Dedicated to C.M.G. and his mama, whom I love; and to my son You, wrapped in that blanket so sweet with those tendrils of hair curling this way and that. With your skin soft as silk smelling fresh out of heaven, and cheeks full and pink waiting to be nuzzled and kissed. You are a miracle; fearfully and wonderfully made. …
The Gentle Power of A Song
It’s one of my favorite times of the week: Five Minute Friday with LisaJo. Each Friday she gives us a word – a prompt. The rules are simple: write for 5 minutes flat about the word for the week. No stopping, no editing. Just. Writing. Then head over to LisaJo’s place and link it up, and read the other brilliance …
Treasure, Ponder, Snuggle, Repeat
I see your small body on the sheet covered gurney; blood staining your knee and your jeans. Tears stain your cheeks and sweat has matted your hair to your head. I want to remember how tiny you were are and how things can happen and change in an instant. I see you standing in front of the ginormous ride, both terrified and chomping …
When Your Morning…Needs a New Morning
I’ve had more of those mornings than I care to recall. You know the ones. When everyone has woken up on the wrong side of the bed, and before breakfast is even consumed you realize your day already needs a restart. On one of these mornings recently, I heard a Whisper in my heart to stop, take a deep breath, …
The Race of My Heart
I nun-ing, Ma-ma….I na fass-iss! “You are the fastest! Go!!” I watch you run as fast as your pudgy little feet will take you, full cheeks bouncing in ecstasy at the freedom you have to just run; jump; be. You climb on the chairs, color a picture, stacks blocks, and “read” books. Oh, the books. I have them all memorized …
Happy Birthday, Man Cub!
How can it be a year?? How can you be 1 already? It seems like just yesterday I was racing the halls of the hospital praying and praying for labor to start. No, I didn’t mean to say ‘pacing’. I was racing. Clocking laps faster than an Andretti brother. But you had your own agenda, and your own time frame. …
Superhero Sweet Dreams: A Mother’s Lullaby to her Son
You snuggle close, wrapping one arm behind my back, the other resting gently on my hand. I bask in the warmth of your freshly bathed form, wrapped in your favorite fleece. My eyes drink in every last inch of your face; your to-die-for-long lashes, that lock of strawberry blonde hair that refuses to stay brushed to one side, your button …