It was only a dream...

Today is my son's thirteenth birthday.

Does it sound like a cliché if I admit that the time has flown by more quickly than I can fathom?

Yesterday, Mark and I took A and his best friend down to US Cellular Field to see the Crosstown Classic - Cubs vs. Sox in all of their collective glory. Halfway through the fifth inning, the boys wandered off to get something to eat, and after about 15 minutes, I was starting to worry. What if they were lost? What if someone robbed them, beat them, took them? What if....?

Mark laughed at me, and pointed out that we hadn't told them when to be back. "They're two teenage boys at the ballpark. Let them be."

Sure enough, they came back, having eaten a couple of hot dogs and explored half of the park. They were glowing - and enjoying a perfect day.

In my mind, they are still little boys. Look at these faces...





They stand on the verge of changing into men, and yet when I look at them, I still see the innocence of childhood. I remember taking A to the blueberry farm, and watching him set aside his little basket to eat as many blueberries as he could directly off of the bushes. I recall him begging to water the garden, and then spraying the hose into the dining room windows, soaking half the house. I see the worried face of a kid who was terrified of taking the training wheels off of his bike, in case he came across an unexpected hill.

This is the boy who still has the god-awful ugly stuffed bear I gave him as a baby, and was recently delighted when my mother sewed a new nose and mouth onto him - so much so that he took a picture with his cell phone and sent it to me.

This is the boy who used to finger paint in the pool, and make up his own words to songs...making me laugh until I fell over.



(I couldn't embed - grr. Click, and then hit 'play')

My little boy. My baby. Now a teenager.

Every day I love him more, and every day he gets a little closer to independence. Little by little, I'm learning to let him be his own little man, no matter how difficult it is to do so.

Happy birthday, little bug, and thank you for being the joy of my life.

From Pictures for Sad Children.

...as a hug from a friend who says,

"You feel like home."

I had a wonderful time this past weekend. I'm so very lucky.

Tomorrow morning marks the beginning of the Summer of Christine.

I'll be flying out to DC to visit the glorious Ms Whirledpeas, where we will likely eat, drink, and be ridiculous :) I've been desperately looking forward to it for weeks...I so need to get away and relax for a while.

Throughout the summer, we'll have baseball games, camping (yay!), festivals, and maybe even a trip to Vegas. I'm going to have fun this summer if it kills me :)

Have fun while I'm gone. There's beer in the fridge, and chips in the basket. Just remember to leave a light on for me.

This afternoon, as I sat in my office, minding my own business - working, even - my phone rang.

It was my mother.

She and I had a bit of a tiff last week (Don't get me started on the GM bankruptcy. Please.) and things have been a bit strained. But she was laughing wholeheartedly as she said hello.

Giggling, even.

I knew I was in trouble.

A is at their house visiting, and they went to the beach today. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that she'd figured out a way to eke out some horrible revenge upon my household.

I think the woman hates me. With the passionate heat of a thousand suns.

Between the hysterical gasps, I made out only this - "Here, talk to your son."

The phone fumbled on its way to his ear.

"Mom! Guess what!"

Really, could the anticipation get any worse?

I cringed.

"What, baby?"

"We went to the beach, and I brought home a pet!"

This is the point at which I should remind you how difficult it is to render me speechless.

But...yeah.

"A....a pet? Exactly what sort of pet?" There was a knock on my door. It was unbridled panic, looking for an excuse to come in.

He giggled like a four year-old girl. "It's a clam! I named him Sheldon!"

A clam?

"A clam?"

"Yeah, and he's really cute! He's about the size of a quarter. We made him a tank where he can live."

I was already googling "lifespan of freshwater clams" and starting to sweat. I remembered the gerbil, the mice, and the fish tanks. I thought we'd made it past the 'pain in the ass pet' phase of life. I couldn't believe this was happening.

My mother is a crafty wench, it seems.

"So, um, tell me about this tank. How long do you think he'll live?" I pictured a mason jar filled with murky lake water. No oxygen infusion, ammonia levels through the roof....it'll be gone in a matter of hours, right?

"Oh, mom. It's the coolest thing. Grammy and I went on the internet and learned everything we needed to know. His tank has to be the right pH, so I added a few drops of vinegar to the bottled water. He's a filter feeder - do you know what filter feeders are?"

I frowned. "Yes, I know what filter feeders are."

"Okay, just checking. They eat plankton and stuff! But we didn't have plankton, so we found a website that said yeast and baking soda would do just fine. I fed him right away so he wouldn't get hungry."

I refrained from asking if he would like to add a bit of lemon juice and tabasco, because I'm not all about scarring my child for life (unlike MY mom).

"And we're rigging up a motor, so that I can give him a current!"

Okay, so maybe I can't help but scar him just a little. A tiny giggle escaped.

"A current...? With a motor? Like.....in the water?"

"Mom!"

Then it hit me.

"Sheldon? You named him Sheldon?" I got it. Shell. Don. He's a clam. Oh, wow.

"You're going to love him, mom! He's so adorable!"

"I love you, sweetheart. Let's see how Sheldon does over the next few days, and then we'll talk. Okay?"

"Okay. You're the best, Mom!"

Now please excuse me. I have to go buy my mother a rabid wolverine.

...to be taken in any context you would like.

A diabetic goes to visit the doctor. The doctor tells the diabetic to cut back on the indulgences, to exercise often, and get regular checkups.

The diabetic scoffs, then continues laying on the couch, eating cookies, and neglecting those checkups.

After a while, the diabetic doesn't feel so great. Extremities start turning strange colors, time mysteriously disappears, and the diabetic is eventually rushed to the hospital in a coma.

The doctor shakes his head sadly. Amputation is unavoidable, as is an insulin pump. A life is saved, but at an incredible expense (both physically and monetarily).

How does the story end?

Does the diabetic sue the doctor for taking his limbs? Is the doctor publicly chastised as a butcher who ruined the diabetic's life?

Does the diabetic learn to change unhealthy habits, becoming a more healthy individual, who has learned lessons the hard way?

Is the diabetic found dead in a gutter months later?

We shall see, my friends.

We shall see.

• Sometimes, it's okay to stop and re-evaluate everything. In fact, it's often a good idea.
  
• If you can't do everything, then just do what you can do well.
  
• Every twelve year-old in the world should be named Sybil.
• Breathe.
• You must keep your perspective. Without it, everything else falls apart.
• You don't owe anyone anything. But giving freely where you can is what it's all about.
  
• Keep breathing.
• Hot Single Guy Night at the grocery store has been moved from Sunday to Monday. Please make a note of it.
• Home is where you feel at home. This isn't as obvious as it sounds.
• I have attachment issues. I can admit this.
• You really can hate someone, and love them at the same time. Especially when they are almost thirteen.
• Saying, "I don't need anyone" doesn't necessarily make your life a defiantly melancholic Simon & Garfunkel tune.
• I don't belong in the suburbs, but living here for a while longer is good for everyone involved.
• The auto industry will never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever learn.
• Ever.
• There are some things I will never learn, either.
• Breathe more.
• Keep evolving. Every day. A step backwards now and then is okay, but never stop pushing forward.
• How to catch a polar bear: Cut a hole in the ice. Place peas all around the hole. When the polar bear goes to take a pea, kick him in the ice hole.
• Never leave A alone with pizza.
• Do what you love. Every day.
• Love what you do. Every day.
• Just love more.

Happy summer. Keep smiling :)