Giving thanks

My dearest Ruby,

This past week and weekend we celebrated Thanksgiving. Boy, did I have much to be thankful for! Although your first Thanksgiving was less than eventful (we stayed home because I was sick) we spent it together and I couldn’t have asked for anything more. I had the Friday following Thanksgiving off because your daycare was closed and somehow we lazed the day away with Grandma and Grandpa… Saturday afternoon we braved the mall to get some Christmas shopping done and I had so much fun with you! I haven’t had that much fun in ages and the joy of exploring everything with you was more fun than even the Christmas music and lights. We strolled through the mall, you tucked into your stroller, with shopping bags packed all around you. You had your numerous teething rings throughout the day that are now scattered throughout the mall, forever lost to your nimble little fingers. I think we lost 4 teething rings that day! You were so happy and full of life. You chattered around the teething rings and drool and charmed everyone who saw you. You were endlessly patient, weaving in and out of stores and around people and oh, back to the store we had just left… You smiled and chatted throughout the afternoon and only paused in your dialogue when we stopped at the pet store to see oodles of puppies jumping, playing, and barking. You became quiet and still as you watched those mysterious little critters. When I asked you what a puppy says, you ignored me. When I barked, you startled and slowly turned to look at me like I was someone who was possessed. When I laughed, you casually smiled and turned back to the puppies, patient if a little annoyed that I had disturbed your study. That’s one thing about you that everyone notices, Ruby. You are very studious. You examine everything and everyone with deep solemnity and it seems once you have figured it out, only then you are allowed to smile. Wonder and weary fills your eyes when you study things and people and when I see that expression on your face, I want to wrap you in a hug.

At the mall, you met Santa Claus for the first time. I wanted to have your picture with him but I could see you studying him and I was worried you would cry if I put you in his lap. I tried anyway. That’s one thing, as a mother, I have been trying to learn and get better at – learning to let you go and trust that things will work out. I whispered to you that this was Santa Claus and slowly placed you in his lap. He smiled and asked your name. You stared at him then turned to look at me as if to say, “Don’t you dare walk away!” I reassured you and was so proud of you that you didn’t cry! I am sure I looked a huge goon that afternoon as I clapped and cheered you on as you sat in Santa’s lap, barely cracking a smile. We bought some pictures of your visit with Santa and I told Santa how good you have been this year. I hope he remembers when he makes a stop at our house on Christmas Eve.

Sunday, you and I went to church at River Heights. There are virtually no other children in that church, especially not babies, and I was a little worried that any noise you made might carry. I was wrong to worry. You were a good girl and although you got a little impatient, a book caught your attention and held it for most of the service. You have been very talkative the last week, and I don’t know if it’s a product of teething or just you finding your voice, but you had a few words to share with the church on Sunday, your tiny voice echoing over the pastor’s sermon. I couldn’t do anything but smile. After the service, several people came up to introduce themselves and meet you. Pastor remembered us from several months ago and said he was happy to see “Ruby Tuesday” again. A couple people commented on what a good girl you were and that your little voice was a joy to hear in their church again. One older gentleman said that he misses the sounds of babies and children in the church and it was so good to see and hear you. He held your hand and gently squeezed it. You smiled very openly to him, what seemed to me an invitation of friendship. Everyone asked us to come back again soon. I waited until I got to the car before I let tears fall. I had worried for nothing. That church welcomed us with open arms and those people adored you.

I don’t know how anyone could not adore you, Ruby. You are a joy. I love you more with each passing day. My dreams have come true because of you.

Love,

Mama

Everything

During my shower tonight, I was having an imaginary conversation in my head. I was imagining a situation in which I had to defend myself in front of "prestigous" people and in my mind my excuse was, "What do you expect? I came from nothing!"

Nothing. Really? That was the first excuse that came to my mind? How absurd. The imaginary situation faded from my head and I was then thinking to myself, "Why do I think I came from nothing? Just because we weren't rich growing up?"

I think back to my childhood and I feel so blessed. My parents were together, and still are, and I never once doubted their love for me. My brothers, although we had our issues (ha!), clearly loved me. I never once went to bed hungry and I never lacked for clothes, warmth, education, or love. How lucky was I! I have such warm, fond memories of running to the house from getting off the bus after school and racing my brothers to the house so that I could be the first to sit at the table and enjoy a freshly made bun or chocolate chip cookie and be the first to tell mom about my day. It was always a race to get our stories out because less than an hour later, Dad got home and had stories for Mom. Everyone was clamoring for Mom's attention and she was busy preparing supper, us kids had our chores and homework and needed the time to unwind and play (and sometimes fight). Supper time was a family event, all of us at the table, tv off (no books for me), and conversation. Mom's delicious supper always hot and plentiful... Bedtime was a relief from a busy day, often with books before bed, hugs and kisses from Mom and Dad, and being tucked in tight. I can still feel the heavy, comforting exhaustion of laying in bed, smelling fresh from my bath, with clean tight sheets and soft jammies, raising my arms to hug my parents. I loved how Dad would tuck me in tight - so tight I couldn't move and if I thought about it too much I would get claustrophobic, but mostly I would just fall asleep with the blankets snug around me, wrapping me in a lingering hug. Mom would brush my bangs from my forehead and I would sleep peacefully.

Of course, it wasn't all sunshine and roses, but the issues we had as a family are common and minor compared to those issues of many families. Those issues cultivated the people my brothers and I have become, how we deal with our issues, how we lean on each other and God when things get tough. Love, forgiveness, hope, and God... those are the things my family believes in. How is that "nothing"?

I realize now that I don't truly believe I came from nothing; it was just a convenient knee-jerk reaction when my guard and all defenses were up (granted, in an imaginary conversation. uff. I must be a nut.). And having analyzed myself and my reason for thinking all this the last 2 hours, I turn my thinking, as I always do, to Ruby.

How can I raise her to feel that she grew up with "everything"? We don't have everything as far as material things go, that's for certain. But we do have a nice, warm home. We have plenty to eat. I have a running vehicle and a great job. I have a wonderful, loving family and super friends. And we have each other.

The last 2 days, Ruby has been sick with the stomach flu. Her first flu. I have been home from work the past 2 days with Ruby, changing diapers, changing clothes, holding her, rocking her, feeding her, playing when she feels up to it... just loving her. It's certainly not fun to see her feeling unwell, but it gives me the opportunity to comfort her and love her in ways that her 10-month old independence sometimes refuses these days. I am so grateful for that. The other night, she was sick and I was holding her over the puke bucket and her tiny body was tense and she was fevering and sweaty and just so miserable. When she was through, I wiped her face with a cool wet washcloth and then laid her on my chest and rocked her in the rocking chair. She did not cry nor did she fall asleep. She just laid there, so exhausted. I didn't want to talk or sing to her in case she wanted to sleep. We just silently rocked together. After a few minutes, she raised her head to look into my face. She looked into my eyes for a long moment, then laid her head back on my chest. I continued to rock her as my tears fell into her hair. It was like she was thanking me. I could feel it.

There are so many things I have done wrong already in her short life. But I know that I am doing some things right, too. I love her with a fierceness that no one can match. I want the best for her more than I want anything else in this life. At the start of each day, I tell myself that I am going to love Ruby my best today. At the end of each day, I ask myself, "Were you a good mama today?" More often than not, I go to bed satisfied with knowing that I met Ruby's needs and she knows that I love her. In the grand scheme of things, I think that's everything a child needs.

Four more years

My sweet Ruby,

Last night was a historic moment in time. Barack Obama was reelected President of the United States.

You were tucked safely away in our room, blankets and teddy bear askew, snoring softly. We had spent the evening reading, playing, eating supper together, and you had a bath. I tucked you into bed and plunked myself down in front of the tv to await the judgment of this country. I sat in the living room, my eyes locked on the tv, praying a fervent prayer of real change for this country. Four years ago, long before I had any notion of you, I had voted so hopefully for Obama. He promised change and change we got... change for the worse. After so much heartache across our country these past four years, increasing deficit, increasing expenses, increasing unemployment rates, increased foreclosures, decreased morale, I couldn't in good faith reelect a president who had failed his nation so miserably for four years.

This election year, I had so much more to consider. You. Your future. I want to see a revolution in the U.S. and turn around so much of what has gone wrong these past 4 (10, really) years. I want a bright, hopeful future for you and a world full of opportunity. I want to raise you in a country with solid Christian values, without judgment or ridicule on either side of the spectrum. You deserve that.

I have lead in my stomach today. I worry about the direction our nation has taken, but as with all things, we have to trust God to lead us. He doesn't promise it will get better but He promises to help us through. No matter what our country is like in 10 or 20 years, I pray that God guides and comforts you and helps you through. And I'll be beside you every step of the way, cheering you on...

We can do big things, my girl. Courage.

All my love,
Mama