he's in her room because she taught in the exceptional children classroom for several years. I'm hopefull that this will give her the experience and patience to handle Javi's hyperactivity and distractedness without making him feel badly about himself.
He was much more interested in meeting up with old friends, such as Rush, Jesus, Miguel, Aaron and Camden. He played until he was soaked in sweat ... and then played some more. Here he is with comical little Miguel on the big slide:
22.4.08
Have you met my son? If so, you know that he loves to sing (whether he knows the words to a song or not) and he loves to dance (even if he looks like a weird chicken while doing it).
We'll be driving down the road with the iPod cranked up and he'll be in the back seat just pounding it out. Maroon 5, Chili Peppers, DJ Casper, Korn, Shaggy, Justin Timberlake, Timbaland - you name it and he'll try to sing it.
I suppose this is another instance of DNA winning out over common sense. All of my siblings - including those born in the past 10 years - can't keep themselves from singing along when a familiar song comes on. We could be in the grocery store, an elevator, a restaurant, the bank ... it doesn't matter. We're moved by the music.
The dancing I think he inherited from Erin. Legend has it she used to lock herself in her bedroom so that she could dance to Solid Gold without interruption. I don't think Ashlee qualifies as a dancer - unless you consider the side-to-side shuffle during Shameless and having to spend a weekend recovering after dropping it like it's hot at a club a few years back.
If you haven't seen Javi bust a move on the dance floor, you're missing a spectacular show. Here's a taste:
We'll be driving down the road with the iPod cranked up and he'll be in the back seat just pounding it out. Maroon 5, Chili Peppers, DJ Casper, Korn, Shaggy, Justin Timberlake, Timbaland - you name it and he'll try to sing it.
I suppose this is another instance of DNA winning out over common sense. All of my siblings - including those born in the past 10 years - can't keep themselves from singing along when a familiar song comes on. We could be in the grocery store, an elevator, a restaurant, the bank ... it doesn't matter. We're moved by the music.
The dancing I think he inherited from Erin. Legend has it she used to lock herself in her bedroom so that she could dance to Solid Gold without interruption. I don't think Ashlee qualifies as a dancer - unless you consider the side-to-side shuffle during Shameless and having to spend a weekend recovering after dropping it like it's hot at a club a few years back.
If you haven't seen Javi bust a move on the dance floor, you're missing a spectacular show. Here's a taste:
23.4.07
We have a Terrific Kid
Despite wanting to be the class clown, writing love notes to his female classmates and spending his fair share of time jumping, running, talking and doing other little boy stuff at inappropriate times, my little boy was awarded a ribbon for being a Terrific Kid in a school assembly last week. He's the one in red and yellow stripes.
He got a certificate, a ribbon, a bumper sticker and a gift certificate for a free Burger King meal. Needless to say, he thinks he's royalty now. This honor comes on top of earning a #1 Reader necklace for being able to read 168 words now. In fact, the little monster is reading at Level 3 these days thanks to his very determined Kindergarten teacher.
What's really great about this is Javi really wants Billy to put that bumper sticker on the jeep. He asks him about it every single day. Billy keeps coming up with excuses but eventually he's going to have to slap that thing on the back of the jeep and wear it with pride, no matter how dorky it is!
8.4.07
Easter Sunday
Luckily Mama and baby were home and ready for the Easter bunny to make his appearance on Easter Sunday. I honestly don't know if Javi would've forgiven me otherwise!
Funniest moment: I spent an hour the weekend before Bella was born picking out little treats and toys that I thought Javi would enjoy getting in his basket. This included flower seeds, a flower pot and a spray bottle because he has been fascinated with growing things since his Kindergarten class planted a bean seed a few weeks ago.
So, Sunday morning he rushes for his basket and is amazed that Easter bunny did, in fact, come. However - stop the presses! The bunny brought Bella a basket too ... and it came with FUN DIP. How could the Easter bunny give Bella FUN DIP and not Javi??? Yes, we had to immediately tear into her store-bought-for-$5 basket to let Javi get his hands on the FUN DIP. All that stuff I searched for? Chopped liver.
Anyway, our families all came over so that the boys could have an Easter egg hunt. This was Javi's shining moment because he and Billy spent a couple hours Easter weekend boiling and coloring the eggs. I think Javi really enjoyed having Dad all to himself after the excitement of Bella joining the family.
At the end of the hunt, Ethan had gathered more eggs than anyone else, and I don't think either Matt or Javi knew what to make of that. Of course, Ethan could care less and just enjoyed running around with his brothers and eating lots of sweets!
We finished the day with a bucket of chicken and lots of passing around of a very sleepy baby girl. That was after my sisters fought over who got to hold her and who got to feed her. It's sweet that everyone is so in love with the newest addition already!
Funniest moment: I spent an hour the weekend before Bella was born picking out little treats and toys that I thought Javi would enjoy getting in his basket. This included flower seeds, a flower pot and a spray bottle because he has been fascinated with growing things since his Kindergarten class planted a bean seed a few weeks ago.
So, Sunday morning he rushes for his basket and is amazed that Easter bunny did, in fact, come. However - stop the presses! The bunny brought Bella a basket too ... and it came with FUN DIP. How could the Easter bunny give Bella FUN DIP and not Javi??? Yes, we had to immediately tear into her store-bought-for-$5 basket to let Javi get his hands on the FUN DIP. All that stuff I searched for? Chopped liver.
Anyway, our families all came over so that the boys could have an Easter egg hunt. This was Javi's shining moment because he and Billy spent a couple hours Easter weekend boiling and coloring the eggs. I think Javi really enjoyed having Dad all to himself after the excitement of Bella joining the family.
At the end of the hunt, Ethan had gathered more eggs than anyone else, and I don't think either Matt or Javi knew what to make of that. Of course, Ethan could care less and just enjoyed running around with his brothers and eating lots of sweets!
We finished the day with a bucket of chicken and lots of passing around of a very sleepy baby girl. That was after my sisters fought over who got to hold her and who got to feed her. It's sweet that everyone is so in love with the newest addition already!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
