Monday, February 14, 2011

A Valentine Reflection, sort-of

This week's Valentine's column.

Just so you know I did a lot of preparatory work in writing this Valentine’s column.  First, I texted my BFF: ‘Trying to write a Valentine’s column.  Kill me now.’  Next I reminisced about all my elementary school crushes.  Then I fantasized about eating a giant heart-shaped sugar cookie.  And then I posted to Facebook: ‘Trying to write a Valentine’s column.  Kill me now.’  Don’t let anyone tell you this job is easy.

I’m not at all bitter about being single as Valentine’s Day approaches, a day set aside to celebrate lovers and romance and a naked cherub forcing people into relationships through violent means.  No, not all.  

Because even though I am single, I am loved.  

Okay, so that wasn’t enough words to pass as a column, so I have to keep going.  Hang with me, people.  I’m sure this is going to get better.

Like I said, I am loved, most importantly by three wonderful children, two of which still allow me public displays of motherly affection.  

My youngest two are totally okay with public kisses.  My daughter is all about dainty pecks on the lips, and if I miss, she’ll pout and demand a do-over.  My 6-year old is still a little sloppy about it, and when he’s not looking, I have to wipe some of his exuberance from my face.  A few weeks ago, he ran halfway back from the bus stop when he realized he hadn’t kissed me goodbye.  All together now: Ahhhhhhh.  

But I know those days are numbered.

My oldest son boycotted kissing just last week.  I was tucking him into bed when he made the request.  No more kisses—he’s too old for that.

I’ll be honest—it left me reeling for a minute, until, that is, I tried to envision myself kissing the poor boy on his wedding day.   I can only imagine the scene from the bride’s perspective as the lumbering mother-in-law leans towards her man, puckering up for a big smooch and then wiping old-lady lipstick from the corners of his mouth.  

So while I was a little forlorn at Kaleb’s request, I can appreciate his maturity and the steps he’s taking to prevent awkward mouth kissing for him and his posterity.  

Then the other night while I was tucking him into bed, he said, “You can still kiss me, Mom.  Just not on the lips and not in front of friends.”

Ahhhh.  Looks like I’ve still got this one for a few more years.  I think I’ll celebrate by eating a giant heart-shaped sugar cookie.

Happy Valentines, everyone! 

Wednesday, February 09, 2011


I haven't blogged for awhile--I've been trying to decide what kind of writer I want to be when I grow up.  

But, in the meantime, I had to post this goody.  While I may be biased, I think my little Spunk is a prodigy when it comes to Spiderman works of art.  Like this wonder:

He’s only 6.  Amazing, right?

Okay, so maybe I’m biased.  But let me know if you’d like a print on canvas—it’s only 40 kazillion dollars this week.